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greatsagestonemonkey · 5 years ago

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A Game of Cat and Monkey (Part 1)

So @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off, @neonross, and @purble-turble... this is mostly all your faults.

I was taking a nap a few days ago while suffering from a bad migraine, and I had a dream about the Monkie Kid Pirate AU that’s been going on for awhile here that was a sort of crossover with my mainstream pirate OC and it was... honestly too epic to not write down and throw out there, so here it is! (the first part of it, anyway.)

It was supposed to be easy, not get complicated in a matter of five minutes or less. In and out. Not in, run around, then out with a spray of musket balls in his wake.

Wukong had sent him in the Monkey King get-up to fetch an astrolabe that was supposed to be magic, or enchanted, or something. Whatever. It did something special and he was supposed to get it. And it was supposed to be easy.

Breaking into the mansion of the collector was easy enough, most everyone had gone to bed and what guards there were seemed confident that no one would dare to try to break in that they were easy to slip past.

It wasn’t until MK reached the study, where the astrolabe was supposed to be, that the evening went hard about faster than a sloop catching a good wind.

He stopped dead in his tracks only seconds after closing the large doors behind him at the sight of a silhouette against the large, double-paned windows. He was half ready to relax after going tense at seeing it, expecting it to be a decorative suit of armor, or statue, or something, but that feeling never came as the glimmer of very real, deep, sea blue eyes glinted in surprise at his presence in the moonlight.

They tensed, crouched almost at seeing him as if hoping to shrink back into the shadows unnoticed, and MK reached for the rapier on his belt, drawing it out only maybe a quarter of an inch, just in case. His eyes traveled down the figure’s form, landing and locking onto the astrolabe clutched tightly in their fingers like the claws of an oriental dragon around a pearl. Even with his mask on, he gave his best, charming smile and raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that the figure could likely see his expression with the moonlight pouring into the room.

“Don’t suppose I can just ask you to hand that over nicely, can I?” he asked.

WHOOSSSSHH-CRACK!

He barely--barely--had time to register that something long, fluid in its motion, and metal from the way it was glinting, was flying straight at his head; like a blue serpent gliding through the air at lightning speed. He leaned back instinctively to dodge, back and neck arching back at a practically impossible angle to spare him the blow. His breath caught in his throat as the long object snagged the fabric of his mask, hearing it tear very near to the arch his nose made beneath it. He whipped out his sword, using the blade to smack the object away as it continued to stretch outwards in his direction dangerously and rolled back to safety, free hand flying to his mask to check just how much of it had been torn; and sighed discreetly in relief at feeling only a slight rip in the material while his eyes followed the object as it flew back to its owner.

A whip. It was a whip! As if the sound of the crack ringing through his ears wasn’t telling enough he had to nearly get his nose snapped off by it!

“Hey!” he protested, louder than he had intended. Not that it mattered, since the sound of that whip alone was enough to wake the dead! He was still so stunned by the brazen act that he couldn’t even think of something witty and whip related to say! Nor would he have the time to after completely recovering, either.

The owner of the whip reared it back again, cracking it a second time; but not at him. At the window behind them. The odd, blue metal shattered the glass like a heavy and well aimed club swing, sending it showering over the room and the courtyard below. To anyone who hadn’t seen the action itself, it might have seemed like the window just exploded! MK held up an arm to cover himself as some of the glass showered a little too close, then watched in astonishment as the figure lept right through the now apparent gap in the window ledge. He let out a choked sound of surprise and darted to the edge to watch their fall, flinching as he heard the whip crack again, and was just able to catch sight of it catching on the limb of a tree in the courtyard below, allowing the owner to swing--with almost supernatural ease--up onto the outside wall of the mansion.

MK could only blink and continue to watch in awe as they briefly glanced back at him before disappearing over the wall and vanishing from sight.

“Um… okay then…?” he murmured to himself, taking a moment to move his hat aside just enough to scratch his head in confusion.

He only had that moment though; the sound of running footfalls in the hall outside the room he was in snapped him back into reality and sent him out the window himself. Nice of that stranger to at least give him an escape route after stealing his mark right out from under him!

Now he just had to get back to the ship.

And explain everything to Wukong and the others.

Great…

~~~

Back at the Flowerfruit, MK couldn’t help but feel like a bug under a magnifying glass when he first climbed aboard, empty handed. It was only when he was taking off the Monkey King outfit that he was able to get enough of a word in as the crew bombarded him with questions on how it went, and all that. It stung having to explain when he didn’t know quite how to explain it himself, since he was still largely processing the situation, but he did his best.

“And they used a whip!” he exclaimed, pacing back and forth in the galley as the others sat and listened, watching him walk. “But it wasn’t like a cat o’ ninetails kind of whip, it was like a legit, long whip! Made of metal!”

“A metal whip?” Wukong asked, voice sounding skeptical as he raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah!” MK snatched up his mask and held it out for the others to see. “Look what it did to my mask!”

Tang took the cloth from MK before Wukong could, adjusting his glasses and squinting at the tear with a great deal of scrutiny.

“Hm… He’s right. This is a clean cut. A rawhide whip would have left more jagged tearing,” he said, finally passing the cloth to Wukong. “It had to have been made of metal. Sharp metal.”

“Sharp and strong enough to shatter glass even…” Wukong mused, sighing as he put the mask aside and crossed his arms. “And they got the astrolabe…?”

MK frowned, gaze falling to the floor. “I’m sorry…”

A weight on his shoulder made him look up at Wukong, who shrugged and was smiling at him.

“Relax, it’s not like we’ve lost it for good,” he said. “Chances are, whoever this character is, they’re still on the island somewhere. If it was me, I sure wouldn’t risk skipping port right away. I’d lay low, wait until the heat dies down and until the local constabulary isn’t searching everyone’s person for an astrolabe.”

“Yeah, something like that sticks out way too much to just pass off as usual luggage.” Mei said with a nod. “Like who even uses those anymore…?”

“Point is, we still have a chance of getting it back.” Wukong said, hand slipping off a now smiling MK’s shoulder. “We’ll sweep the town and ask around for a pirate who uses a whip. Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“Yeah!” MK nodded, fists pumping towards his chest excitedly.

“In the meantime, let’s get some shut eye. It’s only a few hours until sunrise, and we’ll start our search then.”

~~~

Morning couldn’t come soon enough. He was able to get a few winks at least, but he was itching to get back out there and find this mysterious whip wielding pirate.

It was kind of fun having a new player in the game; new blood to run up against, and he was eager to test his metal against them.

Even if the first time didn’t pan out so well… but that was only because he had been caught off guard! He could do better the next time around! He would do better.

They split up around the port, some of them on their own, some in pairs, to cover more ground. There wouldn’t be much need to go to the richer, or more high end districts in town, since it wasn’t very likely that the noblemen and their ilk would pay too much attention to a seaman wearing a whip. Or to a seaman in general. Taverns and boarding houses would be their best bet.

That didn’t mean it would be easy though. Wukong had been right; soldiers were searching the outgoing ships and any passengers on them. If they weren’t careful they’d likely be recognized, but thankfully their line of questioning wouldn’t likely tie in with the theft of the astrolabe. Even so, part of him was very tempted to just ask one of the soldiers what they knew at least to make this go faster…

He kept going over the previous night in his head. From the moment he entered the study to the moment he had to jump through the window to get away.

He tried to remember everything he could about the figure he encountered; not just the whip they held. Their stance, the way they tried to shrink into the shadows like that. They obviously knew how to sneak around, if they got into the mansion, so finding them might not be all that easy. But then there were the eyes. Blue eyes. Not all that common around these parts. At least not the shade he caught a brief glimpse of. Someone would have had to notice a blue eyes, whip-toting pirate around here at some point… or at least that’s what he would think.

MK snapped out of his thoughts long enough to look up and jog over to Pigsy as he saw him round a corner ahead of him.

“Anything?” he asked, somewhat hopeful sounding.

“Nada.” Pigsy shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Either they haven’t seen anything period or won’t say whether or not they have.”

MK sighed. “Maybe they really did skip port already,” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Maybe…” Pigsy said with a shrug.

A sound pierced the air that made MK practically jump. Pierced… no, cracked.

The same sound he heard last night.

Followed by a loud crash and a shout.

MK and Pigsy both turned around to see what was causing the commotion, as did a small crowd that gathered outside what looked like the back entrance to an inn. From what they could see, a large, bulky pirate had been thrown hard into a few supply crates and barrels, their contents now scattered over and around him as he laid dazed in a pile of splinters; but what caught MK’s attention completely was the sight of a long, blue, metal whip-like cord being coiled back up into the hands of its owner, and from where he was he could just barely see the same glint of sea blue eyes from last night.

“Maybe that’ll teach ya t’ keep your hands to yourself,” the voice, thick with an Irish accent, and that of a woman’s. “Especially when you’ve already been told t’ do so once, ya scut!”

She turned on her heel and marched off, kicking a broken plank out of her path, and attaching the strange weapon back to a holster on her sash-like belt as she went. Pigsy let out a whistle, which in turn snapped MK out of his state of shock.

“She’s got some gumption!” Pigsy said with a chuckle, grunting loudly in shock as MK grabbed and turned him so they were facing each other.

“Pigsy, that’s them! Her! The whip! It’s the same one! I’d swear on it!” MK blurted out, head turning rapidly between Pigsy and the direction the woman was headed off in.

Pigsy tore MK’s hands off him. “Okay, okay, I get it! So now what?”

“Uh…” MK shook his head, scratching his head a few times before looking back at the other. “You get back to the others and tell them we found her, and I’ll follow her and find out where she’s going!”

MK took off without another word, despite protest from Pigsy. He had to push through the crowd a little bit in order to follow the woman down the same road without losing her, his fear of doing so almost making him miss a deep, red gash on the chest of the poor soul who had angered her earlier. He grimaced a bit, mind flashing back to the night before and how that could have been his face… not that he was afraid of a good scar, he already had a handful of them, but still… just… Ouch.

He shook it off and continued to follow her, making sure to keep enough distance between the two of them that he could. She didn’t seem to be too concerned about being followed though, and with that whip of hers he could definitely understand why at least in some respect. Still, he couldn’t believe how easy this was turning out; and if his luck held he might be able to get the astrolabe back himself and redeem himself for last night.

She was heading for the jungle that surrounded the port town. A bit odd. There was nothing out here except… well, jungle. Maybe she had a camp out here someplace? Or was planning to meet someone out here? It didn’t really matter, either way he’d have to make sure to leave a trail for the rest of the crew to follow if they came along to try and find him. He kept the distance between himself and the pirate woman, making sure to duck behind trees and bushes large enough to hide him from her sight, snapping a few small branches in the direction they were heading; and stopping only occasionally to use his knife to leave relevant markings on a tree or two.

MK ducked behind a tree, holding his breath as she came to a sudden stop and turned back. He stayed stock still, only breathing again once he was sure he could avoid gasping from the initial startle, and only dared to peek around the tree he hid behind when he heard the foliage ahead of them rustle. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that her moving on meant she didn’t see him, which meant he just had to keep following--

He froze at seeing that she had disappeared entirely.

“What the…?” he looked around, even behind him, to see where she had gone. But there was no sign, nor trace, not even in the dirt where she’d been standing. The tracks just stopped! So where did she…?

Another crack that made him jump, the feeling of something tightening sharply around his ankle, followed by a sharp yank, one that sent him crashing to the ground before pulling him upwards into the air by that same ankle. He yelped aloud, unable to keep the sound from erupting from his mouth as he was hoisted into the air and left swinging like a pinata by one leg.

“Hey!” MK yelped arms flailing out around him before reaching up and attempting to free his leg from the whip coiled around it.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

MK froze again temporarily when he felt cold steel stretch across his throat, letting himself fall backward enough to look at the woman; who stood, whip tight in one hand to hold him up and a blade in the other, glaring at him. MK glared back, unable to keep from making an aggravated, almost pouting sound at her.

“Seriously?! You use a metal whip and a knife?! Oh come on, that’s just cheating!” he whined.

“All’s fair when you’re a pirate, lad,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, we make our own rules, the code is more guidelines, all that stuff…” MK said with a roll of his eyes.

She let out a sigh. “How about we skip past the banter and get to the point; who are you and why are you following me?”

Shoot. MK had to think fast. Typically he had at least one of three go-to answers to a question like this… they usually worked really well on Red, but this wasn’t Red. This was someone with a blade at his throat and a crazy looking blue, metal whip around his leg, hanging him from a tree. He would have to come up with something else to save his neck… literally.

“I, uh… I-It’s nothing, really! I saw the way you handled yourself in the town back there and I… well, it was really cool! I wanted to ask if you could… you know, teach me how you… did that thing you did!” MK said, putting on as genuine a smile as he could.

“Oh really? Which thing was that?” she asked, lowering the blade only so she could crouch down and look at him at the same level. MK began to sweat. “For someone who wanted to learn a simple wrist flick, you sure were intent on not being seen back there…”

“...Okay, okay!” MK sighed, letting himself sag in the hold of the whip. “It was my friend who was watching you, he thought you were cute, but he’s pants at talking to girls so he asked me to do it for him! Happy!?”

She choked down what was undoubtedly a laugh. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not, but he was willing to take what he got.

“Can you let me down now? All my blood is rushing to my head!” he whined. Unbeknownst to her, he had one last trick up his sleeve, but it all relied on her letting him down, and hopefully she bought his second excuse so he could pull it.

After a pause, she spoke again, and he felt slack on his ankle. “Fine.”

“Thanks, I--” his expression of gratitude was cut off by a painful grunt as he fell to the ground beneath him with a hard thud. He rolled himself over and onto his knees as she stood back to full height, coiling up the whip again.

Go time.

“Ouch! Did you really have to just drop me!?” he asked, starting to stand, only to bite back a cry of pain and fall backwards again, this time clutching his leg where the whip had been coiled around it. “Oh come on!”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, an annoyed, but surprised tone in her voice.

MK grumbled to make it sound like he was swearing under his breath. “Your whip must have dislocated something…” he growled at her.

She sighed, rolling her eyes and reaching down to offer him a hand up, the same hand that should have been resting on her whip.

Just what he was waiting for.

MK took her hand firmly, typical of someone preparing to hoist themselves up with another’s aid, but instead he pulled as hard as he could, prankly yanking on her arm while his “injured” leg shot out forward at hers, knocking her feet out from under her. She fell with a startled cry, MK using her initial shock from the fall to twist and roll the both of them so that she was pinned beneath him; arm above her head so that she couldn’t reach for her whip again. He reached behind him and pulled out the small dagger he kept with him, intending to put it to her throat only as a means to keep her still, but to his surprise it was met with her own before he could set it in place. He’d been so focused on the whip, and just keeping her from using it again that he forgot about the knife entirely. But with how they were locked together now, it wasn’t like it was that big of a problem.

“You little sneak…!” she hissed, accent flaring with the anger in her voice.

“Easy, I don’t want to hurt you! I just want the astrolabe you stole!” MK hissed back, arm straining to hold her down as she struggled. “Hand it over and I’ll let you alone!”

“Pirate’s honor?”

“Of course!”

“Then no deal!” she growled, giving one hard, last effort shove to push him off of her. But MK was ready for it; all his training with Wukong hadn’t been for naught, after all.

He leaned back, using his weight to drag her up and off balance, still keeping his grip on her wrist so she couldn’t go for the whip. He briefly tucked the knife he held into his teeth, using the sudden momentum from their roll to flip her up and over him in a way that he had complete control of her movement. With another twist of his arm, and making sure to sweep his legs the right way, he flipped her onto her stomach, with her arm twisted behind her and him now sitting on her back. He heard her swear in what he assumed was Irish Gaelic repeatedly as he took the knife out of his teeth again.

“Phew! Good thing Wukong’s training paid off,” he said to himself, before pressing the blade to her cheek to still her as she struggled. “Look, I really don’t want to hurt you! If I did, I would have by now, so just, let me have the astrolabe and we can both just walk away without any bad feelings, alright?”

He paused as she arched her head to look at him with a skeptical look, and he felt himself blush a bit sheepishly.

“...Okay, maybe some bad feelings, but hey, give me credit, I’m trying here!” he said.

She sighed heavily and with agitation lacing her voice, letting her head flop forward slightly into the dirt and grass beneath them. “I don’t have it.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t have it!” she snapped back at him. “Do you really think I’d be dense enough to have it one me with soldiers searching almost everyone in town?!”

“Well then what did you do with it?” MK asked, pulling the blade of the knife back just enough to avoid cutting into her cheek. She grumbled under her breath and he sighed, pressing it back to her cheek with just the slightest bit more pressure. “Come on, I meant it when I said I don’t want to hurt you…”

“There’s a mile long beach south of here that’s right littered with rocky crags and tidal pools. That’s where I stashed it.”

“Hm… that’s actually pretty smart.” MK said, though he couldn’t deny the annoyance he felt. “It just means I’m gonna have to have you lead me to it yourself, rather than letting you go right away like I was hoping to.”

“So it would seem,” the woman hissed up at him.

MK sighed, briefly looking over his shoulder, half hoping someone from the crew would show up by now, thanks to the trail he left, but he couldn’t count on Pigsy finding them right away and filling them all in. He was probably on his own for now. Not that he couldn’t handle it… just so long as he kept his wits about him with this one.

“Okay, I’m going to let you up, and you’re going to lead me to the astrolabe,” he said, sheathing the knife but keeping his grip on her arm and staying on top of her. “But!” he added, using his now free hand to detach the whip from the holster on her belt. “I’m going to be keeping this with me so you can’t use it!”

With that, he got up off of her, quickly, and stepped back to let her up. He kept his hands tightly around the whip, examining it carefully and briefly as she pulled herself up onto her feet again and brushed the dirt off her vest.

It was like nothing he’d ever seen before; a light metal that felt way less durable than it probably was, segmented to allow the whip itself to stretch when swung the right way, and probably allowing it to cut all the more cleanly too. But what struck him the most was the color of the metal. It was a deep, blue-green color, veined with lighter colors that almost glowed and flashed like the surface of water under direct sunlight. He couldn’t help but whistle at the unique object before turning his attention back to the woman as she faced him, a scowl plastered onto her face.

“Look, if it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure that you get some sort of reward to compensate, alright?”

“Keep talking like that and people will think you’re too soft to be a real pirate, lad. Now are we gonna move on or do you intend to make me chat with you for the rest of the afternoon?” she asked.

“Fine.” MK said with a sigh, gesturing her forward with his free hand. “Let’s go.”

He followed her through the jungle, keeping a tight grip on the whip in hand, an eye on her, and another eye behind them as they walked. He was still making sure to leave a trail so his crew could find them, but the fact that they hadn’t yet was really making him nervous. He tried not to show it, though. He tried his best to make it look like he was doing his best to memorize their surroundings, or something, just in case she pulled any tricks.

He glanced down at the whip in his hand again curiously, then back at her, clearing his throat a bit.

“So… what crew are you from?” he asked, the extended, awkward silence making him even more nervous, so he decided to try and break it. She wasn’t cooperating though, remaining silent. “Or do you work alone? Solo pirate, or just the treasure hunter type?”

He heard her sigh and could swear by the way her head tilted back slightly that she just rolled her eyes at him. He huffed in annoyance, rolling his own eyes for a moment before propping his arms behind his head casually.

“You’re from Ireland, right?” he asked, deciding to change tactics. “I can tell from your accent. From what part?”

“...My kin originally hailed from Louth, but my grandfather was born in Galway,” she finally replied, causing MK to perk up a little.

“Ah, I’ve heard of Galway, but not Louth… where’s that?”

“Further East. It was once known as Ulster...” she said, then clicked her tongue and looked back at him. “Is there a point to these questions of yours?”

MK shrugged. “Not really… just curious,” he replied. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’re an odd fish, you know that?”

MK shrugged again, continuing to follow her. “And you’re not? I mean… don’t take it the wrong way but I’ve never heard of a pirate using a whip before,” he said, glancing at the whip in his hands again briefly. “And what the heck is it made of? I’ve never seen metal like this before...”

“That’s what makes it so advantageous,” she said, looking back at him with a proud smirk. “No one who knows as much as they think they do about pirates would ever see it coming.”

“Can’t really argue with that…” MK said quietly, mind flashing back to the previous night, when she first caught him off guard, then looking at her again. “But you didn’t answer my last question.”

“And I don’t intend to. It wouldn’t be professional if I gave away all my trade secrets,” she said, smirking at him again and tapping a finger to her nose.

“Fair enough… but if you won’t tell me what it’s made of, then will you at least tell me where you got it?” he asked.

She shrugged, stopping to turn and face him, eyes falling on the whip itself. “I stole it from another pirate on my first venture as one, a long, long time ago. It’s got plenty of sentimental value for me…”

MK squinted at her and clutched the whip tightly. “Oh no you don’t,” he said. “You’re not getting this back until I have the astrolabe!”

“Worth a try,” she said with a defeated sigh, starting to turn back around, when she stopped, looking beyond MK and scowling slightly.

“What?”

“Your friends found us at last, it seems,” she said.

MK tightened his grip on the whip, making sure she wouldn’t make a grab for it as he turned around to look and see for himself. It was about time that they caught up! He had this well in hand, but he sure could use the extra help if he needed it…

A shadow darted behind a tree, and another behind a large stone, a bit too slow for him to not notice them, and to not ascertain that they were not members of his crew.

But he unfortunately did know who they were.

“Down!” he whispered loudly, turning and tackling the woman to the ground as gently as he could, while still trying to keep the whip out of her reach.

“What the bloody hell do you think you’re--?!” she almost snapped aloud, if not for MK slapping his free hand over her mouth.

“Sssh!” he whispered harshly, looking over his shoulder briefly before crawling off her enough to drag her behind a tree. “Those buccaneers are no friends of mine!” he whispered again, then looked at her, letting go of her mouth. “Unless they’re yours?”

She shook her head, a surprising look of alarm crossing her features. “But if they’re not yours, then whose are they?” she asked, voice hushed now.

“It’s a long story.” MK said, swallowing. “But basically their captain is… and old “friend” of my captain’s, and they…” he paused and sighed. “They know I’m important to him… so they’re likely here for me.”

“Well, if I’d known I was being held hostage by a celebrity I would have been more polite,” she actually joked, craning her neck to peer around the tree they were hidden behind.

MK bit his lip and chewed nervously, fist clenching around the whip in his hand, also craning his neck to look around the tree and watch as what looked like nearly a dozen different shapes and shadows seemed to be lurking just a cable’s length away. It wasn’t hard to imagine what would happen if they caught up with them, and that was where his brain did that thing where he started to think up all the different scenarios that he didn’t like to think about…

Firstly, he wasn’t sure if he could trust this woman to fight by his side if they were caught. For all he knew, she was actually part of Macaque’s crew and was leading him into a trap all along… but then again she didn’t seem the type. And another thing that bothered him was that if she wasn’t part of Macaque’s crew, he would be convinced she was with him, and there would be absolutely no way he’d be able to convince Macaque to spare her or just let her go. And if she wasn’t really part of this then he didn’t want to get her involved… even if she was his only key to getting the astrolabe back.

Stupid conscience…

He shoved the whip back into her hands quietly, crouching in a way that prepared him to jump up and run in another second. He watched her eyes go wide in confusion at his action, looking at him in further confusion as he took this stance.

“What are you…?”

“Look, they’re after me, not you.” MK said, past bared teeth. “So I’ll draw them off, and you make a run for it.”

“Don’t be foolish there’s at least a dozen of them!” she whispered back, but made no move to stop him. MK shrugged with what--to her shock--appeared to be a genuine smile.

“Heh, being foolish is kind of one of my better qualities!” he said, taking off before she could protest on his behalf again.

He didn’t really think as to which direction he was running in, just so long as he was gaining as much distance as he could. He didn’t really have a plan at this point, but he knew the coast was nearby. If he could make it there he had a good chance of being able to double back towards town and either losing his pursuers in the crowds or getting the attention of his crewmates. But of course, he had to actually make it without getting caught first… Pigsy was right, he should have probably waited for the others, but there was no time to worry about that now; he had to keep moving!

A shot rang out and he heard a branch he ducked beneath snap as he ran. He bit back a yelp and changed direction, sliding down a ditch in his path before continuing to run. That was way too close for comfort! But he liked to imagine that Macaque wanted him alive for whatever reason and was now either scolding the pirate whose shot came too close or cutting him down in some way…

And then the thought of actually being taken alive by one of Wukong’s greatest enemies made his stomach lurch. As did the thought of whatever the outcome of being captured alive would eventually be! That thought alone spurred him onward, pumping him with adrenaline that gave him a burst of speed that was just enough for his pursuers to lose sight of him…

But at a cost that he realized only too late.

It wasn’t until he was tumbling off the edge of the cliff that he even realized that it was there. The fall itself wasn’t fatal, just by the distance, but he hit the rocky ground beneath hard. Hard enough for something in his bones to crack, painfully. He cried out loudly and abruptly in pain, though manage to strangle the remaining sound by slapping his hand over his mouth, body curling on itself as his free hand shot to his now--quite clearly broken--leg.

No. No, no, no, not like this!

With some difficulty and still strangling any pain filled screams that tried to escape his vocal cords, he managed to sit himself up and drag himself to the base of the cliff. Tears of agony and frustration stung the corners of his eyes as he pressed himself against the rock, looking up and praying to whatever god was listening that none of his pursuers saw or heard him fall. Especially now that he couldn’t run anymore. Not with a freshly busted leg!

He chanced a glance away from the top of the cliff above to look at the leg, grimacing a bit at seeing it twisted in a way it… really shouldn’t have been. He’d had broken bones before… but usually from stupid stuff. Stupid mistakes or antics on his part, things he could laugh about later with his friends, or even be scolded by them for, but this was different. Serious. His friends weren’t here to help him set this, or to help him limp to safety, he was on his own.

On his own with a least half a dozen pirates led by one who would probably use him to get to his friends now that he was an easy capture with this stupid, broken leg!

A shadow briefly graced the top of the cliff, vanishing before he could get a good look, or hide himself against the rock better, and he felt his heart stop.

They’d seen him.

They would be down here any second.

This was it…

MK hesitantly reached for the dagger he had with him, hands still shaking from the pain in his leg. He wasn’t going to possibly meet his maker and say he didn’t go down without a fight, even if it was going to be a brief one…

“That looks bad, lad.”

The way she had snuck up on him was so quiet he began to wonder if she wasn’t some sort of ghost. He gasped aloud, catching his breath so he didn’t scream from surprise, his own held silence further helped by her placing a hand gently over his mouth, two fingers over her own with a whisper of “shush”, to him. MK set down the dagger as she pulled her hand away, sniffling and choking back a pained sob as the woman with the whip knelt beside him.

“Wh-What… are you doing here…?” he asked, wincing as she--as tenderly as possible--examined his leg.

“Irish stubbornness,” she replied. “I wouldn’t be a good daughter of Eireann if I just let you face such odds on your own.”

MK couldn’t fight a smile and a single, happy sob that escaped him. “H-Heh… thanks…” he said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” she said, pulling one of his arms over her shoulders to help him up. “Now let’s get under some cover and take care of that leg…”

The way the high tides had beaten the shore in past years left the cliff face jagged, full of holes and crags, plenty of places to hide, if you could get to them easily. Which, without help, there was no way he could have. The woman managed to help him under a ledge that would be just enough to hide them both, laying him out flat carefully, so as not to agitate his leg further. Once he was set down as comfortably as possible, she left his side briefly to pick up some pieces of driftwood they had passed on their way there. After that, she returned to his side, sitting in front of him, hands hovering over his leg.

“I have to set this,” she said seriously. “Brace yourself.”

MK nodded, bracing himself as instructed, fists clenching at his sides and gritting his teeth together. She nodded back, carefully taking him by his injured leg, and twisting it abruptly with a “snap” that he felt shoot up his whole body. He didn’t scream, though. He didn’t make a peep. It wasn’t the first time he’d broken something, after all. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, of course. It hurt a lot! He had to squeeze his eyes shut to fight a few tears that threatened to leak out, but he kept quiet, fists finally unclenching as the pain subsided to a more bearable level.

“You’re a brave one,” the woman said, an impressed tone to her voice as she undid the sash around her waist, tearing some of it off, which she then wrapped around his leg.

“Thought I was foolish?” MK asked, voice a bit cracked, but still managing a smile.

“Aye, that too. Still, not bad.”

MK chuckled softly as he watched her use the pieces of driftwood she’d gathered, and the torn parts of her sash to make a sturdy splint for his leg. He felt a few twinges of pain as she tightened the knots, making sure they would hold, but he was grateful that the worst was over at least. She seemed to be too as she sighed and brushed her hands together.

“There, that’ll hold for a while,�� she said matter of factly.

“Thank you,” said MK, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m… sorry, about earlier. With the whole… taking you hostage, thing...”

She shrugged. “Eh, pirate’s life.” MK managed a chuckle.

“Fair enough,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But seriously, thank you for the help… um... I don’t think I caught your name?”

“Matilda,” she said, extending her hand to him. “But my friends call me Sea Cat.”

“Xiaotian.” MK replied as he took her hand and shook it. “But my friends just call me MK.”

“Cute.” Sea Cat said with a chuckle as they released hands. MK coughed down a blush he felt coming on.

“So, um… now what? I won’t be able to run with his leg…”

“Best thing to do is to just lie low until it starts to get dark.” Sea Cat said, settling herself down opposite MK. “Easier to slip past them that way.”

“Not if they find us before then.” MK said.

“Who said anything about finding us?” Sea Cat asked with a shrug, making him tilt his head in confusion at her. “Once I’m done catching my breath, I’m headed back up the cliffs.”

“You’re just going to leave me here?” MK asked, a bit horrified.

“With that leg? Don’t insult my honor!” Sea Cat said, winking at him. “What I’m going to do is try to leave a false trail for them to follow so they don’t find this little hideaway. Once it’s clear again, I’ll come back for you and help you back into town.”

MK sighed a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he had been holding in. “Oh,” he said.

“You’ll have to stay put until I get back though. And stay quiet.”

“Don’t worry, I will. But…” MK paused as she started to get up, crawling past him carefully so as to not accidentally jossle his leg. “What if your plan doesn’t work?”

She turned back to look at him. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said, giving him a smile and another wink before vanishing from sight simply by stepping round the bend. MK opened his mouth to shout after her in protest, but decided against it, instead sighing loudly and leaning against the side of the small alcove.

“Bloody Irish she-pirate…” he murmured to himself.

End of Part 1

#hope you enjoy #my writing #crossover story?#monkie kid pirate au #my OC #@purble-turble i got inspired by your design/backstory for macaque #hope that's ok #@ninja-knox-ur-sox-off #@neonross #more to come!

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artemisdreaming · 6 years ago

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Ghost Dance Drum, c. 1891-1892. George Beaver (unknown dates), Pawnee, Oklahoma Wood, rawhide, pigment. In the 1880s, a millennial spiritual movement arose among Plains Indians, expressed in a ceremony called the GHOST DANCE. Diameter: 23 in. (58.4 cm) Chicago (Illinois), The Field Museum of Natural History. (via: thirdeye.com)

From Wiki: “The Ghost Dance (Caddo: Nanissáanah, also called the Ghost Dance of 1890) was a new religious movement incorporated into numerous Native American belief systems. According to the teachings of the Northern Paiute spiritual leader Wovoka (renamed Jack Wilson), proper practice of the dance would reunite the living with spirits of the dead, bring the spirits to fight on their behalf, make the white colonists leave, and bring peace, prosperity, and unity to Native American peoples throughout the region.

The basis for the Ghost Dance is the circle dance, a traditional dance done by many Native Americans. The Ghost Dance was first practiced by the Nevada Northern Paiute in 1889. The practice swept throughout much of the Western United States, quickly reaching areas of California and Oklahoma. As the Ghost Dance spread from its original source, different tribes synthesized selective aspects of the ritual with their own beliefs.

The Ghost Dance was associated with Wovoka's prophecy of an end to white expansion while preaching goals of clean living, an honest life, and cross-cultural cooperation by Indians. Practice of the Ghost Dance movement was believed to have contributed to Lakota resistance to assimilation under the Dawes Act. In the Wounded Knee Massacre in December 1890, United States Army forces killed at least 153 Miniconjou and Hunkpapa from the Lakota people. The Lakota variation on the Ghost Dance tended towards millenarianism, an innovation that distinguished the Lakota interpretation from Jack Wilson's original teachings. The Caddo still practice the Ghost Dance today.”

Related post: Here

#Ghost Dance #Ghost Dance Drum #Pawnee #Plains Indian #Native American #Art #Art History #Dance #Spiritual #Musical Instrument #Spirituality

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victoodles · 6 years ago

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Venatrix (Chapter 2)

short but sweet update this time before the hunt! be sure to follow the series on AO3 and read part 1

“Well that was... productive,” Charles huffs as he follows you and Arthur to the horses.

Arthur lets out a sardonic laugh this time. “Always is with Pearson. Old fool thinks he’s actin’ all heroic by telling her to stay behind,” he says, helping you onto the back of your horse, Lady. Arthur’s chivalry comes on instinct, it’s not used as a means to impress.

You quite like that about him. Among other things.

You can’t help the blush that forms at the feeling of his hands around your waist - firm yet careful. Arthur squeezes your hips gently as he hoists you up, as if you weighed nothing. You quickly turn your face away, hoping he doesn’t catch a glimpse of your bashfulness. He does, he feels it too, and mimics your action to hide his own flush.

Charles notices the interaction silently and smiles to himself.

“Arthur,” Charles calls. The two of you would run around in this circle all day if he let you, but people were hungry.

“You can ride Taima.” Charles offers his own horse to Arthur. His own beloved horse, Boadecia, was killed in their harrowing escape from Blackwater, leaving him without a mount. It was clearly still a tender subject to approach with Arthur but he doesn’t let his grief show. There’s no room for his weaknesses to bleed through during such a tumultuous time.

It breaks your heart. Arthur doesn’t have the luxury of expressing his emotions, verbally or otherwise. It seems all those thoughts are due to be locked away with bounds of a leather clad journal. You yearn to talk to him about it, to unlock the door he’s kept shut for years to appease others expectations of him.

But for now, providing for the gang together will have to suffice. While it isn’t much, you can’t deny the excitement behind an excursion into the wilderness with Arthur.

Arthur looks to Charles, hesitant to accept. “Are you sure Charles?”

Charles simply nods, another half smile on his lips. “I trust you,” he looks to you, “the both of you.” Once again, Charles’ admiration has you feeling honored. Arthur seems to share the same sentiment and thanks him in earnest.

“Think nothing of it,” Charles responds. He gestures to Taima’s saddle, “My bow and quiver are all there for you Arthur. And we already know our huntress is well prepared.”

You grin proudly; it was well-known that your bow was one of your greatest joys. The shaft was composed from a mixture of sturdy red elm and maple with a bowstring of silk reinforced with twisted rawhide. Over the years you would idly carve a variety of ornate designs into the wood, giving it a truly unique appearance; vines expanded upwards and bloomed into intricate flowers along the wood’s surface.

Arthur thought your craftsmanship was truly astounding, going as far as to capture a moment of you hard at work on paper.

Wild but beautiful, just like her. It’s signed with a heart.

“Shall we, my lady?” Arthur asks. The request is lighthearted, imitating a man of high society. It reminds you of home and you laugh sweetly in response. Arthur’s heart only flutters a little bit.

“Of course good sir,” you match his playfulness with a mocking haughty accent. Now it’s his turn to laugh, deep and rich.

“Well lead the way then.”

The entire Ambarino landscape is coated in a thick layer of snow and the prevailing storm would make sure more would ensue. Frigid winds rustle the fully coated trees, sending flurries of snow cascading down from their branches. They seem to be the only visible landmarks save for the surrounding mountains in this frozen hellscape.

If Arthur never had to see an inch of snow again in his entire life, he would die a happy man. It clings to him, and the bitter chill nips violently at the skin he can’t cover behind his coat or with his hat.

Your lips practically pucker from the sourness of his expression. “Are you alright over there Mister Morgan,” you ask with a teasing lilt in your voice. He picks up on it and chuckles dryly.

“Not exactly too keen on this kind of weather,” he grumbles, urging Taima on just a little bit faster through the snow. His element is open fields; expanses of thick, wild grass as far as the eye can see. Patches of wildflowers so lush he can smell the honeysuckle as he lays among them and draws passing wildlife.

You match his pace, setting into a steady trot beside him. “It seems you and I share that sentiment,” you say with a visible huff.

“These mountains ain't up to the Wildling Princess’ standards?” Arthur says with a smirk.

You giggle at his emphasis on your nickname, one affectionately given to you by Dutch and Hosea. A term of endearment that paid tribute to your past life of a lady of Saint Denis and now your current one of an outlaw huntress. Many gang members thought it appropriate to tease you for it but you paid them little mind.

“No I suppose not,” you concede, “it’s considerably harder to hunt when it’s below freezing. The game is too sparse!”

“It’s a wonder we haven’t starved already.” Arthur says, half joking.

You can’t help the scoff of contempt that escapes you. “Well if I listened to Pearson, we’d be nothing but bare bones by now.”

Now Arthur laughs genuinely. “Thank goodness for that!” You join in his merriment with your own laughter before the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, journeying onward.

The wind has died down considerably into a gentle snowfall, much to Arthur’s delight. Snow cascades down from the clouds above, swirling in the breeze. In this lull, Arthur dares to peek at you from under the brim of his hat. He can’t help but notice the way snowflakes coat your eyelashes and the dust of red across your cheeks.

You’re quite a sight and you look almost...angelic.

Arthur mentally kicks himself for thinking so foolishly. About you no less.

“So,” he tries to distract himself from an onslaught of flustering thoughts. You perk up and look at him expectantly with those beautiful doe eyes. “You, uh, still happy you fell in with this bunch?”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounded nervous.

Are you still happy that you met me?

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect that’s what he meant instead.

“Six years and counting Mister Morgan, and you ask me that now?” You titter.

“A lot can change.” It’s as if Arthur is expecting you to have regrets. You refuse to feed into his already crippling self doubt.

“Considering the sorry state you found me in, I’d say I’m in a significantly better place.”

Arthur remembers. Clear as day. Four dastardly bounty hunters had been trailing you for miles: from Tall trees all the way to Blackwater. Arthur had been scouting some leads with Hosea and Dutch (thankfully) when you barrelled straight into him. You desperately clutched his shirt with trembling hands as the men approached and all you could utter was a simple plea.

Help.

Who was Arthur to deny a lady in waiting some well needed assistance in the form of a Cattleman and four bullets.

Arthur smiles fondly at the memory.

“Well I-” he clears his throat at his rather forward mistake, hoping you don’t catch it. You do, and again your heart flutters in your chest. “ We ,” he corrects himself, “are happy to have you with us.” It’s a comment sweet in nature, albeit delivered a little roughly. It doesn’t bother you none.

“And I’m happy to be here, Mister Morgan.”

“Just Arthur will do.” There’s no need for formalities. Not with him.

You smile that same breathtaking smile in his direction once more. “Of course...Arthur.”

He never thought his name could sound so beautiful.

#vic's fics!#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #i love my two dumb babies

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jakobf586853-blog · 5 years ago

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Damaging Chewing

The act of chewing appears to be a matter of private choice amongst pet dogs: some have a natural desire to chew as a satisfying activity in itself, and some appear to have no requirement to chew whatsoever unless they're driven to it out of large monotony.

Your pet has strong jaws complete of sharp, pointy teeth: simply about anything she begins to chew on is most likely going to reveal the results of it inside of a minute. Simply to clarify, when I utilize the expression "devastating chewing", I'm referring to unsuitable chewing: the kind of chewing that's focused on your own ownerships and home products, rather of on your canine's own designated chews and toys.

The 3 primary reasons canines chew:

- A lot of pets have a natural desire to chew. It's enjoyable, it kills time, and it's a self-rewarding, self-reinforcing activity (for instance, if she's chewing on something that tastes great.).

- Chewing supplies a worried, bored, or lonesome pet dog with an outlet for her feelings. To a nervous pet, the repeated act of chewing is relaxing-- it's the dog equivalent of home cooking.

- Underexercised pet dogs frequently utilize chewing as a method of burning up worried energy and providing themselves something to do.

- How to avoid harmful chewing -.

Canines are completely efficient in finding out not to chew your things-- you simply need to put in a little effort initially, that's all.

Take control of the scenario: handle your own ownerships. Even if you have the best-behaved pet dog in the world, there's still no factor to check her self-discipline-- after all, pet dogs check out the world with their mouths.

Dog-proofing your house implies taking whatever you do not desire to end up in her mouth, and making it not available. Can she climb up, or leap onto something else to reach the wanted item?

Typical targets in the house consist of books, eyeglasses, clothes, shoes, trash, and little crispy home appliances like electronic cameras, mobile phone, and push-button controls.

It needs to go without stating that all food requires to be put firmly away: do not leave treats on low tables (and even counter tops-- you 'd marvel how acrobatic she can be when there's food at stake!), put all food into containers or the kitchen. Wash your filthy plates tidy of any food scraps prior to leaving them by the sink.

Avoid her from discovering the pleasures of prohibited chewing. If you can avoid her from chewing your things in the very first location, it's a lot simpler for her to comprehend what you anticipate of her.

3. Do not set her up for failure by blurring the borders in between her things (OK to chew) and your things (not OKAY to chew). Do not provide your pet cast-off clothing, shoes, or towels to play and chew with: reasonably, you can't potentially anticipate her to be able to discriminate in between your existing shoes and the one she's got in her mouth that you offered her 5 minutes earlier.

If her environment is fairly barren of appealing, proper chewing items, you can barely blame her for targeting your belongings. Keep in mind, many pet dogs require to chew; if she's a teen (under 3 years) or a young puppy (under one year), her requirements will be even more noticable. Go on a toy and chew shopping spree, then offer her 2 or 3 to play with at a time.

Invest lots of time in active guidance. She can't discover what you anticipate of her if she's investing all her time boxed up in the dog-proof zone: she requires the chance to check out the limits of your expectations, so she can comprehend what's suitable and what's not.

Right away hand her a dog-appropriate and yummy option (a rawhide bone or other chew toy); as quickly as her jaws close around it, applaud her extravagantly. There is no much better method to get your canine to comprehend that chewing "her" toys equates to appreciation from you, however whatever else equates to difficulty.

- Keep an efficient mindset -.

Above all, keep in mind to keep your expectations practical. You're not best, and neither is your pet dog: there's most likely to be a minimum of one occurrence where a treasured product is harmed by her interest.

Especially in the early phases of your relationship, she's still finding out the ropes: it'll take some time prior to she's totally trustworthy (and even then, if she's left by herself for too long or feels ignored, she might pick your things over hers to inhabit her time and jaws with.) Keep in mind to provide her time to find out the guidelines, and lots of 'you-time' to assist her find out quicker-- and do not forget to take safety measures and keep things out of reach up until she's mastered the chewing guidelines!

For more details on pet dog training methods and how to handle issue pet dog habits (like chewing), have a look at Secrets To Dog Training. It's the total handbook for pet dog ownership and is developed to fast-track your canine's knowing.

For more information, check out the Secrets To Dog Training website.

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#dog #dog-chewing #dog-harmful-chewing #dog-training

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aion-rsa · 5 years ago

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Warrior Nuns Through TV History

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

TV nunning is a broad church. Sometimes, it’s all gunfire, demon-dissolving punches and running through walls, as in Netflix’s latest comic book adaptation Warrior Nun. In that show, a mystical artifact gives a non-believing teen superpowers passed down the generations from holy sister to holy sister. Defeat the demons, protect the world, praise the Lord, and so on.

Other fictional TV nuns lead quieter, more cake-focused lives, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t also fighters. You might say that like superheroes, not all warrior nuns wear capes. You’d be wrong – nuns definitely wear capes. They’re called mantles and though roomy and practical, likely represent a significant time commitment with regard to ironing.

Warrior Nun‘s superpowered teen follows in the echoey footsteps of a whole conventful of fictional TV nuns remembered here – some good, some bad, some inordinately fond of biscuits, but all, in their own way, warriors.

Sister Mary Loquacious in Good Omens (2019)

Played by: Nina Sosanya

Allegiance: Satanic nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl

Warrior level: Novice

Weapon of choice: Infantilising baby talk of hoofikins and widdle demonic tails

Specialism: Biscuits with pink icing

Most likely to say: ‘Fancy me holding the Antichrist! Counting his little toesy-woesies!’

Getting into heaven? Absolutely not

Demon Crowley and angel Aziraphale may have been Good Omens’ major players, but Sister Mary Loquacious kicked off the whole mess by accidentally confusing the infant Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness with the human child of a couple from the Oxfordshire village of Tadfield. Easily done.

Sister Agatha in Dracula (2020)

Played by: Dolly Wells

Allegiance: The Army of the Faithful, St Mary’s Convent of Budapest

Warrior level: Intellectually? Top Tier. She’s Dracula’s ‘every nightmare at once: an educated woman in a crucifix’

Weapon of choice: Wooden stakes and double-barrel wit

Specialism: Scientific rigour and one-liners

Most likely to say: ‘A house of God is it? Well that’s good, we could do with a man about the place, eh sister?’

Getting into heaven? Ja, if she cared to grace it with her presence.

Unfazed, brave, funny and intellectually curious, Dutch-born Agatha put both her faith and folklore to the test when she took on Count Dracula, meticulously gathering research on his powers and learning the rules of the beast to try to use them against him. A true scientist and quite a woman.

Sister Michael in Derry Girls (2018)

Played by: Siobhan McSweeney

Allegiance: Our Lady Immaculate College/Rawhide

Warrior level: Untested in battle but doubtless lethal

Weapon of choice: Apathy, withering sarcasm and eye-rolls

Specialism: Judo (on Fridays)

Most likely to say: ‘Sweet suffering Jehovah’

Getting into heaven? I wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

You won’t find an ounce of sentiment beneath this wimple, Sister Michael’s dry disdain for the pupils at Our Lady Immaculate is expressed only through cutting remarks and declarations of boredom. Not a fan of priests, the French, love songs or… most things, she’s an authority figure for the Derry Girls. Every so often though, like when she turned a blind eye to Erin and co. distributing their banned lesbianism-focused edition of the school magazine, she’ll surprise you.

Sister Jane Ingalls in Orange is the New Black (2013)

Played by: Beth Fowler

Allegiance: Catholicism

Warrior level: Basically nil as she’s a committed pacifist, though she does punch Gloria in the mouth at one point for PR

Weapon of choice: Civil disobedience and the Good Book

Specialism: Activism

Most likely to say: ‘I was afraid nunning was going to be boring!’

Getting into heaven? Sure

As a young novice in the 1960s, Ingalls fell in with the bad nuns and got a taste for non-violent activism. A bunch of protests and a memoir later (full points for the title: Nun Shall Pass), and the church didn’t want anything to do with her, neglecting to cover her legal fees after she handcuffed herself to a nuclear facility, landing her in Litchfield.

Sister Harriet in Hunters (2019)

Played by: Kate Mulvany

Allegiance: Anti-Nazi, Pro-Quip

Warrior level: Top level. A highly capable operative.

Weapon of choice: Gun, blowtorch, you name it

Specialism: Threats of extreme violence delivered in the voice of a Downton Abbey marchioness.

Most likely to say: ‘I will set you aflame, child’

Getting into heaven? There’s some intrigue as to her real deal but she certainly seems to be on the right side of history.

This MI6 agent/Nazi-hunting nun from Amazon Prime’s Hunters is something of a Scary Poppins. She does an excellent line in death threats and action-movie quips. She’s deadly, has a shady backstory, speaks in a cut-glass English accent and is fond of biscuits. In other words: our kind of nun.

Matron Casp in Doctor Who ‘New Earth’ (2006)

Played by: Doña Croll

Allegiance: Sisters of Plenitude

Warrior level: Merciless eugenicist

Weapon of choice: Cat claws and science

Specialism: Incinerating conscious and begging-for-help human cloning experiments without a spark of fellow-feeling.

Most likely to say: ‘Who needs arms when we have claws’

Getting into heaven? Nah. Space prison more like.

The Sisters of Plenitude, healers on New Earth, may have called their work ‘the tender application of science’ but ‘the incredibly painful application of bastard cruelty’ better sums up their human cloning farm. This order takes a lifelong vow to help and mend, but clearly not to do no harm. And their hospital doesn’t even have a shop.

Abbess Hild in The Last Kingdom (2015-)

Played by: Eva Birthistle

Allegiance: Uhtred of Bebbanburg/the Lord

Warrior level: Advanced (but retired)

Weapon of choice: Dagger

Specialism: Throwing buckets of cold water on a sleeping Uhtred and sawing through the necks of dead Danes

Most likely to say: ‘I have killed, and I will kill again I’m sure, but hopefully not today’

Getting into heaven? Big yes.

Hild’s journey in The Last Kingdom took her from nun to warrior and back again. Rescued from attack by Uhtred, Leofric and Yseult, she swore to become a fighter and more-than earned the title. Eventually, her vocation called her back to the church, where she now remains as the Abbess with whom you don’t mess.

Sister Jude in American Horror Story: Asylum

Played by: Jessica Lange

Allegiance: Catholicism and the teachings of Monseigneur Timothy Howard

Warrior level: Complicated

Weapon of choice: Forced commitment to an insane asylum,

Specialism: Guilt

Most likely to say: ‘All monsters are human’

Getting into heaven? Bad things happened under her watch but she does try to atone

The head of Briarcliff, an institution for the criminally insane, Sister Jude is a complex character with a complicated trajectory. She mistreats, but is also also gravely mistreated.

Sister Monica Joan in Call the Midwife (2012-)

Played by: Judy Parfitt

Allegiance: Raymond Nonnatus, patron saint of childbirth

Warrior level: Yoda

Weapon of choice: Forceps and fey literary quotation

Specialism: Sniffing out and emptying hidden cake tins

Most likely to say: ‘My first responsibility is to ensure the consumption of this cake’

Getting into heaven? Hundo P

AKA the best Call The Midwife nun, and an OG resident of Nonnatus House ever since the BBC One series began. Owing to her advanced years and developing dementia, Sister Monica Joan is now retired from midwifery, but in her prime there wasn’t a birth canal in Poplar that hadn’t welcomed her up to the elbow. She’s highly educated and extremely well-read with an instinctive love of beauty, poetry, cake and Doctor Who, which makes her the patron saint of all our hearts.

Sister Sybil in Camelot (2011)

Played by: Sinéad Cusack

Allegiance: Shady but ultimately loyal to Morgan

Warrior level: Witch

Weapon of choice: Dark magicks

Specialism: Child sacrifice?

Getting into heaven? Nah.

When Uther Pendragon banished his daughter Morgan in Chris Chibnall’s 2011 Camelot, she was raised in a nunnery by a sister who was no stranger to the dark arts. When Morgan (played by Eva Green) returned to claim her birthright, Sister Sybil was the one whispering poison in her ear and teaching her how to channel her powers.

Sister Bertrille in The Flying Nun (1967)

Played by: Sally Field

Allegiance: El Convento San Tanco in San Juan

Warrior level: Negligible

Weapon of choice: Not so much a weapon, but her flight-enabling cornette was the big thing.

Specialism: As the title suggests, flight

Most likely to say: ‘When lift plus thrust is greater than load plus drag, anything can fly.’

Getting into heaven? Si señor.

A creation of Tere Ríos’ book The Fifteenth Pelican, Sister Bertrille was the fresh-faced nun-next-door whose cornette combined with the Puerto Rico coastal winds allowed her to fly in the 1960s TV series. According to Sally Field’s excellent memoir In Pieces, the whole experience was more drag than take-off.

Miss Clavel in Madeline (1988-2001)

Voiced by: Judith Orban & various

Allegiance: An old house in Paris/the Catholic church

Warrior level: more sentry than prize fighter

Weapon of choice: Education! (Read: day trips to the circus)

Specialism: Waking up in the middle of the night with a nagging sense that something’s off kilter with her young schoolgirl charges, then singing a song about it.

Most likely to say: ‘Vite, vite mes petits’

Getting into heaven? Mais oui

The headteacher at Madeline’s Parisian boarding school in the Ludwig Bemelmans’ books and their various TV and film adaptations, Miss Clavel is a kindly sort. She gives her young boarding school pupils warm moral instruction and generally manages to extract Madeline from the mouth of whatever tiger she’s crawled inside that week. Not ferocious, as warriors go, but kind and dependable.

Septa Unella in Game of Thrones (2015)

Played by: Hannah Waddingham

Allegiance: The Faith of the Seven

Warrior level: High Bastard

Weapon of choice: Wooden spoon and ignominy

Specialism: Torture and bell-ringing.

Most likely to say: ‘Confess!’

Getting into heaven? Not in one piece she won’t after what Cersei did to her

The Geneva Convention didn’t reach the Seven Kingdoms. If it had, then the supposedly holy Septa Unella wouldn’t have beaten Cersei Lannister with a water ladle and made her drink from the floor like a dog before parading her naked to jeering crowds around the city. Not a nun to mess with, unless you’re a Lannister.

Also-Nuns

Sister Assumpta in Father Ted (1995)

Sister Boniface in Father Brown (2013)

(Briefly) Olive in Pushing Daisies (2007)

Mother Superior in Avatar: The Last Airbender (2005)

Kassia the Byzantine nun in Vikings (2019)

Warrior Nun is available to stream now on Netflix.

The post Warrior Nuns Through TV History appeared first on Den of Geek.

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#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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hausvonklaus · 6 years ago

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PART TWO of the NUMBER EIGHT series.

___________

'Are you sure this is a good idea?' reads Allison's notepad. She's situated on one of the stone benches in the courtyard, hair twisted into a messy bun to keep the summer heat at bay.

Diego is standing like a brooding bodyguard just a few feet away. Despite the temperature, he's still layered in all-black, only foregoing his gloves so he can peel back the skin of his orange a bit easier.

"Of course it's not. That's why we're doing it out here and not where Five can see," Diego grins.

Klaus shoots a look at both of them before turning his attention back to Mr. Pennycrumb, who is blissfully unaware of whatever's happening and gnawing on a rawhide bone bigger than his own body.

"I've been able to move inanimate objects just fine, so I think it's time to try... you know, living things," Klaus gestures at the puppy. "He just so happens to be the perfect size to practice with."

Allison sighs and starts scribbling on her notepad as Diego puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, it'll be fine. Klaus hasn't blown anything up on accident in, what, a week?"

Allison just scribbles faster.

"Woah, woah, woah, no!" Klaus waves his arms around wildly. "There will be no explosions! I'm just practicing levitation, nothing else! Jesus, Diego."

Klaus rubs a hand over his face in exasperation, then tries to focus back on the task at hand so he can get some practice time in before Five notices his dog's missing.

"Okay, Number Eight," Klaus calls to the puppy affectionately, ignoring Diego's snort at the nickname. "Are you ready?"

Mr. Pennycrumb stares at him with big brown eyes, little teeth still gnawing away on the rawhide bone. His tail thumps on the ground at Klaus's tone of voice.

Klaus stretches out his arms, tattooed palms pointed forward and fingers splayed. Diego laughs off to the side, probably because Klaus looks ridiculous right now in his tie-dye shorts and Selena crop top, but Allison smacks him on the leg to shut him up.

"Float, baby, flooooat," Klaus croons, wiggling his fingers.

Mr. Pennycrumb sits up and scratches behind one of his ears.

"Impressive," Diego whistles.

Allison smacks him again, writes in her notebook, and shows it to Klaus.

'You've got this.'

Klaus smiles at the encouragement. He straightens his back and refocuses, palms still out and green eyes never leaving Mr. Pennycrumb. After a few moments of nothing, Klaus feels it; a tug at the center of his palm.

"There it is," he whispers, eyes wide.

With most objects, when Klaus moves them, it feels as though he's actually touching them. He can feel the sensation of the object along his fingertips, even though he's moving them with his mind.

With Mr. Pennycrumb it feels the same, but there's a pulse along his palms similar to a steady heartbeat. It's amazing, it's--

The courtyard door slams open so abruptly that Klaus's arms jerk upward in surprise, ending whatever concentration he'd had, but not before Mr. Pennycrumb ends up soaring thirty feet into the air.

Allison stands up and gasps, throwing her notepad down to try and run under where she thinks the puppy will fall.

Diego drops the remainder of his orange slices.

"Holy shit!"

"That wasn't supposed to happen!" Klaus cries.

Five, who had stormed outside as soon as he found out what was going on, grumbles out a string of expletives before teleporting into the air to catch Mr. Pennycrumb. He pulls his dog close and teleports back to the ground, right in front of Klaus.

"What do you think you're doing?" Five seethes.

"Uh," Klaus quickly stands up and brushes off his legs and backside. "Practicing my telekinesis? You know, so I can be more useful during the next apocalypse?"

Allison picks up her notepad so she can quickly write something down.

'He was doing really well until the door startled him. We're sorry, Five.'

Five looks up at his sister and she mouthes 'it won't happen again' to him, followed up with a sweet smile. Diego actually rolls his eyes.

"Leave the dog out of your training," Five jabs a finger into Klaus's chest, "or else I'm burning all of your heinous leather pants."

Klaus's mouth falls open in disbelief.

"But those pants make my ass look fantastic!"

Five's expression darkens, but he doesn't say anything else before he heads back inside with one final slam of the back door.

Diego shakes his head.

"You're lucky Allison had your back, man. I was waiting for the old man to kick you right between the legs."

Klaus turns to his sister with a big smile.

"Thanks, Allison. I would be bleeding out on the ground right now if it weren't for you."

Allison reaches out to pat Klaus's cheek gently, then follows it up with a fond pinch.

#the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #number five #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #number eight series

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believerindaydreams · 6 years ago

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part iii: even more GBU/Rawhide scenes

or scene.

it’s Gil’s turn for a scene! I wrote him as sympathetically as I could.

(it is, I’ll admit, not very. Racism trigger warnings.)

“Talking won’t save you,” the Captain had said.

Gil Favor’s beginning to understand just what that means.

Because this Captain, this Angel Eyes, has already wrung every last piece of useful information out of him- he’s not Bill Carson, never was, only claimed the name after a swift assessment of his chances in a Union prison camp. Less shame in taking another man’s punishment, than to be taken for a friendly deserter.

(If Rowdy was here, mussing up his hair and muttering about honesty being the best policy-)

(If Rowdy was here, he’d murder this captain just to keep the boy safe. This hell’s no place for him- then again, neither was the desert, and he’s regretted that abandonment again and again-)

The Captain snaps his fingers, abruptly; Wallace stops pounding on him. Favor spits out a bloody tooth at him, feeling a swift satisfaction at the clatter.

“Do you have any good reasons why I shouldn’t just shoot you?” the Captain asks him. Almost affably. “Any minor tasks you’ve left unattended. Any small chores like that.”

“What is this, you’re playing games now? Think I’ll beg just to amuse one uncultivated Yankee?”

“Cuiusvis hominis est errare, nullius nisi insipientis in errore perseverare.”

Been a few years since he was writing out Latin lines in school, but he thinks he can remember the gist. “A fool, sure. Or I’d never have mistaken those dusty uniforms for Johnny Reb.”

The Captain shakes his head. “A reminder for myself, not you. Now as interrogations go, you’ve told me quite a bit- that you won’t forget today any more than I would, that you have a gentleman’s sense of honor- and in turn I’ve told you a few things. More than I wanted to, but there was no other way of finding out what I wanted to know. Now, the sensible thing to do now is to shoot you out of hand…unless there’s a reason why I shouldn’t, of course.”

If this torturer is trying to salve his conscience, he can burn in perdition first. “I’ve got nothing to say to you, Angel.” How anybody can rest easy being nicknamed like that by his own men, that gives him a shudder.

But the name seems to bring comfort; a smile lingers on his torturer’s lips. “Well. Can’t say I didn’t try. If Tuco ever asks-“

The door swings open, with a bang like a gunshot. “Speak of the devil, eh? Angel Eyes, you’re looking well! I was worried!”

“You- were worried. About me.”

There is a moment when Favor locks eyes with Wallace, equally taken aback, and their mutual loathing melts into shared bewilderment.

“It’s a big war out there,” the interloper says, with disgusting ingratiation. “Even a clever hustler like me got caught up in it, and how was I supposed to know you’d be safe? The one in charge instead of the one in cuffs-“

“Speaking of which, Tuco,” the Captain interrupts. “I’m busy. Interrogating someone- why did they send you in here during choir practice?”

“Oh well, the clerks got confused when I said I was Bill Carson. Said they didn’t see how there could be two Bill Carsons, and I said hey, it’s me, I have this eye patch and everything…”

Whatever else the Mexican says is completely lost on Favor; because he’s seen now the boy following close on this Tuco’s footsteps, looking about him with terrified uncertainty.

Uncertainty that freezes into staring immobility, when Rowdy catches sight of him.

A boy’s reaction, a child’s; but Favor’s grateful for that damned immaturity just this once. It gives him the chance to shake his head, throw every ounce of strength he still possesses into one unmistakeable expression. You don’t see me. You don’t know me. Look away.

Rowdy looks away; and Favor finds it easier to breathe around his shattered bones, once the boy’s buried his face in the bandito’s tattered finery.

“Hey,” Tuco says. “You okay, partner?”

“I’ve- I’ve seen a few rough things. Done my share even, but what- what happened to him?” Rowdy chokes out.

“That’s not very nice,” Tuco says, gravely and disapprovingly. “Angel Eyes, mi amor, lay off? It’s upsetting my young friend here. And believe me, you don’t want to upset him.”

The Captain looks to be on a knife-edge, half amused and half infuriated. “Now why would that be?”

Tuco glances over at Wallace, at him, manages to shrug a little without shaking Rowdy’s weight off. “Same rainbow we’re all chasing, I think. Two hundred thousand dollars in Confederate gold- and bomboncita here, he knows where it is. So you want to treat him right, Angel. Don’t play rough with this one…”

“I suppose next you’ll be asking me to make him one of my soups.”

Tuco bares his teeth, grinning. “As though you aren’t proud of making the best soup from here to the Rio Grande. Not that you’ll ever have my knack with poblanos, mind…”

The bandito goes so far as to lay hands on the Captain’s own, where they’re permitted to remain, and Favor feels his gorge rise at that shared affection.

This is the kind of thing he was fighting against.

What that gold was meant to be used for, too.

And he’ll do his damnedest to keep it from falling into the hands of a Yankee thief and a Mexican bandito, for so long as there’s still breath in him…

#Rawhide #the good the bad and the ugly

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brooklynislandgirl · 6 years ago

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♦ : Slow dancing

Diotima || -

She doesn’t know where they are.

Only realises that the world has stopped and the solid warmth beside her is gone. The seat cover beneath her palm feels almost gritty, and the warp and weft of the weave leaves evidence of its existence behind as she pushes herself up, squinting and blinking out the windshield that is mostly dust right now. The truck door creaks a protest when she opens it, slides her legs out of it, and pours herself onto the blacktop. The asphalt hasn’t completely cooled from the day’s heat and almost feels good under her soles. Almost. She doesn’t really like man-made chemicals and petroleum products, and tar falls into that, hardened or not.She pads her way toward the little oases of light, past the other, empty pumps, onto the concrete. An ice machine gasps a lazy hum at intermittent moments. There’s an out of order sign on it. It gets overridden by the cowbell tinkle when she pushes the gas station door open and is hit full in the face with air-conditioned chill. All of her limbs recoil from the feel of sudden temperature change. It’s like falling into a pool on a summer day. Glassy eyes sweep right and left blinking and squinting at the too-bright fluorescent lighting.The attendant, a middle aged man who is tall and thin and balding, scraped together out of rawhide and banality barely gives her a look but enough of one that she is self-conscious and tries to shift the hoodie tied around her waist lower, to ride her hips and cover more of her leg.The bathroom makes her skin crawl. Not for any one particular reason but just the idea of it. Of sitting in the same place so many others must have come and gone and she doesn’t know anything about them. She yawns and tries to straddle the porcelain without actually touching it. Washes her hands three times. Thirty seconds each. As much soap as she could manage. Lots of friction.

She doesn’t find him when she wanders the aisles. Orange juice...made from concentrate but that’s the best she can hope for. Sweet tea for him, though he probably already raided everything he wanted. She trails her fingertips over the mints, ends up picking up a little tin. A few other things, some bottles of water for later. She pays for it all and takes the bag pushed over the counter. On a whim, she makes one more purchase. It’s a dollar lottery ticket where the silvery scratchy bit is in the shape of Texas, and you have to match the stars hidden under the surface. She has no intention of doing so, but it will go into a scrapbook. She almost gets carded for it.

Beth hasn’t been under eighteen in a long time.

When she goes back outside, Martin’s already at the truck. Washing the windshield. It’s a losing battle. He’s on his toes. The dusty, practically ancient boots, the pale grey jeans, the black shirt riding up a little and exposing a sliver of skin in the space between his belt and his lower ribs...make him look much more at home here than he ever did in LA. And maybe that was what the real definition of home was; the place where you look like you belonged, even if you haven’t been that person in years.

She walks around the front and dumps her treasures onto the seat, and sees that he’s got a couple bags too, just like she suspected. There’s enough processed meat snacks to embalm him in the style of the pharaohs. The radio is on and he’s picked a station on the AM band, because out here ~he told her so earlier ~ FM doesn’t work, and he’s never really bought into the whole Sirius thing.“Hey, Hawai’i. Thought the coyotes got ya.”She smiles, back to the truck bench, palms down fixing to hoist herself up. “Naw, jus’ ya know.”His grin is a little brighter than the lights inside. He flicks the wiper and it makes a wet splatter on the ground. He sets it on the hood and makes his way over, around her door, and settles his hands on her waist. Skin on skin. They’re a little worn and rough, the callouses and nicks from daily use. When they stop for the night, she’ll suffer his mocking expression and smooth them out a little so they don’t crack. Her belly tightens in anticipation of being lifted off her feet, because just now he’s not just a foot taller. He towers over her. Overhangs like tree branches because he leans in, a strange gleam in his eyes.“Man. I haven’t heard this song in ages.”...What? What so- oh. She tilts her head and listens for a minute. There’s a little twang but the song is soft. Doesn’t shove itself in her face, and suddenly he’s pulling her away from the truck. Fingers lacing at the small of her back. She’s quicker on the uptake than that drowsy look on her face might indicate otherwise.

“Oh yeah, naw. I don’ ...I don’ know how f’ dance like dis.”“And that’s the beauty of it. You don’t really need to. Watch.” He widens his boots to keep her feet between them, where he isn’t likely to step on her by accident. Pulls her closer still until her brow rests in the centre part of his chest. He doesn’t really move, and they’re not really dancing. It’s more just swaying in place. He rests his chin on the top of her head, and after a moment or two what she thought was maybe an echo in the chorus becomes clear. His voice..a little scratchy and not quite at the same pitch. But the words. She feels them rattle around inside of him.

“...Standin' in the rain so long has left me with a little rust, but put some faith in me...And someday you’ll see...there’s a diamond under all this dust. I ain't no angel, I still got a still few more dances with the devil…”It doesn’t take her but a minute to loosen inside his hold, and she lifts her arms up to circle around his shoulders. She can’t imagine another song that sounds more like him than this one. She feels her eyes sting and later will say it’s the dust even though the night breeze is soft. She turns her cheek and rests it against him, following along with his slow, circular shuffle. It isn’t really about dancing. Isn’t about the song or the stars over head, or what they’re leaving behind in California. It isn’t about the miles put on the road, or that El Paso is only a few hours away or that the sun would be coming up just as they hit the outskirts of town. She’s not sure what it is about, but they have plenty of time to figure it out.

They dance through three more songs.

#Mahalo!Riggs <3 #Tin Star|Martin Riggs #Down til the Dark|Riggs and Beth #Thin Blue Lines|Lethal Weapon #California Screaming #Lone Star State of Mind #CW: Long Post #riggsanity

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fandammit · 8 years ago

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Loss like the sharp edges of a knife (7/8)

[A/N: At this point should you even believe me as to when this fic will be completed? Probably not. I love you all, thank you for your support and reading and continued patience. PS. Death Wish Coffee is a real coffee and I nearly died when I found that out.]

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6

It's two days later when he gets a present back from Karen.

He's running past her apartment with Gracie, expecting nothing but the low grade thrill he always gets when he runs past her place, when he looks up and sees the pot of daffodils sitting out on the windowsill.

He stops abruptly on the sidewalk beneath her fire escape, the movement so sudden that Gracie yelps a bit as her collar digs into her throat from the force of the stop.

He immediately drops down to one knee and loosens her collar, rubbing his fingers across her neck.

“Sorry girl,” he says softly, breathless in a way that he knows is only partially from the effort of running the last half hour.

He squints up at windowsill, trying to make out what might be waiting for him. It’s looks too big and heavy to be her simply returning the book to him, which he knows is a ridiculous fear to have but has weighed heavily on his mind in these last two days anyway.

He gives Gracie a few more rubs to her neck, then walks her over to the streetlamp nearby and loops her leash around it and tells her to sit and stay.

A few minutes later, he’s back down with a substantially heavy box under his arm. He almost wants to wait around for Karen, for any number of reasons, really, but right now because of the fact that she’d left her window half open and wedged the box underneath it to hold it in place. He’d closed it firmly before he’d descended down the ladder, but just knowing that it’s unlocked, capable of being easily opened and slipped through by any passing stranger sets off a wave of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.

He feels Gracie brush up against him and drops down to his knee to scratch behind her ears.

She lets him get in a few scratches, but it’s obvious that she’s far more interested in the box in his hands. Which makes sense, since he’s pretty sure it’s mostly for her seeing as the words Bark Box are stamped on the front of it.

He opens it up and finds an explainer card for what is apparently a subscription box meant to spoil Gracie every month. This month’s theme is apparently “May Flowers,” a small point of fact that makes him smile.

He -- with plenty of help from Gracie -- rifles through the box and finds two toys, a bag of treats and a rawhide chew stick. In the corner of the box, wedged between plush, stuffed flower pot and a rubber flower chew toy, is a mug with painted pitbulls on it. Inside is a gift card stuck in a plain brown envelope with an address written on the front in Karen’s firm, looping script.

He opens up the bag of treats and gives Gracie one as he looks up the address on his phone. He and Gracie walk over to his truck so he can drop off the box -- to her great consternation -- then keeps walking West from Karen’s apartment.

The coffee shop is just a few blocks down, a relatively nondescript brick storefront with the wide open windows and plush seating you might expect from any other coffee shop. He leans over and looks at the name -- Vigilantes, written in bold, blocky font on the front window.

He squints a bit at it and tilts his head, considering the name. He’s about to loop Gracie’s leash around one of the chairs when he sees a sign on the door that reads, “Dogs welcome and encouraged!” The corner of his mouth quirks up as he reaches out and opens the door, steps inside to the pleasant smell of coffee beans.

The walls are covered with art of the many different superheroes this city’s got zipping around it at any given time, interspersed with framed front pages of newspapers with headlines about aliens and science experiments gone wrong and gods from other worlds.

He walks up to the counter and is greeted by a kid who can’t be any more than 19, long dark hair falling in waves around his face. The kid smiles widely at him, energy practically buzzing off of him.

“Hey, hey, welcome to Vigilantes. Have you been here before?”

“I have...not.” He holds up Karen's gift in his hand. “Got a gift card.”

“Cool, man, cool. So, each of our orders is based on a different superhero or vigilante. For example,The Hulk -- the beans are roasted --.”

The kid’s voice fades into the background as he scans the menu in front of him. When he sees what he's looking for, he holds up a hand to him.

“Hey, uh -- can you tell me what type of drink I get if I order a Punisher?”

The kid -- Allen, according to his name tag -- smiles widely.

“Yeah man, sure, sure. That's actually one of my favorites. So, it’s just straight up black coffee, no fuss, no muss, nothing added. The beans are roasted at a shop here in New York -- little place in Saratoga Springs. It's this incredibly bold flavor with a kick -- oh, shit, sorry! I'm supposed to show you a bag, too, in case you wanna buy some -- hold on.”

He ducks down for a moment, then comes back up with a black coffee bag in his hand.

Frank grabs the bag of coffee and studies it. It's all black with a skull and crossbones stamped on the middle of it, the words Death Wish Coffee Co. circling around it.

“So, yeah,” Allen continues on rapidly, “it's called Death Wish Coffee, and like, perfect right? They say it's the strongest coffee in the world, which I absolutely believe, because this stuff will absolutely, absolutely kick your ass.”

Frank purses his lips for a moment to try to keep from smiling, then just bows his head towards his chest and laughs -- a deep, loud sound that comes from some place in him that only rarely sees the light of day.

He looks up and sees Allen looking at him with a confused expression and clears his throat, though he knows that there’s probably still a too-wide grin on his face.

“I’ll take an 8 ounce Punisher, Allen.” He holds the bag of coffee up. “And I’ll take one of these, too.”

He hands the card over to Allen, who smiles brightly at him.

“Alright man, cool, cool.” He looks down at the screen and taps it a few times. “Oh! You want beans or grounds? Because I gave you beans.”

“Grounds,” he says, handing the bag back over to Allen, who takes it and disappears beneath the counter for a second before coming up with a different bag.

“Here you are, man.” He swipes Frank’s card, then turns the screen around so that it faces Frank. “And just so you know, you had 50 bucks on the card originally, and you have 27 bucks left on the card after the drink and the grounds.” Allen smiles even wider as Frank taps for a 20% tip. “Oh hey! I think I know your friend who got you this gift -- Karen, right? Blonde, tall and, like, willow-y -- works for the Bulletin?”

Frank blinks rapidly. Her name catches him off guard, and he hopes that he’s managed to smooth out the longing in his expression to something flatter, more neutral.

“Uh, yeah, sounds like her.” He glances around the shop, imagines her walking in, her blue eyes bright and sparkling. He feels his expression falter. “She in here often?”

Allen makes a so-so motion with his shoulders, tilts his head back and forth.

“I mean, we just opened last week, so we haven’t had too many people come through yet, but she’s been in two or three times at least, I'd say -- on her way to work. I remembered her because there haven’t been many people who’ve bought a gift card, and definitely no one else who bought one for fifty.” He clicks his tongue, bounces up on the balls of his feet as he thinks. “And I just remembered her working at the Bulletin because she said that she doesn’t write up food or drink stuff, but that she’d pass our name along to the guy who does, which is good because -- .”

Jesus, this kid must drink the coffee by the gallon. He can practically feel him vibrating with energy.

“Yeah, that’s Karen,” he says, and he manages to shake himself free enough of his distracted longing to offer the kid a genuine smile. “She, uh, she knows I’m a big coffee guy. Always looking for the strongest stuff.” He grabs the cup that’s materialized in front of him during Allen’s long, rambling explanation and takes a sip, then whistles low and smacks his lips together. “And I gotta say, that does feel like a bit of an ass kicking.”

Allen smiles broadly at him. Frank wonders how the kid’s cheeks don’t hurt all the time from the force of his continued smiling, but also decides that it’s somewhat endearing in its own way.

“Yeah, right? It totally is.” He swivels the screen back around to face him. “So, also, there’s a dog bowl of water in the corner over there if you want to sit and chill a little bit with your dog. And treats, too -- homemade!”

Frank tips the coffee cup in Allen’s direction, then walks over to the recliner in the corner that he pointed out. There’s a jar filled with bone shaped treats next to him, and he promptly finds the biggest one and gives it to Gracie before he sits down.

It’s actually a pretty nice little place, all things considered. The decor on the walls is interesting where it might be kitschy, there’s a glass display case of some nice looking pastries, and hadn't been lying when he said the coffee was the strongest he’s ever had.

Gracie finishes up her treat and stretches in front of him before laying down at his feet and resting her head on top of his shoe. To anyone that might be watching, he knows it must look like a quiet moment of contentment. And it might be, too, if he could manage to tamp down the excess of emotions that have been slowly and steadily rising up from the pit of his stomach ever since Allen said Karen’s name at the counter.

Because all he can think about is sharing in this place, in this moment with her. All he can think about is the wry look on her face as she watches him order a Punisher, the pointed way she’d order some other drink -- a Thor, maybe, or a Captain America. It’s absurd how clearly he can see the teasing glint in her eyes, how distinctly he can hear her laughter in the air. He thinks about the way she would brush against him as she laughed, the easy way he might knock his shoulder into hers to let her know he’s teasing. As if they’ve spent endless conversations laughing and joking with one another, as if they’ve ever had more than mere moments of lighthearted conversation.

It’s ridiculous, he knows, to miss something that you’ve never even really had in the first place.

But it doesn’t stop him from missing it.

“So, I didn’t realize that you and Karen had been in touch,” David says a few nights later, looking across the table at him.

He huffs out a sardonic laugh and sits back down heavily across from him, picks up his beer bottle and takes a swig before answering.

“So, what - you two -. “ He levels the bottle and between where David and Curtis are sitting. “You just gossiping about me while I’m in the bathroom?” He shakes his head. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve asked you both to have a beer after all.”

Curtis laughs as David shrugs, a grin stretched out across his face.

“Gifts on her windowsill, Frank? Really? I was half-joking when I said that to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re even surprised,” Curtis says, leaning back in his chair and eyeing David. “You knew about the flowers on the windowsill from before. I just found all this shit out last week.”

“Which, by the way,” David says, narrowing his eyes at Frank, “I can’t believe you’ve been coming over twice a week for, like, over a month and you never mentioned this.”

Frank purses his lips, then shrugs a shoulder.

“You never asked.”

David huffs.

“I was trying to be, you know -- cordial or some shit. Wait for you to bring it up.”

“Not really much to bring up, David.”

Curtis laughs as David swivels in his chair and looks at Frank incredulously.

“You and Karen are leaving each other hats and photos and whatever other shit on her windowsill like you’re in some sort of 18th century, like, Victorian novel or something. That’s definitely something, Frank.” David narrows his eyes, tilts his head at Frank. “You do know we have email, right? The postal service even?”

“Nah, that’s not dramatic enough for Frank,” Curtis says, a truly shit eating grin on his face. “Man’s got a love for the theatrics.”

Frank scoffs and finishes up the rest of his beer, then looks across the table at the two men opposite of him and shakes his head.

“You know, I’m regretting introducing the two of you to one another.”

Curtis just smiles at that while David leans in across the table.

“So, what’d you give her other than the photo of you and Gracie?”

He tilts his head, narrows his eyes at David.

“What makes what you think I gave her anything else but that?”

David shrugs.

“It’s not exactly reciprocal in nature, right? You leave Karen flowers and bullets, she leaves you coffee and a beanie. You leave her a picture, she leaves you a picture. It wouldn’t be even if she gave you and Gracie a gift and you just gave her a picture of you two, yeah?”

Frank shrugs, tries to keep a neutral expression on his face.

“Seems like you sure think you’re right.”

“That means you’re right, man,” Curtis adds in as he leans back in his chair. “Now I’m curious, too, Frank. We know that it’s gotta be something that tells Karen something about you or how you been doing.” He taps his fingers on the table, a thoughtful look on his face.

David glances over at Curtis.

“Why is that something that we know?”

Frank turns towards him as well, curious about his answer.

Curtis gestures towards Frank as he turns towards David.

“Well, that’s the pattern as far as I can tell -- Karen gives him things to let him know that she’s thinking of him, Frank gives her stuff to let her know how he’s trying to build a life that doesn’t revolve around vengeance.”

“That's - huh.” Frank sits back in his chair and purses his lips, nods as he considers Curtis’ words.

“You really didn’t realize that was the pattern?” Curtis shakes his head and huffs a laugh. “I thought it was pretty damn obvious.”

“Yeah, well -- sometimes Frank has trouble seeing what's obvious to everyone else,” David adds, grinning over at Frank, who has the sudden urge to both roll his eyes and punch David squarely in the chest.

He does neither, just reaches across the table and finishes David’s beer with one long swig.

“I left her a book,” he says, wiping his mouth before setting the empty bottle down in front of him. “Moby Dick.”

David and Curtis both shoot him near identical looks of exasperation and disapproval.

“Frank, what the hell,” David blurts out, at the same time that Curtis says --

“Are you serious, Frank?”

He shrugs.

“It’s one of my favorite books.”

“Makes sense,” David says, giving Frank a crooked grin. “Little on the nose though, yeah?”

Curtis is just shaking his head next to him.

“Jesus Christ, Frank. She gives you a nice shirt, and you give her a homework assignment.” He furrows his brows. “Hold up -- that doesn’t exactly follow the pattern you two have set up. So there has to be, I don’t know, some kind of specific reason for it.”

“A reason other than that you want her to stop communicating with you altogether because you gave her a 700 page novel about a whale,” David jokes, a slight tinge of incredulity to his words. “Moby Dick, Frank. Seriously?”

“Well, it was my copy of Moby Dick, if that makes you feel any better.”

David raises an eyebrow.

“It...doesn’t. Should it?”

Frank sighs and leans back, stretches his arm out across the back of the chair next to him. There’s a part of him that just wants to shut down the conversation completely -- shrug it off and stonewall the two, or just get up and pay his tab -- but it’s overruled by the part of him that knows that this is all part of building a friendship, of building his life back up from nothing. So he just sighs heavily and looks over at Curtis.

“I was listening to you, you know.” He makes a looping gesture with his hands. “Uh, what you said -- what you said to me the other night.” He fidgets a bit, taps his fingers along the side of the chair. “Karen -- she doesn’t really know me, she doesn’t...she can’t really know me.”

“That’s not all I said, Frank,” Curtis says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but…” He rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “But it’s true, right? It’s -- .”

“It’s not the whole truth,” Curtis interjects. “If you remember, I also said that Karen could help you figure out what -- who -- you might be.”

“But she, uh, deserves to know -- should at least have the chance to know who I am. As much as, you know, as much as anyone can.” He folds his arms in front of him. “The copy that I left her...it’s the one I read, shit, at least half a dozen times when I first got my apartment. It has, uh, it has all my notes and shit in it, right? Shit I wrote in the margins, shit that I underlined. It just, it -- it has all my shit in it. It...it has a lot of me in it.” He swivels his head between Curtis and David. “Figured Karen at least should...she reads that, and it gives her a pretty good idea about me. Then, you know.” He shrugs and nods. “Whatever she decides.”

He sees Curtis and David glance at one another.

“Well, I think you're an idiot,” David says.

“Thanks David. Appreciate that.”

David gives him a wry look and shakes his head.

“Not for giving her a book -- for thinking that could change anything.” He looks around, then leans forward in his chair. “She met you when you were on trial for murdering 37 people, Frank. She's not gonna care that you have some weird affinity for Ahab.”

He has both the urge to argue with David and the desperate need to believe him. Gives in to neither and instead settles for giving David a long, inscrutable look.

“It's not,” he finally says, because he’s suddenly struck by the fact that two men sitting across from him know him better than anyone that’s currently alive, and that neither of them know much at all about what Karen is to him. At least, who she is as much as he can explain it.

He’s not quite sure he can handle any more lines of questioning about what Karen may or may not do, about who he is or isn’t. But he can talk about what Karen has done for him. He thinks the two men sitting across from him deserve at least that.

“It’s not…” David starts, a questioning look in his eyes. “You don't have a weird affinity for Ahab?”

Frank shakes his head.

“Nah, man -- it's not when I first met her. Not, you know, technically, at least.” David looks surprised, while Curtis just looks interested. “She was helping to protect this shitbag Kitchen Irish member -- Grotto -- and...”

Curtis raises an eyebrow.

“And you were…”

Frank shrugs.

“Shooting at Grotto.”

David, for some reason, looks infinitely disappointed in this story.

“Ok, so, not quite the meet-cute I had in mind for you two.“ He sighs heavily, like he’s just had some dream of his ripped to pieces. “I guess that is a more you story though -- meeting Karen when you’re shooting at her.”

“At Grotto.”

David rolls his eyes.

“In her direction, then.” David tilts his head and furrows his brows. “I’m going to assume that your second meeting was less, you know, guns and violence, since somewhere down the line she actually wanted to help you.”

He looks down at the table, scratches at a mark that’s probably been there for the last ten years, then licks his lips and looks back up at Curtis and David.

“Second time I met her, I was in police custody. Beat to hell, strapped to a hospital bed. They had this, this red fucking tape -- just this box around my hospital bed that no one was supposed to cross for their own safety or some shit.” The corner of his mouth quirks up, even though the memory can’t actually be described as anything even approaching pleasant. “Karen crossed it, though, ‘cause…’cause that’s just who she is.” At this, he can’t help but smile, thinking of her. The fearlessness, the determination. Thinks she would’ve made a hell of a Marine. “She was with the two attorneys on the case, and I just...I didn’t give a shit about them, about the case, about anything. I was just -- I was done, you know. Just really done.” He shakes his head. “But Karen, she was just getting started. She’d done all this research, you know, looked into my story, realized that something wasn’t right. That there was some shit going on. So she sees me, and she knows that I’m just some asshole who’s gonna end up dead if I don’t get my shit together, so she crossed that tape, right, she crossed that line. And she -- she shows me this picture of my family -- me, Maria, the kids at the carousel and…” He trails off, finds that he can’t meet either man’s eyes for a moment.

“How’d she get a picture?” David asks. “I wouldn’t think that’d be in your file.”

He looks up, lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug.

“She broke into my house.”

Curtis blinks rapidly at that, while David just shakes his head and lets out a small chuckle.

“You know, it’s no wonder you like her so much -- you’re both driven as hell, and neither of you have any kind of sense of self-preservation.”

Frank ducks his head down, thinks about the truth of the second part of that statement and frowns. He wishes that was one thing that they didn’t share.

He clears his throat.

“The whole time, you know, that whole trial -- it, uh, it mattered to her.” He glances sideways at both Curtis and David once, before looking back down at the table. “Finding out the truth about what happened to me, what happened to my family. It mattered to her that we did something about it.”

Even now, he can hardly believe that it’s true. He wonders if she knows what that meant to him -- to have someone notice that he was once a man, to have someone remind him what it meant to be more than a mission. He hopes she does -- hopes that their wordless exchanges aren’t limited to matters of safety and times of crisis.

(Another part of him, quiet but insistent, tells him that he doesn’t have to simply hope. That this is an exchange that doesn’t, needn’t be wordless. He ignores it. Finds that it isn’t as easy as it was before.)

Curtis rubs his temple, narrows his eyes at Frank.

“You mattered to her, Frank.” He waits for Frank to meet his gaze before he continues, picks up that prior thread of conversation like it hasn’t been over a week since they first started talking about it. “That’s what all this tells me. It’s never been about your mission or your war. It’s always been you.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just tilts his head back and forth, makes a noise that might be agreement, might just be him clearing his throat. He notices David and Curtis exchanging glances again, but can’t quite make out what passes between them.

Finally, David clears his throat.

“I guess it makes sense -- her wanting to make sure the truth came out. That’s what she did with Union Allied, too, right?”

Frank furrows his brows.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that’s how she ended up working for your attorneys, uh --.” He snaps his fingers a few times. “Nelson and Murdock -- that’s it -- in the first place, right?” He frowns at the look on Frank’s face. “She got framed for murdering someone at Union Allied, Nelson and Murdock took her case on against the murder charges, turned out there was some shady shit going on at Union Allied that she knew about? I mean, stuff that went all the way up to Wilson Fisk.” He spreads his hands out in front of him, palms up. “Shit, Frank, do you really not know any of this? I mean, I didn’t even have to dig very deep for it -- few front page articles, connected a couple of dots.”

Frank crosses his arms tightly in front of him. David squints at him, takes in his posture, his expression.

“It bothers you.”

“What?”

“It bothers you that I might know more about Karen than you do.”

He grunts, raises his shoulders in a tight imitation of a shrug.

“Maybe it bothers me that you felt like you needed to look her up.”

“Frank, c’mon. I didn't know who she was. I didn't know how she fit into everything, and you weren’t exactly as chatty as you’re being right now.” He sighs. “I needed to know that I could trust her.”

“And what you found -- that made you trust her?”

David shrugs, the corner of his lip turning up in a small half-smile.

“I learned to trust you.”

Frank relaxes his shoulders and forces the scowl off his face, lets the air of his lungs slowly.

“Yeah, alright.” he mutters. “Ok.”

“You know, what you could do if it bothers you that David knows all this stuff about Karen that you don’t?” Curtis asks. “You could just ask her about it yourself.”

He chews the bottom of his lip, tilts his head, looks back and forth between the two men.

“I left her that book, right?” He scrapes a hand across the stubble on his chin. “We’ll see how she feels after it.”

He says it with a finality that signals that the conversation, as far he’s concerned, is over. And it must speak to his friendship with both Curtis and David that they simply accept that, easily turn the conversation to other, more mundane and normal aspects of their lives.

He’s glad to have them both here, together; knows he’s fortunate to have a sounding board and a guiding hand and sharpened steel knife when he needs it. But it’s exhausting, too -- laying himself open like this, pulling parts of himself and holding them up to the light.

Which is why it’s only a little bit later that he wraps up the night, citing an early morning run and a long boxing workout with Paul as a reason to head home before 10 p.m.

Curtis nods as David signals to the waitress for their check.

“So, this early morning run -- doesn’t by any chance take you right past Karen’s, does it?” David asks as he stands up to go.

“Maybe,” Frank replies mulishly.

David grins.

“Well, in that case, I fully expect to hear about you seeing Karen in person the next time I see you because she is not going to give a shit about whatever it is you wrote in Moby Dick.” He claps Frank on the back, then holds out a hand to Curtis. “Good seeing you again, Curtis.”

Curtis stands up, pulls David in for a half-hug.

“You too, David. We’ll do it again soon.”

David smiles at that, gives both men a final wave before he heads out of the bar.

Frank signs his receipt and stands up, stretches his hands above his head.

“You are though, right?” Curtis asks.

“I’m gonna…?”

“You’re gonna see Karen in person once you get your book back? You’re not gonna drag this out or wait for her to give you a goddamn, I don’t know, handwritten invitation or something before she finally convinces you that she really does want to see you?” He ducks his head down, raises an eyebrow. “You’re not gonna be a wallowing asshole, right, Frank?”

Frank purses his lips and nods.

“I -- uh -- yeah, Curt, yeah. I’m not gonna be a wallowing asshole.”

“Good, because that offer still stands -- I will kick your ass for being one.”

He huffs out a small laugh, shakes his head and glances up at Curtis.

“How are you on her side and you’ve never even met her?”

Curtis breathes in deeply, reaches out and rests a hand on Frank’s shoulder.

“I’m on your side, Frank. I always have been.” He drops his hand, crosses his arms in front of him. “You’d rain down hell on anyone that messed with Karen, wouldn’t you? On someone that hurt her?”

He narrows his eyes at Curtis.

“You know I would.”

Curtis tips his head in Frank’s direction.

“Well, you keep this up much longer, Frank, and that person is gonna be you.”

#kastle #kastle ff #frank castle #curtis hoyle #david lieberman #i love curtis so much??? he's such a big part of these last sections and it's been the best thing to write #my fic #fic: loss like the sharp edges of a knife

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mwccc2 · 5 years ago

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Janinei Antoni - “Loss and Desire” September 10, 2003

Filmed weaving a rope out of materials donated by friends and relatives, Janine Antoni comments that the rope is like a ‘lifeline’

In the video, the artist is later shown walking a tightrope preparing for the video touch where she appears to walk on the blue ocean horizon of her childhood home in the Bahamas.

Uses materials such as chocolate, soap, alrd and rawhide as part of her sculptures.

“There are so many objects that...we’ve lost a connection to what they’re made of, who made them.”

Antoni’s work blur the distinction between performance art and sculpture

Transforms everyday activities such as eating, bathing and sleeping into ways of making art.

Often uses her own body as a primary tool for making sculptures.

In some of her work she has chiseled cubes of lard and chocolate with her teeth, washed away the face of soap busts made in her own likeness and used the brainwave signals recorded while she dreamed at night as a pattern for weaving a blanket the following morning.

Takes different materials like taking different lives, connecting different people and relationships.

Uncover stories through the experience of the objects and whether those stories are somehow held in the materials.

A rope is an umbilical cord, it connects two things

Loves the handmade and any form it takes

Many objects we've come into contact with that we’ve lost that connection to what they're made of who made them

On the surface of the object give a sort of history of how that object was made, how it made it way into the world

Uses body as a tool for making and experiment

Came to this knowledge the through experience of his body

Does these things because the viewer also has a body and can emphasise with the extreme things she puts herself through in her work

To her so much meaning isin how we choose to make something both in art but also in all objects we do within our lives.

The word is like the viewers coming on to the scene of a crime that has been left to uncover

Cradle about cradling each other - ends with the loop spoon when a child is first gaining independence abou that need that we never lose to be held.

The body under the veil

Hollow inside The absence of me and the absence of the cow

Licking and bathing are both quite loving acts but slowly erasing - that conflict

That love hate relationship we have with our physical appearance Rope like lifeline story of life walk it that touch found that wasn't getting more balance more comfortable being out of balance Wish could do this in life

The fall, the impossibility of that illusion

Fiona Candy

Preston based artist, with a background in textile and fashion design

Describes her practices as engaging with perception: sight, touch, hearing, memory and sense of time and movement.

When mind, body and world would interact

Be open to what presents itself - a technique for channeling intuition: to bring ideas into awareness via the unconscious, a way to connect to the surrounding landscape, to reveal answers to questions or suggest new areas of expression.

Sensory experience of being there.

Making Presence Felt: https://vimeo.com/138187905

Captures immersive qualities of an art installation purposely sited in Northampton to connect with ther regions long and facsisintanting tradition of shoemaking.

Invites visitors to move,listen look and make sense

Pitches on the borderline between sound and music.

Audio content link to quizzical materials artworks that acted a visual ‘clues’ to impossible interpretations,

Lack of obvious storylines allows listening viewers to construct their own narratives, based on everyday experiences and identities, memories, stories or even dreams.

Potential to cross over into the less conscious, metaphorical themes: of containment and release, escape and pursuit, repression and the random

Where fact and fiction merge

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todayspetelkrdg · 6 years ago

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February has been declared Pet Dental Month --and for good reason. The most common disease seen by veterinarians is dental disease. In fact, 75-85% of pets over the age of 2 have dental disease of some form. You’re probably thinking: Great, I don’t like going to the dentist, I can only imagine how my pet feels about it! The truth is, the same philosophy that applies to you and your family also applies to your pets when it comes to dental care. Below, we’ll discuss the importance of healthy dental practices for your pets and what you should do to ensure they have a comfortable and long, healthy life.

Poor dental habits for your pet can lead to a number of health issues throughout the rest of its body. American Veterinary Medical Association President Dr. Douglas Aspros said that, "Dental problems are extremely common, and many are painful and can lead to serious systemic conditions. An untreated dental infection can spread to the heart, kidneys and other organs, and suddenly become life threatening."

Symptoms

The first sign of dental problems in your pet is bad breath. Take a look inside of their mouth and check the teeth and gums. Yellow, brown, or discolored teeth are another sign. As dental disease progresses, you may notice loose teeth and red, inflamed gums. Both dogs and cats will show an uncharacteristic reluctance to eating food or playing with toys and an overall sense of lethargy. Cats may show decreased grooming and increased drooling. You may even see your pet pawing at its mouth, as its gums become irritated. If you see any of these symptoms, the AVMA recommends taking your pet to the veterinarian as soon as possible.

Checkups and cleanings

The best way to prevent dental disease from developing in your pet is to make regular appointments for health examinations with your veterinarian. After the exam, your vet may recommend an oral care regimen, schedule regular cleanings, or offer a specific treatment based on your pet’s current dental health.

Brushing and alternatives

Dr. Aspros acknowledges that only 1% of pet owners brush their pet’s teeth. Not only do more owners need to begin brushing, they also should use chew toys, treats and rawhides to help keep their pet’s teeth clean. Your veterinarian can recommend many of the products available to help maintain your pet’s oral health between checkups.

Foods that bear the VOHC® (Veterinary Oral Health Council) Seal of Acceptance ensure that they adhere to their strict standards and protocols. The VOHC® allow their seal to be used on products meant to help retard the development of plaque and tarter on the teeth of animals.

For now, though, good old dental habits like regular brushing, checkups as well as good eating habits are the best way to maintain proper oral health for your pet. While you or a family member can easily express oral discomfort, your pet cannot. It is important to keep an eye out for the above symptoms and follow a pro-active approach to avoid discomfort for your pet and more costly veterinary procedures down the road.

#Today's Pet #Elkridge #MD #Pets

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jessicakehoe · 5 years ago

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Here’s What You Need To Know About the Santa Fe Indian Market’s Virtual Design Platform

Nearly one hundred years ago, the first Santa Fe Indian Market took place in New Mexico. And this month, the Market–which is sponsored by the Southwestern Association for Indian Arts (SWAIA)–has taken an enhanced online approach to highlighting the work of Indigenous talent across North America.

“The virtual platform has been a new experience, and an interesting one,” says fashion show producer, Amber-Dawn Bear Robe. “I’m excited to see the final projects.” Bear Robe has been busy coordinating a selection of digital presentations for the Market’s month-long online presence that includes six days of designer spotlights featuring former Project Runway participant Patricia Michaels of the Taos Pueblo community, as well as Montreal-based Mohawk brand Skawennati, Coast Salish Territory/Puyallup designer Korina Emmerich, Dene jewellery designer Catherine Blackburn of Saskatchewan, Anishinaabe/Ojibwe beadwork and textile artist Delina White, and Indigenous Fashion Week Toronto founder and fashion artist Sage Paul, who is from the English River First Nation.

A final intimate fashion show and designer Q&A will be streamed on August 16th, and centres around a new capsule collection by Orlando Dugi. “He does really intricate beading,” says Bear Robe of Dugi’s complex designs, noting that he even ground up beetles to create the Cochineal Red hue that’s so important to Dugi’s Navajo culture. “He puts a lot of time and effort into his clothing,” she adds.

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✨Mona in a silk and feather dress. . . . . . . #orlandodugi #womensfashion #slowfashion #fashiondetail #nativeamerican #navajo #diné #indigenous #fashiondesigner

A post shared by ORLANDO DUGI (@orlandodugi) on Jul 18, 2020 at 8:28am PDT

Attention to craft is prevalent in the work of all the creatives featured in SWAIA’s programming, and Paul expresses excitement at the potential for her to give a global audience a peek at her practice. “I don’t do commercial work, it’s more custom,” she says of her creations. “[And] I don’t always take these kinds of opportunities because my goal isn’t to sell clothing–I like to present it,” she adds, addressing how her digital presentation will give consumers an augmented sense of the labour involved in her artistic process. “Showing [an audience] the process of designing, drafting and building a piece–not many people get to see that,” she says.

Paul also says that being involved in the virtual Market allows her to be part of a larger community of Indigenous figures whose voices are gaining more traction thanks to the reach of social media and other online platforms. “The Market has been around forever, and it’s such an honour to be a part of it,” she says. “It’s such an incredible opportunity to show how fashion can be created here in North America.”

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#givinglifebysagepaul #2017 … I’m now working on creative direction for the #rationsbysagepaul imagery, which usually takes lots of reflection to progress. Reflection on my past work, everyone I love to work with, my feelings about philosophical tings, my feelings about real life happenings, gratitude, injustice, an article I just read, and on and on. 📸: @ratul_debnath 💁🏻‍♀️: @kermit_themom 💄/💇🏻‍♀️: @q_izm #sagepaul #indigenousfashion #fashion #fashioneditorial #torontodesigner #torontofashion #rawhide #rawhidecast #fashionisart #artfashion

A post shared by SAGE PAUL (@sagepaul) on Aug 1, 2019 at 4:55am PDT

But Bear Robe’s sights are set on promoting more than the talent based on this continent as the Market continues on. “This is going to be the start,” she says of this inaugural foray into the virtual space. “I really want to build this into something larger and I have the support of the new director, Kim Peone, in this vision.” In addition to keeping the Market running year-round online, Bear Robe is focused on incorporating Indigenous perspectives from around the world in future projects, including designers from New Zealand who have been on her radar for a while.

This attention to broadening the scope of who participates in the Market speaks to a larger goal of those like Bear Robe and Paul, who have built careers in advocating for the support of Indigenous creatives who exemplify a rich range of practices that draw from traditional and contemporary influences. “Indigenous designers are following their own creative vision that may be grounded in their culture, but it’s not adhering to an expectation of what ‘Indian dress’ should look like,” Bear Robe says.

The Market’s platform facilitates the opportunity for consumers, both Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to gain insight into the diversity within communities who have for many years been “grouped into a pan-Indigenous context”, as Bear Robe notes. “I’m from Canada, and you never really hear much about SWAIA Market there,” she says. “But down here, it’s everything for Indigenous artists and designers. But it’s the same thing in the States–we don’t hear about Indigenous designers from Canada. There’s a disconnect, and I wonder why because it’s North America–we’re all from the same land. Before there were borders, Indigenous people were always moving and trading and exchanging ideas.”

The post Here’s What You Need To Know About the Santa Fe Indian Market’s Virtual Design Platform appeared first on FASHION Magazine.

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the-master-cylinder · 5 years ago

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The Boys Next Door (1985) SUMMARY:Roy Alston (Maxwell Caulfield) and Bo Richards (Charlie Sheen) are two outcasts of their high school community. Bo receives $200 as a graduation gift from his grandparents. Facing a lifetime of working blue collar factory jobs, the boys spontaneously decide to use the money to go on a vacation to Los Angeles.

During the drive to Los Angeles, Bo and Roy rob a gas station and beat the attendant (Joseph Michael Cala) with a crowbar. The next day, the boys go to a beach boardwalk, where Roy throws an empty beer bottle and it hits an elderly woman (Helen Brown) on the forehead. Three young women (Claudia Templeton, Mary Tiffany, and Marilou Conway) see this, and they chase Bo and Roy to a parking lot. The women yell at the boys and damage their car. Enraged, Roy starts the car and drives around in circles in the parking lot with the women still on the hood. After several loops, Roy throws the car into reverse, throwing one of the women from the hood of the car. After the incident, one of the women finds Bo and Roy’s dog, Boner the Barbarian, and reads its ID tag, which leads to speculation of where Bo and Roy are from.

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During a visit to La Brea Tar Pits, Bo expresses his wish that the world could just “go caveman” for one day, abandoning all rules and order. Roy agrees, and they spend their evening on the streets of Los Angeles.

Several additional encounters lead to more deaths, including a gay man Chris (Paul C. Dancer), a young couple (Richard Pachorek and Lesa Lee), and an older woman Angie Baker (Patti D’Arbanville) whom Roy kills while she is having sex with Bo. Eventually the duo are tracked and found by the LAPD and chased into a shopping mall. After unsuccessfully trying to steal some guns, Bo tries to talk some sense into Roy about surrendering. Roy refuses, and he orders Bo to give him the gun so he can go out in a “blaze of glory”. Bo refuses and shoots Roy when he tries to take the gun away. The police surround Bo and ask him why he killed his friend. Bo replies, “Because I had to.” Bo is then arrested and led away while reporters snap photos of him.

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The Boys Next Door (1985) Soundtrack No Way-Great White Hard & Cold-Great White I Got Nothin’- Iggy Pop The Need-Code Blue I Ain’t Nuthin’ But A Gorehound -The Cramps The Most Exalted Potentate Of Love-The Cramps Spellbound-Code Blue Let Me Rock-Chequered Past Is That So Strange-Code Blue Clean The Dirt-Tex and the Horseheads Face To Face-Code Blue

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CAST/CREW Directed Penelope Spheeris Produced Sandy Howard/Keith Rubinstein Written Glen Morgan/James Wong

Charlie Sheen as Bo Richards Maxwell Caulfield as Roy Alston Patti D’Arbanville as Angie Baker Christopher McDonald as Detective Mark Woods Hank Garrett as Detective Ed Hanley Paul C. Dancer as Chris Richard Pachorek and Lesa Lee as couple Kenneth Cortland as Dwayne Moon Unit Zappa as Nancy

Dudes (1987) SUMMARY: Grant, Biscuit, and Milo are punks living in Queens. Bored with their lives, they decide to move to Los Angeles, and set out on a cross-country drive. In Utah they assist Elvis impersonator “Daredelvis” with getting his trailer unstuck. Later, Grant sees a mirage of a cowboy on horseback. While camping in the Arizona desert they are attacked by a gang of vicious rednecks, and Milo is murdered by their leader, Missoula. Grant and Biscuit escape and collapse in the desert, where Grant again sees a vision of the cowboy.

The local sheriffs do not believe the boys’ story, having no record of Missoula or his gang and being unable to find Milo’s body as evidence of the murder. Grant resolves to track down the gang and avenge Milo’s death, despite Biscuit’s reservations. Heading back into Utah, they find one of the gang’s trucks overturned and several of the members dead. Before dying, one of them reveals that they planned to turn themselves in but were killed by Missoula, who is headed north through Wyoming to Montana. The boys also meet Jessie, a young woman who runs a gas station and towing business.

Catching up to Missoula’s truck, Grant and Biscuit engage in a high-speed shootout with Missoula and his buddy Blix, but swerve off the road and crash. They are rescued by Jessie, who teaches Grant how to shoot and ride a horse and strikes up a romance with him. Meanwhile, Biscuit has a dream in which he is part of a Native American tribe who are slaughtered by Union Army soldiers led by Missoula. Upon awakening, he begins to imitate a Native American warrior and insists on resuming the pursuit. Jesse outfits the pair in exaggerated western costumes and gives them use of a beat-up 1959 Buick Invicta complete with bull’s horns mounted to the hood.

In Wyoming, the boys find Daredelvis working at a rodeo and enlist his help to capture gang member Wes, from whom they recover Milo’s stolen jacket, but Wes is killed by a bull without revealing Missoula’s location. On the way to a ghost town where Missoula is rumored to be hiding, Grant once again sees the mysterious cowboy, but Biscuit dismisses it as an illusion. Finding the town empty, the pair get drunk and have a vision in which they meet the cowboy, named Witherspoon, accompanied by a trio of Native American warriors from Biscuit’s dream. Witherspoon magically transports Grant back in time to when the town was populated and raucous, while the Native Americans similarly transport Biscuit back in time to participate in a tribal gathering.

Awakening hung over, Grant finds a matchbook in Milo’s jacket that leads them to a saloon in a Montana town where they find Missoula and Blix. Trailing them into a movie theater, Grant and Biscuit open fire on the pair, but Grant hesitates and a shootout ensues; Missoula and Blix escape, while Grant and Biscuit are arrested and jailed. Missoula and Blix murder two sheriff’s department officers and invade the jail in an attempt to kill the boys, but Jessie arrives just in time to break them out. Grant manages to kill Blix and wound Missoula, and pursues him on horseback to an abandoned building, where he tackles Missoula off a high ledge. Missoula shoots Grant in the arm and Grant returns fire, killing him. Grant once again sees Witherspoon and the Native American warriors, now accompanied by Milo, who ride off into the distance and disappear in a cloud of dust just before Biscuit and Jessie arrive.

DEVELOPMENT In writing Dudes, scriptwriter Randall Jahnson was partly inspired by visits to Old West locations which he felt were “frozen in time”. In the early and mid-1980s, he later reflected, the punk and art rock scenes in Los Angeles were demonstrating a certain fascination with the West, exemplified by Wall of Voodoo performing cover versions of Spaghetti Western songs, the Dead Kennedys covering “Rawhide”, and the Meat Puppets mixing punk with country music, which influenced his crossing of the two genres in his script. He settled on the film’s title based on the Old West use of the term “dude” to describe a “tenderfoot” or “fish out of water”, city-dwelling Easterners unprepared for life on the frontier, seeing his main characters as modern “dudes”.

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Jahnson pitched his script to producer Miguel Tejada-Flores of independent film company the Vista Organization as “punk rockers out in the wilds of Wyoming”, which Tejada-Flores thought was an interesting idea, though a bit “out there” conceptually. He and fellow producer Herb Jaffe sought Ridley Scott to direct, but could not agree with him on the film’s “vision”. Penelope Spheeris first read the script in March 1986 and expressed interest. Tejada-Flores had been impressed by her previous directorial work, particularly her 1985 film The Boys Next Door, and felt that she could tell an enthralling story from the mix of genres present in Jahnson’s script. He showed The Boys Next Door to Jaffe, and the two agreed that Spheeris was a good candidate to direct, a choice which was solidified when she convinced them that she could make the film within their proposed budget and get good performances out of her actors. Jahnson was a fan of Spheeris’ 1981 punk rock documentary The Decline of Western Civilization, and agreed that she had the “punk rock sensibility” for the script.

I was hugely influenced and inspired by the punk rock and art band explosion in Los Angeles in the early 1980s. During that time a number of bands began to weave Western imagery and country music elements into their music. The Dead Kennedys recorded a hardcore version of ‘Rawhide.’ X, who’d never made any apologies for having an ear for Hank Williams and Merle Haggard, launched their rootsy side project, The Knitters. Wall of Voodoo covered Johnny Cash’s ‘Ring of Fire’ and the classic theme to ‘The Good, the Bad & the Ugly’ and even released an album titled ‘Call of the West.’

Then bands like Rank and File and Blood on the Saddle – who consciously blended punk and country sensibilities – began to appear. And the Meat Puppets emerged from the Arizona heat with their distinctive brand of desert slacker psychedelia.

Somehow I wanted capture this juxtaposition in a script. The notion of fatalistic urban punkers in a showdown with the vastness, beauty, and history of the American West amused and intrigued me. I placed the start of the story in New York City, so the journey of Grant, Milo, and Biscuit would echo the westward trek of pioneers in covered wagons.

I wrote The Vandals’ classic boot-stomping thrasher ‘Urban Struggle’ into the script because it spoofed the whole punks-out-West phenomena and kicked ass at the same time. So when the time came to cast the band playing in the punk club at the movie’s start, the Vandals and ‘Urban Struggle’ were the only choice. -Randall Jahnson

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PRE-PRODUCTION

Casting Spheeris wanted Jahnson to be part of the casting process, and invited him to many of the casting sessions, which was not common practice for directors. Jon Cryer, who had recently gained attention for his role in the hit film Pretty in Pink, was attracted to the eclectic nature of Dudes’ script as well as the opportunity to play the hero, which he had not done before. Spheeris favored Cryer for the film’s lead but also considered Keanu Reeves, and chose Cryer at Jaffe’s suggestion. To prepare for the role Cryer learned how to ride a horse and fire a gun, and got his ear pierced since the script called for Grant to wear an earring; the heavy earring caused the piercing to become infected. Being young and eager to play the hero, he performed many of his own stunts. He had difficulty with the scenes that required him to drive a car; He had earned his driver’s license while performing in Torch Song Trilogy in Los Angeles several years prior, but used public transport and taxis in his native New York City and had very little experience behind the wheel.

Catherine Mary Stewart became interested in the role of Jessie because “she was a strong female character, which is important, and also was somebody who could ride horses, shoot a gun, she owned a garage…Part of my fantasy when I was a little girl was to do exactly all that stuff, and when I came on the set I had an idea of what my character should be and what I sort of developed for myself, and Spheeris was very supportive of that.” In preparation for the role she trained with a stunt performer who specialized in gun play, learning how to twirl her revolver so it would slide right into its holster. “I was practicing that all the time,” she later recalled, “because I wanted it to be great.”

Daniel Roebuck, a character actor who had recently finished filming River’s Edge, was reading scripts in search of new roles and was struck by the uniqueness of Dudes. “It was not a John Hughes movie”, he said in 2015. “There was nothing like it. When I read it all I thought of was ‘I want to be in a Western.’ I was a little concerned about the punk rock stuff, but I really liked the Western stuff.” For his audition in front of Spheeris he wore a mohawk hairstyle, since that was what the script called for his character, Biscuit, to have. When given the part, he had to have the sides of his head shaved and his hair tied into place for the duration of filming since it was too time-consuming to take apart and re-tie the mohawk for each shoot. Roebuck was not into punk rock, however, describing himself as a “square”, and was so embarrassed to wear his hair in a mohawk every day that he convinced the crew to get him a wig to wear on days off from shooting.

Spheeris had featured Lee Ving’s band Fear in The Decline of Western Civilization (1981), and stayed in touch with him. It was through Ving that she met Flea, who had joined Fear in 1982 as the band’s bassist. Thinking he had a star quality, she cast him as one of the runaway punks in her 1984 film Suburbia. By 1986 Flea was active in the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Spheeris reached out to him to be in Dudes, later saying that he brought to the role “a certain vulnerability and a certain sweetness that actually wasn’t written into the script, and played it in such a sweet, loving way that when the moment came that his character is killed in the movie, it was more powerful, because he was so lovable before that, and people don’t expect that moment.” Flea felt honored to be cast, since Dudes was a chance to work alongside trained actors whereas in Suburbia he had been among a group of “street kids” similar to himself, all without acting experience.

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Another musician cast in Dudes, though in a minor role, was John Densmore, former drummer of the Doors. Jahnson met with the surviving members of the Doors while working on his script for The Doors (1991), a biographical film about the band; Densmore had moved into acting, knew Spheeris, and had heard about Dudes, and asked Jahnson if there might be a part for him in it. Jahnson spoke with Spheeris, and Densmore was cast as one of the Montana sheriffs who is murdered by Missoula late in the film.

“I worked with a lot of great people on that movie who went on to do some really great work. They’re so thankful now that people are finding it and are being able to see it again. It’s so weird, because when it plays with contemporary audiences, they seem to get it,” Spheeris said.

“I don’t want to pat myself on the back and say my film was ahead of its time, but I do think it was an out-of-the-box film for its time,” Spheeris said.

Before Spheeris came on board to direct DUDES, Randall Jahnson meant it to be “a darker, more serious film than it became.” Spheeris found elements in the material that were ironic and funny, and she capitalized on them to make an enjoyably quirky movie.

“The tone was not as known then as it is now. I think it was a little difficult for Jahnson to see his film morph into something else entirely,” Spheeris said.

Spheeris saw DUDES as an opportunity to shake up the formula. To go along with the tone, Spheeris points toward Cryer’s involvement as a way to subvert expectations.

Cinematographer Robert Richardson walked up to my door, because there was no social media back then and I don’t know why he didn’t call me, and said, ‘You’re an amazing filmmaker. I would love to work with you.’ And I thought, ‘What the hell? Really?’ He had white hair back then, too. It was freaky,” Spheeris said. “I’m looking at the door right now and it was some freaky looking young guy with white hair. So I told him, ‘Well, I’m about to do this movie. Let’s party.’”

Spheeris and Richardson found a shooting style that mirrors the anxiety and tension of the film’s plot. Even the editing in DUDES (done by Andy Horvitch) has a calculated pace that’s full of energy and doesn’t slow down.

“Maybe the style just says a lot about me, because I live in constant anxiety and tension. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. I’m really jealous of people who live without it,” Spheeris said. “I have that, and I think that may be the reason why I might appeal to certain audiences: They have it, too. It all feeds into the punk lifestyle. It’s a lifestyle that is very tense and anxious, and I’m a punk rocker at heart.”

“I honestly could care less about making any sort of narrative film today. The whole landscape of moviemaking is so different than it was back then,” Spheeris said. “I’m interested in movies that talk about social change and understanding human behavior.”

I really kind of love that Jon Cryer is leading man in Dudes. I feel like we all wanted Ducky to get the girl in Pretty and Pink. And this is like the opposite of a John Hughes film. Penelope Spheeris: I think that’s why he wanted to do it. He also says that this is where he learned comedy, on Dudes. He wasn’t comfortable with comedy before that.

Did you originally have anyone else in mind or had you wanted him? Penelope Spheeris: We looked at quite a few people. I don’t remember them all but I do remember Keanu Reeves. He must have been just a kid, I know, just a gorgeous little boy. Just a sweetheart of a guy. But I gotta tell you everybody was pushing for Jon because of Pretty in Pink. Keanu didn’t have any credits under his belt at that point. I like Jon too, and I’m glad he did it, but it was a stretch for him. Not only with the comedy but with the punk rock too.

Yeah. I feel like Keanu could have easily been a punk rocker. Penelope Spheeris: Oh totally. Even to this day.

Daniel Roebuck is joining you for this. Do you have a favorite memory of him on set? Penelope Spheeris: Roebuck? Yeah. He complained really a lot. Hahahah! The mohawk. How embarrassing it was. I was like, “No dude. You kinda look cool. Don’t you get it?” He had to wear a hat when he was not shooting because he was so embarrassed of the mohawk.

What was his persona off set? What was he about? What was he into? Penelope Spheeris: Total serious actor. It’s in his DNA. It was a push for him too to do the comedy but I think that’s what’s cool. They weren’t both natural comedians. That’s what’s great about being a good actor, they can morph into whatever they need to do and they both did it.

From the soundtrack to the cameos, I feel like Dudes has about a million Easter eggs in it. Is there something or someone people should look for when they watch it this weekend that most people miss? Penelope Spheeris: Yes, okay. I’ll say this in due respect because she just passed away, but Pamela Gidley (Fire Walk With Me) was an actress. She never got to high stardom but she sure did hang in there in the music business. She was this gorgeous 20-year-old in the scene in the restaurant. She’s the one who kinda lures Jon over to her table. So Pamela Gidley is in there. And I love that scene when Jon goes into the bar and talks to Lee Ving and actually approaches him. And the girl sitting on Lee’s lap is Christina Beck, and she was one of the girls in Suburbia.

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PRODUCTION/PRINCIPAL PHOTOGRAPHY Cinematographer Robert Richardson, who had recently finished working on Platoon (1986), personally approached Spheeris and expressed interest in working with her. Tejada-Flores and Jaffe had been impressed by Richardson’s prior work, but did not think they could afford him; however, Richardson agreed to work within their cinematography budget.

Principal photography for Dudes began on August 14, 1986. The early scenes set in Queens were filmed in Hollywood, with establishing shots of the New York skyline and other buildings edited in to create the illusion of being in New York City. The opening scene, a punk rock show with the Vandals performing their song “Urban Struggle” (with its opening lyric “I want to be a cowboy”), was the first to be filmed. Cryer and Roebuck both had musical theatre backgrounds and were not very familiar with punk rock, and neither had been in a mosh pit before. Cryer later remarked that he found it to be rough, but fun and less violent than he had expected. Roebuck, however, recalled that he and Cryer were being trounced by the extras, who were actual punks, and that first assistant director Guy Louthan’s plea to the crowd to “not hurt the real actors” only caused them to be targeted more. Stunt doubles were used for some of the action, and the one standing in for Roebuck punched one of the punks squarely in the face. Flea, who had been to many punk rock shows, had no problem filming the scene: “That was very controlled in comparison to, like, a Black Flag show at the Starwood where people are getting sent out to ambulances all the time, and getting their heads really stomped in for having the wrong hair and shit…so I felt comfortable and fun in that environment”, he recalled 30 years later. A scene in which Grant, Biscuit, and Milo nearly fall off of a fire escape was shot in downtown Los Angeles with the actors at ground level, then edited together with shots of stuntmen dangling from a higher level. A scene in which Grant flirts with a woman played by Pamela Gidley and gets into a brawl with her boyfriend was filmed at popular punk hangout the Atomic Cafe.

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Production then moved east, outside of Los Angeles. The redneck attack and Milo’s murder, set in Arizona, were filmed in Agua Dulce, California at the Vasquez Rocks. The rodeo scene, set in the fictional town of Peckerville, Wyoming, was filmed in Clarkdale, AZ . Some of the desert scenes were filmed in the Four Corners region, including Monument Valley on the Arizona-Utah border; filming in this region was delayed by inclement weather including dust storms and rain. Filming in Arizona lasted four weeks, with additional location filming taking place in New Mexico and Utah. For one of the driving scenes, Spheeris suggested that Cryer, Roebuck, and Flea sing “Hava Nagila” while head-banging to show that their characters were enjoying their road trip. Catherine Mary Stewart joined the crew midway through filming to perform her scenes, including the jailbreak scene set in the fictional town of Crossfire, Montana, which was filmed in Cottonwood, Arizona. She had a lifelong passion for horses and was an experienced rider, so enjoyed filming the horseback riding segments, but suffered a broken ulna when she stopped her horse abruptly to avoid hitting a parked vehicle and was thrown into the vehicle herself. This occurred toward the end of filming her scenes, so it did not significantly impact the shooting schedule.

While filming the climactic showdown between Grant and Missoula, Ving heard that there was asbestos in the building being used and refused to re-enter it, so the sequence had to be rewritten and edited to show less of his character. Spheeris liked Flea’s performance so much that he was asked to return to filming so that his character could appear in the final scene, which had not been in the original script.

Bethlehem native Daniel Roebuck can still remember the disappointment he felt when “Dudes” opened 30 years ago to withering reviews and dismal box-office returns.

“We all worked so hard, and by that point [scriptwriter] Randy [Jahnson], [director] Penelope [Spheeris] and [co-stars] Jon [Cryer] and Catherine Mary [Stewart] were my friends,” Roebuck says. “So watching something you worked so hard on tank was not easy.”

But a funny thing happened to “Dudes” it became a cult classic. Time has been extremely kind to “Dudes,”.

Roebuck admits he had a hard time impersonating a punk rocker, particularly in a sequence that required him to endure the rigors of a mosh pit.

“Although my roots are in Bethlehem, I certainly have no problem dialing in the New York City attitude, which Biscuit definitely required. But I can tell you, the punk rock stuff proves what an actor I might be, since the heaviest music I listen to is usually written by Mozart or Rodgers and Hammerstein.”

One of the biggest adjustments for Roebuck was getting used to wearing his hair in an enormous mohawk.

“Let me be perfectly clear: I hated that mohawk,” he says. “Is there a word greater than hate? I don’t know. Despised it, regretted it, reviled it might all work.”

While Roebuck was squeamish about the mohawk, he was incredibly brave about doing his own stunt work, which required allowing someone to shoot an arrow four inches from his face.

“ ‘Dudes’ was without a doubt, my most physical movie, with fighting, horses, gunshots and arrows, and driving. Was I nervous with the arrow? Hell, yes I was! But I was young and stupid and had no children to worry about.”

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Dudes (1987) Soundtrack Urban Struggle-The Vandals Jesus Came Driving Along-The Leather Nun Number off the Bathroom Wall-Faster Pussycat Dirty Pool-The Little Kings Lost Highway-The Little Kings These Boots-Megadeth Yard Dog-The Tail Gators “Mountain Song’-Jane’s Addiction Rock ‘n’ Roll Till the Cows Come Home-The Tail Gators Show No Mercy-W.A.S.P. Vengeance Is Mine-Simon Steele & The Claw Rock ‘n’ Roll Outlaw-Keel Blue Suede Shoes-Carl Perkins Amazing Grace-Steve Vai Waltz Across Texas-Ernest Tubb Time Forgot You-Lethal Weapon Louisiana Swamp Swank-Steve Vai

CAST/CREW Directed Penelope Spheeris Produced Herb Jaffe/Miguel Tejada-Flores Written Randall Jahnson

Music Charles Bernstein Cinematography Robert Richardson Edited Andy Horvitch

Jon Cryer as Grant Daniel Roebuck as Biscuit Flea as Milo Lee Ving as Missoula Billy Ray Sharkey as Blix Glenn Withrow as Wes Michael Melvin as Logan, one of the gang members Axxel G. Reese as Red, one of the gang members Marc Rude as Sonny, one of the gang members Catherine Mary Stewart as Jessie Calvin Bartlett as Witherspoon Pete Willcox as Daredelvis Vance Colvig as Hezekiah, a prisoner in the Montana jail

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY wwwmcallcom randalljahnson.com https://www.dmagazine.com/ Wikipedia

DOUBLE FEATURE RETROSPECTIVE – The Boys Next Door (1985)/Dudes (1987) The Boys Next Door (1985) SUMMARY:Roy Alston (Maxwell Caulfield) and Bo Richards (Charlie Sheen) are two outcasts of their high school community.

#80sFilms #80sMUSICVIDEOS

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ssteezyy · 6 years ago

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Ask the Cat Doc: Frequent Vomiting, Cats and Young Children, Hyperesthesia, and More

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Welcome to our regular “Ask the Cat Doc With Dr. Lynn Bahr” segment! Once a month, Dr. Bahr answers as many of your questions as she can, and you can leave new questions for her in a comment.

Dr. Bahr graduated from the University of Georgia College of Veterinary Medicine in 1991. Unlike most veterinarians, she did not grow up knowing that she would become a veterinarian. “It was a cat who got me interested in the practice and I am forever grateful to him,” said Dr. Bahr. Over the course of her veterinary career, Dr. Bahr found that the lifestyle of cats has changed dramatically. As the lifestyle of cats has changed, so did Dr. Bahr’s client education. In addition to finding medical solutions, she also encourages owners to enrich their home environments so that their cats can live long, happy, and healthy lives.

This new understanding led Dr. Bahr to combine her passion for strengthening the human-animal bond with her veterinary background and knowledge of what animals need and want to start her own solution-based cat product company, Dezi & Roo, inspired by two cats of the same names.

For more information about Dezi & Roo and their unique and innovative cat toys, please visit Dezi and Roo on Etsy.

Frequent vomiting

My Calico cat Lucky is 14 yo. She throws up hairball w/ bile. We hd bought Feliway to calm her it’s a plug-in, She gets Hart’s hairball remedy plus every day. She overgrooms herself. It seems as she gets older it’s mainly every day or maybe she skips a day. Otherwise she’s healthy & her weight is fine. Can u give me any suggestions? Thanking you in advance! – Mary-Ellen

Hi Mary-Ellen, this is a commonly asked question and I am so grateful that you wrote in. It allows me the opportunity to alert owners like you to the fact that frequent vomiting is NOT normal. It makes no difference whether the vomitus consists of hair, bile, food, or otherwise – chronic vomiting is a medical problem. The fact that Lucky is healthy and her weight is unchanged is a good sign; however, she needs to be seen by a veterinarian who will take her problem seriously. Otherwise, it will be harder to treat as the condition progresses.

Bloodwork is a good place to start, but cats with gastrointestinal diseases typically require an ultrasound exam too. None of these tests are invasive so don’t let that stop you from having Lucky’s problem diagnosed. Depending on what is found, will depend on how she will be treated. There are many options available to help her vomit less often and she will be so much healthier for it. Please don’t be lulled into thinking there is nothing wrong just because she acts fine.

I appreciate you writing in to ask for suggestions. Unfortunately, the only one I have is to have her seen by a veterinarian with expertise in feline gastrointestinal issues. You, and Lucky, will be grateful you did. Let me know how it turns out.

Cat swipes at young children

My friend’s daughter has 2 children, age 2 years and 4 months and a 12 year old cat. She has had the cat 12 years, now enter the children. The cat swipes at the children and has scratched the 2 year old. The daughter has not tried anything to help the situation and at this point has given up. She keeps the cat in a room by herself all day and lets her out at night. The daughter is tired at night and does not play with the cat. She and her husband used to play a lot with the cat, but since the children came have not played much with the cat. She is at the point where she is thinking of rehoming the cat, though she loves the cat. I have suggested many things, but my friend said her daughter does not think anything will work. Is there anything I can suggest to her? – Jo Louise Klein

Hi Jo Louise, I am saddened to hear about the plight of your friend’s daughter’s cat. At one point in this kitty’s life it was loved and an important member of the family. Like you, it pains me to know that is no longer the case.

When my son was young, he would often run after our cats or try to pick them up when they did not want to be held. They expressed their displeasure by swatting at him and left several battle scars to prove it. I used those opportunities to teach my son how to properly handle and live with cats. He soon learned that unless he respected their space, he would get scratched. It took a while for him to learn, but he did eventually become a gentle, kind, animal-lover.

Children benefit from growing up with pets in so many ways. This is a good opportunity for your friend to help her kids become animal lovers. I would recommend that instead of rehoming her kitty, she bring it back into the fold and go back to treating it like an important family member. This is the best solution for everyone and will help her children learn the joy of living with, and loving, cats.

She can start by playing more with her cat in front of the kids so they can see how amusing and fun cats are as they jump in the air, run, chase and pounce on wand toys. This will also help the cat become more comfortable around the kids and vice versa. She should encourage the 2 year old to help feed the cat which will also get both kitty and the child used to being around each other in pleasurable ways. Let the 2 year old throw a treat across the room as this will also bond the two together. Allowing the cat to sit close by while reading to the young ones and encouraging the cat to be present more will be beneficial for everyone.

Using these opportunities to teach her children that kitty is an important member of the family and showing them how to treat her properly will benefit them in so many ways. She can turn her kids into cat lovers by example as opposed to giving this cat away. It would be a shame to discard her and miss out on the chance to have her children learn the joys of growing up with a cat, even, if it means getting scratched a few times before learning how to respect her space. Thank you for being a concerned cat lover and trying to help. I hope it works out well for everyone.

Cat chews on and ingests string

Hello Dr Bahr, I’m a long-time cat owner, but took a 4 yr break after our last cat died. We recently adopted a kitten who is now nearly 6 months old. She’s a joy to have around, but she has two behaviors that are a problem. First, she bites a lot. It’s always play-biting/play aggression. I have already read all the suggestions and do everything I can to not engage with my hands, to disengage from play as soon as she starts biting (she clearly thinks it’s just a fun game and I am her favorite toy), hissing, providing tons of toys and spending lots of time playing with her with those toys. I think she was separated from her mother and litter mates too young and never learned good cat manners.

However, the other problem may be related: She ingests strings. All kinds of strings. She has completely eaten the tails off of nearly every mouse we have, both rawhide/leather types and string types. She has swallowed quite a few lengths of string from toys she’s played with. She chews on the strings and eventually something goes down her throat, she can’t get it out herself, and unless I catch it happening, it’s gone. I’m sure she swallowed at least 8″ of a heavy-duty thread that she used to play with, and I’ve found bits of floss that she’s nearly swallowed. And those are the ones I know about. The problem is, string is her absolutely favorite thing to play with. I cut a toy off one of her wand toys recently, and she went nuts for it with just the string. Of course she ended up eating a few inches of the string before I realized and took it away. I’m trying heavier cording, ribbons, etc. But it is such a concern.

And I’m wondering if the biting behaviors could be related to this incessant string chewing. She also bites on the edges of cardboard boxes, furniture, the edge of our mattress, and various other items. I understand that she could be teething (at 6 months though?) and have provided chewy toys, which she isn’t thrilled with. She doesn’t care at all about catnip, FYI. She will chew on the silver vine sticks, but doesn’t have any other reaction to them either – they’re just good for chewing, I guess. So how worried do I have to be about all these leather tails and lengths of string that have ended up in her belly? And is there anything I can do discourage her from swallowing the stuff? And can you suggest anything new for the play aggression. – Jan Wolfenberg

Hi Jan, cats that eat string scare me to no end because it can be deadly for them. Linear foreign bodies are extremely serious and dangerous, and many cats suffer painful deaths because of it. You should be very concerned about your kitty’s strong attachment to eating tails and string, and you will need to make sure she never has access to it.

Cats are born without teeth. Their baby ones erupt quickly and grow until approximately 5-6 months of age at which time the adult teeth emerge, pushing the sharp baby teeth out. Your cat is still going through the teething stage and her gums are still feeling sore.

She has discovered that chewing on string feels good and is oblivious to the fact that it can be dangerous. As you have observed, string catches easily on the barbed tongue, and because cats don’t have fingers, they are unable to detach it. So, they try by swallowing instead. When it gets wrapped around the base of the tongue, it becomes anchored and turns into a linear foreign body that becomes a serious surgical problem. You definitely want to avoid this happening to your kitty under all circumstances.

Fortunately, she is exhibiting normal behavior for a kitten of this age. I would recommend you continue to play with her several times a day, making sure to remove all toys when you are done. Keeping her active will help engage her mind and body and is the key to successfully treating most behavioral problems. Consider growing safe grass for her to munch on, as well as, finding oral care treats that are meant to be chewed rather than ingested whole. Have you had a veterinarian give her a good oral exam to make sure she isn’t dealing with a gum problem? Juvenile stomatitis is rare but something she should be checked for.

I have known many cats that enjoy using their molar teeth to chew on acrylic or plastic wands. Some even like plastic straws. You may have to hold it horizontally and off the ground so that it is positioned optimally for her. Cardboard is a much safer outlet and you won’t have to be as concerned about her chewing on it. She will always seek out things that feel good to chew so it is important that you find safer alternatives for her to indulge in. That will help deter her from seeking out harmful items like tails and string. Use your creativity to find safe items that will tap into her need to exercise the back molars and help satisfy her urge to chew.

You mentioned catnip and silver vine sticks. Kittens do not generally react to catnip, silver vine or other cat attractants until they become adults. It takes them time to develop the “sensibility” and your kitty may enjoy it when she gets older. Offer it to her again when she is closer to a year of age. There is even a chance she might grow out of her incessant need to chew string too. I hope that is the case. But if she doesn’t, please make sure is never allowed to play with it unsupervised. I wish you the best of luck.

Hyperesthesia

Hi Dr. Bahr, I have a cat who is about 3 years old who has hyperesthesia. They say it’s a rare syndrome and there isn’t a consensus of opinion about what it is or what causes it or how to treat it, yet there seem to be a lot of cat owners online who have cats with hyperesthesia. Is there any research being done? I have found a toy (Laser Tower) that helps distract my cat (Doodle) when she’s having a “spell” and I use it a lot. Sometimes a little catnip also calms her down. Her spells seem to be less frequent as she gets older but she still does have some severe ones that cause her to run around frantically like she’s being chased and she attacks her tail so violently that it sounds like a cat fight. Oddly enough she’s been more “touchy feely” with me (which I like) but I’ve noticed that sometimes sitting next to me or on my lap causes her tail to start swishing which triggers a hyperesthesia spell. We’re a multi cat household and we’ve made adjustments so Doodle is supervised when she’s around the other cats and it seems to be working fine. I am wondering if there is any more research being done or any trials for medications etc. I wouldn’t want to sedate her but I’d be interested in any tips on how else to handle her more severe spells. – Nancy

Hi Nancy, as you mentioned, hyperesthesia is not a common condition, but I have encountered enough cats who suffer from it to know that it is a complicated and frustrating problem. While it is a heartbreaking to observe, I am happy to hear that Doodle is growing out of it. It is my belief that providing cats with lots of playing opportunities and ways to stay active helps keep them happy and healthy and distracting Doodle when she is having a “spell” is purrfect! It may also be helpful to avoid touching or petting her back area to avoid triggering an episode. Has your veterinarian ruled out other causes that may be causing her “attacks”?

I am not aware of any earth-shattering research or break through therapies in regard to hyperesthesia. It is still a mystery and, unfortunately, there are still no definitive treatments for it. Several researchers and clinicians are working on it and hopefully, they will gain a better understanding of what causes it and how to treat it, soon. Fortunately, hyperesthesia is not life-threatening and Doodle is an otherwise happy, healthy, and enriched feline. She is lucky to have you as her caretaker and I appreciate your interest in trying to help her without resorting to administering sedatives. Especially since her symptoms appear to be on the milder side. Thank you for being such a conscientious owner.

Do you have a question for Dr. Bahr? Leave it in a comment!

*FTC Disclosure: The Conscious Cat is a participant in Etsy’s affiliate program. This means that if you decide to purchase through any of our links, we get a small commission. We only spread the word about products and services we’ve either used or would use ourselves.

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