the rapture, a fake 90s magazine
space and time are obsolete
issue #47, november 1996
@therapturemag on instagram I ko-fi I spotify link to the playlist
madchester sources
trash theory madchester video
hacienda documentary
Redhead, Steve - The End-of-the-Century Party: Youth, Pop and the Rise of Madchester
Luck, Richard - The Madchester Scene
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In 2011, I started writing a thing, on a whim. In 2013, I finished it. A lot of people seemed to love it? Then over the next decade, I put a lot of work into expanding and editing it, with plans for a complete physical book release that didn't happen. Well, here it is again. As an internet novel. A finished novel, this time.
I will start posting the story on May 21st, 2024. May 22nd will be a day of rest. And then, from May 23rd until October 21st, every day will see a new chapter-- a new log. ("F-Five months?? How long is this novel?" Oh yeah, good point. That won't actually get us to the end. There may be another eight, ten days of chapters afterwards. It is important, however, to emphasize the May 21 - October 21 model.)
I will make sure to put the bulk of the contents under "Read More" breaks, so each log won't clutter your browsing experience.
The logs will have art in them. Not as much as in the original draft, but there will still be some. As of May 1st, I expect art by Rappu, RealaChao, Wiratomkinder, and Vis.
I plan on supplementing the logs with the occasional post talking about the making and intention of the story. I dunno, it's gonna be a five-month distribution period, I'm gonna get antsy during that and am gonna want to ramble. That'll be separate content, though.
And when the story is fully and completely posted on tumblr, I will release the full novel on my Website, where I like to keep the rest of my creations. Both the tumblr novel and the Website novel will be free reading, forever. I reserve the right to try again at a paid physical edition afterwards.
So! That's it. Rapture is coming. OH GOD THE RAPTURE IS BURNING is coming.
Trigger Warnings: Sex, Gods, and Rock & Roll.
(violence. some swear words. teenage angst, cringe. death. insects. surrealism. symbolism. unpredictability of what will be explained and what won't. sexual acts with dubious consent-- you will be able to skip that part. religious iconography. and so much prog rock.)
Get ready for it.
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They've lit fires for the night; just a few low-burning ones that everyone tells the children are for hiding from the monsters because it's not as scary as thinking too hard about their caravan's dwindling supplies. Pix is in one of his grimmer moods.
"What if," he says in an undertone, "our empires die with us, Joel?"
He and Pix are huddled at the edge of firelight, by the small wagons and hardy pack animals. (Pix volunteered for first watch, and Joel doesn't particularly want to look bad next to Pixandria's king.)
"I mean, I don't know about Pixandria, but Mezalea will," Joel says. "Lizzie-- Lizzie's not exactly here, is she?"
Pix turns his head from where it was tipped toward the stars, and the fresh wave of grief that washes across his face feels nearly tangible. (Where does he get off acting like the whole world's mourning has to be his, anyway?)
"There's no one...?" Pix shakes his head, cracks a mirthless smile. "Sorry, that's a terrible question."
"Won't be. Won't ever be." Joel shrugs. "Figured I'd get people somewhere safe and... let them sort it out amongst themselves."
"Where would you go?"
"Well, let's not scare the children," Joel mutters.
"Your people need you."
Joel's sure Pix has said as much to himself more times than either of them can or will count. Because he isn't cruel, he doesn't say, Do they?
He says, "What about you, then? Anyone you wish were here?"
For just a tick, Pix looks stricken, as if it's a question with real consequences. As if either of them could really do that, could tear through time and space and haul out of the blood and wreckage one single person from thousands.
"I think I could sit here for a thousand years searching for their names and I would still fall short." Pix runs a hand through his beard. Idly, Joel wonders if he's cleaned his hands since this afternoon.
One of the Mezaleans, earlier today, tipped over the side of a wagon like a fish tumbling out of a bucket. A burial, someone insisted. We have to have a burial.
So they had a burial, and looking at his hands, coated in the grime of the badlands, Joel glanced at Pix's hands and thought, Ha. We match.
At any rate, it's clear Pix understands the importance of letting other people mourn properly. It's strange to Joel that he won't extend the same courtesy to himself. Joel's no good at it, but he's here, still. He's counting it for something.
"I'm sorry about..." Pix doesn't finish the sentence, doesn't even seem to notice that the sentence went unfinished.
"Yeah," Joel says. "Me too."
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rewatching Supernatural but this time I pay attention to all the cities they drive to and how long it takes from one city to another by car pt1.
Season 4 ep 20: The Rapture.
at the end of this episode Sam and Dean drive from Pontiac, Illinois to Sioux Falls, South Dakota. When they arrive at Bobby's house, he just says "thanks for shaking a tail". but it's a freaking 8-hour drive. The boys starts driving at night but it's unclear at what time they arrive at Bobby's.
God, how I wish they gave us just ONE episode completely about how tiresome all this driving is, all the issues inherently connected to this lifestyle, how Sam needs to stop every 2 hours otherwise his gigantic legs start aching (this is just my hc but I know it in my bones that's true) ... I'd love it hahaha!
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