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dialovers-translations · 3 years

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Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma Dark [07]

ー The scene starts in the hallway

Yui: ( Quite some time has passed since I came here but...This place is kind of odd, isn’t it? )

( It’s also a Vampire’s manor, but compared to my time at the Sakamaki’s, it’s different in more than just one way... )

Yuma: ...Told ya...Didn’t!? (1)

Yui: ( Hm? Was that Yuma’s voice just now? It’s coming from the living room. )

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Kou: You’re lying! You definitely used it!

Yuma: I’m innocent! Didn’t ya just forgot ya used it yerself!?

Yui: What’s wrong, you two? You’ll get scolded by Ruki-kun for quarreling, you know?

Kou: Ah, M-neko-chan! Listen to this! Yuma-kun used my towel without permission!

Yui: Towel?

Yuma: Like I just told ya, I didn’t! It could have been Ruki or Azusa, right!?

Kou: But you used my shampoo in the past and threw it away because you thought it smelled disgusting!

Yuma: Aah? ...Did that really happen? Anyway, all of yer stuff just smells so damn weird.

Kou: Ahー! So you did use it after all! Actually, I don’t want to hear that from someone who has the scent of sugar stuck to them 24/7!

Yuma: Aahn!? Don’t ya dare make fun of my Sugar-chan!

Yui: ( ...This is like watching two little kids fight. I’ll just leave them be... )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the dining room

*Cling*

Yui: ( ...Yeah, I really did a good job frying today’s shrimp! The batter’s nice and crispy and the mouthfeel is spot-on! )

( While living here, I found out that the people of this manor do eat regular meals, unlike the Sakamaki’s... )

( And on top of that, they’re rather fussy about the taste. Even though they’re Vampires. )

( However, I’m sure they won’t have any complaints about today’s dish! As a result, everyone’s actually eating quieーー )

Yuma: ...Oi, ya punk.

Yui: Eh?

Yuma: Not you! Kou, I’m talkin’ to ya! Hold it right there!!

*Cling*

Kou: Ah! What are you doing, Yuma-kun! That’s my fried shrimp!!

Yuma: It’s ‘cause ya took the last one like it’s the most natural thing in the damn world!

Kou: Ehー? The early bird gets the worm, right? Don’t you think it’s weird to complain about that?

Yuma: But you’ve already eaten the most out of us all! Ever heard of the word ‘equal’, aahn!?

Oi, Azusa! Are ya fine with this? You’ve barely had any!

Azusa: If you’ll give it to me...I’ll gladly take it...

Yuma: ‘If you give it to me’, my ass! Tell me whether ya want it or not!

Azusa: Then...I want it. They’re delicious after all.

Yuma: Oi, Ruki, how ‘bout ya?

Ruki: I’m good.

Yuma: ‘Kay, then we’ll play rock-paper-scissors with the three of us. Fair and square! I hate an unfair match.

Azusa: A single round, huh...?

Kou: Rock, paper...scissors!

Yui: ...

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the kitchen

Yui: ( ...It really does feel off. )

( When I watch them interact like that, they really don’t seem any different from a group of tight-knit brothers. Not Vampires, but human ones. )

( It’s not like the Sakamaki’s were constantly at each other’s throats either but... )

( They did seem somewhat irritated by each other’s presence, so seeing a group of Vampires who genuinely get along is very refreshing. )

( Besides, back there everyone was awake at night, but here they seem to switch it up... )

( I’m supposed to be living at a place with Vampires but...This is kind of throwing me off. )

Yuma: You’re in the way, move.

Yui: ...! Yuma-kun!

*Rustle*

Yui: ( He’s looking through the fridge... )

Yuma-kun, what are you doing?

Yuma: Aah? Can’t ya tell? I’m lookin’ for some grub.

Yui: I got that part but...We just had dinner.

Yuma: I’m not full yet. I missed out on one shrimp after all.

Yui: ( He’s holding a grudge... )

Yuma: Ahーah, fuck...Is there nothin’ good in here...Hm?

*Rustle*

Yuma: Oh, found a real gem!

Yui: ( B-Boneless ham!? In one piece!? )

Yuma: Ahー ...Nom...Nom.

Yui: ( He’s eating it whole...Talk about luxurious... )

( Also, seems like he eats meat and not blood when he’s hungry. That really doesn’t seem very Vampire-like... )

( They’re such mysterious people...I still don’t know why they brought me here either. )

Yuma: ...Aah? What? Ya want some too?

Yui: Eh? ...N-No, I don’t need any.

Yuma: ...

ー Yuma slams the fridge shut

*Thud*

Yui: ( H-He’s coming my way...!? )

Yuma: Then what were ya ogglin’ me for? Isn’t there somethin’ ya wanted to say to me, aahn!?

*THUD*

Yui: ( Ah...He blocked the way with his leg... )

Yuma: ...I told ya this before as well, didn’t I?

How I hate women who won’t speak their mind more than anythin’, that is...

Lookin’ my way with that timid, scared look in yer eyes even tho ya don’t have the guts to speak up. It pisses me off.

If there’s somethin’ on yer mind, don’t just shut up but tell me!

*THUD*

Selection

→ Keep quiet out of fear (M)

Yui: ( I do have something on my mind, but I really am too scared to tell him...! )

Yuma: Still givin’ me the silent treatment, huh? Ya really piss me off.

→ Try speaking your mind (S)

Yui: Then...

Yuma: Yeah, spit it out.

Yui: ...

Yuma: Come on, what’s wrong? Tell me! Aahn!?

Yui: ( I-It’s scary after all! I can’t say it! )

Yuma: ...Haahー....

*THUD*

Yui: ...!

Yuma: I’m tellin’ ya to fess up! Do ya really not get it unless I repeat myself a million times, ya dumb Sow!?

Yui: ( I-In Yuma-kun’s case, I might actually upset him more by staying quiet...! )

...I-I wasn’t really...

Yuma: Aahn!?

Yui: I wasn’t looking because I wanted to eat the ham...

Yuma: Yeah.

Yui: I just thought how it is strange how you guys are so ‘non-Vampire-like’ in some ways...

( Is this good...? )

Yuma: Hah! Ya keep beatin’ ‘round the bush forever but that’s it?

We’re not very Vampire-like, huh? Well, we’re human after all. ‘Course we aren’t.

Yui: ...Eh?

( What did he say just now...? )

Yuma: The correct statement would be ‘we were human’ tho. Right now we’re full-fletched Vampires. Soーー

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...He grabbed me by the throat again...! Don’t tell me...! )

Yuma: We eat meat too, but I’ll get my proper fill of yer blood as well. ...Nn...

ー Yuma bites her

Yui: Nn...!

Yuma: ...Nn...Sweet...

...It’s sweet but...Haah.

Yui: Kyah...!

*Rustle*

Yuma: Ah? Whatcha sittin’ down for? Can’t ya stand on yer two legs?

Hehe, I guess it makes sense. Gettin’ down on all fours and bowin’ yer head in front of yer Master is the most basic thing to do, right?

Yui: ( It’s because he suddenly let go of my throat...! )

Yuma: You’re kinda lackin’ today. Guess yer blood doesn’t match well with meat.

Which means, my dessert after the meat has to be none other than...Nn...

Aah, delicious. Sugar-chan really is such a good girl, goin’ well with anythin’...Ya can’t even compare to that.

That bein’ said, I’m done with ya today. See ya. Ah, be sure to put the ham back in the fridge before it dries out, ‘kay?

ー Yuma leaves

Monologue

While somehow supporting myself after being abandoned so easily,

I recalled Yuma-kun’s words,

as well as what Laito-kun once said.

“We were human.”

“They aren’t pureblood (純血種) Vampires”

I vaguely grasp the meaning behind those words spoken back then.

However, it does not matter that they were once human (人間).

Right now, Yuma-kun is without a doubt a Vampire.

My bleeding neck proves this more than anything.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Parts of this sentence are left out, leaving only the から (kara) and てんだろ (tendaro). It can be a bit tricky to fill in the blanks as a non-native speaker, but I believe he says something along the lines of だから俺は使ってねえって言ってんだろ!? or ‘dakara, ore ha tsukatte-nee tte ittendaro!?” He repeats this sentence later on as well and means ‘Like I said, I didn’t use it!?’

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Dark 06 ] [ Dark 08 ] ->

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #yuma mukami #more blood #diabolik lovers translation #mbyumadark7

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thelastspeecher · 4 years

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At Midnight

Oh wow, I actually titled a ficlet. It’s been so long since I’ve done that, lol.

Anyways, I’ve been writing here and there for this AU, and finally put together enough to post something. So here’s when Stangie finally happens in the AU - while Stan is training at the South Pole.

(As a note: This AU is a collaborative effort, with @vulpixen, @bluestuffeh, and @nour386 involved in its development.)

——————————————————————————————

“Hey there, Avatar.” At the sound of a familiar voice, Stan looked over. It was Angie. She’d grown during the course of Stan’s training; they all had. After all, it took years for someone to become a fully fledged Avatar. But grown as well was the fluttering feeling Stan got in his stomach when he looked at Angie.

The moon reflected off her dark brown hair, her tawny skin stark against the ice and snow. The olive-green eyes that signaled to her Earth Kingdom heritage sparkled mischievously. She walked over to where Stan stood, leaning against an igloo, and leaned against it as well, next to him. Her breath misted in the cold air. Stan tore his eyes away from her.

“Blue’s a good color on you,” he finally said, looking determinedly at the snowy ground. Angie laughed.

“It’s much better on Lute.”

“He’s Water Tribe,” Stan said dismissively. Angie punched his shoulder. “Ow.”

“So am I,” she reminded him forcefully. “Being an earthbender doesn’t remove me from the tribe.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “But I definitely don’t feel Water Tribe right now. I can’t thrive in such a cold climate.” Stan snorted softly. “Anyways. What’s keepin’ ya up?”

“What makes you think I can’t sleep?”

“The fact that yer still awake.”

“You caught me.” Stan sighed. “I thought that this whole ‘mastering the elements’ thing would be a piece of cake. I mean, I got airbending done in record time! But I just- I can’t hack waterbending! It’s like-” Stan huffed. “It feels like it’s supposed to be like firebending, since it involves controlling something that will resist. But it’s not! I’m supposed to use the gentle touch approach I used for airbending, but water has a mind of its own. I’m either too rough or too gentle. Finding the medium is just-” Stan slid down the igloo. “It’s tough, Ang.”

“Well, I ain’t sure if I have much insight fer ya. My element is all about movin’ somethin’ that just don’t move at all unless ya force it to. Water…it moves all the time.” Angie’s voice went wistful. Stan looked at her curiously. “I had to sit in on lessons from Pa when I was a kid, learnin’ ‘bout our Water Tribe heritage.” Angie slid down the igloo as well to sit on the snow by Stan’s side. “Ma didn’t really have equivalent lessons, since she didn’t have as strong of a connection to her cultural heritage as Pa.” Angie looked at her gloved hands. “When I was younger, I wished I was a waterbender. I knew so much more about the theory behind it, about the history behind it, about my own connection to the art. But nope, I was makin’ lil quakes from my crib.”

“Wait, really?” Stan asked. Angie grinned crookedly.

“Yep. I could earthbend ‘fore I could talk.”

“Wh- but- how?” Stan asked. Angie shrugged. “Maybe you should be my earthbending teacher.” Angie tilted her head back to look up at the night sky. A smile slowly spread across her face.

“That would be wonderful. I could hit ya with rocks all day long.” She put a hand on the ground. “I’ll be glad when I’m somewhere that those rocks are more easily accessible. They’re buried under ice and snow here. I can feel ‘em, but can’t do much more ‘n make ‘em wiggle at this depth.” She shivered. Stan got up and held out her hand.

“You’re gonna freeze if you just sit around,” he said. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.” Angie smiled. She took the offered hand. Stan pulled her up.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she teased.

-----

The city was mostly deserted as they walked through the streets. No lamps were lit, but they didn’t need any. The full moon cast everything in a bright white light. To top it off, the spirit lights swam through the sky. Angie tilted her head back to look at the lights.

“It’s so beautiful,” she whispered. Stan’s heat did a somersault as he looked at her, shining in the night’s lights.

So are you. He bit back the compliment. I can’t come on to her. Stan cleared his throat roughly.

“So, uh, where do you wanna walk?” he asked. Angie raised an eyebrow.

“And here I was, thinkin’ you had some grand plan where you’d be takin’ me,” she drawled.

“You know better than that. I don’t have plans, grand or otherwise,” Stan said dismissively. Angie giggled.

“Okay, okay. Let’s go to the ocean, then. See if we can’t get ya waterbendin’.”

“Uh…”

“Come on.” Angie grabbed Stan’s hand and dragged him away from the main part of the city, towards the harbor. A few docked boats bobbed on the waves. It was too early for even the earliest fishermen to have casted off, so they had the harbor to themselves. Eventually, they came to a stop by the ocean. Angie let go of his hand to shift into a position Stan recognized from his waterbending lessons. “Mimic my movements.”

“You’re an earthbender. Unless you’re also a waterbender, in which case, you should probably tell me.”

“Oh, hush. I have waterbendin’ relatives, I’ve seen the various poses ‘n whatnot. Not to mention, I’ve been sittin’ in on your lessons. I’m good at observin’ and listenin’. Now, copy me.”

“Getting taught to waterbend by an earthbender,” Stan muttered, but copied Angie’s stance.

“Waterbending is strongest at night, and it’s a full moon no less,” Angie said, ignoring Stan’s mumbles. “If there were ever a time to unlock yer waterbendin’, it would be now.”

“…Good point.”

“Watch the waves,” Angie said softly. She gracefully shifted into a new position. Stan mirrored her. He looked out at the ocean. “They move forward and backward at the command of Tui and Yue.” Angie looked at him. “And you, too.”

“Pfft. Yeah, right.”

“Close yer eyes. Feel the moon shine down on ya. Spread out yer senses, allow yourself to be tugged like the ocean.” Angie turned her attention back to the ocean. Feeling slightly stupid, Stan closed his eyes. He took in and let out a deep breath. His eyes popped open in shock as he felt something pull at him.

“I felt it,” Stan croaked. Angie’s eyes sparkled.

“You have water. Just ‘bout everything does. Of course ya feel it. Now that you know how it feels to be tugged, try it yourself.”

“Try-”

“Watch me.” Angie held her arms out in front, then pulled them back, then pushed forward again, her movement as fluid as a waterbender’s. “Pull, push.” Stan swallowed, but again copied her movements. “Pull, push. Make the ocean feel the way you just felt.”

“Pull, push,” Stan said quietly. “Pull, push. Pull…” His eyes widened. The water was responding to his movements.

“Keep doin’ it,” Angie said gently. Stan continued, watching in awe as the ocean flowed forward, then backward, moving with him. “Good work! Now, up!” Stan knew what to do without looking. He raised his arms over his head. A weak wave rose up. It wobbled, but held its position. “See?”

“I’m- I’m waterbending!”

“Of course you are.” Stan released the water and turned to Angie. She beamed proudly at him. “Yer a waterbender.”

“But you aren’t. How come you were able to teach me to do it?”

“I think it makes sense that I got through to ya. I know the theory of it, the movements, the history, just about everything. But like you, my native element ain’t water, so I can come at it from a perspective closer to yours.”

“I…I guess that makes sense.” Stan grinned at her. “Maybe you should be my waterbending teacher.” Angie let out a peal of laughter. It sounded like bells ringing.

“No. I managed to help ya have a breakthrough, but you’ll need an actual master. ‘Sides, I’m s’pposed to teach ya earthbending, not waterbending.”

“Still. I can’t believe you got me to waterbend for the first time.”

“There’s less distinction between the elements than ya might think,” Angie said with a shrug. “I mean, waterbending movements have been used to develop firebending techniques.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Stan moved closer to Angie. She had taken down her hood when they practiced. A few strands of dark brown hair flew in the breeze, freed from her ponytail. Stan tucked the strands behind her ear, smiling at her. She smiled back at him. “Thanks, Ang.”

“No problem,” Angie said. “After all, yer the reason I’m able to travel the world.”

“I’m just your ride, huh?” Stan asked, raising an eyebrow. Angie giggled.

“Nah, yer more than that. And you know it.”

“Yeah…” Stan cupped her cheek gently. He lowered his face to hers.

Their lips met.

#I've also got a thing ready for the initial stuff after Stan finds out he's the Avatar #but I felt in a sappy mood so here's my aspec attempt at romance lmao #(don't worry I'm going to update Spirit Touched this Saturday)#(I just didn't have the next chapter ready to update last week like I wanted. what with moving and all)#Stangie #Stanley Pines #Angie McGucket #Avatar AU #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

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big-bad-skull-boss · 5 years

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Roserade Tea

Wrote this specifically for @lordgiovanniart. Hope you feel better soon, bro.

It’s late. You feel like death. You just got back home (barely) and you were moping about the house like a zombie for about 10 minutes moaning before you decided you were gonna go to bed.

You trampled over some dirty laundry and made your way up the mansion stairs. Surely at this time of night everyone would be like... doing shit? Its Po Town. Why aren’t the grunts blasting music and dabbing until they get carpal tunnel and arthritic joints?

You pull your head up from your slumped position as you walk past the clock in the upstairs hallway.

Oh. That’s why.

It’s nearly 2am.

Fuck, there go your plans for getting food. Even Guzma is probably already asleep on his own, without you. Plus, knowing him, he’s probably sprawled out at some dumb angle taking up the entire bed. Do you really wanna go back downstairs and find a chair to sleep in or do you wanna have to manhandle Guzma’s heavy limbs to create a space in bed?

Screw this. You’re feeling too shit to do anything. You decide to walk into your room anyway and saunter over to the bed. Guzma is, of course, sprawled out on the bed, though there is actually a decent space for you. That’s new. Plus he’s not snoring? Fuckin’ bonus.

With your final ounce of energy, you kick off your shoes and collapse onto the side of the bed. Guzma is surprisingly quiet tonight...

You close your eyes and take a deep breath in before moaning a pained sigh. You can be as loud as you want. Guzma doesn’t wake up for anything until his body clock says to.

You lie there for a few seconds, breathing sharply with your core tensed and your teeth gritted. You feel yourself nearly wretch and you bolt upright, your arms at your sides propping you up. Your eyes begin to fall back into their heavy, tired; barely open state and you feel your arms begin to buckle at the elbows before giving out. You slump backwards against the headboard. Whatever. You close your eyes and let out another sigh.

Your mind focussing on nothing but the swirling feeling in your gut and the darkness. Your consciousness swaying about like a buoy in the rapids: the sickness pulling you awake while the absolute smashed state you’re in is trying to drag you into slumber.

You hear the sheets rustle. Guzma has started moving. You crack open your eyes and in the darkness you see his silhouette against the soft, pale pastel-esque light emitted through the curtains. The faint glow of the moon illuminating his face just a little as he looks at you, confused.

“What’s wrong?” he growls. He obviously hadn’t used his voice in a few hours because of how dry and low it sounded at that moment.

“I feel like shit...” You manage to whisper, the angle your neck contorted at against the headboard doing obvious wonders for your vocal chords and throat.

“Aight, well sittin’ like that ain’t gonna help.” Guzma says softly, his voice beginning to warm up. “You either lie down or sit up cause that shit looks uncomfortable as fuck”.

He cracks a cheeky smile. “You want a drink or somethin’? You look dead and knowin’ you you’ll probably want somethin’ hot, right?”

You just look at him, still in the dumbass position you collapsed into with a weak smile across your face. You just enjoy seeing him being so soft, especially in the pearly radiance of the moon. The curtain flutter occasionally allowing more light into the room for a second, letting you see his face more clearly.

“I’ll take that as a yes...”

Guzma begins to get up and leave the room, stark naked.

“Wait-” You try to call after him but because of your squashed throat you begin to splutter.

He turns around and looks at you curiously with an endearingly dumb look on his face. You take this opportunity to put one finger up to him while you finally reposition yourself upright, leaning against the headboard.

“Put some underwear on.”

He rolls his eyes and picks up his discarded white underwear off of the carpet where it was laying next to his shirt and pants before leaving the room and heading to the kitchen.

The following few minutes pass unusually fast. The windows were open and there is a weak, but steady breeze causing the red satin curtains to roll and undulate smoothly, allowing small glimpses at the rain-soaked palm trees outside the window. It had rained that afternoon before clearing up in the evening. It was a lot warmer now, but the trees are still damp.

You spend a while just gazing mindlessly at the window, occasionally seeing a Murkrow fly past and you even hear the cries of Trumbeak in the distance despite the late hour.

You hear Guzma’s footsteps coming closer as well as the occasional click of a light switch being turned off. He comes back into the room, half asleep and presents you with a small china teacup with a Kalosian tourist location on it. It’s a beautiful oil painting of Parfum Palace, the big, grand palace that you were taught about as a kid in history class.

“Ran outta Tapu Cocoa so I hunted around a bit an’ got a teabag outta the cupboard. I think it’s one of Plumeria’s fancy-ass blends so don’ tell ‘er about it.” He whispers while looking over his shoulder in the miniscule chance that she was there, ready to throw hands over a damn Roserade Infusion teabag.

“Thanks babe” you mutter, smiling up at him before looking back down at your tea and sniffing it before taking a sip. “You know, apparently you can tell if the Roserade whose petals they used for a specific teabag is shiny just by the smell.”

Guzma was only half-listening. He walks around the bed and gets back in, nestling himself in close to you while you sip your tea. A hot drink always makes you feel better when you’re feeling like crap. So does Guzma himself. You don’t have more time to think about it just then because he puts his arm around you and slides down in the bed, bringing his head down level to yours. You press your head into his and close your eyes. You’re able to release your grip on the teacup because you’d finished the tea that was in it. You feel Your boyfriend take it from your hand and hear it being placed down on the dresser. You moan slightly as you feel his warm body move away from your side for a couple of seconds to put the teacup down.

You sink into the bed properly and Guzma follows suit. You lie there in silence for a few seconds. You feel his arm against the top of your head, displaced from where it was before around your body.

“My tummy hurts...” you complain softly.

A few seconds later, you feel his arm move away from your head and the hand of the other come onto your tummy, slowly rubbing it to make you feel better.

His large, warm hands massaging you feels so right. You melt slightly, but not too much, since you still feel a bit sick.

“Better?” he says quietly, the sound breaking between a whisper and his regular voice.

“Yeah...” You whisper back.

You close your eyes.

Guzma presses his head into the nape of your neck and breathes in deeply before exhaling a deep sigh. You could hear that he was smiling.

The light, earthy smell of the Roserade Tea filling the room as you slowly fade out.

You feel slightly less like shit now.

#guzma #guzma x reader #fluff #its 1:30 i need to sleep #jay writes dumb gay shit

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ducktracy · 4 years

Text

117. billboard frolics (1935)

release date: november 16th, 1935

series: merrie melodies

director: friz freleng

starring: cliff nazarro (eddie camphor, worm), billy bletcher (rub-em-off)

the first cartoon to use “merrily we roll along”, which, fittingly enough, would become the theme song for the merrie melodies starting in 1936 and all the way through 1964. it wasn’t formally adopted as the theme song until 1936’s boulevardier of the bronx, but still worth noting. if my memory serves me correctly, this is also the first merrie melody whose title isn’t reflective of the song showcased in the cartoon. as always, billboard advertisements come to life, and trouble brews when a hungry cat preys upon a helpless little chick.

it’s night, and a grassy lot in the city is illuminated by a number of stray billboards. focus on a billboard advertising old maid cleanser, some other menial posters, and finally a poster advertising eddie camphor and rub-em-off “and his wioleen”. an obvious reference to singer eddie cantor, a star who would find himself in many a looney tunes short. rub-em-off is also a spoof on his violinist david rubinoff.

eddie does his signature cartoon “eye roll”, referenced in cartoons such as shuffle off to buffalo and slap happy pappy to name a very select few. together they launch into “merrily we roll along”, which cantor sang originally. the impression of cantor is fun and lively, and bletcher’s characterization as rub-em-off is just as amusing. they don’t do much in terms of dance, but it still remains relatively lively.

song number over, dance routine begins. a cocktail shaker in a poster shakes itself like maracas, accompanying a girl advertising all expense tours to cuba. the animation feels looser than normal, but the dance remains fun and playful. your stereotypical freleng girl.

some hot tamales lend their voices, strumming a fork like a guitar, reused from how do i know it’s sunday, as is a sequence of clogging maids birthed from “old maid cleanser” cans. now a sequence with russian rye bread dancing the hopak, their advertisement reading “baked on the five year plan”—a reference to stalin’s five year plan(s). animation is fun for all of these sequences, but none too groundbreaking.

a more upbeat, amusing sequence as a line of penguins engage in a dance sequence, rolling on their mannequin feet like skates and intermittently quacking—because all penguins quack, right? a woman in an above advertisement rains powder below on the penguins to create the illusion of snow. one of the more entertaining dancing sequences in the cartoon, if not the most entertaining. the animation is smooth and flouncy.

the stars of the girl at the ironing board make a comeback and reuse their dances from the aforementioned short. two tapdancing pajamas do their thing, drumming their buttflaps on upturned wash tubs, while the main “woman” from the short (nothing more than an assortment of clothes) dances as well. smooth animation, and the addition of color is a nice touch, but nothing extremelt wow-worthy. freleng’s knack for timing is not to be taken for granted, however.

meanwhile, a hungry chick spots a worm writhing around in an apple. as all hungry, inquisitive chicks do, the little bird jabs its head inside the apple in an attempt to snag the poor worm. reused from pop goes your heart, the worm crawls out of the other end of the apple and gives the chick a spanking, the chick leaping around in pain and clutching its derrière. even more determined (especially after the worm mocks the chick), the bird tugs at the worm, the worm clutching desperately to a nearby twig for support. just as the worm is about to be made into mush, it pushes against the apple, knocking the apple into the chick and sending the chick into a daze.

enter a chase scene, the worm rolling around like a wheel while the bird nips at it from behind. truthfully i forget which exact cartoon it was sourced from, ain’t nature grand!? but the animation of the worm has DEFINITELY been reused in many a harman-ising cartoon. after 100+ cartoons, it gets harder to keep track, especially when those early cartoons are so barebones.

the bird chases the worm right into a junk pile, dragging out a long strand... which turns out to be an air pump. knocking into a branch sends a propped up cellar door crashing straight on top of the pump. an amusing visual as the chick, connector still in its mouth, inflates like a balloon, even floating into the air and flopping to the ground.

enter the same cat from it’s got me now!, creeping along a fence. it passes by the moon, illuminating the cat’s innards like an x-ray, recycled from sittin’ on a backyard fence. the food chain reminds us of its existence as the cat sees the chick, licking its lips. the cat pounces, providing a menacing meowl (animation of the closeup reused from my green fedora).

i LOVE this chick’s face. full of personality, probably the most this cartoon has had so far. the chick provides a smug, guilty grin as it sways to and fro nervously. a cheeky grin as the bird bids goodbye with a wave, trotting away nonchalantly... and instantly picking up into a hurried run.

an advertisement of a bellhop, labeled “‘CALLING FOR PHILMORE’ CIGARETTES”, notices the chick’s peril and shouts “calling all cars! calling all cars!” two police officers in a “police chief gasoline” ad (a reference to texaco’s fire chief gasoline that was used until the 1970s) chase after the cat... figuratively. a fun visual as their car speeds along, a jaunty rendition of “merrily we roll along” underscoring the scene, yet their car only speeds along inside their billboard. in reality, they’re merely suspended. one of the officers whips out a machine gun and shoots at the cat (lovely, huh?), the bullets actually breaking the barrier between realities.

an advertisement for “the electric hand” pokes the victor phonograph dog, alerting the dog to the trouble. the dog (fun fact: he actually has a name—nipper) chases after the cat, running straight into a tube. the conniving cat turns the valves on the tube so as to trap the dog, the dog reduced to a mere barking bump thrashing around inside the metal pipe.

back to the chick, who runs for its life after realizing the cat is free of distraction (i wonder where we’ll see more cat and bird cartoons. curious indeed). just as the cat has the poor bird cornered, the arm from the arm and hammer logo—this time parodied as “ham & armour” conks the cat right on the head with its signature hammer. the little bird perched itself on top of the dazed cat’s head, slapping its sides and crowing like a rooster (parallel to country boy). iris out.

it’s unfair of me to deduct points for recycled animation, but i have a different perspective than a moviegoer in 1935, or even you reading this (unless you’re as much as a nut as i am and have actually taken my recommendations and watched these, to which i say 1) thank you and 2) hang in there). watching all of these cartoons in rapid succession, you pick up on recycled animation much quicker, and so you can’t help but notice it. the average moviegoer isn’t going to say “hey! that was used in the girl at the ironing board, directed by friz freleng, released august 23rd, 1934 as a part of the merrie melodies series!” so, because of that, i won’t try to let that influence my opinion so much. but the retakes were rife in this one, and an indicator that they were either out of time, money, ideas, or all three.

the cartoon felt incoherent and not exactly sloppy, but extremely loose, the closeups of the cat meowing especially. all of the gags have lost their novelty (again speaking as someone who is watching these one after the other), and it’s hard not to say “i’ve seen this before, it’s getting old, it’s not funny.” it’s also difficult to come down from the high that was gold diggers of ‘49. not at all tex’s best, far from it, but from what we’ve seen so FAR it’s like a huge sigh of relief. and thus, going back to cartoons like these make for a harder transition.

this cartoon wasn’t THAT bad, though. the music was fun (how can you hate hearing the merrie melodies theme song, knowing it would be THE merrie melodies theme song?) and the eddie cantor caricature was highly amusing. freleng’s musical timing saved a lot of visuals from being too dry and trite. but it just doesn’t have much going for it, it lacks coherence and confidence. it just feels like friz’s heart wasn’t fully in it. so, i’d say skip it. yet, as always...

link!

#lt #billboard frolics #reviews #long post

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beesmygod · 5 years

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this is what riverdale is about (part 6)

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

and now...we come to the end of our journey...the final 4 episodes of the season. who killed jason blossom? you forgot that’s what we were doing, huh. you were way too distracted by sex archie and the jughead/betty relationship (called ‘bughead’ in universe).

i have a friend who has been watching riverdale because i have basically tricked him into doing so and frankly, what i am typing here was and is only the surface of this show’s nonsense. as he watched episodes, he reminds me of all the completely bananas shit that this show throws at you literally every second it is on screen and honestly its a relief to know that, as much as i can try to just give you some basic facts, watching the show itself is still a totally different transcendent experience. its really the only show of its kind; shamelessly stupid but unaware of it while openly delighting in all the silliest cliches presented as straight faced as possible. if these write up do anything for you at all, please, please. watch the show. you will be shocked at how much more there is to discover.

images are from the riverdale wiki

---

SEASON 1 (PART 4):

the lost weekend: this is the one with a very special guest star in it: molly ringwald as archie’s mom! she and fred (luke perry) have been separated for some amount of time for an unknown reason. yay she’s so cute! i love her. oh uh, also they’re getting a divorce. the papers are going through. archie gets the bad news in the middle of a gaming sesh with jughead.

meanwhile, veronica meets with her dad’s lawyer (whose name is paul sowerberry?? he never shows up again despite his unbelievably silly name) and tells him she’s not giving him a good statement as to her father’s character to help him get a lesser sentence. “fuck you dad!” is the general sentiment before she stomps out to go to school.

oh man there’s a weird aspect of this show that i have neglected to mention. this isn’t something i’ve ever experienced in school so it was totally foreign and weird to me but the students have their own lounge that they mingle and talk in...at...some point during the school day?? jughead’s opening monologue of this episode makes great pains to talk about how every moment of their lives are scheduled from 8am to 3pm but there’s apparently plenty of sittin’ time where they can just laze about this random room talking about crimes they have or are going to commit. a great deal of talking happens in this room when usually you’d have to like, sneak a convo while getting shit out of your locker between classes. i dunno, it’s weird. this is where archie tells veronica about clifford blossom sending her dad to jail so he can jack the land everyone is fighting over.

archie and betty make plans to celebrate jugheads birthday by taking him to the movies, which i feel like is in poor taste given his movie house was just destroyed but whatever. with betty coming along it’ll be just like the three muskateers! betty replies “AcTuAlLy ThErE wErE fOuR mUsKeTeErS” and somehow he doesn’t beat her to death with his bookbag right there and then. betty then doubles down on the bad words flowing out of her mouth and proposes they hold a surprise party for jughead since, according to his dad, he’s never had one. i have no idea what would compel her to think he would want this. even i know he doesn’t want this and i only know him through a tv screen. on top of this she goes out of her way to invite his deadbeat alcoholic dad multiple times. i thought she was supposed to be the smart, observant nancy drew type but like...what the fuck betty. jughead does, in fact, get pretty pissed at archie just for telling his girlfriend that he even has a birthday. presumably instead of telling him he emerged fully formed from the leader of the black parade’s forehead.

after finding out from some files that her dad was receiving money monthly from clifford blossom for some unspecified reason before the arrest, veronica challenges cheryl to a dance off and wins. unfortunately, veronica cant come forward with what she knows because it would make it look like her dad put a hit out on jason in retaliation. dance off to relieve the pain.

jughead fucking hates his party and makes sure everyone knows it. this is something NORMAL people do and he is NOT normal!!! he leaves the party in a huff when cheryl shows up to get her dance off revenge by ruining the party by inviting the whole school. this is the episode where he does his famous “im a weirdo, i have a hat” speech, which is deliciously dumb. they get in a fight, while jughead’s dad talks to kevin’s boyfriend (who you will remember is a member of his gang he assigned to keep tabs on the progress of the teens looking into the whole land plot mess) while betty’s mom secretly listens in?!

cheryl activates chaos mode and locks everyone in the house so they can play a game called “secrets and sins” which is really just an excuse for her to ask everyone horrible questions to make them feel bad. veronica accuses cheryl of fucking her brother, dilton doiley tells everyone about grundy’s statutory rape of archie andrews and chuck tells everyone about dark mode betty drugging him for an impromptu bdsm session which causes jughead to go apeshit and try to throw a weak little baby punch. jughead’s dad, as the only adult who for some reason let all this happen, finally throws everyone out and tells them to go home.

archie and veronica sleep together, by which i mean, next to each other in the same room. veronica testifies on her father’s behalf and discloses to betty the link between jugheads dad and the serpents and her dad’s land plot dreams. molly ringwald appears for 20 seconds.

INHALES. OKAY.

to riverdale and back again: its homecoming babey! archie’s very supportive mother has a nice talk with him. :) veronica founds out that her dad only has to serve “a few more months” in prison for his various white collar crimes, further proof that riverdale takes place in america. jughead and his dad have a nice normal breakfast while fp sweats and asks him “hey uh, how come uh you’re writing about the uhhhh murder and investigating it and stuff” like a normal dad would. archie and veronica tentatively agree to start going out.

penelopy blossom brings polly (betty’s pregnant sister, remember her? i didn’t) a strawberry milkshake in the most ominous way possible. veronica plans to sneakily find out if jughead’s dad is helping her own and for what purpose, ultimately. jughead accepts and invite to betty’s house for dinner, not knowing her mom is going to grill the shit out of him and his dad over the whole kid murder thing.

polly finds the ring jason proposed to her with back in penelope’s room while snooping, and has no idea how it wound up back in the hands of his mother. according to penelope, jason threw it in their face when he renounced his lineage, then gives her another milkshake.

the cooper family event is disrupted when betty, wise to her mother’s horseshit, invites her estranged dad to dinner too. all hell breaks loose when the subject of homecoming comes up and fp reveals that while alice and hal were crowned homecoming king and queen, they got in a knockout, drag-out fight backstage. alice flips out before he can reveal what it was about and betty and jughead flee for the dance. meanwhile archie and veronica try, and fail, to find something incriminating in fp’s trailer.

cheryl discovers the milkshakes are DRUGGED and polly is going to sleep through homecoming. she informs her parents that she has disposed of the ring (evidence) and they dont have to worry about it anymore. you can see where this is going.

jughead’s dad drops a bomb on him right before homecoming that they’re going to move to toledo to meet up with jughead’s mom and baby sister. jughead hates this bc he just got used to betty and he wants to write his murder book.

archie and veronica sing a truly terrible cover of “kids in america” that has to be seen to be believed.

youtube

meanwhile, sherrif keller tears up fp’s house with a search warrant and finds the gun that was used to kill jason blossom. WHAAAA??? BUT ARCHIE AND VERONICA JUST SEARCHED IT??? how could this happen.....jughead finds out about the web of deception weaved by the friends and tells them all to fuck off so he can go to toledo with his family. jughead literally turns around and is informed that his dad was just arrested for murder. his life is so hilariously bad.

the sheriff sucks so bad at his job because he tells his gay son everything who then spills the beans to archie and co (sans jughead) who learn that fp is being framed, because they already tossed the place before.

cheryl has the ring. at this point none of these things mean anything.

i cant believe i still have two more of these. i’m going to have to split this post after this one.

anatomy of a murder: as it turns out, archie discovers, information you discover during a breaking and entering won’t hold up in court. oops. meanwhile fp inexplicably confesses to kidnapping jason after his fake drowning at sweetwater river so he could use him as ransom after discovering he heir to all that sweet maple syrup money. according to fp, jason nearly escaped so they cut their losses and blasted a hole in him. he also confesses to torching the car and stealing the sheriff's files (which we, the audience, know hal cooper did, not fp). well. that’s that, i guess.

betty’s dad comes back to the family home to destroy the murderboard evidence all like “whoo hoo! fp took a bullet for me!” hal’s concern and his reason for stealing the files in the first place, as it turns out, was because the feud between the coopers and the blossoms is more complicated than we thought. the coopers WERE blossoms, until grand-pappy was murdered, so they packed their shit and left with a new name. so that makes polly and jason related. cool!

fp apparently used his his last phone call to call kevin’s boyfriend who, after some pressing by the gang, admits that while he didnt see fp pull the trigger, he did help him put jason’s body in a freezer. this tip leads them to the corpse of a serpent who had a sack of money in a monogrammed dufflebag with the initials “h.l.” (hiram lodge). this is a comically dumb move for a crime boss to make. it is shockingly stupid.

joaquin tells kevin about a secret stash he and fp set up before he bounces from town forever because riverdale sucks. in the stash is jason’s jacket. everyone puzzles over what it means until betty, noted brain genius checks the pockets. in it they find a usb drive.

they sit down and watch the usb and react like they’re watching a sad documentary and not a snuff film. betty calls CHERYL OF ALL PEOPLE and tells her what they just saw on the usb. cheryl, queen of chaos, confronts her dad and tells him that everyone knows what he did.

it turns out the video depicts jason tied up in the basement of the whyte wyrm, there the dead serpent watches over him. clifford blossom walks in and blows a hole in his kid. fp confessed to protect jughead, who was threatened by cliff as the heat poured on.

clifford dies surrounded by his greatest love, maple syrup, by hanging himself in the syrup barn. lol

the sweet hereafter: how the fuck is there another episode of this? they solved the murder, what else could there possibly be to do. wtf. anyway.

the cops find hella drugs in the maple barn after clifford’s death. the assumed story is that jason learned about his dad’s heroin smuggling business and threatened to tell the cops on his dad which lead to his abduction, and eventual death. i guess the polly thing is in here too somehow. not important i guess. the lodges prepare for hiram’s arrival. betty and archie are going to be honored by the mayor for cracking the case at the 75th annual jubilee (wtf). hermoine attempts to buy fred out of the project now that the cops are cracking down on the serpents and making them the face of the construction company is now a very bad look.

betty tries to write an article for the town paper about fp being innocent but her parents wont publish it, citing it as a conflict of interest given she’s smooching the subject’s son. jughead FINALLY JUT NOW gets a social worker who realizes that fred has a dui and is not fit to care for a kid. he has to transfer to a new school district...SOUTHSIDE HIGH SCHOOL!!!

cheryl apologizes for throwing hands at jughead in a previous ep and gives him her iconic spider brooch. i am only bringing this up because she says, specifically, that selling it will net him a good amount of hamburgers and “s t-shirts” for years. why is she the only one who notices he only wears one kind of shirt. betty’s article getting published in the school paper leads to the above retaliation.

veronica’s mom honest to god asks her to sexually manipulate archie into convincing his dad to sell the project to her.

betty’s mom, after a confrontation, tells betty abt the fight she and her dad had on homecoming night when they were high schoolers. turns out...alice was pregnant. she gave the baby up for adoption after she went to the sisters of quiet mercy, like she did with polly, even though hal wanted an abortion. betty immediately tells all her friends this shit.

jughead transfers to the new high and flourishes. turns out they’re all baby gangsters there so they look at him and his dad as kings to be admired. when the archie group heads off to go rescue him, it turns out they dont need to do anything. but now that theyre all conveniently together, veronica gets a txt from cheryl saying she’s going to go be with jason....

they rush to the river where cheryl is having her ophelia meltdown in his stupid little river boat dress where she punches through the ice until she falls through. theres no way to describe how silly this scene is unless you see it so i won’t try but its so melodramatic and cheesy that youre going to be amazed that it got through the writing team at all. archie saves her by punching through the ice the other way. from under the ice. you will soon find, that all of archie’s solutions are to punch things.

betty does a speech at the jubilee that convinces fred not to sell. a nice ending for him.

meanwhile cheryl burns her fucking house down for a lark. just for the drama of it all.

the same night, jughead and betty start to fuck, as do veronica and archie. not int he same room, like totally separately. but jughead is interrupted by the serpents and a dog named hotdog, who give him a jacket of his own so he can join the team. betty is scandalized.

archie goes to meet his father for a breakfast at pop’s chocklit shoppe for a serious talk. but while he’s int he bathroom, a man with a gun is holding up the chocklit shoppe. he demands fred’s wallet, then pops a hole in him and runs off.

and that.........is where this season......ends.

---

thank you for joining me for season 1 of this shitshow. i love this shitty show. if you loved reading about it, or were mortified by whatever the fuck happened here, then you should watch it as well.

i never pass up an opportunity to shill myself, so if you like what i write, drop me a buck or two at my patreon. i do more writing like this, but also i mostly make comics, so make sure to read the page when you’re signing up so you know what you’re getting!

i WILL return...with season...2!

https://www.patreon.com/aghoststory

#riverdale

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hysterialevi · 5 years

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When the Devil Cries pt. 26

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

LATER THAT DAY

SHADY BELLE

Hitching our horses at the posts outside of camp, Eddie went off to get somethin’ to eat while I searched for Dutch, eager to give him all the info Trelawny had told us the previous day.

It looked like the gang was a bit more agitated than usual -- aside from little Jack who was mindin’ his own business and playin’ in the grass -- and not too far away from me, I could hear Bill and Javier arguing while Kieran got trapped in the middle, unsure of how to handle the situation like the innocent bystander he was.

What really concerned me though -- outta all this unrest -- was of course, Micah...who seemed intent on hammerin’ his boot-licking rhetoric into Dutch’s head at the moment as they spoke on the manor’s front porch, hidden away from the rest of the gang.

For whatever reason, they was talkin’ in hushed tones and making sure to keep their voices low, almost as if they didn’t want no one else to know what they were saying. Normally, I wouldn’t have thought much of it -- Dutch had private conversations with the gang’s members all the time, after all -- but the fact that it was Micah made me suspect something was off, and I didn’t like it one bit.

Approachin’ the two of them at a casual pace, I interrupted their little secret meeting, just barely picking up the last sentences of their conversation.

“--you really believe that?” Dutch questioned, sounding slightly dismissive, but also strangely intrigued.

“It’s just somethin’ to bear in mind.” Micah suggested, holding his hands up in a diplomatic manner.

His eyes wandered over to me, making him drop the subject. “Ah, but look who it is. Mister Morgan. You certainly know how to show up at the most inconvenient times, don’t you?”

I scoffed. “Nothing’s convenient when you’re around.”

Micah rolled his eyes at that and leaned against a pillar, makin’ himself right at home as Dutch brought his attention to me. “A real gentleman, as always.”

“Arthur!” Dutch called out, lighting a cigar. “You’re back. What’ve you learned?”

“We met with Trelawny,” I replied. “He says the party’s in four days. Well-- three, now.”

Dutch tossed the match away. “Three days. That should give us enough time, but we’ll have to move quick. So, what’s the situation lookin’ like? What can we expect?”

“About the same as any party. Accordin’ to Trelawny, there’ll be lots of rich folk, lots of money, and lots of security.”

The other man grinned. “Sounds good.”

I hesitated. “...And there’s also the fact that guests ain’t allowed to carry weapons on the boat.”

He quirked a brow. “What? How are we supposed to rob people without any guns?”

“Josiah reckons we can cheat in the Poker games,” I explained. “One of us’ll act all prim and proper, slip our way in, and another person will tell them what moves to make from a distance. I think Strauss would be best for that job.”

Dutch nodded. “I agree. This is definitely up Strauss’ alley. And what about the person who’ll be playin’ Poker? Any ideas who should do that?”

I rubbed my chin. “...I say Eddie.”

He breathed out a puff of smoke. “Not Micah?”

A sarcastic chuckle escaped me. “Well, that depends on if you actually want the money or not.”

The sleazy man frowned at that. “Oh...very funny, Morgan--”

“--Enough!” Dutch stepped in almost instantly, scowling at us. “Don’t you two start now.” He let out a fatigued sigh, goin’ along with my recommendation. “Very well. Since Arthur’s the one been investigatin’ this, I’ll go with what he says. Alright, then. Eddie will do the job. In the meantime...”

Dutch sauntered down the porch’s short stairs, gazing at the surrounding view. “...I don’t like the idea of us being completely unarmed on that boat, so I’ll see if we can’t disguise some of our boys as the security. Maybe even as the servants, too. As for the rest of you,” he glanced at me and Micah, “...just prepare yourselves. Once we have this money in our pockets, we’re leavin’ Shady Belle the first chance we get. We’ve cowered in this swamp for long enough, and our enemies are too close for comfort. It’s time for us to get out of America. It’s time for us to disappear, and it’s time...to live as the free men we was born to be.”

THREE DAYS LATER

NIGHTTIME

THE GRAND KORRIGAN, SAINT DENIS

Straightenin’ my tie, I hurriedly walked alongside Trelawny and Eddie as the magician led us into the main area of the boat, all three of us trying to maintain a casual temperament while we passed by other guests in the party.

All around us, I could see servers practically shoving champagne glasses into peoples’ hands, high-society folks insincerely flatterin’ each other, “esteemed” businessmen getting drop-dead drunk at the bar, musicians slaving over their instruments, and even politicians bragging about how oh-so-extravagant their lives were as they turned every conversation into a gloating competition.

And as if the guests themselves weren’t insufferable already, the decor on this boat made me feel like a peasant. Just within this little area, there were two diamond chandeliers hanging from the tall ceiling, priceless paintings adorning the mahogany walls, and lavish furniture made from the most expensive of materials. It felt like I was walkin’ through a prodigal’s dream.

Really, the only good thing ‘bout this party so far was the ragtime music comin’ from the piano...and even that was being drowned out by the haughty laughter of the “fine” men and women on this boat.

Fortunately though, we weren’t entirely alone. I spotted Javier disguising as a guard at one of the doorways, and I also saw Lenny masquerading as a cleaner while he pretended to scrub the floor with a broom. And, sittin’ ever so conspicuously in one of the corners as he observed the Poker games, Strauss calmly enjoyed a glass of Scotch, silently acknowledging our presence with a subtle nod as he took a sip.

Personally, I just wanted to get the money, get this over with, and get the hell outta here. The fact that I was unarmed made me uneasy enough, but now that Eddie was gonna be the one throwin’ himself into the center of attention, I couldn’t help but fear for his safety. I mean, things was precarious already with Atticus constantly huntin’ us down, and on top of that, I didn’t even know how we were gonna escape this boat in case something went wrong. That tended to be the case when Trelawny was the one in charge of planning.

If anything were to go awry tonight, we’d be dead men...and I certainly didn’t wanna think about what would happen to the rest of the gang if we got killed. We had to be extremely cautious.

“Alright, gentlemen!” Trelawny said energetically, presenting us to the flamboyant party. “Here we are. The Grand Korrigan. Quite a splendid sight, wouldn’t you agree?”

Eddie glanced around in disgust, evidently not fond of the overall uptight mood.

“...I hate this already.”

Josiah let out a chuckle. “Hold on to that feeling. You’ll blend in with these...wonderful people effortlessly.”

I went straight to business. “Well, whatever we do, we need to move quick. We ain’t got much time. Eddie, why don’t you go ahead and join one o’ the games? And make sure you can see Strauss from your seat. Trelawny, try to keep the other guests distracted from us, would you? We got enough eyes on us as is.”

The magician nodded. “Alright. Should be easy enough. And what about you, Arthur? What’ll you be doing?”

I lowered my voice. “Dutch mentioned there might be more money stashed away on this boat somewhere. I’m gonna have a look around, see if I can’t figure out where it is.”

Josiah raised a brow. “You seem unsure?”

A worried sigh escaped me. “Robbin’ a heavily armed riverboat without a gun tends to bring out the self-doubt in me...!”

The other man scoffed. “These people are virtually idiots! This is simple stuff.” He adjusted his top hat, switchin’ to a more elevated tone. “Now, have a good time, gentlemen, but don’t lose too much money...or your wives are going to kill me!”

I patted Trelawny on the shoulder, instantly makin’ my way towards the sumptuous-looking bar as Eddie got to work. “Whatever you say.”

Squeezin’ through the scattered crowds of people, I strolled past the multiple Poker tables as well as servers who were tryin’ to get my attention as I found a place to sit at the bar, attempting to look as ordinary as possible.

Things seemed to be goin’ well so far, and if I was being honest, this party wasn’t as bad as I expected it to be. Sure, I didn’t really care for the guests or the social climbin’ or...really, any of it, but at least they had Poker to keep people entertained, and loads of money just sitting around. It was already a helluva lot more interesting than Miss Powell’s nightmare of a gala, and I hoped this one wouldn’t end the same way. Shootouts weren’t exactly my favorite pastime, especially when I didn’t have a gun.

Pulling up a chair at one of the tables, Eddie took on a much more pretentious facade as he introduced himself to the other fellers sittin’ around him, almost making me laugh at how well he was blending in with them.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Eddie greeted, sounding annoyed. “Edward Dawson. Sorry I’m late. My driver took his sweet time getting here.”

The man opposite of him smiled with the least amount of emotion I’d ever seen, his nose damn-near touchin’ the ceiling with how upturned it was.

“Desmond Blythe.”

The other players casually waved at the pianist. “Hello there.”

Gathering the cards, the dealer split the deck in half as Eddie got comfortable in his chair, keepin’ a close eye on Strauss who was guiding him from a distance.

“Not to worry,” the dealer reassured. “Welcome to the game, Mister Dawson.” He began shuffling the cards. “Okay, gentlemen. Let’s play.”

Desmond leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. “I hope you’re a player. Been too many cowards at these tables recently. Nothing less dignified than a man afraid to lose a little money.”

Briefly flickin’ his eyes in my direction, Eddie gave me a confident but slight nod as he took his cards in hand, trying to make some sort of conversation.

“Well, would you look at that,” the boy commented, glancing at his pile of chips. “Chips already stacked up and good to go. Thank God someone here knows what they’re doing. I was beginning to think everyone in Saint Denis was incompetent.”

The dealer sat back. “We aim to please, sir.”

“So...” Eddie said, bringing his attention to Strauss, “how are we all faring?”

The player sitting to Eddie’s left shrugged. “Some better than others.”

The boy folded. “If we all fared the same in life, now where would the fun be?”

Desmond grinned in agreement, tossin’ in his bet. “Quite.”

Eddie examined Mister Blythe for a moment, his eyes widening in recognition.

“Wait,” he inquired as the other gentlemen made their moves, “you wouldn’t happen to be Desmond Blythe the Hosiery King, would you? Perhaps I should’ve brought my other wallet.”

The conceited man appeared somewhat irritated at the observation. “...Not my preferred title, but...yes, you should have. Haha!”

Continuing the game, Desmond pushed all his chips into the center of the table without a hint of hesitance as the other men reluctantly followed his actions, kissin’ their sweet chips goodbye as they went all-in.

“...Here we go, then...” one of them murmured.

“To Hell with it.” Another said, damning the risks.

Finally revealin’ their cards, Blythe placed his hand down and laid out three queens as a smug expression crept its way onto his face, the other players unveiling measly combinations.

The dealer picked up the deck, adding two final community cards before announcing the winner.

“Mister Blythe wins with three queens.”

He let out a victorious guffaw at the outcome, tossing his cards back to the dealer as the majority of the table quickly cleared out.

“Goodbye, gentlemen!” Desmond looked at Eddie. “I guess it’s just you and me now, friend.”

The pianist prepared himself. “I guess it is.”

“Time to see if you’re really the man you seem to think you are.”

Eddie straightened his posture, scootin’ his chair closer to the table. “Likewise, Mister Blythe.”

Desmond placed a big blind. “So, what business are you in, Mister Dawson?”

The boy took his cards in hand. “I’m an oil man.”

“Funny,” Blythe picked up, “I haven’t heard of you.”

Eddie threw in a bet. “Oh...you will.”

Blythe decided to raise and took a handful of chips, nonchalantly setting them down next to Eddie’s.

“You got enough chips there to go a little higher?” He taunted. Jesus, this man was infuriating.

The pianist looked at Strauss’ signal, makin’ the bet even higher. “Your confidence is refreshing, Mister Blythe. I’ll raise.”

Desmond’s arrogance dimmed slightly at the action. “Call.”

The dealer placed three community cards down, revealing a seven of diamonds, a ten of clubs, and a jack of spades.

Blythe’s snobbish smirk returned almost immediately. “Okay, Mister Dawson. I’m all-in.”

Eddie went along, throwing in some chips. “I’ll call.”

Displayin’ their cards, Desmond laid out a pair of jacks while “Dawson” revealed a pair of queens, both of them eager to see the last two community cards.

Slipping a pair out of the deck, the dealer presented a king of clubs and a three of hearts, crowning Eddie the victor.

Desmond angrily tossed his cards away at the sight, cursin’ to himself in a heated tone. “Shit...! Shit!”

Eddie chuckled, gathering his prize. “Looks like good fortune is on my side today. I suppose this means you’re done?”

Blythe’s eyes narrowed in an offended manner. “Done?”

“Bust,” the boy explained, rising from his chair. “Or...do you have something else to play with?”

“...Meaning?”

The pianist paused for a second, pickin’ up some of the chips. “Well...I was told there were some serious players on this boat. But maybe that’s not you, no offense--”

Desmond pointed a finger at Eddie. “Sit your Limey ass down.”

Eddie firmly put the chips back on the table. “...Why?”

Blythe wasn’t quite finished just yet. “I got a watch.”

The pianist chuckled sarcastically. “My, my.”

“An expensive one...” He clarified. “Real fine. Swiss. A Reutlinger, no less. It’s in the safe upstairs. It’s worth more than you.”

Eddie considered the offer, glancin’ at both me and Strauss before deciding to accept the challenge.

“Alright,” he agreed, sitting back down. “I trust you.”

Desmond seemed satisfied. “Good. Now play.”

“...As you wish.”

Resuming the game unexpectedly, the dealer began shufflin’ the deck once again as Blythe and Eddie placed their blinds, eager to see who the winner of this round would be. Though, I guessed most of us already knew.

“So,” Desmond said as the dealer gave him his cards, “you must know Leviticus Cornwall, big oil man like you?”

The boy quickly thought of a lie. “Of course. We’ve crossed paths. I was fortunate enough to tour an operation of his in New Hanover.”

Ignoring Eddie’s previous statement, Blythe barely peeked at his cards before lettin’ out a confident laugh, instantly shoving all his chips into the center of the table.

“I am one-hundred percent all-in, Mister Dawson!” He announced. Even the dealer could sense his boldness.

“Don’t worry, sir,” he reassured meekly. “Everyone is the author of his own good fortune...”

Eddie looked to Strauss for guidance, sighing in uncertainty as he followed Desmond’s actions. “Well...nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

The two of them flipped over their cards.

“Pair of kings.” Eddie observed, earning a chortle from his opponent.

“Very good,” Blythe praised, displayin’ a pair of aces, “but not good enough!”

“...Shit.”

Layin’ out all the community cards at once, the dealer put down a nine of diamonds, an ace of diamonds, and a four of spades, followed by a jack of diamonds -- the tables was turnin’ now -- and a two of diamonds.

“Yes...!” Eddie cheered. “You little beauty.”

The dealer shrugged at Desmond. “Hard lines, Mister Blythe. Mister Dawson wins with an ace-high diamond flush.”

Desmond shook his head out of annoyance. “God...damn you...! Err, n-no offense.”

Eddie smiled proudly at him. “None taken.”

A man who I assumed was Blythe’s butler came waltzin’ up to the table, congratulating the pianist on his “victory.”

“Well played, sir.” He placed a comforting hand on his master’s shoulder. “...Unlucky, Desmond.”

The pianist straightened his suit. “Forgive my lack of discretion, gentlemen, but...where is this Reutlinger you mentioned?”

Demond’s butler beckoned Eddie. “It’s upstairs. Shall we go and have a look?”

“Of course. Lead the way.”

The boy stood up and began followin’ the man to the ornate stairwell, leaving Blythe all by his lonesome at the table as he grieved for his empty wallet. No one seemed to suspect that Eddie was a cheat -- yet -- and it looked like Desmond’s butler was leading him straight to the stash of cash Dutch mentioned before.

I sighed out of relief.

I guessed now, all we had to focus on was gettin’ off this damned boat before anyone realized just who we were. I wasn’t entirely sure what Trelawny’s plans were for that, but at least we got the money in our pockets. And even better, it seemed as if Josiah, Lenny, Javier and Strauss had all pretty much gone unnoticed by the other guests in the party. ...I only wished I coulda said the same for myself.

Outta the corner of my eye, I spotted one of the guests approachin’ me with a glass of champagne in his hands as he closely studied my face, probably wondering just who the hell I was. ...Shit. Had someone recognized me? I certainly hoped not.

I braced myself for the upcoming conversation, only to hear a surprisingly familiar voice callin’ out to me.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, sunshine.”

My heart practically froze. There was only one person in the entire country who called me that, and just by hearin’ that nickname again, I knew immediately who it was.

I steadily turned to face the man, trying my best to keep calm.

“...Rodrick Kinglsey...?”

The deranged man grinned at me, his injured eye covered by an elegant patch to go with the three-piece suit he was wearing. Though, it didn’t make him look any less crazy.

“Try not to mind the eyepatch,” Rodrick teased, noticin’ my line of sight. “I don’t like it neither, but Atticus said I had to look...presentable. And it seems you’ve cleaned up, too. Heh. The things we do for money...”

He took a sip of his drink. “Now, before you go and do anythin’ stupid, I’d advise you not to make a scene. After all,” Rodrick wrapped a friendly arm around my shoulder and brought my attention to other members of Atticus’ gang who were just now arriving at the party, “I ain’t alone on this boat. Make one wrong move, and it could be your last. ...We can discuss this like gentlemen, can’t we?”

I gritted my teeth in concentration, desperately wishin’ I had a gun on me right now, and also wondering just when the hell Atticus’ gang got on the boat. How did they know we’d be here? When did they even board the ship? Was Atticus with them? It couldn’t just be mere coincidence that we ran into each other.

Goddammit...just when I thought this night was goin’ smoothly.

“What the hell are you people doin’ here?” I whispered sternly, still trapped in Rodrick’s grip.

He laughed casually. “Same as you, I suppose. Just here to enjoy some...‘friendly’ competition.”

I scoffed. “...Sure.”

Kingsley loosely gestured to the Poker games. “So...you try your hand at any o’ these tables yet, Mister Morgan? I’m sure a man like you would do just fine. Especially with a little extra...‘help.”

I picked up on that instantly, my heart startin’ to pound faster with every passing second. This bastard knew about our plans.

“Look,” I snapped back, “if you’re here to steal our score--”

“--Oh, I don’t care about about the score,” Rodrick interrupted. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind robbin’ a few hundred bucks, but I think we both know why I’m really here. Yeah...I’m far more interested in that boy of yours. Mister ‘Dawson.’ You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you, Arthur?”

I cocked my head at him. “Even if I did, you really think I’d tell you?”

The man chuckled. “No. But Atticus insisted I had to be civilized, even though I told him that wouldn’t work.” He gave me a condescending pat on the back. “Arthur Morgan’s a man of action, after all. Not words. Almost nobody knows just how deep his relationship with young Theo goes, yet it’s pretty clear just by watchin’ the things he does.”

A puzzled expression covered my face, causing Rodrick’s smile to stretch even wider.

“Oh, yeah. I saw how you killed Middleton. Hardly left anything to bury. ‘Cept for maybe a finger. Eh, it was for the best, to be honest. Thatcher used to be quite the assassin, but he turned soft when it came to killin’ the Bishop boy. Reminded him too much of his own child.”

The redhead shook his head in an impressed manner. “And poor ol’ Colm. Christ...by the time we went to clean up his body, the man’s face had been smashed in, and there was a hole in his forehead.”

He snickered in a goading tone, trying to spark a fire inside me. “You...really get mad...when people hurt Eddie, don’t you? Almost...uncontrollably so.”

Rodrick leaned closer to my ear. “I wonder how you’d react...if I hurt him?”

I glowered at the man. “What’re you talkin’ about, you crazy bastard? You already did. You tortured the kid.”

“And I enjoyed every second of it,” he admitted, starin’ blankly in the distance. “The boy turned out to be much more resilient than I anticipated, but...just the idea...of what your sour face would look like once you found out what I had done to him...”

Rodrick slowly turned back to look at me and -- upon seein’ my pissed-off expression -- instantly broke out into a hysterical guffaw, his shoulders shakin’ in sync with his laughs as he separated himself from me.

“Yeah...!” He exclaimed, almost cackling at this point. “Pretty much exactly like that!”

The man placed his glass of champagne down on the bar and leaned on it for a moment, wipin’ away a series of genuine tears as he let out an amused sigh.

“Oh...” Rodrick breathed out once his laughter died down. “Who am I kidding, Arthur?” He stood back up, smirkin’ widely at me. “I can’t get enough of you.”

Without warning, the lunatic suddenly smashed his glass into the side of my head and initiated a fight, causing all the other guests on the boat to start screamin’ in alarm as Rodrick unleashed hell, swinging his fists wildly at me like there was no tomorrow.

And just before I could even attempt to bring him down, the man had grabbed a security guard by the collar and repeatedly bashed his head against the bar’s marble counter, stealin’ his gun afterwards before going trigger-happy on me.

“DON’T YOU RUN FROM ME, MORGAN!” He bellowed, firing one shot after another as I ran like hell, splinters erupting behind me once the bullets blasted into the wall.

“WE AIN’T DONE YET!”

Pushin’ over one of the Poker tables, I hastily took cover behind the flimsy piece of furniture while I frantically searched around for any means of defense, shielding myself from Rodrick’s sporadic shots as Javier came running to my rescue.

“Here, Arthur!” He offered, tossing his rifle to me.

Snatching the weapon straight off the floor, I hurriedly cocked the firearm and poked my head out of cover, only to see that Rodrick and his friends had gotten their hands on Lenny, Josiah, and Strauss, and were now holdin’ them hostage.

“Come on out, sunshine!” Kingsley yelled with a demented smile, his voice carrying even more force than the bullets he was firing mere moments ago. “Or I’ll sink this goddamn boat...and every sad son-of-a-bitch on it!”

I retreated back behind the table and slammed my fist on the floor out of frustration, silently cursin’ to myself as I thought about what to do next. Normally, I woulda just killed Rodrick and set Lenny free, but those bastards had captured everyone except me and Javier. If either of us took a single shot, the other two hostages would be executed immediately. We couldn’t fight them head-on, but we also couldn’t let them kill the other gang members.

What the hell were we supposed to do...?!

Takin’ a deep breath, I decided to play along with Rodrick for now and carefully stood up from my hiding spot, instantly causing him and his allies to aim their weapons in my direction as Javier and I approached the middle of the boat.

Kingsley followed my every step with his gun, blatantly grinning out of satisfaction.

“Ah...and there he is,” He taunted, tightenin’ his grip on Lenny’s neck. “The devil himself.”

Javier and I stood side-by-side, paralyzed on the spot like a pair of deer. Neither of us could see any way outta this situation just yet, and aside from all the chaos we was already dealin’ with, Eddie was nowhere to be found.

Whether that was because the boy was hiding somewhere else, or because he had already been captured -- I had no idea. But the thought of Rodrick findin’ him terrified me, and I knew that no matter what happened, I couldn’t tell them where he was. I wouldn’t.

Deciding to take my chances, I inched closer to Kingsley and very subtly took a single step forward with the hopes of catchin’ him by surprise, only to have the man shoot a bullet right in front of my foot as I violently sprung back.

“Move one more...goddamn muscle...!” Rodrick roared, drilling his gun into Lenny’s temple, “and I swear, I will shoot this boy right here, right now, RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!”

I instantly came to halt, admittedly trembling like a little boy on the inside as smoke rose from the wooden planks underneath me. I’d met some crazies in my lifetime -- hell, some of ‘em was even in the gang -- but Kingsley made them all look like saints. Where in the hell did Atticus find this man?

“Well then...” the redhead said, calmin’ down slightly, “now that we have an understanding, won’t you gentlemen be so kind as to drop them weapons, and raise your hands in the air?”

Javier and I exchanged looks with each other, both of us reluctantly followin’ orders before putting our guns down and lifting our arms above us.

“There you go...” Rodrick praised. “Nice and easy. ...Now then,” he cocked the hammer on his pistol, “I don’t believe I was clear enough before. Where exactly is...Mister Ryan?”

Neither of us said anythin’ in response, causing Kingsley to instantly fire a bullet straight into Lenny’s head and kill the kid on the spot.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, about ready to raise hell, only to have an array of guns aiming at me.

“Easy there, sunshine...” Rodrick warned. “Wouldn’t wanna get shot, now would you? After all,” he dropped Lenny’s body to the floor, “you are my favorite out of the entire gang, Arthur. I don’t wanna see you die. And besides, what would poor Eddie do without you there to protect him...?”

Suddenly remembering that Eddie was still out there somewhere, I backed down at the thought of him and forced myself to show some restraint, restlessly stayin’ in place.

Kingsley chuckled at the sight and glanced at one of his comrades, talkin’ about me as if I was some kinda wild animal.

“You see, Mrs. Middleton?” He commented. “That’s how you tame the beast. He ain’t no big, bad wolf like Colm said. The sad truth is...he’s simply human.”

I paused for a moment.

Did he say Mrs. Middleton? Shit. I never knew Thatcher had a wife. But I had no doubts that she knew about me. In fact, there were a lot of secrets within our gang that Atticus’ people seemed to know about, and it made me question just how secure our little camp really was.

Before I could think on the subject any further though, I suddenly noticed Eddie sneakin’ back into this area as he crept through the doorway that led to the stairwell, his clothes stained with small splatters of blood. I guessed he had already been through a fight of his own. I was just glad to see him in one piece.

Getting a closer look at the situation, it didn’t take long for Eddie to figure out just what exactly was goin’ on before he brandished a rifle -- one that he probably stole from the guards -- and steadily aimed it straight at Rodrick’s head, ready to fire.

Just as he went to press the trigger however, one of Kingsley’s friends happened to hear the subtle noises comin’ from Eddie’s direction and instantly spotted him, creating just the distraction that I needed to make a move.

“Rodrick!” They called. “Over there!”

Whirlin’ around in surprise, the man averted his eyes from me and, for just a split second, appeared to forget all about us as I broke into a sprint and charged towards him like an angry bull, tacklin’ him to the floor.

Almost immediately, guns went firing all around us while Josiah broke free from his captor and elbowed them in the face, bolting directly for cover. In the meantime, Strauss was simply dragged away by Mrs. Middleton as he yelled for help, only for his voice to be drowned out by the explosive gunshots thunderin’ all over the place.

In order to avoid the dozens of bullets zippin’ past me, I hurriedly jumped off of Rodrick and reached for my own rifle, making a beeline straight for the exit as Javier ran after me, firing a number of blind shots to distract our enemies.

Sliding behind a wall, I held onto my weapon for dear life and, against my better judgement, quickly glanced back at the scene where the hostages were being held, only to come across the sight of Lenny’s corpse sitting in a pool of blood.

“Goddammit, Lenny...!” I cursed, clenchin’ my jaw. “Eddie?! Are you still alive?”

The pianist called out to me from behind another Poker table.

“For now! We need to get out of here, Arthur! Is there any way to escape?”

I gestured to the door we used to enter the party.

“I think we can leave through there! But we’ll have to swim back to the city! So everyone follow me, and don’t look back! There’s too many of them for us to fight!”

Fleeing from cover, I raced from one end of the boat to another as Eddie, Javier, and Trelawny all ran beside me, our legs just barely escapin’ the shower of bullets that was raining down on the floor beneath us.

It looked like most of Atticus’ gang was stayin’ back and firing at us from a distance, but Rodrick, on the other hand, decided to switch things up and retrieved a shotgun from one of the guards’ bodies, storming after our group like a goddamned predator.

He didn’t seem to give one damn about gettin’ shot or being caught in the crossfire; all he cared about was catching up to us and marched relentlessly through every obstacle in his path, occasionally letting loose a shell here and there as we jolted outta the way.

“...Theodore Bishop!” Rodrick shouted in a singsong tone, cocking his shotgun. “I see you, boy!”

The man fired a shell at Eddie just as we hugged a corner and missed the boy by a centimeter, shattering an ornate lamp into dozens of pieces before proceeding with his hunt.

Finally reaching the exit, I practically tore one of the doors off its hinges and urged everyone else to go through first while Rodrick continued to pursue us, his weapon now out of ammo.

“Hurry!” I exclaimed, holdin’ the door open. “This way!”

Dashing to safety, Trelawny, Javier, and Eddie all scrambled through with an amount of speed I’d never seen as I followed their actions, slammin’ the door shut and locking it tight just before Rodrick could reach us.

The four of us all backed away from the exit and watched in horror as Kingsley viciously bashed the doors from the other side with the stock of his gun, hollerin’ at us like an absolute madman.

“Oh, you think you’re safe back there?!” He hammered his weapon against the wood. “Just wait until I find you again! Y’all are dead men, you hear?! DEAD MEN!”

I placed a firm hand on Eddie’s back and guided him away from the exit, escortin’ everyone to the exterior areas of the boat.

“C’mon,” I said. “We need to leave. Now!”

Scurrying through the corridors, our group wasted no time in putting this godforsaken riverboat behind us as Rodrick kept tryin’ to break the door down, his voice echoing throughout the area like thunder.

I had no idea what the living hell just happened, or how Atticus even knew we was gonna try to rob the boat, but we had to get as far as goddamned possible from Saint Denis now. What on Earth was Dutch thinkin’ when he decided to go after this tip? We already pushed our luck enough, robbing that bank...and I told him people was gonna suffer after what we did to Colm, but he just refused to listen to me. And now, Lenny was dead.

As for Strauss, I didn’t even know what his conditions were. Last I saw him, Mrs. Middleton was haulin’ him away, and I didn’t even have the chance to go after him...or retrieve Lenny’s body.

Everything was falling apart right now. Our gang’s numbers were slowly dwindling, the camp’s morale was next to nonexistent, and all this mayhem only reminded me how important it was to ensure Eddie made it out alive.

He and John...they was the only ones outta all of us who still had a chance to live a normal life. John had a family, and Eddie had a future ahead of him. The rest of us however, we were more ghosts than people. The world didn’t want folk like us no more, and sooner or later, we were just gonna have to come to terms with that.

For now though, all I wanted was to get enough money to leave this place, and possibly even this country. Shady Belle had become more of a large graveyard than a camp at this point...and I didn’t wanna be there when things finally came crashing down.

MIDNIGHT

SAINT DENIS, THE HARBOR

Reachin’ a hand down, I helped Eddie up onto the pier as we all removed ourselves from the cold water, still in shock from everything that just occurred. It looked like Rodrick had given up on his pursuit -- for now -- and for the first time in a while, we actually had a moment to breathe.

Wiping some mud off Eddie, I tidied him up a bit and thoroughly looked him over, making sure the boy was okay.

“You alright?” I asked. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

The pianist shook his head. “No. They roughed me up a little, but I’m fine. It happened when Desmond’s butler took me to collect the watch. Things were going smoothly at first, but then...they just came out of nowhere. Ambushed us. Killed the butler, too...but I managed to escape.”

I froze. “Wait, Rodrick’s men found you?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah.”

A horrible thought crossed my mind. “...Then...then why was Rodrick askin’ me where you were? What was the point of holding Lenny hostage if...he already knew...?”

The pianist’s eyes widened with realization and he furrowed his brows in an apologetic manner, immediately bringin’ a hand up to caress my cheek.

“I...I think Rodrick was playing games with you, Arthur. That’s all he does. That bastard will do anything to trick people into thinking their lives are over for the sole purpose of seeing how they’ll react. I’m...I’m sorry.”

I took a step back from Eddie and dragged a hand through my hair, suddenly feelin’ more disappointed with myself than I ever had in my entire life.

That maniac knew where Eddie was all along. I could’ve just told him his location, and it wouldn’t have made any difference. The boy still would’ve been fine...and Lenny would've been with us now. How the hell did I not see it before...? Oh, you goddamned idiot, Morgan. How did you not realize...?

“...L-Let’s just get back to camp,” I replied, blinking rapidly due to the tears that threatened to spill. “Dutch is probably wonderin’ where we are.”

Trelawny agreed in a disheartened voice. “Indeed. I think I’ll join you gentlemen for now. Saint Denis isn’t exactly ideal anymore.”

Javier jumped in. “And how are we supposed to tell Dutch what happened tonight? Where do we even start?”

I stormed away from the pier with my head hanging low, both confusion and rage rippin’ me apart as I silently damned this entire city to hell, ready to knock some sense into Dutch if he didn’t pack up and leave by tomorrow.

“...With the truth.”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #arthur morgan x male oc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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Pt 1 – Pt 2

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…

It had been hours without word from you and no doubt he more than deserved it but as he stared at his phone screen of the unanswered messages to you his brows inched up seeing you had read his finally. One by one they were marked read and at the end he eagerly added another to the line simply asking, “Did you find a decent hotel in Lindon?”

With your brows furrowed curiously you replied, “My Ada had plenty of room.”

His lips parted and he felt his heart skip realizing he had missed out on knowing a big chunk of your family, “I thought you lost your parents.”

“Oh, the tomb, no, that was my mother and step father. There was a bad divorce when we were little. Haven’t seen him in centuries.”

Risking a possible hang up or being ignored he called you, biting his lip hoping you would just let him know you were safe and being well cared for. But your voice came through the line and he calmed a bit at that alone. “Yo-, you’re father took your arrival well?”

With a smirk you replied on your path out onto the cold grass barefoot towards the swing set out a decent distance form the back door so you wouldn’t be overheard, “Well I had to cut off his hand, so, not that well.”

“Wait, what? I thought you were there to operate on one of the Feanoreans.”

Weakly you chuckled saying, “Maedhros Feanorean is my Ada.”

After a pause Thorin stammered, “O-oh..” you couldn’t help but grin at the sound of his shifting in his seat as you sat on one of the swings, “Is, or, was he badly injured? I mean past the hand..”

“Scrapes, bruises. Nothing the Elven doctors couldn’t mend easily. Just having to help with his rehab on his new hand.”

Thorin wet his lips, “Will, um, will that take long?”

“Few weeks at least.”

He nodded and felt his inner damn break gushing out each and every fault he had found from himself in your time together especially focusing on his points that he had returned all your artwork to their original homes and spoken to each of his relatives about honoring your home. “And I have told Nori I won’t be looking at any new homes, if you wished to one day live together fully, when I have earned it I wouldn’t dream of forcing you and the boys to move out of your home, which is already impossibly grand enough. Even in my time after work I’ve already picked up books on Elven traditions and cultures…”

You couldn’t help but grin asking, “Which ones?”

Thorin, “Oh, um, one written by a, squiggly something, it’s written in Quenya, and one with a horseshoe on the cover, written in something, else.”

You giggled ending his sentence, “Which forms of Elvish?”

“Oh, um, Sindar for one, Noldor for another, and they had one on Falmari. Is there a difference?”

You giggled again shaking your head, “Such big differences. My Ada is Noldor, my mother was Vanyar, though I stick to my Ada’s traditions. The boys’ father was Teleri, not far from Vanyar so it won’t be hard for me to share it.”

He nodded, “I’ll have to look up books on Vanyar and Teleri then.”

“You’re certain?”

“Of course. In fact Dis is insisting the whole clan buy copies too. The squiggly book I glimpsed inside and apparently your home, the arches bring harmony and the windows locations bring peaceful thoughts. The chimney is backwards for eternal oneness, whatever that means, it doesn’t explain what your chimney means if it’s backwards…” his voice trailed off into a ramble showing how much he’d already put into studying on what your home and the layout meant. Until he asked, “How are the boys? And you’re eating enough?”

“Ya, we’re good. The boys got to meet my cousin Celebrimbor, he’s their age, loves them already. We’ve had a full four meals already. If you thought Dwarves were protective of pregnant women you have not spent long around Elves. My six uncles live here too and none of them are away from me and the boys for long, or Ada.”

“That’s good. You have your vitamins?”

“My aunt Elanor bought me a new batch, forgot where I left mine yesterday morning before work. Probably in the bread box or something.”

Thorin nodded then growled at his buzzing phone he drew away from his ear to read the message he was just sent then answered, “Work calling.” He wet his lips. “Oh, and Hensen is an ass! Heard him bragging on my way back from surgery. Trust me, me Dwalin and the boys are determined to make his last few weeks here hell and Dis knows his wife so she’s sharing all the drama he flushed up about pregnant women while his wife is carrying their seventh at home. Don’t you worry on that, we’ve got it covered, in the worst case Richard can’t put us all on leave till he’s gone.”

“Go to work, save some lives. Do that brooding look near the windows to seem all distant in thought across from the nurses lounge, gives them something other than bedpans and rude patients to talk about.”

He chuckled and bid you goodnight, promising to talk to you the next day after encouraging you to get some sleep yourself.

…In Lindon…

With a sigh you walked back into the house and to your gifted room beside your father’s to change out of your jeans into a pair of shorts. At the foot of your bed you stared at it after setting your sweater on it only to turn away from it to walk through your door and into your father’s room. Under his covers in the bed he lowered his new hand from over his head in another try at fully controlling all his fingers. An easy smile grew on his face and he brushed back his covers drawing a smile from you in return climbing on and walking across is bed to settle at his side wrapped in his arm.

Quietly you laid there until he kissed your forehead saying, “It pains me to no end you had to face burying Em alone.”

“If it helps she was able to help heal a group of children lead full lives in her passing.” He peered down at you as you shared the descriptions of the children receiving her organs widening his grin knowing some pieces of her remained for you all to find peace in her absence.

“How was this Thorin of yours?”

“He bought books on Elvish cultures, has spent near a full day studying each detail of the layout of Irime and Findi’s house they left me.”

He chuckled, “No doubt that fireplace was troubling for him to decipher.”

You giggled softly, “Yes. It was, he was also stunned about you being my Ada. Apparently he saw my trip on the news, was curious, just as the world apparently is on how you had gotten into contact with me.”

He chuckled again, “Yes, no doubt. I’ve even gotten a call from my manager asking how much this mithril hand has set me back, surely he was hoping he would still get paid.”

You giggled softly, “I never charge for it. What’s a bit of blood to free them from their troubles.”

He chuckled planting his lips on your forehead again through a muffled chuckle, “No doubt none of them know it actually is your blood.”

“Just my first team who watched me bleeding out over the Captain. Though when I woke up the file said they saw me uncover a vine of mithril in the cave we hid in I drained for the foot.”

He grinned using his two working fingers on his new hand to cover you more through another warm kiss, “Good, no doubt for your gift secrecy of its source was a small price. Though I doubt any have found recovery as easy as I have, at least by Curufin’s relaying your experiences to all of them while I was asleep. If it helps I can wiggle my little finger now.” Making you giggle and snuggle closer to him, “I do hope you don’t mind us moving in with you Pumpkin. I don’t want to miss another moment with you.”

Your arm draped across his middle after his next kiss as your eyes drooped shut and you dreamily sighed, “Neither do I.” He grinned again closing his eyes pressing his head to yours with a steady smile drifting off to sleep with you.

Over the next week your therapies seemed all the more ridiculous and tedious to Maedhros sinking his mood greatly leading to his early night in leading to your taking time in the in house studio. Eventually at the wafting sound of his brothers playing tore him from bed in an irritated huff about possibly waking the boys only to pause in the doorway seeing you holding one of the spare guitars from the wall to play his parts from one of their new unreleased songs for an upcoming album as you finely tuned Celegorm’s drum sections to fit to their style more in the transfer from the page to real life.

At his side Caranthir eased over nudging his side with his elbow as Maedhros stood open mouthed at your singing a set of lyrics helping Maglor with the timing you had imagined. “You didn’t think she got through med school on grants and scholarships did you?” Maedhros looked at him seeing his wide grin, “She’s our best writer, has been for decades.”

Through the room at your grin he moved to look over your notes only to peer over at Amrod when he handed him his guitar then to you at your saying, “Might as well give it a try.” He gave a timid nod and wet his lips shouldering the strap and easing the guitar into place along with his fingers only to close his eyes trying to feel the motions of the song you would play along with him.

I remember how it felt we were sittin' on the roof

You were in my black jacket drinkin' up the view

We were Romeo and Juliet smoking Lite cigarettes

All night long

Countin' yellow cabs we were showing tattoos

On top of the world we had nothing to lose

Fallin' like snowflakes crashin' out at your place

What went wrong

If I see you out tonight

You'll think I'm doin' alright

'Cause you can't see

What's underneath this black Jacket is a broken heart and

And I never take it off

'Cause I just can't hang it up

It's too torn apart this

Black jacket has a broken heart

As the guitar role picked up Maedhros’ eyes finally opened realizing you were playing in sync with him and he had only missed a couple notes so far as you guided Maglor along through the vocals.

I still use your umbrella when I'm walking in the rain

I cant help but crack a smile every time I hear a train

I never got your music till you left and made me use it

Just to keep you around

It's a small world town

If I see you out tonight

You'll think I'm doin' alright

'Cause you can't see

What's underneath this black Jacket is a broken heart

I never take it off

'Cause I just can't hang it up

It's too torn apart this

Black jacket has a broken heart

A nip at his lip later he focused on the rising tempo in this part of the song.

One day I'm gonna take it off

Set it up in flames

Oh I won't even hear it, when somebody says your name

Nothing left to hide

I won't even hurt

Yeah, I'll be alright in a white T-shirt, but

If I see you out tonight

As the tempo slowed again a grin eased onto his lips seeing how seamlessly he was slipping back into the old motions. His eyes moved to you as your hand left the neck of your guitar to rest on your stomach only to draw Maglor’s to rest over it with a wide grin feeling your little ones shifting at the vibrations from the guitar below them.

If I see you out tonight

You'll think I'm doin' alright

'Cause you can't see

What's underneath this black Jacket is a broken heart and

I never take it off

'Cause I just can't hang it up

It's too torn apart this

Black jacket has a broken heart

Ooh, ooh, ooh

As the song ended his grin remained and his hand moved to steal a feel of his own of your bump along with his brothers before he wet his lips and chose one of their classics his brothers revealed to have been from you as well. Steadily you played with him for a couple hours until he caught your yawn between songs then he set aside your guitars and led you to his bed for some more sleep.

A few more days had passed until news of there being an inability to shift the date for a fan meet left you at the house with Elanor and Celebrimbor for most of the day until they returned exhausted and a bit uncertain after hearing they would have to head back out for the final two weeks of concert dates. Though as you heard Elanor and Celebrimbor had been traveling along with them you found your joining them for a glimpse of their tour finally possible. The grin on Maedhros’ face wouldn’t drop fro hours after knowing you would be coming with them. Through the west you would travel around for six shows then the brothers had planned it to be time for your move. A few of Maedhros’ brothers were going to stay in the house in Lindon after they had packed up to move into your house, which one of the second studies you had set up as your own in house studio the Durins had thankfully not found access to.

Through the few dates you left the boys back stage with Elanor to stand near the edge of the stage playing along with Maedhros giving him courage even though their overly eagerness to even see the full band together in support of their return. All that joined with their love for simply being in their presence, fully knowing that live shows weren’t meant to be perfect. The added bonus of seeing the newly announced and impossibly talented daughter of one of the members was greatly publicized in their media stops between shows. The last of which ending in Greenwood granting Elanor time to set up her paperwork for her new job with Curufin while the rest of you set up in your home.

Easily enough after their first walk through as you watched the boys settle their toys back into their proper places in their room the men unpacked the truck into their chosen rooms and joined you and the boys in the kitchen where you had added yet another painting. The sight of a figure passing by the window with dark hair sent Fili and Kili racing inside after getting off their late shift. The door closed after them and into the kitchen the rushed hearing the boys singing a rambling tune only to pause after calling out, “You’re back!”

In shock their eyes scanned over the tall men around you looking them both over before your father approached them offering his new hand, “Fili and Kili I presume.”

They nodded shaking his hand then peered around him at you seeing you approaching to accept their hugs filled with their muddled apologies. After you pulled apart you named all your relatives only to hear your door open and Dwalin’s voice through the door calling out, “Boys, you left your bags outside.”

Maedhros leaned in asking, “Thorin?”

You shook your head, “Dwalin.”

Behind the bald dwarf who dropped the bags in the doorway to the kitchen Thorin entered and froze only to grin at the boys greeting him happily. Through the sea of introductions he made it to the boys accepting their hugs to leave kisses on their cheeks and foreheads only to peer up at you in your approach after Dwalin’s tearful apology filled hug. A nod of your head brought him closer to melt around you in a hug of his own and a firm kiss after. The oven timer sounded breaking you apart freeing you to tug Thorin to the table into the seat beside yours as he stole a stroke of your slightly more pronounced bump he was grateful he hadn’t chased you away longer than he already had.

While your plate was being filled by both Maedhros and Thorin you chuckled at Fili’s asking form his trip to the bathroom, “So, whose boxes are in the spare rooms?”

You couldn’t help but grin as Thorin sat beside you eyeing you carefully wondering the same thing in his focused attempts to keep his attention away from the new portrait in the kitchen across from him. “Jaqi?”

Turning your head you let out a weak giggle as Maedhros stated plainly with a grin of his own, “Oh that, we’re moving in.”

Kili asked as you took a bite of this meal, “All of you?”

Maglor nodded and reached over shifting the boys’ plates closer to them replying, “Yup. We’ve all missed so much in their lives, besides with the new little ones on the way you’ll be needing all the help you can get while you two are at work. I doubt the daycare will let you bring all of them everyday.”

Amrod, “Besides, to follow Elven courtship in these circumstances you will be needing our presence.”

Amras, “Unless you are choosing to stick to Dwarven traditions instead.”

Celegorm, “Though even there you would still require certain blessings first.”

Maedhros, “Don’t worry, we’ve left a considerable space in the library as well as the studies for your belongings for nights reading in.”

Thorin lowered his fork then glanced at you asking, “My, belongings?”

You flashed him another quick smile as Maedhros stated, “In your Vanyar courting book you’ll read there is a dwelling phase in courtships. You will live with us all and complete the tasks required to earn Jaqi’s trust as well as affirm your place together and settle your plans for how your children will grow.”

Thorin wet his lips as Fili asked, “I thought Elves didn’t live together until they were married.”

Maglor raised a brow, “In what race does carrying another’s children not count as marriage?”

Dwalin’s lips pursed before he grumbled, “Told you.”

Thorin sent him a weak glare then asked Maedhros across from you both, “Does that mean we will have to plan the ceremony soon?”

Curufin, “Not at all. In fact to do so would be a great insult. It is best, in these cases to follow tradition of birth first and then not until the little ones have reached their first steps a proper engagement is allowed.”

Kili, “He has to wait that long?”

Dwalin, “Not sure Gran will allow him to break our traditions so far.”

Thorin wet his lips, “For our kin we must be at least engaged by the birth.”

Maedhros nodded then answered, “I am certain in this circumstance we might allow a well deserved engagement, however, it must be approved by Jaqi and not allowed to be taken as anything but an honest display of intentions, not simply done out of tradition for a time limit.”

Thorin nodded, “Of course.”

By lunch Curufin and Elanor arrived with little Celebrimbor in hand adding to the group of Elves now imposing the same wall of expectations on the future and shaping of the children and couple involved for Thorin that you had felt. If he had imagined himself clear on what he had done he now abundantly clear on what your position was and no doubt he imagined this was your family’s revenge in your place so he would understand. Not long after the Durins began trickling in rushing to apologize to you as well as learning just who the men were in your life and why they had been away from you for so long. But the separation of your family and divide between you and your also unmentioned twin was shared explaining your silence on the subject of your busy family half a world away.

Between the dinner and breakfast the next morning Thorin treasured being able to slip into your bed with you and hold you once again. Loving murmurs of Khuzdul between lingering kisses were finally put to an end by you so he could rest up for his next shift. Alone he woke and groggily found his way to the kitchen only to peer up with pursed lips nad a twitching brow at the colorful face of a cow new to the pale grey wall over the white and pale yellow tile backdrop. Wordlessly he tore his eyes away from it and forced a wide grin at you as you set a full plate and cup of coffee in front of him. When your uncles began trickling in you moved to finish prepping your own cup of tea beside your plate you couldn’t help but grin seeing your Cousin Elrond, who arrived last night who eased to your side in the line for coffee and peered up at the painting under furrowed brows.

“Um, so, which one of your patients painted that one.”

With a grinning nod at Thorin eating as he stared at it you mumbled behind your mug to your cousin, “I painted it.” Elrond peered at you curiously, “Just waiting to see how long it takes for him to say something.” You stole a sip as he chuckled filling his cup of coffee when you moved to your own seat by Thorin. You raised your full fork and eyed Amrod and Amras both carrying your boys to the table where Caranthir and Celegorm had already set up their breakfast for you and jumped at the chance to help them eat it. Your comment had floated around the table an in a swapping set of shared gazes you could spot their own wagers being set on when he would finally crack, though he seemed likely to last at least a few days where after he had gone Fili and Kili both lasted only a few moments after walking into the kitchen only to turn around asking together, “What’s with the cow?!”

#Thorin x Reader OC #Hobbit #lotr

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limitedrevolverworks · 6 years

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Varmints -5- [END]

“They ask me, Doc, what in tarnation was this all ‘bout? And what was I suppos’ta say? Nothing, that’s what. Ain’t no point in explainin’ to a dire bear that y’aint really intrudin’ in his territory, jus’ strollin’ by, no biggie. That’s how you turn your noggin’ into dire bear fodder."

“So what’d you tell ‘em then?”

Doc Norton’s eyes, thrice their size through the magnifying lenses in front of them, looked up from the mistletoe and the hands methodically plucking its leaves. They met the inquisitive gaze of Beth and lingered there for good while, apparently more interested in counting the myriad, occasionally bioluminescent scales dotting the young lass’ face like freckles, rather than giving her any manner of answer.

“Troll shamans.” The words tumbled out of his ‘stache like the laconic payoff to a grand train heist.

“No way!” The girl’s visage alighted like a starlit tapestry, bright blue light pouring forth from the millimeter-sized flakes sprinkled all across a pale gray mask of bewildered dissatisfaction. The sturdy wooden table creaked under the weight of her chin and arms sprawling suddenly dropping on its levigated surface, the noise melding almost seamlessly into Beth’s prolonged whine. Doc Norton felt for the poor kid - irritation, mostly. Her tiny fingers had latched onto the corners of his vision, pointy claw-like nails digging into the table right besides his own busy hands and the precious plant. Not quite close enough to disturb his work, at least; shame he couldn’t have said the same of the small pair of boots digging their tips into his shins in a series of lazy, and yet entirely too precise kicks.

“But you always say it was troll shamans, unca!”

“And it always works. Now stop kickin’ me ‘fore I go ahead and make salves out of that tail of yours, missy.”

She stopped, about three particularly more violent kicks later. The quiet sound of leaves being plucked was the sole one heard within the atelier for a dozen merciful seconds, at the ends of which Beth, her glowy pout held by her hands, decided that she’d had enough. The dull thump of her tail against the legs of her stool said as much; Doc Norton’s attempt to feign deafness fell flatter than the dish where he was collecting the mistletoe’s remains.

“‘Kay. You still ain’t told me what these ‘varmints’ are s’pposed to be.”

“And I reckon there ain’t a reason why I should.”

“There ain’t a reason why you shouldn’t, though!”

With a sharp snap, the mistletoe was left a mere tangle of naked stems, the last of its leaves dropped into the glass dish besides it. Doc Norton stared at the veiny pathways that the plant seemed to paint on the support panel where it had been laid, admiring the intricacy of their design, but mostly the fact that they couldn’t bother him about his reticence.

He set the magnifying glasses down, massaged his forehead and then his moustache. When he reopened his tired eyes, Beth was still where he’d left her, waiting for her childish curiosity to be thoroughly sated.

Narrowing his eyes, no, his entire face right down to the last follicle protruding from his upper lip did absolutely nothing to dim the bright determination of those young eyes, or the far more literal one painting her skin, for that matter.

It was troublesome, especially because Beth was right: none of the reason he had to keep quiet with ignorant, trigger-happy daredevils truly applied to this smart(ass) of a kid.

“A’right, a’right, fine. Guess y’aint completely wrong on that.”

The curve of Beth’s lips flipped upside down before she’d even started bouncing on her seat, triumphantly throwing her arms up and some locks of the humongous golden mass that was her hair along with them.

“Right, chill down a bit, you nag of a lizard.” grumbled Doc Norton as he sat up, and for all the cranky vibes dripping from his every word, a minuscule speck of something resembling anticipation seemed to seep through. It was the reluctant excitement that came with prying open the seal on a self-imposed taboo, the guilty pleasure of indulgence with nothing but regret at the end of the path it paved. The pharmacist resented the lightness with which he moved about his little realm of beaks, ampoules, vials and metal vats. Nostalgia coursed through him with a jolt that left behind bitter disgust and something akin to warmth, when he finally found what he was seeking; he retraced his steps with half a mind to do the same with his words and substitute them with a single nevermind. The sight of Beth’s dangling legs kicking a jolly rhythm into empty air, while her throat silently hummed its non-existent tune through lips sealed into a giddy smile, convinced him to do otherwise. He plopped back into his chair, setting down on the table the miniature model of the world that he’d plucked from one among the many shelves in his atelier.

“The thing about this crazy ol’ world of ours, y’ see, is that we do things differently, depending on which Layer one’s from. We think different. We live different. And, of course, we fight different. That’s how it be, when your planet’s a fractured mess of continents floating about atop and below one other.”

Beth nodded diligently, her eyes fixated on the pharmacist’s hand which, like a dragon oil salesman, danced about in front of the product he was expounding about, or at least its minute representation: two distinct sets of flat, curved shapes representing the land masses, floating into two distinct spherical orbits, two layers, with one containing the other. Or float the originals did anyway; the ones on the model were stuck like skewered wererat meat on rods that protruded from a compact mass at the very center of it all, metal bits and pieces chaotically assembled together into ball that constituted the core of this broken planet’s pale specter.

“Now, lass, show me you ain’t been loitering around for nothin’. What’re the three basic principles of pharmacy?”

Beth straightened on her seat, from the top of her head right down to the floppy end of her tail, so eager to answer she might have fallen from her seat, not at all helped by the considerable height between the soles of her boots and the floor smeared with numberless splotches of evaporated concoctions.

“Creation, tranf… traaan…” she began, trapped in a struggle with her forked tongue’s inability to deal with such a ridiculous combination of sounds. “Trannnngh! Transformation! And destruction. Them’s the three of ‘em, right?”

“Aye, looks like you got a good head on your shoulders. Pity ‘bout what’s inside it… guess you won’t be winnin’ the spelling bee anytime soon.”

Doc Norton almost regretted it when his knees started aching from the aftereffects of Offended Lizardite Hybrid Kicking Syndrome.

“Anyway. Creation, transformation…” He made sure to take his time pronouncing the word, letting each phoneme filter through his ‘stache with maximum accuracy and ludicrous amounts of mockery for an adult talking to the little girl shining angry hues of dark blue at him with her face.

“...And destruction. When you get down to it, that’s all pharmacy’s about.”

“But unca,” interrupted Beth, only slightly less miffed thanks to a sudden burst of curiosity, “don’t you always say that pharmacy is about knowin’ the world and how it works?”

“Aye, you smart lil’ lizard. That’s ‘cause the three principles are what the world’s built on. Take us folks here, in the Middle Layer.” He wriggled a finger into the large gap between two of the surface continents to poke at another beneath, shaped like the top view of a hat that had been stomped on repeatedly and with purpose. “No matter what the sheriffs and constables will want you thinkin’, it’s the wand that sets the law here. It be through the wands that money exchanges hands - the big money, mind you, not pocket change. Folks steal, pillage, buy and sell… shamans bring the dead up. Rich bastard dies, a poor sap inherits his fortune, only to get killed on the way back to his stable. That night, a merry band of wandmen are havin’ a jolly good time at the local waterin’ hole with their freshly stolen goods. Somebody trips into the wrong table, wands come out, chaos. One of the guys gets thrown off a window and runs away with his part, decides he’s had with this mess of a life, settles down, starts an activity, it’s successful, grows old on a neat little pile of savings… the cycle repeats, or maybe not, it don’t matter, ‘cause there’s a hundred other cycles like that going on around a continent or the other of this Layer of ours. Here, we’re all about transformation. Hell, even the dead ain’t let be here. Something’s always bound to begin right as another’s ended.”

“And that’s what makes it fun?”

“It’s what makes it a big damn mess, lass. Still, we got it good here, all things considered. Them sorry bastards on the Lower Layer, now...”

Doc Norton turned the model until he found a seam to stick his finger through and touch the sphere of collected metal standing in the middle, right atop the pedestal’s rod running through it.

“They got no time to spare for shenanigans like ours, not when they be sittin’ right atop the Core and making a livelihood out of it. The Lower Layer, y’see, is where creation happens. It is an ever growin’ sprawl, a parasite of steel and nickel and titanium. A machine that keeps on breakin’ on itself, one that you can’t just go and open to see what’s wrong, no, ‘cause by that time the technology’s grown obsolete, blueprints have evolved, techniques refined. On the corpses of empty, busted engines the size of a whole town they build a new, bigger, more efficient pumpin’ station that sends magma like blood through the veins of this beast that don’t know anymore what its true shape’s like. They got no time to look backwards in the Lower Layer, only forward. They’re runnin’ away, no more, no less. The moment they’ll stop creatin’, is when their world’ll collapse beneath them and catch up.”

“That sounds sad…”

“They don’t got time to be sad. They’re too busy hammerin’, breathin’ smoke like we do oxygen and orderin’ their golems around to care.”

That sounded even sadder to Beth. Doc Norton let her silently mull over the harsh conditions of Lower Layer dwellers - then, the half-lizardite raised her small hand to poke one of the smoothly-edged continents sitting at the top of the world’s ethereal structure.

“Then, unca, the Upper Layer’d be...”

“Destruction.” anticipated Doc Norton, and for all the effort he put into concealing it, Beth couldn’t miss the harsh flavor that he’d given this single word, nor the way he was looking at the Upper Layer’s reproduction. Like a wandman would have the corpse of a duel’s fresh victim.

“Is it bad up there?”

“Aye.”

“That why you left?”

“Aye.”

Beth and Doc Norton waited, not for one other but for themselves to find something suitable to say. The girl’s childish imagination nor the doctor’s wealth of knowledge couldn’t quite find anything of the sort, and so they simply let their eyes linger on the vision of this tiny little world’s attempt to represent their own.

As time passed, however, something odd happened: the size of Beth’s cheeks began to increase exponentially, accompanied by the unmistakable phenomenon known as pouting that all lasses were so thoroughly proficient at. An explosion wasn’t probable as much as a given inevitability, and it hit Doc Norton’s reverie with all the force of a major caliber fire spell.

“Nevermind that, unca! How’s about you tell me what this has to do with those varmint thingies already?”

The pharmacist nodded once, than again, more firmly, as he recollected his thoughts, smoothing them out like he was doing with a corner of his ‘stache.

“I was gettin’ to that, impatient lass. Y’see, varmints are these eensy teensy little clumps of concentrated bastardry, the kind of disruptive nonsense that them Upper Layer screwballs spend their time comin’ up with.”

“Okay, but what are they, unca?”

“Larvae. Sorta. They be smaller, not really alive per se, and lotsa more troublesome, since they feed on gold.”

“They… eat gold?”

“Aye, them little shits love themselves a fat shiny luncheon. And there’s gold aplenty up above, though the stuff they make with it… nothin’ on any other Layer compares. Complicated golden spellwork printed under the surfaces of machines the size of a mountain, phlogiston runnin’ through them like blood to power golden cannons which shoot aether able to pulverize a continent’s whole surface… books inked with gold, able to store knowledge in the language of patterns and release it directly into the reader’s mind… if phlogiston is the lifeblood of the Upper Layer, gold’s what lets it flow where it’s needed. You rid a city of that and you’ll have won yourself a war in no time.”

An awed woah was all which Beth could muster while holding onto her tail in an attempt to keep it from destroying her seat from all the excited swaying it felt like indulging into.

“Varmints are some of the foulest stuff made up there, no doubt. Just rain a bunch over a sea of corpses - and there ain’t ever a shortage of those, in the Upper layer - and soon you’ll have gotten yourself an army of livin’ anti-civilization bombs.”

“That sounds ugly… and evil..”

Doc Norton couldn’t have found better words to describe the Upper Layer and its idiosyncrasies.

“How’d they get on the Middle Layer, unca?”

“Good question. Guess someone made a miscalculation with wind trajectories, timin’, whatever and rained their death cargo at the wrong time. Could be that the stuff got shot off the edges of a continent before it could be properly deployed, too. The cause don’t matter to us Middle Layer folks, anyway, and the effect’s been cared and dealt with.”

“That’s true…”

Beth hopped off her stool, skipping a few paces away where a sizeable tub was sitting on the floor, and peeked over its contents. A distorted reflection arched its eyebrow back at her.

“...Though you got them varmints right here.”

“I sure do.”

“Didn’t you tell them folks at the farm that you’d like, get rid of them?”

“And that I did.”

“But you didn’t… uhm, eliminate completely with that concoction of yours?”

“And waste a perfectly good batch of useable varmints? I ain’t spittin’ on a free batch of gifts from our cretinous neighbors, silly lizard. The acid I made only served to dissolve the corpses I had them wandslingers toss into. It got no effect on varmints, resilient sons of squirmy bitches.”

“Aah…”

Beth grimaced slightly at the pungent odor coming off from the clear liquid, at the bottom of which clumps of slimy, translucent filaments of worm-like substance swam into each other, or perhaps simply drifted, moved by the currents spread from the surface. Then, a thought occurred to her which gave her an incentive to look away from the tub and shove her clawed hands on the part of her dress’ long skirt where he hips were. Doc Norton was too busy twirling his moustache and looking at some portion of the world model to notice the tiny slits through which the half-lizard was looking at him.

“Say, unca… was spittin’ into the acid also a key component?”

“Nah. I just told ‘em for what us smart pharmacist call the ‘shit’ and the ‘giggles’.”

The surface of the liquid inside the tub rippled with the vibrations of an exasperated - and, towards the end, admittedly amused uncaaa…!

#wordy seeds

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marcos008-blog · 4 years

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ELECTRIC MARIJUANA

(Color pencils on paper, enhanced with ArcSoft PhotoImpressions software)

(During the course of my career in non-profit quality control, I smoked marijuana every day for 29 of the past 42 years. Marijuana can be a good medicine, and I found that it often inspired me.

My favorite imported kinds of marijuana were Punta Roja Colombian, "Thai sticks", and Mexican from Oaxaca.

I also enjoyed some of the hashish that came from Lebanon, Afghanistan, and Nepal. The hashoil I smoked that came from Morocco greatly lifted my spirits and provided unique insight. "Bubble Hash" made in Berkeley gave me colorful visions.

I even quaffed Hi-Brew Beer [early 1980s marijuana/alcohol beverage].

[In the 1970s I trimmed MANY pounds of marijuana. One of my associates, a taxi driver who claimed that he had “rolled so many joints I don’t have any fingerprints left” was so impressed that he borrowed my scissors and had them plated with gold.]

Surfing on a toke–and when the bowl of the pipe looks like the Grand Canyon, I know I’ve almost had enough…

[Willie Nelson won 10 Grammy awards, and has appeared in 37 movies and TV shows. More than 40 million copies of his more than 100 albums have been sold. He has smoked marijuana for MANY years. Nelson is an outspoken advocate for the drug and has been arrested several times for possession of marijuana. He was arrested in 2006 for possessing marijuana and hallucinogenic mushrooms. His latest song is titled "Roll Me Up and Smoke Me When I Die".

—from an Associated Press news report, 4.21. 2012.]

["I smoke two joints in the morning I smoke two joints at night I smoke two joints in the afternoon It makes me feel all right"

"I smoke two joints in time of peace And two in time of war I smoke two joints before I smoke two joints And then I smoke two more"

—Chris Kay and Michael Kay, in their 1983 song "Smoke Two Joints", which was recorded by The Toyes.]

["One toke over the line sweet Jesus One toke over the line"

"Waitin’ for the train that goes home sweet Mary Hopin’ that the train is on time Sittin’ downtown in a railway station One toke over the line"

—Mike Brewer and Tom Shipley, in their 1970 song "One Toke Over The Line". Vice President Spiro Agnew did not like the song and called it "subversive". After being investigated on suspicion of conspiracy, bribery, extortion, and tax fraud, Agnew was convicted of felony tax evasion and forced to resign.]

["He said ‘drugs make you too pleased with everything.’"

—Sarah Seiter, associate curator of Natural Sciences at the Oakland Museum of California, quoting David Hockney on the connection between drugs and creativity. Seiter was quoted by Paul Kilduff in an interview about a current show, "Altered State: Marijuana in California". The East Bay Monthly, July 2016 issue.

I think I somewhat understand what Hockney said, and I think there is truth in his statement. I also think that I often find great value and much joy in seeing beauty in both the wheat AND the chaff!]

Here is a list of some of the kinds of cannabis I have smoked that were obtained from "medical marijuana" stores in the San Francisco bay area. [From labels I saved.]

Blueberry Tsunami Outdoor Rom Trainwreck Orange Hill Special Red Widow Smoothelove Dutch Passionkush Northern Green Spice Nor Kali Black Spice Sensi Star Organic Main Wreck Sour Diesel Ice Ice Fruity Bliss Organic Remedy NYC Diesel S1-5 Organic Super Silver Haze Morning Star Snow Cap Sun Grown Purple OG Jedi Sweet Nightmare Kosher Strawberries Dirty Little Pig Durbin Poison Oracle Space Cowboy Bubble Haze White Widow Mountain Kick Snow White Sun Grown Diesel Yumbolt Co-op Organic Flo Candyland Silvercratic Sun Grown Chocolope Pineapple Kush Organic Purple Haze Goo-5 Nor Kali Kaui Kola Dynomite Nor Kali Buddha’s Haze Old Grand Huck Grape Ape Sour Diesel Lemon Buddha’s Sister Super Jack Organic Rom Thai Third Eye Pink Champagne World Wide Widow Afgootiva Greased Lightning Outdoor Organic Humboldt Balance Cherry Pie Herijuana Peak 19 Organic Mazar Outdoor Train Crossing Organic Shaman Super Star Rhino Burmese Double Dream Jelly Caramel Kahuna Shiva’s Tears Organic A-10 Purple Burmese Lemon Skunk x Royal Orange Mendo Blendo The Sativa Organic Hawaiian Snow Purple Kush Domina Organic Ultra Skunk Sage ‘n’ Sour Outdoor Organic Kam Tree-W Da Kind Jack Frost Pot O’ Gold Shiva Afghani Gorilla’s Mist Strawberry Cough Sativa 2 Organic Jane Organic Purple Way Outdoor Organic Bonkers Organic Purps Outdoor Organic Goo Juicy Fruit Blue Dream Mind Eraser Pearly Baker Animal Cookies Lavender Goo Titan OG White Russian Sonoma Coma Organic Sticky Nurple MK Ultra Outdoor Organic Trainwreck x White Widow Organic Sweetleaf Organic Purple Ice Jack Herer God’s Gift Outdoor Organic Purple Mendo Organic Ogre Organic Trance William’s Wonder x Northern Lights Blue Ogre Organic Lamb’s Bread Champagne Black Bunanna Super Chunk Organic Rom Cross Sun Grown Goji Jack Rom Hottie Organic Slider Sunshine Grown Green Dragon El Bueno Jakki Organic Time Warp Durban Dream Organic Mist Cookie Pie Mantanuska TF Pineapple Trainwreck Organic Mantanuska Mist Organic Mothership Traincrash Swazi Haze Golden Goo Organic Trance Jack’l Berry Outdoor Mysty Purple Peak 19 AK-47 Sage Motor City Purple Erkel Crazy Hazy Bright Star Green Crack Power Plant Organic Cindy 99 Skunk #2 Organic Bonana Outdoor Organic Hash Plant Baby Blues Cat Piss Mr. Nice (G 13 x Hash Plant) Girl Scout Cookies African Sativa Romadelic Outdoor Organic Madness Outdoor Organic Blue Dot Sour Daze Thin Mint Grand Daddy Purple Spicy Jack Outdoor Organic Pure Rezin Old Mother Sativa Master Yoda Kush Mountain Girl Green Ribbon Super Wreck Sapphire Star Bombshell Also Known As Pea Soup Pirate’s Kush Leda Una Northern Lights x Big Bud All Star Organic Oaktown Wreck Raspberry Diesel ["18.2% THC", grown by "Fleur d’elite"] San Fernando Valley OG ["The Weed Brand Preroll. 1 gram"] Key Lime Pie ["Humboldt Farms" "Premium Flower-Hybrid" "15.2% THC, 0.00% CBD" "Harvested on July 2018, Packaged on July 2018" "One-Eighth Ounce" in a clear glass jar with a stopper made of wood. The label has a 1" x 2" colorful detailed image of tall trees and small flowers and a small white Volkswagen van. Printed with metallic ink. After smoking some Key Lime Pie I decided that, in my opinion, this extremely appealing image is the best illustration I have seen on a cannabis label.] Taffie (This medical cannabis strain is sold in cork-lined light-proof well-labeled tins, each containing 5 joints. The tins come sealed in a bag that contains a Boveda 2-way humidity control packet. This product is distributed by Humboldt Legends, and is labeled Steelhead Sativa. Organically grown in sunlight and harvested by hand. The label has the name [and a copy of the handwritten signature] of the person who grew the marijuana [Scott Davies]. Also the batch number and the percentages of THC [19.5%] and CBD [0.0%]. The label on the back of the tin states that the group of cultivators who call themselves "Humboldt Legends" have been growing marijuana for "forty years". A warning note states that marijuana is a “Schedule 1 controlled substance”. And that “Smoking this product will expose you and those in your immediate vicinity to marijuana smoke…known to the State of California to cause cancer.” “Keep out of reach of children and animals.” "This product may impair the ability to drive or operate machinery." Obtained in the San Francisco bay area, 2017. [After I smoked some of this marijuana in a dark room, I closed my eyes and saw beautiful hallucinations that were extremely complex, with uniquely vivid colors. When I opened my eyes I had a VERY strong urge to write poetry.]) "Top Shelf Rainbow Diesel Minis [Sativa]" [small joints] "Top Shelf Hell OG Minis [Indica]" [small joints] "Mericanna" hybrid [small joint] "16.79% THC" [2018] "Pacific Remedy Shatter joint, hand rolled in California" "Blue Russian flower, Kosher Kush, BHO Snake" "Indica-dominant" [2017] "Sublime King Fuzzies", pre-rolled joint, terpene-enhanced "top shelf bud, CO2 wax/kief", "Indica OG Kush" "THC 253 mg". [2017] Trix Bubble [concentrate] "Shiva Crystals" [hashish] "Select" brand "Mimosa" "cannabis oil vape cartridge" [125 doses per cartridge] 3.5 mg THC per dose. [from the "Select" brand label: "Curating the Science of Feeling" [2018] Cali Gold H20 [extracted cannabis resin] "Emerald Dream" ["Single Origin"] [Trinity County, CA] [58% THC] cannabis oil extracted with CO2 [cartridge for use with "Highlighter" vapor pen]

[A few times I have gone for months without smoking marijuana, and then smoked a potent joint. On more than one such occasion I have experienced intense fearful disorientation, acute paranoia, and horrible physical distress including nausea and a sudden loss of consciousness. CAUTION IS ESSENTIAL!]

I have eaten a variety of cannabis preparations sold at "medical marijuana" stores in Berkeley, including:

"Butter Brothers" brand Brownies, Phat Mints, Blackberry Streusel, Ginger Snaps, Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies, and Peanut Butter Cookies. "Pura Vida" brand Ocean Spray, Happy Trails, Chocolate Jubilee, and Chocolate Chip Protein Bar. "Ganja Candy" brand Caramel, Blackberry, and Dr. Pepper. "Tainted" brand Thin Mints "Dank" candy "420 Grand" candy HealTHCare "Private Reserve OG" [cannabis tincture in vegetable glycerin base] "Double-Strength Medi Pills" [cannabis oil capsules] "Shiva Candy" [hashish candy] "Auntie Dolore’s Medical Cannabis Glazed Pecans" "Hashey’s 200mg Indica Bar" [made with dark chocolate In Santa Cruz] "Rhino Pellet" [tiny cookie] "Potlava" [vegan cannabis baklava] "Orange Zest Awakening Mints" [sublingual 10 milligram THC tablets] "Breez" brand mints [sublingual 5 milligram THC tablets] "Kiva" brand Blackberry Dark Chocolate [cannabis oil candy] "Black Cherry Gummi" [cannabis oil candy] "Original PLUS Super Potent Hybrid Cannabis-Infused Gummies" ["20 milligrams THC"] "PureCure Sativa Strips" [preparation for oral use] [from the label: "EXTREMELY STRONG!"] "Dr. Norm’s Extra Strength medical cannabis cookie" "Chocolate Chip Therapy" 25 milligrams THC, "hybrid". "Full Extract Cannabis Oil" [Indica-dominant strain, for oral use. Full-plant extracted with ethyl alcohol. Dated 12.1. 2015 and provided in a 3 milliliter oral syringe marked for 0.1 milliliter doses. "THC 37.05%"] Stokes brand "Mint Micros" [Sativa-strain] [small tablets, each containing 5mg of cannabis extract] [I have used 2 different flavors: Mint and Watermelon] OMedibles brand "Tree Hugger Medical Cannabis Cinnamon Maple" [high CBD extract mixed with nuts and spices] Utopia Farms brand "Medical Cannabis Raspberry Macaroons" "Cafe Attitude THCoffee" 40 mg THC per 8 oz. bottle ["70% Sativa, 30% Indica"] "Evil Aunt Emily’s Seriously Psychotic Suckers" [cannabis oil candy]) "Sprig" brand citrus soda containing 45 milligrams THC per can. Made in California. [2017] "Petra" brand "Moroccan mint"-flavored medical cannabis tablets, each containing 2.5 milligrams THC plus matcha tea. Produced in 2017 by Kiva, a not-for-profit collective. Lab tested by CW Analytical. "A micro-dosed blend." Packaged in tins containing 42 tablets.

[It is not uncommon for people to have EXTREMELY negative experiences after they have eaten too much of a product containing cannabis. CAUTION IS ESSENTIAL!]

IMPORTANT NOTE ABOUT SALES OF SO-CALLED "MEDICAL MARIJUANA" AT STORES IN BERKELEY:

I have seen marijuana contaminated by toxic insecticides that was purchased from (city-approved) so-called "medical marijuana" stores in Berkeley. I have seen marijuana contaminated with other toxic chemicals that was purchased from so-called "medical marijuana" stores in Berkeley. I have seen marijuana contaminated with toxic mold that was purchased at so-called "medical marijuana" stores in Berkeley. As of this writing, there are no enforced standards that designate who may or may not be so-called "medical marijuana" grower-sellers in the city of Berkeley. These for-profit privately-owned stores charge an obscenely high price for their questionable products. THERE IS NO DOUBT THAT MARIJUANA CAN BE ONE OF THE VERY BEST MEDICINES IN THE WORLD!!!!!!!! (Depending upon the type and dose of marijuana, the route of administration, and the set and setting in which it is used.) BUT BEWARE: Greedy and/or stupid capitalists selling untested products grown by greedy and/or stupid amateurs ARE NOT BEHAVING IN A RESPONSIBLE MANNER!

("…marijuana is not legal."

—Ed Rosenthal, interviewed by Paul Kilduff, The Monthly, December 2014.)

("Indeed, positive hits for pathogenic mold are already changing grower operations. ‘You smoke ten random samples of cannabis and you’ve most likely smoked aspergillus [mold],’ said Dave, one of the lab’s two founders. ‘It’s in there, often at unacceptable levels. Now it’s up to the industry to respond. We also are not in a position where we want to make enemies and piss people off. We want to see it happen in the best way for the movement and the industry to kind of just naturally evolve.’ While the distributed nature of California’s cannabis supply network obviously benefits mom-and-pop growers, it doesn’t encourage quality assurance. Consequently, Dave and his peers believe that some pot consumers are in danger. ‘It’s expensive to test every single thing that comes through the door — that’s the price you pay with a decentralized supply system,’ Dave said. ‘But that’s what you’ve got. You’ve got five pounds coming from here and two from there and one individual. I mean, a dog walks in the grow room, and wags its tail — anything can be coming off that dog’s tail. It’s gross. Fertilizers with E. coli. Compost teas that they don’t make right, anaerobic tea that has elevated levels of E. coli and salmonella…There’s no way that this is sustainable. All it takes is one story of immune-compromised people dying from aspergillus infection. The myth that cannabis hasn’t killed a single person in 3,000 years is allowed to go on. Well, it’s not cannabis that kills people, it’s all the shit that’s in it.’

[From "The Manhattan Project of Marijuana", David Downs, the East Bay Express, 3.4. 2009.])

(Steep Hill Lab says eighty-five percent of the medical marijuana samples it tests "show traces of mold".

—Peter Hecht, "Pot Lab Fills Need for Oversight", the Sacramento Bee, 4.6. 2010. The owners of Steep Hill Lab in Oakland California [which is NOT a federally-certified laboratory] are extremely in favor of medical marijuana…)

("We find e.coli in hash. We’re seeing pseudomonas aeruginosa, a bacteria that’s found in filth."

—Robert Martin, of the Association of California Cannabis Labs. Martin was quoted by David Downs in the East Bay Express, 4.11. 2012.)

("It’s a nasty little secret in the medical marijuana world that many growers spray their plants liberally with pesticides…"

—Robert Gammon, the East Bay Express, 7.28. 2010.)

(In places like Berkeley in 2018, where cannabis production is encouraged, much cannabis waste is generated. Some of the waste is toxic if consumed. Moldy marijuana, marijuana contaminated with chemicals, contaminated hashish, and contaminated cannabis concentrates do not seem to be rare. Some homeless people, alcohol addicts, and methamphetamine addicts find these sometimes poisonous contaminated cannabis products in garbage containers and sell them on the streets…)

("A 2015 study published in The Journal of Toxicological Sciences found that more than 80 percent of the concentrate samples were contaminated by residual solvents."

"In the same 2015 study, pesticides were detected in one-third of the concentrate samples."

—Kathleen Richards, The East Bay Express, 3.21. 2018, in an article about vaping cannabis.)

("…the true danger in untested cannabis comes from the potential pathogens–pseudomonas, aspergillis, and E. coli are routinely found by our laboratory [CW Analytical]."

—David Egerton, in a letter to the editor of the East Bay Express, 7.18. 2012.)

("…Anresco Laboratories conducted tests on all of the cannabis featured at the HempCon Festival held in San Francisco in August 2017. The San Francisco-based laboratory discovered that 80 percent of the cannabis at the festival was contaminated with unhealthy levels of solvents, pesticides, molds, fungus, or various bacteria."

—John Geluardi, East Bay Express, 9.20. 2017.)

(Over the decades, I have seen MANY careless and ignorant people with hands contaminated by perfume, cologne, cosmetics, grease, oils [and a number of other toxic substances] use their fingers to prepare marijuana for smoking. I am dismayed by the amount of marijuana I have had to throw away because of toxic substances that stupid and/or careless people have allowed marijuana to come into contact with!)

("Mycobutanil…was found in a product recently recalled by Mettrum Ltd., a Toronto-based medical marijuana company."

Mycobutanil, used to control mildew, is said to emit hydrogen cyanide gas when heated.

"The Mettrum discovery was made recently, when a random screening of the company’s products by Health Canada turned up the unauthorized use of pyrethrin, a pesticide…that is also not approved for medical cannabis…"

—Grant Robertson, The Globe and Mail, 3.10. 2017.)

("While I am grateful for access to the pot clubs…I am at a bit of a loss to understand why, given the virtual absence of risk in producing and distributing pot, it is still so expensive."

"What we have…are facilities charging the high end of street prices to people who are already ostensibly facing hardship."

["An ounce for $300 to $400…"]

"…besides basic capitalist greed, why does it still cost so much? Most of the truly disabled and terminally ill are on a fixed income, rendering the cost of pot not at all that compassionate."

— Quotes from a letter written by Steve Stevens to the editor of the San Francisco Weekly, 1.20. 2010.)

("According to Rand Corporation estimates…legalized…high-grade pot would cost just $20 per pound to produce. And low-grade weed would cost only $5 per pound."

—David Downs, East Bay Express, 10.9. 2013.)

(Since May 2011, four marijuana stores in Richmond, California [near Berkeley and Oakland] "…have paid $486,390 in police fees."

"To some, the situation evokes…the protection racket."

—David Downs, East Bay Express, 8.28. 2013)

(Daniel Rush, the former chair of Berkeley’s Medical Cannabis Commission, was charged with 15 criminal counts, including extortion, fraud, and money-laundering. He later pleaded guilty to three felony counts.

["…federal authorities charged him for offering special treatment to one of the applicants for Berkeley’s fourth dispensary spot."

—Frances Dinkelspiel, Berkeleyside.com, 6.23. 2017.])

("I’ve never met so many greedy slugs in my whole life."

—Michelle LaMay, chairwoman of the Teapot Party in Colorado, describing having to deal with the more than 3,000 people who have contacted her because they want to start their own cannabis business. [Willie Nelson was arrested in Texas for possessing marijuana on November 26, 2010. Following his arrest, Nelson founded the Teapot Party.] The quote is from an article by Eric Spitznagel, Bloomberg Businessweek, that was published in the San Francisco Chronicle, 11.20. 2011)

("We did $20 million in sales last year."

—Steve DeAngelo, executive director of Harborside Health Collective, a marijuana store in Oakland. DeAngelo was quoted by Kathleen Pender in an article, "Push to Protect Banks on Legal Pot Business". The San Francisco Chronicle, 5.25. 2010.)

("California’s medical marijuana dispensaries now generate as much as $1.3 billion in sales and $105 million in state sales taxes each year, according to new—and dramatically increased—state sales estimates by California’s Board of Equalization."

"The Board of Equalization earlier this year estimated medical marijuana sales at only $98 million annually…"

— the Sacramento Bee, 5.8. 2010.)

(The Berkeley Patients Group is "a dispensary with about 10,000 patients in the Bay Area". In 2007 the DEA "pounced on a Southern California offshoot of the Berkeley nonprofit for distributing a federally controlled substance. Agents seized nearly everything on-site as well as $100,000 in funds in a bank account."

"The Berkeley dispensary actually got the money back after the City of Berkeley stood up for it. The city stated in a 2008 resolution ‘seizures of assets of medical marijuana dispensaries and collectives have blocked payments of taxes to the state of California and the City of Berkeley.’ The city asked federal authorities to back off and they did."

"Berkeley Patients Group, along with two other Berkeley clubs, net about $18.5 million per year."

—David Downs, the East Bay Express, 9.15. 2010.)

("The city of Berkeley filed a legal claim Wednesday in a federal asset forfeiture case against the landlord of a medical marijuana dispensary here, saying it would lose tax money from pot sales if the dispensary is forced to close."

—Doug Oakley, West County Times, 7.4. 2013.)

("Oakland’s lawsuit said the closure would damage the city, which expects to collect more than $1.4 million this year in business taxes from Harborside and three other city-licensed dispensaries."

—Bob Egelko, San Francisco Chronicle, 10.14. 2012. Seeking to prevent the forced closure of Harborside Health Center, a "medical marijuana" dispensary, the City of Oakland filed a lawsuit against the federal government.)

Years ago there was a legitimate drug testing laboratory in California where a user could anonymously have a sample of their "dope" tested. Unfortunately, at one point such drug-testing laboratories were declared illegal by federal law enforcement officials and were forced to cease operation. As far as I can tell, the public does not have legal access to any federally-certified illegal-drug testing laboratory.

("This product was produced without regulatory oversight for health, safety or efficacy."

—quote from a blister-pack containing sixteen 10 milligram THC "Orange Zest"-flavored sublingual tablets that were made August 10, 2016 in Salinas, California for a company in Denver, Colorado. [The main isomer of tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) is the principal psychoactive constituent of marijuana.])

("This product has not been tested as required by the Medicinal and Adult-Use Cannabis Regulation and Safety Act."

—quote from a childproof bottle containing one gram of "King Louis OG" cannabis flowers that was sold for $15 in February 2018 by KindPeoples Collective in Soquel, California.)

Many of the anti-drug police say they believe that "harm reduction" strategies increase drug use and are thus unacceptable. Some anti-drug police believe that the world would be a better place if users of illegal drugs died…

("Casual drug users should be taken out and shot. Smoke a joint, lose your life."

—Darryl Gates, Head of Los Angeles Police Department, speaking to a United States Senate Judiciary Committee on September 5, 1990. [Gates said the above because he felt casual drug users were guilty of "treason", according to author Martin Torgoff, writing in his book CAN’T FIND MY WAY HOME–America in the Great Stoned Age, 1945-2000.] )

("In 1996, Newt Gingrich introduced a bill mandating the death penalty for bringing two ounces of marijuana into the country!"

[quote from a document published by Unitarian Universalists for Drug Policy Reform].)

("William Bennett, federal drug policy coordinator, said Thursday night he had no moral qualms about beheading convicted drug dealers.

‘Morally, I don’t have any problem with that at all,’ Bennett said when asked on the CNN program ‘Larry King Live’ call-in television show…"

—Los Angeles Times, 6.16. 1989.)

("Quinlivan told the judges that nobody has the right to use marijuana…"

"Judge Harry Pregerson asked Quinlivan whether it was OK for Raich to die or succumb to ‘unbearable suffering.’ ‘So go ahead and die. That would be all right?’ he asked. ‘Congress has made that value judgement,’ Quinlivan replied."

—David Kravets, the Oakland Tribune, 3.28. 2006, in an article about a hearing before a three-judge panel of the 9th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals. Angel McClary Raich is a very seriously ill patient that multiple doctors say must use marijuana as a medicine or she will likely die. Mark T. Quinlivan is an Assistant U. S. Attorney.)

("One child said ‘I love you, Mom’– for the first time in his life."

—Debra Kamin, Newsweek, 2.23. 2018, describing what happened when a severely autistic child was given marijuana oil. The quote is printed large, with the words "I love you, Mom" in bright red. The front cover of this issue features an image of neon marijuana leaves and the words "The Blunt Truth About Weed and Autism". The back cover is a full-page full-color advertisement for Kavalan whisky. [The article is about a study of 60 severely autistic children who were given an oil containing a 20-to-1 ratio of CBD to THC. The study was conducted by Dr. Adi Aran, a pediatric neurologist and director of the pediatric unit of Jerusalem’s Shaare Zedeck Hospital. "Most parents said their children improved. Nearly half saw a notable reduction in the core symptoms of autism."])

("You’re real! You’re really real!"

—Floyd, age ten, who had never spoken before, after being given a series of large doses of LSD at Fairview Developmental Center in California in the early 1960s. The quote was reported by Connell Cowan, at the time a psych tech, who was one of the people who were giving large doses of LSD to children. Cowan was working with Gary Fisher, a psychologist who had first taken LSD in 1959. [From "The Elementary Kool-Aid Acid Test", a podcast by Amy Standen and Judy Campbell, The Leap, KQED, 4.11. 2017.])

("…good people don’t smoke marijuana."

—Jeff Sessions, in a Senate hearing in April 2016. Sessions is now Attorney General of the United States. He is the chief law enforcement officer and the chief lawyer of the U.S. government. It is obvious that Sessions is very mentally ill, as is Donald Trump, who chose Sessions to be Attorney General.)

("I’m a firm believer that drugs are the root of all evil."

—Contra Costa County [California] deputy sheriff Andy VanZelf, quoted 10.4. 2009 in the Conta Costa Times by columnist Tom Barnidge. "VanZelf [a police officer for 23 years] …was born to the job–his mother, father, and brother were cops–but that’s not why he stuck with it. ‘Putting bad guys in jail is very satisfying,’ he said.")

(“You can grow enough marihuana in a window-box to drive the whole population of the United States stark, staring, raving mad.”

—Winifred Black, an early Hearst anti-cannabis propagandist, in her 1929 book DOPE–THE STORY OF THE LIVING DEAD.)

("According to the FBI’s annual Uniform Crime Report, in 2007 there were 872,721 arrests in the U.S. for marijuana violations."

—Adam Tschorn, the Los Angeles Times, 9.3. 2009.)

("It was downtown San Jose and another police officer had made a stop on three kids who were touring San Jose on a Saturday night. You know, driving around in circles like American Graffiti. And the officer pulled three kids out of the car and he didn’t know but one kid panicked and tried to swallow a small bag of marijuana—and I pulled up just to watch and assist if needed and didn’t realize what was going on either. And this kid died in front of us choking on a bag of marijuana. He didn’t die because of marijuana, he died because he panicked over these stupid laws we have."

—former San Jose, California undercover narcotics detective Russ Jones, quoted by David Downs, the East Bay Express, 5.12. 2010. Russ Jones is a spokesman for the "Law Enforcement Against Prohibition" organization.)

("The general commanding Mexico’s drug enforcement unit–hailed by U.S. drugs czar McCaffrey as ‘an honest man and no-nonsense field commander’–was detained in 1997 for corruptly collaborating with Amado Carillo Fuentes."

—Kevin Williamson, in DRUGS AND THE PARTY LINE.)

(Because I am a disabled homeless senior citizen who has VERY little money, I cannot afford the fee that doctors charge to issue a recommendation that I be allowed to use "medical marijuana". I cannot afford the administrative fee charged for the issuance of a "medical marijuana" card. Even if I had the proper paperwork, I am too poor to be able to pay the high prices the local "medical marijuana" stores charge. I have never grown marijuana. Because I am homeless I have no place where I can grow marijuana.)

A randomly-edited selection of approximately 700 of my pictures may be viewed by clicking on the link below: www.flickr.com/groups/psychedelicart/pool/43237970@N00/

Please click here to read my "autobiography": thewordsofjdyf333.blogspot.com/

And my "profile" page may be viewed by clicking on this link: www.flickr.com/people/jdyf333/

My telephone number is: 510-260-9695

Please note: DEPICTION IS NOT ADVOCACY!!!

Posted by jdyf333 on 2007-08-03 05:53:01

Tagged: , jdyf333 , outsider , psychedelic , trippy , hallucinations , visions , dreams , lightshow , doodles , art , psychedelic art , outsider art , trance , weed , tripping , tripper , trip , reefermadness , purplebarrel , psychedelicyberepidemic , pot , marijuana , lysergic , lightshows , jazz , highart , herb , enchanted , dream , doodle , coloursplosion , cannabis , caffeine , bliss , artoutsider , arte , artcafe , acid , abstracto , abigfave , 420 , Berkeley California , entheogasm , Davivid Rose , Cannabis Indica , Cannabis Sativa , LSD , d-lysergic acid diethylamide , Clearlight LSD , Orange Sunshine LSD , Blue Sunshine LSD , Xmas Sunshine LSD

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