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sinceileftyoublog · 8 months

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GBV 40

Photo by Allison Ryder

BY JORDAN MAINZER

It's a popular wink-wink-nod-nod joke among the diehard Guided By Voices fanbase that dedicated GBV fandom is #notacult (but kind of a cult). You'd think that Robert Pollard and company were in on the joke, considering they decided to celebrate 40 years of the band's existence at a venue built by a 14-group Masonic Temple Association, which is a true story and not the name of the band's new single. As a full disclosure converted GBV head who has in the past attended Heedfest, the band's long-running fan weekend chock full of cover sets and Miller Lites, this first weekend in September absolutely felt like an extension of it, a full-on celebration of all things Guided By Voices. Celebrity superfan Paddy Considine came from overseas with his son Joe, playing a covers set at the Yellow Cab Tavern in Dayton's Oregon District. During the encore of GBV's first night at the Dayton Masonic Center, Scott Marshall (of Chavez fame), Matador Records Director of Digital, A&R Jake Whitener, and GBV manager David Newgarden presented Pollard with a "Most Valuable Lead Singer" trophy. Even Dinosaur Jr.'s J Mascis, normally reserved, gave the crowd a half-hearted "G! B! V!" chant during the band's opening set. Miller Lites at the venue (along with most other beer) cost a measly $6 per can, a bargain in 2023. During the second night, Pollard took a moment to thank the alcohol distributor, who may or may not have been stocking his personal cooler full of beer bottles and the once-again passed around Jose Cuervo. What's for sure is those bottles were fueling Pollard's high-kicks, 2022 busted knee be damned. Always different, always the same: It was The Fall. Is it now Guided By Voices?

Photo by Allison Ryder

Yes, the same spirit pervades GBV: In a recent beginner's guide to the band, Uproxx critic Steven Hyden described them as having "one foot in the bowling alley, and another foot in the art gallery," whether that's the band's early R.E.M.-indebted material, lo-fi golden era, Aughts arena rock attempts, or the current, arguably most prolific late-career lineup. The quartet of guitarists Doug Gillard and Bobby Bare Jr., bassist Mark Shue, and drummer Kevin March is certainly the most formidable group of instrumentalists to ever back Pollard, and his songwriting on this lineup's albums has notably embraced the proggier, more epic side of his forebears. During the band's anniversary concerts, they paid curatorial attention to these newfound favorites just as much as the "Motor Away" and "Tractor Rape Chain"s: the tempo-changing "Alex Bell", bopping "Dance of Gurus", and even absurdist poem "Razor Bug", delivered a capella by Pollard and Shue. Pollard also admitted how the band tackles the old imperfections, joking that March made sure to play all the original studio version "fuck-ups" from "My Impression Now".

But GBV also had work to do. This year so far, they've released two albums, La La Land and live-to-tape gem Welshpool Frillies, and purportedly (shocker) have two more in the can. Only this band could garner this much crowd enthusiasm by opening a four-decade celebration with the first three songs from their latest album, but when they're as good as the jagged "Meet the Star", cascading "Cruisers' Cross", and Cheap Trick-meets-Crazy Horse ripper "Romeo Surgeon", it doesn't really matter, does it? The sets in general were treated like a normal GBV marathon, featuring but not overwhelmingly dominated by their most recent output. Gillard's trademark guitars chimed through the sludgy "Seedling", while La La Land's "Queen of Spaces" offered a necessarily languid breather between "Everybody Thinks I'm a Raincloud (When I'm Not Looking)" and "Motor Away". To my pleasure, on night two, the band played La La Land closer "Pockets", a song about exactly what you think, that nonetheless exemplifies Pollard's ethos: As long as you have a sense of wonder and a penchant for songwriting, you can maintain constant creativity. Songwriting can be a daily exercise.

Built to Spill

Throughout the celebration, Pollard expressed thanks for past and present incarnations of GBV (joking that the current youngins help him up the stairs) as well as the other bands joining the celebration. The inspired lineup was a mix of 90's contemporaries (Dinosaur Jr,, Built to Spill), Dayton connections (the birthplace of Heartless Bastards' Erika Wennerstrom and Dino J.'s Lou Barlow), and new indie rock royalty (Kiwi Jr., Wednesday). Dinosaur Jr., Marshalls stacked upon Marshalls, treated the crowd to eternity-long fuzz jams heavy on their earliest albums, from "Gargoyle" and their faithful "Just Like Heaven" cover to "The Lung" and "Freak Scene". The next night, Built to Spill also offered a set with plenty of guitar solos and extended intros and codas, respectively bookending the set on the slow-burning "Stop The Show" and eternal "Carry The Zero". As for their (sort-of) cover, they chose The Halo Benders' "Virginia Reel Around the Fountain" and not Heartless Bastards' "The Mountain" since, well, the real thing had played right before them.

Heartless Bastards

Heartless Bastards are not a band you'd normally associate with 90's indie rock, though I wouldn't have expected Built to Spill bassist Melanie Radford to sing Wennerstrom's part so convincingly last time I saw BTS. Wennestrom and Martsch came out with Heartless Bastards on night two for "The Mountain", but I saw where the Texas-via-Ohio rockers fit in with the band lineup even more on other songs. Yes, their brand of blues-rock is unique, not quite punchy, certainly eschewing raw psychedelia for grooves or high and lonesome country. But while Wennerstrom's throaty singing led the hazy "Photograph", the song's instrumental outro with gorgeous guitar work snuggled beside Wednesday and Built to Spill. And the chugging back catalog highlight "Gray" came across almost like a GBV ripper with keyboards.

Kiwi Jr.

Wednesday

And then there were the up and comers. Toronto's Kiwi Jr. combined the instrumental concision of GBV with the storytelling of a band like Wednesday. They took from their three very good records, concentrating on their Sub Pop albums Cooler Returns and Chopper in their brief set, contextualizing "Maid Marian's Toast" and "The Sound of Music" (about insurance fraud and Christopher Plummer), easing the crowd into a night of clatter. Wednesday, meanwhile, was the unabashed non-GBV highlight of the entire festival, the band that converted the unfamiliar and justified those of us who have hyped them up. Their quintessential country-gaze was on full display from the moment they queued up the buzz saws of "Hot Rotten Grass Smell". "Chosen to Deserve" was the bonafide ne'er-do-well anthem, the song of the summer for the bad kids, Xandy Chelmis absolutely slaying on pedal steel. Of course, lead vocalist Karly Hartzman's drawl-cum-yodel was the perfect medium to communicate stories of people dying in Planet Fitness parking lots, getting electrocuted by your own house, and toothless men on oxygen tanks smoking cigarettes. But it was "Bull Believer" that absolutely brought the house down, tears in the eyes of people who had never heard the song before. In a rare move on a normally apolitical GBV stage, Hartzman decried the nadirs of the nation, from the return of student loan payments to the policing of Black and Brown and LGBTQ+ bodies. She invited the crowd to scream along in anger as she beckoned "Finish him!" Perhaps that's what even implored Pollard to, out of nowhere between "Twilight Campfire" and "To Keep An Area", declare, "We live in a shitty country...Everything is crooked as fuck!" It was a small moment, perhaps inconsequential, but one that really hammered down for me that after all these years, Pollard's done what he's always done: change.

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thejoyofviolentmovement · 3 years

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New Audio: Foo Fighters Release an Enormous, Arena Rock Ripper

New Audio: Foo Fighters Release an Enormous, Arena Rock Ripper @foofighters @gregkurstin @rcarecords @NastyLittleMan

Early last year, Foo Fighters — Dave Grohl, Taylor Hawkins, Nate Mendel, Chris Shiflett, Pat Smear, and Rami Jaffee — finished work on what would eventually become their tenth full-length album, the Greg Kurstin and Foo Fighters co-produced Medicine at Midnight. Grohl and company originally intended for the album’s release to coincide with a massive world tour that the applauded act was about to…

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fromtheringapron · 4 years

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WCW Halloween Havoc 1999

Date: October 24, 1999.

Location: MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas, Nevada.

Attendance: 8,464.

Commentary: Tony Schiavone and Bobby Heenan.

Results:

1. WCW Cruiserweight Championship Match: Disco Inferno (champion) defeated Lash LeRoux.

2. Street Fight for the vacant WCW World Tag Team Championship: Harlem Heat (Booker T and Stevie Ray) defeated The First Family (Hugh Morrus and Brian Knobbs) (with Jimmy Hart) and The Filthy Animals (Billy Kidman and Konnan) to win the titles.

3. Eddie Guerrero defeated Perry Saturn via disqualification.

4. Brad Armstrong defeated Berlyn (with The Wall).

5. WCW World TV Championship Match: Rick Steiner (champion) defeated Chris Benoit.

6. Lex Luger (with Miss Elizabeth) defeated Bret Hart.

7. WCW World Heavyweight Championship Match: Sting (champion) defeated Hulk Hogan.

8. WCW United States Championship Match: Goldberg defeated Sid Vicious (champion) via TKO to win the title.

9. Strap Match: Diamond Dallas Page (with Kimberly) defeated Ric Flair.

10. WCW World Heavyweight Championship Match: Goldberg defeated Sting (champion) to win the title.

My Review

WCW was rapidly spinning out of control by the time of Halloween Havoc 1999, but a new beginning seemed to be on the horizon. Vince Russo, the man who spearheaded the Attitude Era in the WWF, joined the writing team right before the show, with hopes he’d add a spark to a product that’d become convoluted and stale. Russo certainly did bring a spark; the only problem is that he wound up burning down the whole house with it. Halloween Havoc 1999 may have only just been the start of this new era, but it’s got Russo’s fingerprints all over it and, holy shit, does it go off the rails in a hurry.

In a way, Halloween Havoc and Russo’s swerve-laden booking seem like the perfect match. If there’s one event where he could go balls to the wall with crash TV and gimmickry, it’s gotta be Havoc, and heavens knows the depths of absurdism WCW reached at the event in the years before Russo anyway. Unfortunately, the ‘99 Havoc features one of Russo’s worst booking caveats⏤the worked shoot. This would happen several times throughout his tenure in WCW, each more embarrassing than the last, but his obsession with “going off the script” starts here.

The show starts conventionally enough, but it takes a hard left turn into near indescribable chaos. Midway through, we have a match between Hulk Hogan and Sting, a main event match that’s bound to draw no matter how many times it happens. But, alas, there’s a twist: Hogan “lies” down for Sting and the match ends in 3 seconds. It’s then given zero explanation or follow-up for the rest of the show, leaving the audience confused and downright angry. Even when you look past they just pissed away a match people were paying money to see, it feels like a desperate attempt to create controversy just to pop some interest in the next night’s Nitro. I don’t think Hogan “lying down” was ever explained on WCW TV though, which just makes the whole thing worse.

If that weren’t enough, the commentators and performers are constantly bringing up “the writers from up North” and the “powers that be.” It’s deliberately meant to be a wink at the audience, who are likely rolling their eyes so hard that you can practically hear it. It’s all just a way of saying “Get it? This is a bunch of fake shit. You’re watching a bunch of fakers. But this right here? This is real.” The reality is that it’s actually just embarrassing, not that Russo ever caught on. There’s still plenty of other swerves throughout the night, including a surprise Sting vs. Goldberg main event. The crowd in Las Vegas seems to dig it, at least. Too bad it’s practically impossible to connect the dots on how we even got the damn match in the first place!

Halloween Havoc 1999 is exactly the kind of madness you can expect from WCW’s annual schlockfest, but it’s even more confounding and inexplicable this time out. I guess the nicest thing I can say is that the show certainly isn’t boring. The bad part is that the fun often gives way to frustration, filling this Halloween Havoc up with more tricks than treats.

My Random Notes

On WCW Nitro for Men Cologne: Okay, I’m completely befuddled by this. I can’t imagine a grown ass adult actually purchasing it, let alone a 14-year-old. Beyond that, they have a segment on this show where Medusa and Bobby Heenan basically tell us it’s shit?

Lash LeRoux, in his ongoing quest to carve out an identity for himself, wears a dreadful Lash Vegas shirt to the ring. I’d like to think he immediately discarded it after this show and never wore it again.

Buff Bagwell takes one of the worst guitar shots I’ve ever seen. It just kinda bonks over his head. I do wonder what level of craft goes into creating a gimmicked guitar, though.

The Halloween Havoc graveyard in this outing features a headstone shared by The Boston Strangler and Jack the Ripper. Yes, folks, that’s right: The Ripper was not only identified, but also shares the same grave with another serial killer at MGM in Las Vegas. The more you know!

I haven’t seen enough of them to judge, but Revolution are pretty much like the Radicals just without Eddie, no?

Eddie stealing Ric Flair’s Rolex was a storyline at this time, apparently. It’s another example of Russo stuffing in too many storylines, but I do low-key appreciate it’s not the only documented time Eddie has stolen from Flair, must we not forget the time he stole Flair’s number at Royal Rumble ’05.

We get a quick shot of a Hogan WWF wrestling buddy in the crowd, which reminds me that I have the Warrior and Macho King ones smoldering up in my attic somewhere.

Shoutout to the show’s poster, which gives me strong Animorphs vibes and Scholastic Book Fair memories. There was also the Nickelodeon show I barely watched? I just remember there was some dude named Tobias on it.

In Russo’s obsession with confused sexual analogies, DDP delivers a promo where he winds up landing on him and Flair jerking off together. Um, okay. Not gonna try to unpack that. Happy for you tho. Or sorry that happened.

Pretty crazy to think Bret vs. Luger would’ve been an absolutely money program just five years earlier when both were headlining WrestleMania X, and now they’re here just in this 7-minute drivel of a match. I know I shouldn’t be surprised, as both were at a radically different point in their respective careers by this time, but I find their showing here depressing as fuck.

#wwe network #halloween havoc #wcw #wrestling #halloween #wwe nxt #goldberg

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sohannabarberaesque · 3 years

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Moth Mondays with the Funtastic World of Hanna-Barbera

Kwicky Koala “himself”

Somehow managing to evade the clutches of Wilford Wolf through a sly trick of his allowing him to move around as if by magic, The World’s Fastest Koala also has another side of him that makes him somewhat popular in the food-truck arena with a somewhat unusual approach to same ... and which he can best relate.

“Here’s Kwicky Koala, live at The Moth ...”

It seems there’s something irresistable about having a food truck out amongst food trucks ... but even more amusing is to have a food truck like mine featuring Australian grocery staples. Which, to someone like me fond of eucalyptus leaves, may seem a little odd when, instead of meat pies, say, you’re actually offering the likes of ETA Barbecue Sauce, Bonox--that’s a beef extract you mix with hot water for broth--Nerada Tea, Milo, Vegemite--that’s a rather iconic Australian staple, yeast extract basically as tastes a bit on the salty side but is rather nutritious on toast or crackers--and a number of Arnott’s Biscuits, as we Aussies call your cookies.

Which also turns out to include some crackers such as SAO, which is a rather thick cracker yet is very appetising ... Jatz, which is pretty much like your Ritz cracker ... Barbecue Shapes and Chicken Shapes ... and a rather hearty one called Vita-Weat Crispbreads, which are whole wheat and, because of the fiber, are quite nutritious yet snackable. Now a crispbread to us Aussies is a cracker as could replace bread at the table, in case you’re asking.

Now one evening, I had parked my Aussie Grocery Truck close to Venice Beach just as the sunset-watchers were out to watch an especially brilliant sunset complemented by some especially ripper waves ... and you’ll never guess who turned up, or what she wanted. It was an incognito Penelope Pitstop, I will have you know, who wanted a couple packets of Arnott’s 9-Grain Vita-Weat Crispbreads “for the evening ahead.”

I didn’t know if she was the sort as was on a crash diet, but then again, Penelope Pitstop isn’t the sort to want to go on off-and-on diets recognising the bodily harm they can do for an attractive gal like her. She was to explain to me privately that some Australian friends of hers had introduced her to Vita-Weat Crispbreads as something of a worthwhile foundation for some light snacks such as he’s fond of noshing on every now and then. Especially with cheese spread or just plain cheese ... and she can’t help but go crazy for Vita-Weat Crispbreads. Especially the 9-Grain and Sesame sort; she can hardly resist the rather rich taste as much as the whole grains inherent.

At least I’m glad to please Penelope Pitstop ... as well as The Banana Splits, who have been known to call at my truck for a box or two of the Arnott’s Shapes. Especially the Barbecue flavour, although on occasion they can’t resist the Chicken variety ... although Fleegle explained once that the barbecue was a little tangy for their tastes, yet left the inevitable stains on the old fingers (as well as a rather distinctive taste when you lick the seasoning off), and Bingo couldn’t resist “bogarting” a new box of Shapes.

Still, though, you can never help but discover what sort of tastes the curious have from my Aussie Grocery Truck. Especially the Vegemite, naturally, and then out of curiosity--even if it means my having to demonstrate the proper way of spreading the old Vegemite. As in very thinly across the toast.

“... and that’s the story from The Moth”

(The preceding is an independent fanfic feature having no official connexion or association with The Moth. For more information, please to visit their website ... and tune in to The Moth Radio Hour weekends on your local public radio station; check your local radio listings for the day and time.)

@warnerarchive @hanna-barbera-land @warnerbrosentertainment @moonrock1973 @wherearethememesonmyplate @themineralyoucrave @hanna-barbera-blog @hanna-barberians @jg376 @screamingtoosoftly @cottoncandy-wannabe

#fanfic #hanna barbera #the moth #crossover #moth monday #kwicky koala #food truck #aussie groceries #vegemite #arnott's biscuits #vita weat #shapes #the banana splits #penelope pitstop #hannabarberaforever

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chickrawker · 5 years

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Morrissey at FivePoint Amphitheatre 10/5/19

Totally having a crazy week so just now posting my recap of this show. I had the choice of seeing this show at this newish venue in Irvine or in San Diego at the Sports Arena (I can't remember what they are calling it these days.) So obvs choice was to pick this venue. This is the OC's replacement for the late great Irvine Meadows. It's literally in the middle of a new subdivision. But the sound and sightlines are good so I'm definitely going to go to more shows here. So set list per usual....

Morrissey Five Point Amphitheatre Irvine, CA 10/5/19 Suedehead Alma Matters The More You Ignore Me Hairdresser on Fire Morning Starship Wedding Bell Blues Lady Willpower I Wish You Lonely Home is a Question Mark Why Don't You Find Out For Yourself That Joke Isn't Funny Anymore I'm Throwing My Arms around Paris How Soon is Now Back on the Chain Gang Seaside, Still Docked If You Don't Like Me Don't Look at Me Munich Air Disaster 1958 The Bullfighter Dies Never Again Will I Be A Twin Some Say (I Got Devil) Jack the Ripper Encore: Every Day is Like Sunday

This was a really fun show. Morrissey always brings it for his SoCal shows. He knows that all of Latinx will be there and he just lives for it. He spoke to us in Spanish A LOT. He also peppered us with wisdom like "Life is long nothing is given to woman or man and why that makes you scream I have no idea." The set list was a bit of a wild ride. He deviated a little from other shows on this tour - mainly by playing "How Soon is Now" in the middle of the main set. Loved his cover of the Pretenders' "Back on the Chain Gang" where he told us it was "Written by one of my best friends in the entire world and I love her." We love Chrissy Hynde too, Moz. Of course, it's not a Moz show until his shirt comes off and he saved it for the encore of "Every Day is Like Sunday" where he changed the lyrics to "Tell me cuando cuando cuando" which gave me so much LIFE at that point in the night. Video on my insta if you want to see him in his old dude glory.

#Morrissey #set list

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

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It’s Reaping day! (again) I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know!

[FF] or [AO3]

Chapter 15 : The Best Part Of The Deal

Haymitch had been right when he had thought Thread would like them to make a grand entrance. The whole District was gathered on the Square and parted for them without the Peacekeepers being forced to clean a lane.

It felt… solemn.

A few men took their hat off, like you did at a funeral. Some people made a point of meeting their eyes, others nodded… When they passed in front of Gale, Haymitch could see Peeta squeezing Katniss’ hand in a gesture of comfort.

He wished Effie could hold his hand too.

Familiar faces blurred together. Sae’s sad crooked smile. Ripper standing as tall as her broken back would allow her. Hazelle’s teary eyes.

Dust puffed in small clouds around their feet.

Haymitch was there and he wasn’t. He was walking toward the stage twenty-five years earlier, for another Quell. He was walking in the lane kids always automatically created for the tribute who had been unfortunate enough to be picked. Too many tesseraes, he had thought at the time, never had a fighting chance. Not with the double number of tributes. Not with so many pieces of paper bearing his name in that glass ball.

He looked around for his brother’s face and found Prim’s gaze instead. The kid shot him a soft encouraging smile and he ruffled her hair as he walked past her, making her squeak in protest – like always. It helped. It grounded him.

They separated at the foot of the stage, once they were past the security ropes.

Katniss and Peeta’s hands remained entwined for as long as possible, their arms stretching to touch to the very last second. A nice little display that he hoped the cameras had caught.

Effie’s fingers discreetly brushed against his before she went up the stairs.

He followed Peeta to their waiting area on the left of the stage, catching Katniss’ eye when she was in her own designed space on the right. The girl nodded, looking older than her seventeen years. He nodded back, placing a heavy hand on the boy’s shoulder. To remind Peeta – or maybe himself – that they all had an arrangement.

“Are you one hundred percent certain?” the kid asked, as if on cue. “I beg you, Haymitch. If you are doubting just for one second…”

Effie was exchanging a few words with Undersee, all smiles and theatrics as usual. He stared at her, focusing on the red dress, retracing the curves of her calves with his eyes…

“That’s how we save your girl.” he said at last.

“But you…” Peeta argued.

“That’s how I save you.” he cut him off. “Don’t you fucking dare take that away from me or I am gonna punch you.”

If he did anything good in his life, it would be saving those kids.

Peeta was the easy one, truth be told. Katniss… It would be trickier. She would be an obvious target to the others, the outsider to their group and the crowd’s favorite. It would take brain and muscles. Keeping her alive long enough for Effie and Peeta to find her sponsors, keeping her alive long enough that she could reach the finish line…

“I just want to save her.” the boy whispered, clearly in pain. “I want to save her so badly. I would go in with her. In a heartbeat. I’d die for her.”

“You’re gonna have to do better, kid. You’re gonna have to live for her.” Haymitch countered. “’Cause when all this is over and she’s back, she’s gonna need you.”

Going in an arena once was usually enough to rip someone’s soul to shreds.

He wasn’t impatient to find out what happened when you went back for a second time.

He shook his head, sighing when he saw Undersee take his place in front of the microphone.

“Dying’s easy, Peeta. Surviving’s the real bitch.” he said. “Don’t feel guilty. I’m getting the best part of the deal.”

It wasn’t quite a lie but it wasn’t quite the truth either.

He had sat through a lot of Reapings, most of them as drunk as he could get away with, but this one felt particularly weird. The Square was deadly silent. Undersee talked in a flat mechanical voice about the rebellion and the origins of the Games and Haymitch tuned him out. He stared at Effie and tried to remain grounded.

When Undersee left his place to their escort, there was no clapping.

She looked nervous and not quite as at ease as usual but that could easily have been explained by the particular atmosphere. It was downright rebellious and he could glimpse the Peacekeepers adjusting their grip on their guns at every corner of the Square.

“Welcome, welcome to the Third Quarter Quell!” she declared. She aimed for cheerful but her smile was too fixed and the tone wasn’t quite right. “Ladies first!”

Her hands were visibly shaking, she struggled to grab the lonely piece of paper and she paused before announcing Katniss’ name, barely glancing down, her eyes on the girl.

She was doing her best, Haymitch figured, but it wasn’t good enough. If she didn’t keep it together… He wasn’t sure how off the hook she was. She knew better than this. It was one thing to fall apart in the privacy of his house, where there were no bugs and no cameras, it was entirely another to betray herself in front of the whole country.

“Katniss Everdeen.” she said, at last. If she even tried to put some cheer in there, it fell flat.

She waited until the girl came to stand next to her before moving on to the other glass ball and its two pitiful folded papers.

She stood there and looked at them, flashing Haymitch a smile that was entirely fake and that pained him more than it comforted him. She fished one of the papers and briefly closed her eyes once she had read the name. It gave her away. He knew her too well.

“Remember the plan.” he reminded the boy. “Stay put.”

“Haymitch Abernathy.” Effie called, her voice cracking in the middle of his name.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t hear it in her voice anyway. It was the old escort’s voice he heard and it was toward the old hag that he walked as if in a daze, after pressing Peeta’s shoulder. Once he was next to her, he blinked and Effie was back. Their eyes met. Her fake eyelashes were batting like crazy to fight off the tears she couldn’t allow herself.

Her hand slipped into his and she gave the world her brightest smile. He supposed she had caught Katniss’ hand too.

“District Twelve, I give you your tributes for the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games: Katniss Everdeen and Haymitch Abernathy!” she exclaimed. She forced both his arm and Katniss’ high over their heads in a victorious pose. The crafted iris dug in his palm.

Aster was the first one to bring three fingers to her lips before holding them out but, soon, a second figure copied her and a third and, before he could blink, the whole District, spread at their feet, was doing it. It was a mark of respect, of love… It was beautiful.

For a second, Haymitch felt himself moved beyond words. It was one of those moments that were bigger than just a person.

But, then, he saw Thread’s reaction and he realized just how it looked…

“Don’t.” he hissed at the girl before she could give the salute back.

Katniss shot him a confused look but mercifully listened.

They couldn’t afford to look rebellious. Not if they wanted a chance at getting her out.

The cameras shut down and Effie relaxed. So did Haymitch. It was done. Peeta was safe. As safe as any new victor was anyway. And he was…

Effie turned to him, probably about to remind him they needed to proceed into the Justice Building, when he was brutally torn from her side. Katniss screamed and he automatically fought the hands that tried to restrain him, managing to hit someone in the stomach with his elbow and only getting knocked behind the head for his trouble.

Stunned, he was dragged away and tossed in a car, barely hearing Katniss’ protests or Effie’s cries of outrage.

“They can’t do this!” Katniss raged, once the car’s door locked behind her. She pounded on the tainted glass with her fists. “We’re allowed to say goodbyes! We’re allowed…” When the car drove away, the fight left her. She slumped against the seat. “We’re allowed to say goodbye…”

He would have offered some comforting words if he had been able to put a sentence together. He felt the back of his head, not quite surprised to feel a bump developing…

The world was still spinning around him when the car doors opened and hands grabbed him again. They pushed them in the train so brutally Haymitch hit the wall and would have collapsed without Katniss’ hands steadying him.

“You’re okay?” the girl finally worried, manhandling him so she could get a look at the back of his head.

“We’re off to a great start.” he mumbled with a wince.

“Insufferable!” Effie’s voice screamed in her best I’m pissed and someone is going to pay for it voice. “Do not dare put a single finger on me or I swear I will have your tongue removed! I will report this. Heads will roll for this!”

He was vaguely aware Peeta seemed to be playing the role of buffer between her and the Head Peacekeeper. As soon as the two of them had climbed on board the door locked shut and the engine hummed to life.

“Outrageous! Hitting victors on the back of the head with guns!” she screeched, making him wince deeper. “Imagine that! I swear!”

“That’s what it was?” he muttered, batting away Katniss’ hands.

Effie’s attention relocated from the now shut door to him and anger faded to concern. “You should sit down, darling. It looked like a bad blow.”

“Don’t call me darling in front of the kids.” he huffed when she gripped his arm and steered him toward the sitting room car.

“There’s no blood.” Katniss offered helpfully.

Effie’s free hand was already probing at the wound like she knew what she was doing. She had patched him up after enough binge drinking accidents to know some stuff about first aid, he figured.

He felt a bit better once he was sitting down on the couch but his head was still spinning. Someone – Peeta, he thought – pressed a bag of ice on the bump. He hissed but the relief was immediate. He looked up at the three concerned faces peering at him and rolled his eyes. “I’ll admit it’s not glorious. Good thing there won’t be any gun in the arena.”

At least, he hoped so. There had never been any before.

The reminder worked as he had intended it to. Katniss’ worry disappeared for a sulk.

“We were allowed to say goodbye.” the girl protested, mainly directing that at Effie. “It’s in the rules. It’s…”

“I know, dear.” their escort cut her off almost distractedly, her eyes still glued on him. “I am sorry, I had no clue. If I had known...”

“It’s alright, Effie.” Peeta temporized. “We know it’s not your fault.”

“I will report this incident.” she promised, pursing her lips tight. “This is not to be suffered.” She sat down next to Haymitch and reached for the bag of ice. His fingers were numb so he let her take it. She inspected the bump carefully before pressing the ice back. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy.” he lied.

“I’ll be in my room.” Katniss spat before storming out.

He expected Peeta to follow but the boy hovered awkwardly, worrying his fingers a little.

“Spit it out.” Haymitch grumbled.

“Thank you.” the kid offered. “Nobody… I never thought anyone would ever do something like that for me and… Thank you.”

He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to answer to that so he simply gave a brief nod.

“Peeta, dear.” Effie cut in with her usual cheerfulness. “If you go to my room you will find potential sponsors files on the dressing table. They are color coded. Perhaps you could start reading them, learn their face and their name. It will make mentoring easier.”

“Sure.” Peeta immediately agreed. “I’ll… See you at dinner.”

Haymitch waited until he was gone before dropping his head on her lap, nudging her further down the couch so he could put his feet up. She switched the hand holding the bag of ice and placed her cold fingers on his shoulder. He covered them briefly and then brought them to his lips.

“That’s done.” he commented flatly.

“I suppose it is.” she replied, bubbly and fake. He wasn’t sure if she was acting because the train was bugged or to keep the pretense up for both of their sake’s.

“Don’t suppose you’d let me have a drink, yeah?” he mocked, his eyes resting on the liquor cart in the corner. His mouth was watering at the simple sight of the bottle.

“I will have them removed.” she declared. “And I will make sure the penthouse is alcohol free.”

“Thought so.” he snorted.

He remained silent for a while, trying to come to terms with the enormity of it all.

It wasn’t just the thought that he was going to die in the next three weeks. That, he might have made his peace with. It was the knowledge that he was going to have to go back to the arena in every sense of the term. That he was probably going to be forced to kill people. His friends.

Effie’s fingers were running through his hair slowly, the only thing grounding him to a reality he would have gladly fled.

“Any guess as to who’s gonna be in there with us?” he asked.

“Brutus is volunteering.” she said.

“You’re guessing or you know for sure?” he frowned.

“Valeria told me.” she confessed. “We won’t know for certain until the recap airs but… She sounded certain. You know how he is… It is all about the competition for him and a Quell… He wouldn’t be able to pass on the opportunity.”

“Suppose not.” he sighed. “How come you’re so close to that woman all of a sudden?”

Effie had never had many good friends amongst the other escorts. They were all best friends in front of the cameras, of course, but behind them…

Her fingers ran in his hair a few times before she answered and he knew she was trying to waste time, to figure out how best to word something he wouldn’t like.

“I was not the only one who was asked to step down after the Quell is over.” she declared. “We believe… Any escort who is close to her victors has been fired for various inconsequential reasons. It brought us closer.” She snorted. “You won’t be surprised to learn Viola Summercket is being promoted from Eleven to Two next year.”

“She’s taking Valeria’s spot.” He made a face. “Explains why Two’s your best friend now.”

“Well, that and the fact she is intimate with a lot of prestigious sponsors.” Effie countered. “I have been making contacts while conducting my personal vendetta, if you must know.”

“That’s my girl.” he chuckled. He squeezed her knee and sat up straight. The bump at the back of his head throbbed but he didn’t feel like the world was spinning around anymore. “We’re gonna have to talk strategy.”

“It can wait until after the Reapings recap.” she countered. “Once we know who we are dealing with, we can plan accordingly.” He knew she was right so he gave her a small nod. She made a small face, worrying one of her big diamond ring around her finger. The iris shaped ring looked out of place amongst the gemstones, too common and plain to rival with her expensive jewelry. He was betting it would be gone from sight as soon as she would have found a safe place to keep it. “There is something else…” she hesitated.

“Isn’t there always?” he scowled.

“Our stylist.” It was all she needed to say, really.

“Great.” he deadpanned. “How bad?”

“Bad.” she confirmed without trying to make light of it – which told him all he needed to know really. “I made it very clear I had the final say and that I would supervise parade costumes and the interview outfits but we should expect troubles. She is… very full of herself.”

“You checked the parade outfits though, yeah?” he asked, suddenly panicked at the memory of what they had been forced to deal with over the years. “No gunnysack. Tell me, there’s no gunnysack.”

He hadn’t given a single thought to the parade, had forgotten how humiliating that part was.

“I specifically told her to work with the flame design.” she countered. “However, I have yet to see any prototype so…”

“You don’t know what’s in store.” He rubbed his face. “I ain’t letting them put me in a gunnysack. Rather wear the minor outfit again.”

His own parade outfit hadn’t been the worst he had seen all those years.

“It won’t come to that.” she promised in that soothing tone of hers. “I made it clear she should expect drastic consequences if I was displeased with the end result.”

It wasn’t that reassuring.

Eventually, Peeta returned with the sponsors files and too many questions. Haymitch did his best to answer them despite his headache while Effie found a train attendant and had the liquor removed and strict instructions given about how he should not be indulged with whatever alcohol he asked for. He was grateful not to have to request her to do it. He was grateful she knew him well enough to know he was tempted to gulp down a couple of bottles and say hell to it all.

When Katniss trailed after Effie in the dining-room car that evening, she looked a bit better than she had earlier. She was still sulking about not being able to say goodbye – and Haymitch understood, really, he was lucky in the sense that anyone he would have wanted to say goodbye to was standing in that room – but she had apparently decided to make an effort for their sake.

Dinner was a silent, gloomy affair. Nobody made much of an effort to chat. Effie tried a few times but always ended up falling silent again.

“I like your new hair.” Peeta ventured at some point, tired of the defeated atmosphere maybe.

It was all Effie needed to have the ball rolling. He listened to her talk about matching tokens as if she was clueless about how it would be viewed and faked complete disinterest when his opinion was sought.

“Maybe we should get you a wig, too.” Katniss tossed in a pitiful attempt at humor.

Haymitch scowled at her and Effie quickly cleared her throat, giving up on forcing herself to eat her custard. She suggested they moved on to watching the recap of the reapings and they all wholeheartedly agreed, relieved to leave the dinner table behind. It didn’t help that they had spent a whole month sharing meals with Cinna and Portia at this very table. Their ghosts lingered.

“How many of us in all?” he asked Effie when Peeta ran to his room to grab his notebook. He hadn’t been able to pinpoint an exact number. There were those who never came to the Capitol anymore either because of age or because their mental state wasn’t suitable to public exposure…

“Fifty-nine.” she answered with some nervousness.

He didn’t ask how many were older than forty or how many were addicted to something but he bet she knew those numbers too. He bet she was praying for most of their opponents to be elderly and weak from withdrawals.

They sat next to each other on the couch, leaving the armchairs to the kids. It allowed him to press his side against Effie’s, to draw comfort from her presence without being too obvious about it. He schooled his features into a blank mask before it even began, certain that the children would look at him to gauge his reaction with every new name called.

One was easily the District with the most tributes. The escort called Cashmere and although a few female victors looked at each other, nobody challenged that. Cashmere smiled and looked the part but she didn’t seem very happy with her fate. It was a different affair for the men. When Evira and her long green painted nails picked up Velmar’s name, Gloss stepped forward before anyone could even react.

Peeta drew stars next to their names in his notebook.

“To protect her or to win the title?” Effie asked under her breath.

“Protect her.” he answered, low enough that it wouldn’t carry to the kids who were commenting on the shallowness of Careers.

The Ritchson siblings had had their share of glory. They hadn’t liked being sold like cattle any more than any other victor had – never mind the fact that they were often sold as an item.

Gloss and Cashmere exchanged a look before the escort officially announced them and the spark in their eyes when they lifted their arms high over their heads, hands tightly locked together, promised mayhem. They would do their best to see that one of them got home, he already knew.

District Two was a quick affair. Valeria called Lyme and Enobaria volunteered, flashing her fangs to the cameras, then she called an old man and Brutus stepped forward, high-fiving his former tribute with a happy smile before pressing a loud kiss to their escort’s cheek. Because he knew the crowd would go mad for that in the Capitol. His wife didn’t seem as pleased about it.

“Poor Val.” Effie sighed softly.

District Three didn’t have as many tributes as One or Two. There were only two women standing there. Wiress looked downright apprehensive and was clearly fighting to keep a straight face, her posture was rigid, her eyes riveted to Beetee’s on the other side of the stage. Layela was younger, in her late twenties. An old flame of Finnick’s. He could still remember talking the kid into chatting her up… Layela didn’t step forward when Gloria’s dyed green hand picked up Wiress’ name. Nobody spoke out either when Beetee’s name was called.

Four… Four was a sham. There were as many victors there as there were in One and Two. Della, the escort, hesitated after checking the name on the piece of paper. Her eyes darted to the pool of female victors and then to where the men were waiting. Her voice broke when she called out a timid “Annie Cresta.” and Effie clucked her tongue at her behavior as if her own had been exemplary. But Della had been her protégé since she had become an escort a couple of years earlier so he supposed this explained that.

He wished he could say he was surprised when Annie lost it or when Mags tapped the floor twice with her walking stick to get everyone’s attention. If she spoke the words “I volunteer” they were lost to the cameras. But the way she hit her chest was enough for Della to understand and quickly announce her as the female tribute. That Finnick’s name was called of all the men gathered there confirmed Haymitch’s suspicions that some of the Reapings had been oriented. Both Annie and Finnick? It was very unlikely.

Effie let out a small pained sigh and he pressed his shoulder harder against hers, to remind her their only concern should be the kids next to them not the ones they had no hope of saving.

Five and Six went down as could be expected given the small numbers of victors.

Seven… He had hoped Johanna would escape it but she was forced to walk to the stage scowling and sneering. Nobody volunteered for Blight either.

He held his breath when it was Eight’s turn, not quite sure who he was hoping for. There were only Alina and Cecelia standing there and both of them had children. He liked Cecelia but he liked Alina more and so he breathed a sigh of relief when it wasn’t her name that echoed on Eight’s square.

“Oh, not Cecelia…” Effie lamented. They were friends, he remembered too late.

Nine was quick since there was only one male and one female victors. They were both in their sixties and Haymitch would have been surprised if they survived the inevitable bloodbath. Ten was pretty much the same.

Eleven… Seeder flinched when she heard her name but she recovered quickly enough to step forward with a forced smile and undeniable poise. Viola waited for a bit, her eyes on the other woman standing in the waiting area, clearly wishing her to volunteer – either because it would have spiced things up and given her some opportunity to shine or because she actually liked Seeder, that was anyone’s guess. When it was clear it wouldn’t happen, she moved on the other glass bowl.

“Come on.” he muttered under his breath when Viola’s fingers struggled to catch one of the two pieces of paper. “Come on…”

Not Chaff. It couldn’t be Chaff. If his best friend remained out there, he would know for certain someone would be there to look after his kids. If his best friend was out there…

“Chaff Mitchell.” Viola said almost gleefully. She didn’t bother waiting for Dam to volunteer and take his former tribute’s place.

He briefly closed his eyes.

“Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight.” Effie commented out loud. He wasn’t sure if it was meant to comfort him or not.

Twelve’s reaping had been heavily edited. Gone was their solemn entrance. Effie called Katniss’ name, then Haymitch’s and the feed cut back to the announcers who congratulated themselves about how it would be the best games ever.

Haymitch stood up and left without a word for anyone.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #into that good night

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