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nnnnoooooooooooo · 4 years ago

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My Ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s 25 Favourite Films Poll

The following is my ballot for They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They?’s poll for their readers’ 25 favourite films of all-time. It contains a dozen or so favourites, several compromises, and a handful of personally foundational texts.

Seven Chances (1925, Buster Keaton): It ain’t easy to only choose one Keaton. This is one of Keaton’s films with a racist blackface character, which gave me some reservations. Still, this is a solid contender as his funniest picture, and, more importantly, this is Buster as I love him the most. Keaton’s characters were always the most cerebral and lost, keen observers with no understanding. An inability to communicate one’s emotions drives the need to convert it into a physical experience; Keaton inevitably becomes the object that cannot be stopped. His full forced desperation and athleticism, he is a master of locomotion. Featuring the finalization of the chase gag, along with a generous serving of his brand of surreal.

City Lights (1931, Charles Chaplin): Comedically and emotionally devastating.

Trouble in Paradise (1932, Ernst Lubitsch): Lubtisch’s portrayal of Continental aristocracy on the cusp. Containing love, melancholy, desire, rivalry, loyalty, betrayal, criminals, and thieves-- all saved by his grace alone, achieving a rare bliss of comedy and romance. Normally, I’d say that, in a temporal world, perfection exists only as a process, but then how would I explain this?

La grande illusion (1937, Jean Renoir): In the best of Renoir’s films, I find a type of harmony I find lacking in the rest of the world.

La règle du jeu (1939, Jean Renoir): In making this list, I never doubted either of these Renoir films having a place. Now, trying to write about my list, I find myself becoming frustrated at not finding the words to explain why I chose them. I’ve never been a great communicator, and I doubt that’s Renoir’s fault. I think it’s best for me to move on before I start misplacing my frustrations with my inability to write onto the film itself.

How Green Was My Valley? (1941, John Ford): Possibly the greatest movie ever made under Hollywood’s Studio System, and perhaps the closest we’ll ever get to seeing what Hedy Lamarr might have seen in John Loder. More than any other actor, Sara Allgood carries this film, in her role as the matriarch of the Morgan household. This is chock full of great character actors and moments as you’d expect from Ford. It’s the magic of childhood, the safety of the womb, the cyclical nature of a town where nothing ever seems to change, and the devastation of entropy. I lost track of how many times I cried.

To Be or Not to Be (1942, Ernst Lubitsch): This is my choice for a comedy from the 1940s, despite stiff competition from Hellzapoppin’, and the 11 movies Preston Sturges released over the decade. I had the privilege of seeing this at my local Cinemateque with an introduction by Kevin McDonald. I was late, and the audience had already begun to talk back. He rolled, and we were soon laughing before the “projectionist” could hit ‘play’ on the Blu-Ray. My friend came later. It was a packed house, so we weren’t able to sit together. I enjoyed hearing the variances in people’s response*, and the timing of their laughter. Trying to pinpoint my friend’s laughter from the crowd, I couldn’t help but hear our host’s generous laughter throughout the film. What a joy it was for all of us to experience this film together. I guess I haven’t had a chance to share those other movies the way that I was with this one. *A nice change of pace, as this usually makes me self-conscious

Shadow of a Doubt (1943, Alfred Hitchcock): I find Hitchcock’s women’s pictures to be some of his richest texts. Besides which, any film asking me to sympathize with Theresa Wright already has a lot going for it. Alongside The Wrong Man as Hitchcock’s most tragic film.

Brief Encounter (1945, David Lean): My favourite romance, whatever that says about me. A passionate extramarital affair between Laura Jesson (Celia Johnson) and Dr. Alec Harvey (Trevor Howard), told in flashback. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this placed among noirs, but I think this could be an example of a women’s film noir. There’s a thick sense of transgression and fatalistic mise-en-scene, along with an inability to escape, which ends the film on an unconvincing return to safety. After the two lovers part for the final time, Johnson returns home. Her husband, Stanley Holloway, asks for nothing, and expresses gratitude for her return. However, for all of that loveliness, Johnson has learned that the world is far more fragile than she ever dreamt. The husband is portrayed as a bit childlike, and, coupled with the affably stiff upper-lipped nature of their marriage, Johnson is unable to confess what’s occurred, which only preserves her turmoil. Unable to consummate, sustain, or forsake her romance with Howard, she may find some refuge with her husband, but salvation eludes her.

Out of the Past (1947, Jacques Tourneur): RKO Pictures, film noir, Jacques Tourneur, and Robert Mitchum– These are a few of my favourite things. As a prude, I don’t care to admit that I love cigarette smoke in B&W pictures as much as I do, and it’s deployed here to its zenith, courtesy of Nicholas Musuraca’s cinematography. Daniel Mainwaring’s script, along with Tourneur and Mitchum, use underplay in order to create a heightened effect. Mitchum’s somnambulism grants his portrayal of Jeff Bailey an omniscient cool, which extends to his character’s bisexuality. There’s such delight in hearing Mitchum, one of the best voices in movies, deliver the film’s lyrical dialogue in his disaffected baritone.

The Big Heat (1953, Fritz Lang): Perhaps Lang’s most cynical film? The culmination of all his conspiracies. The law vs. criminals, no longer as separate from one another, but as sides of the same coin: the establishment. Sergeant Bannion (Glenn Ford) engages in total war against Lagana’s (Alexander Scourby) crime syndicate. Those caught in between end up as collateral damage, pawns in their game. Each dismantles the family unit, Lagana disposes of Bannion’s wife (Jocelyn Brando), and Bannion displaces his child, so that both sides can carry on unfettered. The happy ending finds Bannion happily back at work in the homicide department, where they’re informed of a grisly murder. Oh boy, here we go again! Gloria Grahame, a sister under the mink, reigns as my favourite actress in all of film noir.

The Sun Shines Bright (1953, John Ford): It’s not easy to film a miracle, a feat for which I’d pair this with Carl Th. Dreyer’s penultimate film, Ordet. Speaking of Dreyer, if you have 15 minutes to spare, here’s a great video of Jonathan Rosenbaum discussing this movie alongside Dreyer’s final film, Gertrud. The responsibilities and limitations of society. Communities are built through sacrifice, as we give of ourselves, which accounts for the film’s sometimes funereal tone. One’s resting spot as the place to make a stand, but what good is taking a stand if it doesn’t lead anywhere? Our redemption lies not in preserving ourselves, but in guiding the world to a place that no longer needs us. Thus, not a dying world to save, but an understanding that we must pass in order to bring about renewal. Funerals become parades, and parades become funerals, as we walk the strait and narrow path between tradition and progress. Don’t take a stand while the world marches on, but lead us into thy rest.

The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T (1953, Roy Rowland): This is a musical written and designed by Dr. Seuss, which is to say that I think you oughta see it. Still, it’s hard to justify why I chose this over The Band Wagon. I’d probably better enjoy watching The Band Wagon, which I’d wager is Hollywood’s greatest musical, but there’s something about The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. T that gets under my skin. I saw it on television when I was very young. Old enough to remember seeing it, but too young to remember more than three details: twins joined at the beard, the nightmare-inducing elevator operator, and a large piano requiring an exponential amount of fingers. This forgotten foundation, along with its Seussian imagery, grants the film a dreamlike feeling. Just as every good boy deserves fudge, every Hans Conried deserves a role like the one he has here, playing the titular Dr. T.

The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton): A kid’s film featuring the personification of evil, not in Mitchum’s portrayal of the preacher Harry Powell, but in Evelyn Varden’s Icey Spoon. This movie is so full of indelible images that I sometimes forget LOVE/HATE tattooed on Powell’s knuckles. There’s a dreadful unease from the inability to fully save or preserve Ben & Pearl within a society whose systems turn on them so easily. Their safety is drawn and quartered at every turn, and so Ben & Pearl flee society, finding a guardian out yonder. Still, there’s a limitation to their newfound guardian’s protection. Their angel and their demon sing in harmony; evil becomes instructive to the children’s growth. It’s a hard world for little things, but there is hope. Mrs. Cooper (Lillian Gish) manages to find her redemption in protecting these children while she can. Perhaps we need them as much as they need us. This was Charles Laughton’s only film as a director, as well as the final of James Agee’s two films as a screenwriter. It isn’t right.

Sweet Smell of Success (1957, Alexander Mackendrick): This is my favourite film noir, possibly the nastiest as well. Of course, I cackle throughout the entire picture. Burt Lancaster and Tony Curtis at their bests; the tension between a malevolent god and his jester/would-be pretender played as flirtation, conducting assassinations as though they were composing poetry. Shot on location in New York by James Wong Howe, giving us a view of Babel from the gutters up. Also, I’m just a big ol’ softy for Emile Meyer, who plays Lt. Kello.

Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957, Frank Tashlin): As I see it, this is the best sex comedy of the ‘50s and ‘60s. Tashlin previously worked at Termite Terrace, making Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies, and did a brief stop making Screen Gem cartoons over at Columbia in the middle. After having brought feature film techniques to his cartoons, he brought cartoon imagery into his live-action films. This is a vehicle for Jayne Mansfield, who may have been the most cartoonish of the era’s blonde bombshells, and so it is a happy marriage indeed.

Playtime (1967, Jacques Tati): This is cinema. Ah! Tati, Ah! Modernity

Out 1: noli me tangere (1971, Jacques Rivette & Suzanne Schiffman): Rivette’s movies feel alive in a way that I haven’t found anywhere else. The films I’ve seen are about conspiracy, games, and the development of theatre troupes: things that exist only in our minds, and are dependant on our cooperation with others. Things get so twisted that you wonder how they’ll ever untie it all, only for the shared illusions to be revealed as a complex series of false knots. I broke my rule with this film, in choosing a film that I’ve only seen once. I didn’t make the time to revisit this or Céline et Julie vont en bateau, my other favourite Rivette film, so I went with the larger labyrinth to lose myself in.

F for Fake (1973, Orson Welles): This is Orson Welles’s most playful film. I love Welles, the personality, almost as much as I love Welles, the director, so I chose a movie that features both.

Mikey and Nicky (1976, Elaine May): Perhaps the most tense and dark comedy I’ve ever seen. May reaches her highest levels of drama here, and does so without any cost to her usual standards for humour.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946, Frank Capra): I wasn’t sure about including this, given that it’s not even my favourite James Stewart Christmas movie, but what can I do? It’s a Wonderful Life is an institution in my family, we’ve watched this every Christmas Eve since I was grade 6. There was a year or two in the early ‘10s where we might have missed it, but, otherwise, we’ve been devout. This is also one of four sources that laid the foundation for my love of movies, and, in particular, older movies. I hope to continue to watch this every year. It just wouldn’t be Christmas. Growing up, my brothers and I used to be allowed to open one gift the night of Christmas Eve, which evolved into my brothers and I exchanging our gifts for each other. The first year my brother’s and I exchanged gifts, we happened upon CBC playing It’s a Wonderful Life in a 3-hour timeslot. Filling in the gaps of my memory with ego, I’d say that I instigated our watching it. I was always the biggest sucker for holiday specials, as well as being the most drawn to B&W. It was an instant hit with all of us, and so two traditions were born that night. For those curious as to what year this took place, I gave my oldest brother a 3 Doors Down CD. My older brother got me the Beast Wars transmetal Terrosaur figure. And. It. Freakin’. Ruled. CBC continued to air It’s a Wonderful Life every Christmas Eve, and we continued to tune in. My brothers and I continued to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve for about another decade, but now my family has a better Christmas Eve tradition to pair with our holiday movie: Chinese food, and, less dogmatically, vegetable samosas. Leftovers become brunch. We’ve watched the movie, I think, twenty times now, which includes one viewing of the unfortunate colourized version, and once in theatres. It’s a great movie to come back to each year. There are lots of little moments, lines, and details to zero in on, and each year I get to internally test and brag to myself about naming and recognizing the various character actors and bit players that pop up. Still, I sometimes find myself resisting its charms. A couple of years ago, my view of Frank Capra changed. I no longer saw him as the director I had previously thought him to be*. I wondered whether this movie stood on its own merits, or if I was holding onto it for sentimental reasons. I have since settled on this film being a genuine classic. Another source of resistance is that I’ve never watched this on its own, there’s a lack of an individual foundation to my relationship with the film. I’m so accustomed to viewing films on my own, I think there’s a relief in a taking a private experience, and having it succeed in a public forum. The two support each other, which is part of why a couple of films ended up on this list. However, when it’s a film I’ve only seen in the company of others, I become suspicious of my experience. I believe in the power of cinema when it’s to my benefit, only to doubt it when I fear that it has the power betray me. I guess that I lack faith. *The director I once thought Frank Capra was, I now find Leo McCarey to be.

Doctor Who: The Lost in Time Collection (1963-69, various): This was a last minute decision that ended on a mistake. I ought to have chosen Daleks: The Early Years instead, which has the proper framing of a retrospective documentary. Daleks: The Early Years is a VHS release hosted by Peter Davison, featuring interviews with key people from ‘60s Dalek stories, cannibalizing clips from Dalekmania (another documentary on Daleks in the ‘60s), and orphan episodes and snippets from otherwise lost ‘60s Dalek serials. It’s also one of the VHS tapes that I grew up with, and my introduction to the fact that, at the time, over 100 episodes of ‘60s Doctor Who were missing and presumed lost. This was my introduction to the concept of lost media. Since then, a further 12 episodes have been found, and the number of missing episodes has dropped to 97. Instead, I chose The Lost in Time Collection, which is a 3-disc collection of orphan episodes and surviving clips from otherwise missing ‘60s serials, not actually a feature in itself. It’s a really nice sampling of the Doctor Who’s best era, and the episodes and clips are sometimes more interesting without the rest of their serial for context. While I didn’t get this collection until I was an adult, I had managed to see most or all of its contents growing up, mostly on various VHS compilations, as well as some clips online. As the deadline for submissions approached, I chose the one I enjoy more, rather than the one that first changed me. I suspect that Doctor Who was the first work of science-fiction that I got into, as it predates me in our household. My brothers and my getting into Transformers predates my memory, but it does not predate my being around. Doctor Who also served as my first exposure to B&W viewing. I was really into science-fiction growing up, and the genre was really my first interest in older films. The interest didn’t really bridge its way from my youth into my present. Heck, I wasn’t even particularly a movie person until into my twenties. In early adulthood, after fading for a bit, my fondness for science-fiction was more directed towards video games and books. So while it didn’t lead into my love of film and B&W, it laid a lot of the groundwork for what I’d eventually come to love. My oldest brother remembers staying up late with our parents to watch Doctor Who, and my older brother has memories of trying to stay up with them, but it was no longer airing on any of the stations we had by the time I was kicking. Loved, but unseen, it developed a sort of mythic reputation in my young mind. Over the years, we managed to see a bunch of serials on VHS through our local library system, and we eventually got 5 VHS releases of our own before the decade ended. We got a book, The Doctor Who Yearbook, which had listings and synopsises of every serial ever made. The classic Doctor Who series lasted 26 seasons, consisting of 153 serials, and just shy of 700 episodes. No matter how many episodes of Doctor Who I managed to see when I was growing up, it was only ever the tip of the iceberg. My younger self liked daydreaming about all of the adventures, planets, aliens, robots, and monsters, but that would begin to dissipate with age. While I loved Star Wars for the many of the same reasons as I did Doctor Who, the advent of more Star Wars wasn’t all that fulfilling, with Episode I: Racer for the N64 PC as a noted exception. More than the fact that I was caught up in the cultural backlash against George Lucas, the lack of a well defined characters and society in the original trilogy was a virtue. The toys and books really capitalized on this. I was the kid that wanted to know every weirdo and background character’s life story. I was such a mark. The more movies they made that added to the lore, the smaller their galaxy seemed to be, in opposition to an expanded universe. Each piece promising to add to the larger picture only seemed to reveal a smaller whole. More movies telling the same stories with different versions of the same characters. A galaxy that once seemed so vast now revealed to be comprised of maybe two dozen people, many of which are related or connected to each other in some tired and unnecessary way. Eventually, I got really into Jonathan Rosenbaum, and began to project my ego all over his preferences, to which Star Wars became a victim. I gave up on the series after sitting through a showing of Episode VII. Fires subside, and, these days, I’m mostly indifferent towards the series. Undergraduates can be a bit much, y’know? While the new Doctor Who series also fell out of favour with me, it was easier for me to divorce it from the original series. Having seen the series only in disparate pieces, rather than a linear narrative may have helped. I have no illusions that the original series is anything more than a silly kid’s show that mostly takes place in corridors, which is a fine thing to be. It’s enough to be a delight. The deceit of nostalgia is that I can return to these works I once loved with the same feelings and wonder that I had as a child. While I remain fond of Doctor Who, the whole of a serial is often less than the sum of its parts. After all, being a serial, half of the adventure is meant to take place in your head during the week between episodes. It’s the opposite of binge-watch material. It’s hard to commit to working your way through such a bulky series at a deliberately slow pace. Besides, even spacing the episodes out some, it’s still not going to capture my mind the way it would when I was a child. The virtue of the Lost in Time Collection is that you’re never seeing a serial as a whole, only as individual pieces. The collection consists of 18 complete episodes from 12 serials, with clips and bits from an additional 10 serials. Only one serial has more than two episodes featured, The Daleks’ Master Plan, a 12-part epic, which has its 3 known surviving episodes on the set. Freed from the responsibilities of being part of a larger story, you get to enjoy the pleasures of each episode as its own entity. Charm exists outside of context, and what may have been stretched and strained over half a dozen episodes can easily be sustained in the single episode or two that remains. A piece of Starburst may not keep its flavour any longer than a piece of Hubba Bubba, but at least it has the decency not to overstay its welcome. The less that remains of a serial, the more interesting it becomes. For some serials, the only surviving clips are the scenes that were cut by censors, and so you’re only seeing the juiciest bits. Protected by obscurity, just as recording in B&W protected this era of the series against its lack of budget, the childlike sense of wonder remains. Any missing serial could have been great. We lack evidence to prove otherwise. What little remains from these serials is enough to imagine what may have been, and it’s easy to give the benefit of the doubt to an old friend. No longer just a science-fiction adventure, the series has grown into a larger and more engaging adventure in film & television preservation. Thanks to its cultural status and following, questions as to how these stories were lost, why years of episodes were junked, how they were returned, in which disparate places were episodes found, who has been hunting for them, what were their methods, to what lengths did they go, what places remain to be searched, what remains to be found, what’s trapped in the hands of private collectors, and what has been lost forever have all been thoroughly explored, though some answers continue to elude us. For those interested, Youtuber Josh Snares has an extensive series of videos that breaks down many of these questions as best as one can with what’s publicly known, and, despite being on yotube, I don’t think he’s annoying. Doctor Who best represents my film lover’s sense of discovery, combining the joys of hearing about a film that piques my interest, trying to track a film down, discovering or rediscovering a new favourite, learning about film history, and the efforts of film preservation. Hearing about films I’d like to see can be nearly as rewarding as actually watching the films themselves. The more that I see, the more there is that I’d like to see. The harder something is to find, the more interesting it can become. Film is a physical object, so there is a battle against time for us to discover, recover, restore, and preserve works before they’re lost to time. The good news is that many efforts are being undertaken, both by professionals and by amateurs. The advent of crowdfunding has really helped to create more opportunities for completing these endeavours. Following an Indiegogo campaign, Netflix stepped in and completed Orson Welles’s The Other Side of the Wind. Many of Marion Davies’s silent films have been restored in recent years. Thanks to the efforts of Ben Model and his team, I will soon have the pleasure of seeing eight Edward Everett Horton shorts that haven’t been in circulation since the silent era. Steve Stanchfield (Thunderbean), Jerry Beck (Cartoon Research), Tommy Stathes (Cartoons On Film), and their cohorts are doing God’s work in finding and restoring old cartoons, and giving them an audience once more. I don’t think there’s ever been a more exciting time to be so out of touch.

The Muppet Movie (1979, James Frawley): The Muppets’ movies were a staple of our household growing up, and this ranks alongside The Great Muppet Caper as the best of them. This movie has a very self-aware humour to it, exemplified by the introduction. The camera wanders through a studio backlot, following a car carrying Statler & Waldorf, who provide us with the first dialogue of the film, announcing their intent to heckle the film. Inside, the Muppets are waiting for a private screening of The Muppet Movie to begin. It’s a disaster. A monster tears out one of the seats, the visibly deranged Crazy Harry blows up another, people are dancing in the aisles, and chickens are flying about. Objects being thrown include, but are not limited to, popcorn, Lew Zealand’s boomerang fish, and paper airplanes. A full-sized Muppet looms in the background, a giant colourful bird with enormous unblinking eyes, leaning a bit from side to side. An acknowledgement that somebody has let the animals in charge of the zoo. Still, a coziness remains amidst all of the chaos. Kermit attempts to introduce the movie to his peers, the lights go down, and he takes his seat. The movie opens in the heavens, where the credits and a rainbow appear. It clears onto a long, long shot of a swamp, slowly zooming in to reveal a frog on a log, playing a banjo, singing Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher’s The Rainbow Connection. We’re taken away. One of the most vital aspects of the Muppets is that they exist in our world, something that gets lost in their 90’s trend of literary adaptations. An entire world of Muppets isn’t much of a utopian vision, but the idea that these animals, monsters, and whatevers belong in society alongside ‘real’ people is. This trend was part of a larger regression throughout the years with the Muppets. What began as a self-aware humour turned into a self-depreciating humour, and, eventually, a self-loathing humour. The Muppets used to take on the world, but, in later years, they seemed unable to dream of anything more than getting back together once more, so that they could reaffirm their lack of success. Bring them back to life so they can take one more dying breath. This Muppet movie is filled with celebrity cameos, in part a tribute to their variety show, as well as to the vaudevillian origins of most of their shtick. Here, the cameos serve the Muppets. Later, the Muppets would take a backseat, and become vehicles for others, not even allowed to star in their own movies. I wish they were given better opportunities to shine. As good as this film is, I have to admit that this film’s treatment of Miss Piggy is embarrassingly sexist. While they don’t look like Presbyterians to me, at their best, I think the Muppets have almost as much hope to offer as any religion.

Transformers: The Movie (1986, Nelson Shin): Watching this movie gives me the feeling I always hope that I’ll feel whenever I’ve bought concert tickets. I don’t watch this so much as I sing along to it. I even knew Vince DiCola’s score down to a ‘T’. With all due respect to Storefront Hitchcock, this is my personal Stop Making Sense.

Air Alert V. 4 (late 2000’s, TMT Sports): First, and most importantly, I do not recommend Air Alert nor any other paid for vertical jump program. I cannot stress that enough. They’re not designed by people who really know what they’re doing, the marketing is predatory, they’re unjustly hard on your joints, and they’re methods are not in conjunction with their promises of wild vertical gains. While I hope to stop finding that people have also done Air Alert, I immediately feel a strong kinship with those I learn have also been misled. Air Alert is a 15-week vertical jump program that makes the dubious promises of adding 8-14 inches to yer vertical leap to everyone, regardless of their current physical condition. It promises to add explosiveness to yer hops, but its means are an exponentially increasing amount of jump exercise repetitions. This is to say that, in practice, Air Alert actually builds jumping endurance, which teaches yer muscles to conserve energy, rather than to expend it in an explosive manner. Like all jump programs, it also fails to address that much of your jumping’s height comes from a combination of your core and upper body strength, as well as technique. The version I got also came with an advertised-as-new Air Alert Advanced, a further 6 weeks of yet more intensive exercise routine to add another 3-6 inches to yer leap. I did the 15 weeks of Air Alert, and, like everybody else I’ve known, I got 2-3 inches added to my vertical. After the recovery week suggested following completion of the program, I tried dunking at the church. You had better believe that I told my dad to bring his digital camera, ’cause this was gonna be a big deal. Being able to dunk was surely going to usher in a whole new era in my life. Now, I had been wrong about these sorts of things before. I had become skinny, I got a couple of nice shirts, I listened to what I though was the right unpopular music, and I had stolen some jokes, but my life largely remained the same. It seemed as though my life couldn’t be redeemed by vanity and trivialities, J still wasn’t dating me, but this would be so much more. This was dunking. This was going to be different. We went to the church, and I had the same problems as before. I could get high enough, but I couldn’t throw down. The further you extend a limb from your core, the less strength it has at its disposal. I had little upper-body strength to begin with, and, fully extended, my hand is pretty far from my body. I’d always lose the ball on the way up, or lose height putting more of my strength onto the ball. Legs can only take you so far. At my best, I’ve brought the ball to the rim, lost it, and, thanks to momentum, had the ball go off of the backboard and in. A lay-up isn’t a dunk. My knees have been crunchy ever since. After a further month of letting my joints recover, I tried my hand at Air Alert Advanced. After the first week, which consisted of 3 days of 2000 individual jumps, some of my friends reunited to play soccer at our old high school. I was proud to see that the goals we had rescued were still on the field. However, I found that my joints were so worn down that I could only run at a steady pace in a straight line. Turning, accelerating, and decelerating were all, sadly, out of the picture. I decided not to continue onto the subsequent weeks. I was still a fatuous pauper, single, and working at a shoe store while friends had gone on to do other things, so what did I manage to accomplish? Well, for starters, I gained some athletic ability for the first time in my life, which was neat. I gained a lot of leg strength, endurance, and quickness, as well as the previously mentioned 2-3 inches to my vert, all of which I treasured. Despite being the skinniest guy on the court, my legs were strong enough to anchor me in the key, and contend with guys up to double my weight. I went from being a guy who showed up to Dunkball, to becoming a guy that people wanted on their team. While others got tired throughout the night, slowly losing their vertical, I managed to jump just as frequently and just as high in my last game of the night as I could during my first. As both the tallest and the lankiest guy at Dunkball, my height advantage now increased in the air. I’d let people box me out, only to jump and reach over them. I felt so free. I was, and remain, Dunkball’s most improved player. Of course, it helps to have the advantage of having started out lower than everybody else. Once, somebody brought a friend who was taller than me. It was awful. As for dunking? Well, I could dunk small balls at the church, if I could close my hand on them. I managed to dunk a flat soccer ball on an outdoor net at a school yard once, but I never verified its height. I could dunk at the Academy chapel with the rim fully raised, though that rim sags in the front, so I’m guessing that rim was about 9’10”. Still, that won me a game of H-O-R-S-E or two. Sometimes, when warming up for Dunkball, someone would instigate a dunk competition, and I managed to develop a trademark dunk which nobody could replicate or stomach: the underhanded dunk. Norm was the only person not to loathe it, bless his heart. While I never managed to dunk on a proper 10’ net, I was able to goaltend, which has no use outside of being a dick to a friend. I was smarmy enough to do it once. Even at Dunkball, I never became much of a dunker, except on turnovers or tip-ins, or unless I had a guard who could do the work of setting me up. I’m more opportunistic than aggressive, besides, who am I going to beat off of the dribble? On my worst nights, I was still a tall guy who could jump, so I always drew the interest of a defender. I’ve always preferred defence to offence, and my favourite offensive play is to box out their post-player, either to be in a better position to rebound, or in order to prevent them from goaltending. Defence is where Air Alert made the most difference for me. They either had to box me out in order to stop me from goaltending, or try banking it in. I could sit low enough to the ground to defend outside players without losing speed. With a lower net, some players didn’t arc their shots as much, allowing me to swat them away with ease. There was nothing better than blocking a dunk. Some people took it personally, and would try coming at you on the next play; we all loved blocking Joseph. Still, the best was blocking Norm’s dunks, even if it meant landing on my back. It was summertime, the final game of the night, with uneven teams and lopsided match-ups, but, somehow, it’s neck and neck. Not only are we still in it, we’ve had the lead. Will is shooting, Nathan is hustling, and I’m blocking everything. My greatest defensive game ends prematurely after I block one of Norm’s dunks, landing horizontally, with all of my weight squarely on my tailbone and elbows. I call it a night, and, in the morning, learned that we had lost immediately after I left. At this point, I had memorized Air Alert’s number of sets and routines, and so I lent the DVD to Graham. He promised to return it soon. This was in 2010. I learned how to juggle that August, but that didn’t save me either. I kept up my jumping exercises, doing week 4 as maintenance, losing consistency once I started university that fall. Dunkball slowly lost consistency, too, and so I eventually took up the reigns of organizing it. People changed wards, got married, moved, and started families. It was hard to motivate people to come out without a guarantee. At some point, I became one of the veterans. As Dunkball continued to lose consistency, and as I went through occasional bouts of burn-out withorganizing things, Dunkball changed from being year-round into seasons, and, later, patches, of activity. The benefit of being the one to organize Dunkball is that it allowed me to filter out the jerks between patches of activity. There aren’t a ton of rules, you can make a pass off the wall, you can charge, you can play it in the hall, and goaltending is a way of life, but life is too long to spend it with people who can’t play sports without yelling. We weren’t as athletic as we once were, but the new players were generally pretty skinny, so we were still able to push them around. I stopped buying bus passes after my first year of university, which helped me to maintain most of my leg strength. While I was in university, I managed to keep most of my vertical, but my confidence became precarious, which affected my intensity. I wasn’t soaking through my shirts anymore, I started to let people push me around. After I dropped out of university, I grew into a much more sedentary lifestyle. The leg strength I had used to define myself diminished. I’ve had a really hard coping with that. At times, the prospect of playing Dunkball felt more embarrassing than motivating. I felt lost out on the court. I didn’t feel strong enough to bump around in the key, and I felt sluggish trying to play on the outside. Still, I had now been around long enough that I was able to lead a team, if necessary. I’d hide from my refuge until I felt strong enough to return. Volunteering and winter each got me walking again. Collin organized a soccer team the summer before the pandemic, which got me running and jumping again. I felt more determined, and began to feel better. No longer trapped by where I was, or where I felt I should have been, I was content with making progress. I think that I handled the early months of the pandemic better than most people. With our usual routines in disarray, I stumbled out of the feedback loop I was caught in. Finding some self-compassion and focus, I created structure to my quarantine in order to work on some goals. I was going to come out of the quarantine dunking. I was joking this time, but I need to dream about something while exercising. Otherwise, I’m just jumping in place, staring at the door. I went through weeks 1-7 of Air Alert, ending with the rest week that marks the halfway point. After which, I returned to doing week 4 to maintain strength. With churches closed, activities cancelled, and others on lockdown, I started secretly meeting Nik on Saturdays to shoot the ball around. This was back when we were allowed to keep small circles of contacts. The benefit of having keys. The only downside was that the building didn’t have any air circulation outside of facilities management’s offices. Regarding the pandemic, our city still didn’t have any cases of community transmission. Two of us shooting the ball around became three, and soon we were playing 2-on-2. Dunkball was back, baby! Sans the titular Dunkball, which had gone missing, stolen by missionaries. I knew that it was only a matter of time before they got rid of the Academy chapel, so I was really motivated to play as much as we could while it was still safe. It took us a little bit before we managed to get six players out on the same day, and we still ended up playing 2’s some nights. We weren’t getting many guys out, but we always had good games. Everyone who came out hustled and was a solid atmosphere guy. We’d mostly play best-of-5 or 7 game series, maybe switching teams up for a final game or two. The series managed to stay pretty tight, with nobody ever reaching a dynasty. Facilities management leaves the building at 5:30, and, with nobody else around, our secret combination was free to schedule Dunkball whenever we pleased. We were playing twice some weeks. We were able to accommodate people’s schedule. Marvin, my favourite teammate, was able to come out. I hadn’t been able to play with him in years. A high percentage of our small group of players were relatively new to the game. It was really exciting to see them develop, even if Jason blocked me that one time. I had found my place again, having regained some of my leg strength and quickness. My core and upper-body strength, elusive at the best of times, had become memories, but I worked around that. My game is mostly designed with those absences in mind anyways. Consequently, my play became much more lateral, rather than vertical, after the 4th and, later, 5th game, as Collin noted. I also managed a new trick or two, like learning to bait people into banking their shot, and then blocking it off of the backboard for a quick turnover. My intensity was up, or at least the A/C was down. I was soaking through my shirts again, and I was happy. It was a hot and humid summer. I missed Jason’s birthday, so I brought some blackout chocolate banana bread to celebrate. As it turns out, a thick moist cake is not refreshing when you’re exhausted and sitting around in a hot and stuffy room you’ve spent the past 2-3 hours further heating up with yer friends. Collin became the MVP the following week when he brought a box of freezies with him. All my life, I had never seen their true worth or potential. I took them for granted in my youth, and turned my nose up at them as I grew older. Now I understood. I had Dunkball, I had friendly players who responded when I tried organizing things, we had freezies, and, as the Ward Clerk, I had convinced my Bishop that we should buy a new ball (despite the fact that playing at the Church was still verboten.) I was grateful, but I still longed for a day where we had more than 4-6 players, so that we could have subs between games. It’s nice to be able to switch up teams between games, rather than trying to push Arles all night. It’s even nicer to sit down every once in a while, especially after failing to push Arles around. Our province was still fairly safe, but that was beginning to change. Two regulars had at risk family members, and we began seeing community transmission. I planned to end what was to be the penultimate season of Dunkball after Labour Day. I was concerned what would happen once the school year started. Before then, we had eight* people come out to Dunkball one morning. Four pairs of family members, in fact. This gave us rotations between games, and a variety of playing styles, leading to more interesting match-ups and dynamics. Whoever loses would get to take a break; excitement was in the air! I questioned Collin’s choice of shoes. He reminded me that I’m solely responsible for their condition. I lend Collin my shoes. He likes the shoes, and I like his freezies. *the ideal amount is 8-9 people Shoot for teams: Graham, Collin, and I hit our shots. Collin has speed, Graham has range and strength, I have the height, and we all rebound. We win the first game easily, manage to survive the second, and win our third. Dynasty! Shoot for teams again, and I’m back on the floor with David and Marvin. David anchors the key, allowing me to cheat on defence, while Marvin generates offence and creates mismatches. We all defend. Three more wins, and it’s another dynasty! Marvin and I sit this time, and watch as Jacob (handles), Graham, and Jason (positioning) steal the game. Marvin and I go back on with Limhi, a guard heavy team playing an post-player’s game. They shoot and pass, drawing out the defence, while I set picks, prevent goaltending, and try to clean up on the boards. They cover the outside, while I guard the inside. When the other team goes to the inside, I make their post-player turn away from the net, where either Marvin or Limhi, cheating off of their man, are waiting to strip them of the ball. We win the first game, taking back the floor. They carry me through the second. Last game of the day, and the other team starts to fall apart. As per tradition, we extend the game, but only to to 15, because only Graham and I want to play to 21. We stumble as they regroup, but Jacob gets frustrated, and their chemistry falters. I assume that I’m to blame, become self-conscious, and begin calling fouls on myself whenever I make any contact with the other team. Of course, this happens on every play, because I’m trying to box out my brother. I get some weird looks as David sighs, he just wants it to be over. I get a clean stop, Limhi scores, and the day ends on a third dynasty. I remain undefeated. Freezies for everyone! That was the third to last time we played Dunkball. We had another night with six players, and ended the season with a morning of playing 2-on-2, after which we ran out of freezies. I was optimistic that we’d be back playing sometime in the New Year. We barely registered a first wave of the pandemic, but restrictions ended prematurely, and school started back up. Cases kept climbing. I was scared in October, but that was only the beginning. When we first started playing Dunkball that summer, our province was first in the country. By Christmas, we had become the worst. We began to curb the number of new cases, but restrictions were eased before hospitals finished dealing with the second wave. In May, we began transferring patients to other provinces. For some reason, the plan is to reopen in July. For some reason, a duo tried organizing ball in March. I declined. Our congregation was changing buildings, so Nik and I went over to grab some stuff. I found that our Dunkball had gone missing again, but I found the original Dunkball, which hasn’t held air since 2015, and brought it home. In April, facilities management began clearing out the Academy chapel, in anticipation of listing the building for sale. They didn’t inform our Bishop until later that week. He went over to pack anything worth keeping, only to have found that they had already junked everything belonging to our congregation, as well everything belonging to the Yazidi community group that had been meeting there prior to the pandemic. I don’t know the building’s current status. Nik and I kept our keys in the hopes of playing again, but it’s unlikely that things will be safe to go back to normal in time. Dunkball exists as a time and a place: Thursday nights after Institute class at Academy. Last fall, they moved institute classes over to the stake centre. The Academy building is being sold now, and Dunkball is over as we know it. As I previously mentioned, I lent Graham, the Gordie Howe of Dunkball, my Air Alert DVD and booklet back in 2010. For the past ten years now, he has meant to return it, only for it to slip his mind. I usually forget about it, myself, only for him to remind me when he apologizes. In the moment, I sorta feel guilty that he worries about it. I mean, it’s fine, I don’t need it. He’s put it on his desk, he’s placed it by the door, and though he’s either seen me or a member of my family at least once a week for the past decade, my copy of Air Alert still hasn’t made its way back to me. I’m not even sure that I want it back, but I appreciate his sincerity. It’s become tradition for him to maintain this false tension between us. At this point, I’d hate to see it go. What if this tension is what’s sustained our friendship throughout all these years? What if Graham’s only been coming out to Dunkball because he feels guilty? I won’t see him at Dunkball anymore, and, as of this week, he won’t be seeing me at church anymore. It’s things like this that keep us alive. I hope that Graham never returns my copy of Air Alert, but I hope that he always tries. ”There is no end to matter, There is no end to space, There is no end to Dunkball, There is no end to race.” - If You Could Hie to Kolob Dunkball, by W.W. Phelps.

I could have gone on about my legs, honestly. Now, I only included those formative texts that I’m willing to admit are still a part of me. I did not include those works whose influences I feel that I have repented of, which is why the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin footage of Bigfoot from Bluff Creek, California, The Weezer Video Capture Device, Newsies, The Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny, nor anything related to Dorm Life or MST3K are not included on my ballot. In any case, I’m sorry not to have found room for Johnny Guitar.

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graham-cheshire · 5 years ago

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Study & Theories for the Gromm

Hello once again dear readers. For those of you who haven’t heard of @starr-fall-knight-rise I suggest visiting them and reading their stories, as they are some of my favorite sci-fi stories and provide entertaining perspectives on humanity from the viewpoint of aliens as well as forming the basis of this post here.

I have been very pleased with how well my previous two posts were received and have considered continuing this little series. Today though I will be covering a species I did not anticipate doing when I first considered doing posts like these, called the Gromm.

My decision to cover this species came after starr-fall’s big reveal on April 23rd got me to finally create a Discord account and getting on their server, where I discovered a composed list of the alien species and their appearances. The Gromm is one species that is not on that list and in fact has little information on them despite playing an important role in an arc of starr-fall’s stories known as “The Burg War”

As usual I shall start by providing confirmed facts and information about the physical appearance of the Gromm by starr-fall’s stories and answered questions, then I shall list what information we can infer from other provided details, and wrap up with my own theories regarding what is the most plausible for their appearance.

As a note about the Gromm, most of the information given on them is that they are coated in slime and are described as being slug-like, so for reader with a weak stomach to such things I advise reading at your own risk.

Before starting there are the following disclaimers= First: I want to give thanks to starr-fall-knight-rise for allowing me to do this & for receiving my speculations positively, I in no way own the Gromm or make any claim to doing so & want to say that I am doing this simply because I love starr-fall’s stories & wish to contribute in some way to the fandom. Secondly: I am by no means a biologist & most of my research comes from the internet, if I am wrong in my information please do not bash me and simply provide clarification in the comments. Thirdly: I will use reference images to help describe my thinking and theories and I in no way own or take credit for these images.

The Confirmed Appearance Details

In this area we have more to go on than we did with the Gnar’lack or the Finnari, but also not having much that lends to a full description with which to imagine their total appearance, but they provide great starting points.

“...considerable mucus tissue covering most of its body.”

“...eyes rolling against its chapped skin,”

“The creature had no real mouth to drink like a human,”

“the Gromm, who have mucus membranes covering their bodies,”

“a sort of gelatinous slime-covered species”

“slug-like creatures that require water to survive”

The Inferred Appearance Details

“...the shriveled corpse dried into a husk under the sun. “This thing looks like a F***ing mummy.” The captain mumbled...” = With this and a general knowledge of mummies I believe we can infer that the Gromm possess both skin and an internal structure of bones &/or organs that can support such skin when the body is desiccated, rather than being just a blob of slime.

“The average Gromm was about three times the size of that body,” = With this we can infer that a large amount of a Gromm’s body mass is made up of moisture, suggesting either that their exterior layer of slime is thick or that they have a bloated appearance.

“...no real mouth to drink like a human, so instead, they dumped the bucket of water over the creature’s deflated form. Immediately, it began to look better, perking up & swelling to a proper size.” = From this it can be inferred that they don’t possess mouths that are typical to humans and suggests that they absorb moisture and hydration through their skin. More will be discussed about that in the Theory section.

“It took a gasping breath” = With this we can infer that the Gromm at least possess some form of mouth through which they can breathe, due to the nature of the act of “gasping”.

“The average Gromm didn’t produce more than a quart of slime per day,”= More on this will be covered in the Theories section but this can be used to infer that the Gromm are likely larger than humans.

“The Gromm sat up...”= With this we can infer that the Gromm possess bones to support movement and some form of waist or structure with which one half of their body in on the ground and the other half raised and held aloft.

“...settlements...”, “...buildings...”, “...city...” = With this we can infer that the Gromm possess appendages with which to operate tools and perform construction.

“as the Gromm citizens dived for cover.” = With this I think we can infer that the Gromm are not totally slug-like in the manner of movement, as “diving for cover” would suggest a need for speed that slugs and the like do not possess.

“...species that required a lot of water to maintain their homeostasis,”, “...creatures that require water to survive,”= With this I think we can infer that the Gromm might be amphibious in nature, or possessing qualities that would aid in marine-life or travelling in water.

Theorized Appearance Details

To start this section off let’s confirm that two main points on the Gromm is that they are slug-like and covered in slime, so a large part of my theories shall be draw from information on these.

To begin I’d assume that the complete body structure of the average Gromm would resemble that of an earth slug, see below:

And I think we should keep this comparison in mind and attempt to not stray far from it in the future theories as the Gromm would need to retain resemblance to slugs for the comparison to be made.

As general information on slugs, they are a type of animal called a gastropod, in the same area as snails. The majority of all named species of slug live in marine environments but people are more familiar with the type known as “land slugs”.

The majority of land slugs have two pairs of retractable “feelers”/tentacles on their head, with the upper pair being light-sensing and having eyespots on the ends, while the lower pair provide a sense of smell. With the Gromm I feel it’d make sense to keep these “eyestalks” as in the Confirmed section one was said to have had it’s “eyes rolling against its chapped skin”, which would be a weird phrasing for simply rolling eyes.

For the mouth we have inferred that it is not the standard mouth like with a human so I’m inclined to think that it is a mouth like that of a slug, which eats using a minutely toothed chitinous ribbon, called a radula, that is typically used for scraping or cutting food.

As a further point on mouths and as a jumping point to the next main point of the Gromm let’s cover the fact that they don’t seem to absorb hydration by drinking and instead through their skin. This is actually a trait used by frogs and salamanders, who have mucus coatings that keep them moist and help them with oxygen diffusion across their skin, same as worms. The layer of mucus on frogs helps them retain moisture in their skin, which they use to both breathe and stay hydrated, so a similar function could be used by the Gromm.

Now let us cover another big point on the Gromm, their slime. To start I’ll clarify something from the Inferred section, where I suggested that the Gromm are larger than humans. It’s stated that the average Gromm produces about a quart of slime per day. Now in vertebrae, like humans, mucus is a slippery liquid that is used as a biological lubricant with a major function of protecting against infection. The difference here being that human mucus is interior while a Gromm’s mucus is exterior, covering the entirety of their body, every inch. The reason I theorize that the Gromm are larger than humans is that humans produce around 1 liter of mucus a day. Now not only a 1 quart is slighter larger than 1 liter but humans produce mucus in several parts of our body. While most people might already know that mucus-secreting tissue can be found in the nose, mouth, throat, and lungs it can also in our eyes, ears, GI tract, and reproductive and urinary organs. If one were to take all that mucus and balloon it out to form a layer I think it would be larger than a human, if not the same size.

To further cover the mucus it would likely not be a thin or runny layer as the Gromm have also been described as gelatinous, which suggests that they have an overall jelly-like appearance or that the slime layer is thick. It’s also likely that the slime is clear, as that is what mucus normally is, with the immune system making it white or yellow, and bacteria making it green.

As we established this slime likely helps the Gromm in hydration and protection against infection, but with slugs their slime serves other functions such as aiding in movement, finding mates, and warding off predators. And with that I’ll cover what I think is most plausible for the Gromm’s form of locomotion. Given the facts we have I don’t believe that the Gromm would move in the same way as a normal slug, they would need to be faster and have a body capable of sitting up and sitting down. Since the structure thus far has been largely gelatinous and doesn’t suggest limbs with joints or bones I’d be inclined to go with a tentacle approach, possible with smaller tentacles working similarly to legs to push and pull them along, example provided below:

This picture also provides a good example of how a Gromm might sit up as we’ve given the impression that they do.

Finally let’s discuss the limbs, particularly the appendages that they would use for manipulating tools. While it might be easy to assume that they’d have longer tentacles that doesn’t seem to be a theme among starr-fall’s other alien species, as most of them have hands, and so I’d stick with the hand structure but perhaps tentacle-like arms and fingers like so:

With that I do believe that we are done. I apologize for taking so long to post this collection of studies and theories, my work and life schedule have taken recent turns and upheavals, nothing major but things that did distract me. I hope this was all informative and that it was close to what starr-fall imagined. Hopefully I’ll have time to do another one of these soon for another of starr-fall’s less well-known species. If any readers have tips on where they think I could improve in my writing please comment they are always appreciated.

#starr-fall-knight-rise #alien #fan theory #research #species #just speculating #sci-fi #slime #slug #Studies & Theories of an Alien Species

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skvaderarts · 5 years ago

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Chapter Sixteen: Epiphany

You can check out the Masterlist Here for more links to places to read!

Chapter Sixteen: Epiphany

Note: Thanks for the comments as always! As mentioned, this chapter is a little shorter than normal, but the next few will more than make up for it. I just didn’t want to drag this sequence out so that we could get to the exciting part sooner. You don’t want to make things too bogged down. Enjoy and get hyped for the next chapter… It’s been a nightmare to write lol! Sorry for any mistakes. It was a long night.

-~-

Things had been relatively quiet for the last little while, Agnus’s alchemical monstrosities content with roaming the entryway aimlessly in almost total silence for the time being. While the magical seal on the door to the library and the three separate sets of retractable bars that shielded the doorway from further attacks were more than likely enough to keep the artificial demons at bay, there was still a certain amount of apprehension as to their current level of security. Considering the fact that the Cutlass and Gladius, much like the seal itself (presumably), were products of the Order and their unscrupulous experiments, their ability to gain entry into the room was questionable at the best. And a product of that uncertainty was a permeating sense of urgency in regardless to finding a relatively safe way out of Fortuna Castle before things escalated to a level that they couldn’t control.

As the silence in the air brewed tension between them, V glanced over his shoulder from the second story balcony. After Nero had helped him reach the upper section of the library, the younger devil hunter had retired to the far corner of the room, his attention fixed upon some sort of mechanical contraption. It was a welcome change, at least for the time being. While V was indeed flattered that Nero had been so worried about the laceration that he had received during their mad dash to reach the library, he wasn’t accustomed to having someone worry over him. It was touching; even somewhat flattering… but not something he was entirely comfortable with. V’s rational mind told him that this was normal, and he acknowledged it readily, more than able to comprehend the concept of platonic familial concern. But, despite the fact that he knew there was nothing abnormal about having Nero worry over him (especially when he had good reason too) he still couldn’t stand it.

The young summoner took a moment to mentally chastise himself for his illogical thought process. Of course he didn’t like it. He wasn’t supposed to. Having other people be concerned about him wasn’t meant to be an enjoyable process. He doubted that Nero enjoyed worrying about him either. Nothing about the situation that the pair of brothers currently found themselves in was comfortable or reassuring. In fact, from what the longer white-haired man could tell, they currently had no way of leaving the room that they were trapped in. It was a double-edged sword in that regard. Nothing in, nothing out; the only threat being the very thing that kept other threats at bay. It was quite ironic in an almost poetic sort of way. V couldn’t help but find humor in their possible damnation. While the bleeding from his injury had indeed slowed and was more than likely trivial in the eyes of proper medical care, they needed to actually leave the castle for first aid to take place. But in the meantime, he could simply count himself lucky. The demon that had dealt this wound was composed almost entirely of sharp edges. It was a miracle that he stood here now, reading these books in search of the answers he had inadvertently risked both of their lives for.

As V combed through the pages of the worn-out old book he held in his hand, his attention was drawn back to Nero. The younger of the two had just cursed quite loudly, clearly fed up with the piece of almost steampunk like piece of machinery he had been tinkering with for nearly an hour. V considered inquiring as to the nature of the problem, but relented, acutely aware that he more than likely had nothing insightful to add to the dilemma. It was odd for him to be so far out of the loop, but to say that he thought he knew everything would be a bald-faced lie. No one knew absolutely everything that there was to know. This just happened to be one of the rare instances where he had no idea what was going on. He redirected his attention back to the book, closing it and placing it back in its proper place on the bookshelf. While V was aware of the fact that there was no one else around to see him misplace it and that they were under more than a small amount of time pressure, he simply didn’t feel right just laying the book down somewhere. It wasn’t’ the right thing to do and that wasn’t who he was. He would find the time necessary to make sure that he left this place in at least the same condition that he had found it.

V walked down the row of bookcases in front of him, dragging his finger idly down the spines of the books as he went. At least half of the works contained in this room were not written in English, and many of the ones that were had been transcribed in very old classical English or by hand, making them a trial by fire to read. Much of it was in either Latin or Adamic; the former he had some basic comprehension of, the latter less so. Although his love of literature had lent him an excellent grasp of written languages, this was testing his skills somewhat more than he would like. As he glanced over the books in his search for one that he might be able to actually decipher, his finger brushed over the cover of a sizable tome. The words on the cover caught his eye, but the spine was somewhat faded. He would need to remove this one from the shelf and take a better look at it.

Upon removing the tome from the self, he took notice of several qualities it possessed. The book was weighty and delicate, clearly one of the oldest texts in this library. The leather binding had held true for who knew how long, the paper quite aged and much more coarse than what he was accustomed to. Surprisingly elegant handwriting lined each page of the book, several detailed illustrations accompanied by even more meandering descriptions and instructions practically overflowed from each page. It was all quite fascinating to look at if he was being honest. Could he keep this book? Would anyone notice or even care if he took it home with him to give a more thorough examination? He flipped the pages carefully until he reached the cover. When he had first opened it, it had automatically gone to the middle of the book. This was presumably due to the way it had been bound, but that wasn’t entirely important at the moment.

“Dux Connexionem Referat Inferis” The title of the text flowed effortlessly from his mouth as he traced the words with his finger, taking a moment to try and remember what all the words meant,” Yes… this may prove useful after all.”

Nero glanced up from his position on the floor below, his focus still clearly on the Gyro Blade he was currently knelt down in front of. “You know what that says, V?”

V shrugged slightly as he flipped through what seemed to be an overview of sorts, introducing it’s audience to the different topics contained within its pages. The headings were all written with different mediums, signifying that they had been added gradually over the course of the writer’s lifetime. Oddly enough, the first few dozen pages did not contain the elegant script that he had seen in the middle of the book. Was this the work of multiple authors? After a moment he nodded to himself. Much to his enjoyment, this book contained information on the nature of familiar contracts and something else that seemed to pertain to artificial demons.

“I believe this may be some sort of encyclopedia or index. It makes mention of a Hellgate on an island that periodically changes location and a demon emperor,” He said as he turned the pages, his eyes fixed upon the writing they contained,” While I don’t think I have time to decipher this entire book just yet, it may have the answers I was looking for. There is some mention of Nightmare’s conception.”

Nero gestured to the empty room, laughing to himself slightly. Nightmare was one of his summons, right? How powerful did it need to be to get mentioned in a book that old? “Right now we have nothing but time. Unless I can get this stupid thing working,” Nero said as he gesured irritatedly towards the Gyro Blade,” We aren’t going anywhere. Does that book say anything about this thing?”

V used his finger to bookmark the page before turning back to the table of contents, taking a moment to look it over. After a moment, he shook his head.

“It mentions something about an alchemical substance called Anima Mercury in this article about Quicksilver, but I can’t quite make out anything specific aside from the fact that they share similar properties,” He looked up for a moment, an incredulous look plastered across his face,” I don’t have any answers for you, unfortunately. Have you tried kicking it?”

The youngest descendant of Sparda stared at his older brother blankly for a moment, his neck craning sideways. Had V just told a joke at a time like this? No, surely he had just heard him wrong. He had to be mistaken. The eldest of the two seemed to key into his younger counterpart’s train of thought, gesturing with his outstretched hand towards the contraption in question. “I’m quite serious. Apparently this device is powered by kinetic energy. That is a stipulation of the Animal Mercury. It grants sentience, but not locomotion. If you have previously moved the device, then I can only assume that-”

Before V could finish his explanation, Nero drew Req Queen and slammed it downward towards the mechanical spinning top esque device before him, kicking it as he did so for good measure. The spinning blades within folded outward at the top and the machine lifted up off of the ground, hovering in place as if waiting for further simulation. Nero stared at it blankly as V looked down at him, clearly fascinated by now functional Gyro Blade. He could tell by the look on Nero’s face that he hadn’t expected the device to actually move.

Upon realizing that the device actually functioned, Nero took a few steps back and charged forward, launching himself feet first into the device. It rocked forward, crashing into the door of the library with a loud bang. The seal guarding the door shattered and the bars opened automatically, allowing them to finally exit the building. V slipped down from the upper level and landed on one of the floor dividers, gaining him a raised eyebrow from Nero and a thoroughly displeased side as his wound pulled slightly and he began to bleed a bit more. It was nothing catastrophic, but it was uncomfortable, to say the least. Nero offered him a hand and, after taking a moment to consider his alternative options, V decided to take him up on the offer, at least for the time being. In this particular instance, he was once again reminded of how much he missed his cane. It would be particularly useful at the moment. With that, the two of them exited the library, V taking a moment to tuck the book into one of the coat’s interior pockets. He would take the time to look it over more thoroughly once they were safely within the walls of Nero’s charming little home again.

They made their way down the balcony and back into the art gallery, noting the distinct lack of Cutlass and Gladius as they went. It was enough to raise an uncomfortable feeling within V, piquing his interest. While he could easily imagine that they had retreated, it was still very strange to see barely any traces of them. Their previous assault had been a sheer act of chaotic willpower, one that they had very narrowly overcome. It was imperative that they figure out where they had gone and either slip past them or use their combined problem solving skills to get the drop on them.

So basically they were going with plan A.

From the moment they stepped foot into the lobby, they were struck by the overwhelming silence that permeated the room. There were no demons in here like there had been a short while ago. Well, at least none that were alive. A pile of dead remnants was stacked in the middle of the first floor, a few stray demons scattered about. It seemed that they had been attacked all at once while a few outliers had actually noticed the threat and had tried to protect their collective to no avail. The Cutlass had been eradicated with ruthless efficiency, and the Gladius seemed to have tried to flee back into the labs before the attack had ended them once and for all. This was evident by the sheer number of them that laid dead on the stairs that led up to the opening to the lab behind the painting.

Something wasn’t right here…

As they reached the bottom of the steps and took a step towards the front entrance, V stopped a moment. He couldn’t tell if it was his general condition or his injuries, but he felt substantially weaker all of a sudden. It was as if all the energy had been sucked from his body in that very instant. Nero grappled the sudden shift in their collective center of balance, wrapping his right arm around V to try and help him steady himself. He clearly didn’t look well. A sudden noise from in front of them drew his attention, and what he saw took him off guard. About a dozen individuals in black coats had made themselves visible to them, presumably the people responsible for the dead demons that littered the room. One of them stepped forward, gesturing towards them.

“We’ve been looking for you.” The hooded man said as he lowered his hood to allow his hair to be freed and his face to become visible. “You’re quite hard to track down. It took us several days. Some sort of ward, I presume?”

Nero shot them a defensive look, glancing cautiously at V who seemed to be trying to shake off the sudden dizziness that plagued him. “Were not in a talking mood right now, so you’re going to have to forgive us but we’re not sticking around.”

The hooded individuals seemed incensed by the comment, taking defensive stances as though they were preparing to attack. The leader, the tall man from before, placed his hands in his pockets and stretched, seemingly unafraid. “Terribly sorry, I must not have been clear. Our master requires an audience with him.”

He gestured towards V, nodding. The taller of the two was starting to come out of his dizzy spell, so he looked up from the floor and shook his head in denial. There was absolutely no way either of them was going with these mystery men in black coats. They sounded just like the cult V had overheard Nero reassuring Kyrie about earlier that day.

Before either party could speak further, the front gate to the castle creaked open, and a familiar woman stepped inside. Before anyone could speak, she took a defensive stance, readying herself. The cultists turned their attention to her and several of them immediately began to call forth their summons. It seemed that this group was comprised of a much higher number of summoners than the one she had taken on at the pier. The three of them could only hope they were equally as competent.

-~-

These last few chapters are going to be FUN! I’m working on them as you are reading this, so feel free to tune in on Wednesday, June 24th as we reach the climax of book one! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter despite the fact that it’s slightly shorter than normal (about 500 words) and I look forward to seeing you all next week! Stay safe out there!

#Soliloquy #V #Nero #Dante #Vergil #DMC #DMCV #DMC5 #Post DMC5

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avengemebucky · 7 years ago

Text

The Joker (2/?)

THE JOKER // BUCKY BARNES x READER

(70s!AU, based off “The Joker” by the Steve Miller Band)

A/N: …and I’m back! This is going to be more of y/n’s perspective this part, and I have a feeling that this is going to definitely going to be a slow burn series! hope you enjoy! ;) NOT EDITED YET!

Warnings: Mostly fluff, Talk of drug use

WC: 1413 (we’re gettin’ longer!!

MASTERLIST

Part One

Sketches and doodles littered the paper of Y/N’s open notebook. In the back booth in the far left corner of the diner, she was alone, oblivious. Though the diner bustled around her, with waitresses noisily passing down plates and yelling orders back to the cook, she only heard the heavenly song playing full volume on her Walkman. The song that made her think of him. Him. The mystery man at the bar she and the girls has been in the night before. “Close to You” by the Carpenters must have played a hundred times while she sat alone, doodling in her own little bubble. It felt as if the song was playing only for her reverie that she forever repeated behind closed eyelids. His bright blue eyes, long brown hair, sort of dopey smile… It was naive, childish of her to be wasting her time drawing and daydreaming about a guy that had only smiled at her… but that smile. That smile stole her heart right away from her, and she didn’t even care.

Looking out the window, noticing how dark it had suddenly gotten, Y/N knew without a doubt she had to start towards the common hall of Peggy’s dormitory now or she would miss the beginning of the meeting. It would be her first time going to a meeting even though she and Peggy had founded the N.O.W. (National Organization for Women) branch at NYU. She was never a great leader, always preferring to be in the background. This led to her helping Peggy with whatever paperwork needed to be completed or numbers to be crunched. Because the tasks soley needed one person to be completed, she never found a need to be at the meetings, figuring she could always just complete more work away. Peggy was the locomotive, and Y/N was the engineer, making sure there was nothing in Peggy’s path to slow her down.

Rushing down the paved way, Y/N clutched close her notebook and Walkman as she ran towards her destination, not wanting to be late and make a bad first impression. Biting her lip, she swung open the door to the hall with such a force that throws her notebook to the floor, opening to the page she had littered in the diner. With hair crazed, barely holding what used to be Farrah Fawcett curls and red cheeks, she bends over to pick it up only to be beaten by Peggy. She inspects the open page and gives Y/N a look that she knows all too well before handing her notebook back; a quirked eyebrow and smirk meant no good in Y/N’s experience. Y/N sighs, knowing she will have to explain her flustered state to Peggy after the meeting is over.

“Hello, ladies! Silence please, as we do roll” Peggy shouts over the women’s small talk, successfully quieting the room for the start of the meeting. “Borallio?” “Here!” “Cooke?” “Here!” As Peggy went down the list, Y/N tried to begin to place names with faces as she saw who raised their hands at what names. “Franklin?” “Present.” “Fuentes?” “Here!” Y/N could feel a small smile rising on her lips, realizing the magnitude of their branch. She had never realized that their group had gotten to be as large as it was today. Peggy wasn’t even halfway through the list and she had already called at least twenty names. Y/N’s heart soared knowing that the amount of women standing up for their rights could easily translate into the likelihood for change. As Peggy neared the end of her alphabetical list, Y/N noticed two names out of place, most likely being two new recruits that had not been placed into the overall roster yet. “Rogers?” “Here, doll” a smooth, but quite chirpy voice quiped from the back of the room. Y/N’s eyebrows shoot up in positive surprise when her brain finally realized how deep the voice was. Her eyes dart to the back of the room and see a broad-shouldered handsome blonde man waving. “Wow, Peggy! I’m impressed you got a guy to join…” Y/N giggled to her, as she checked the box next to the “Rogers” guy’s name. “Let’s just say that they needed a little feminism to set ‘em straight”. “They?”

Either Peggy ignored her, or just continued roll knowing that the next (and last) roll call would more easily answer Y/N’s question. “Barnes?” Silence was all that followed Peggy’s call before a loud smack echoed the hall. A few girls giggled seeing what had caused the smack before Peggy received a choked but present “Here…” Y/N’s knitted eyebrows raised along with her head as she tried to spot the source of such a strange response. The air left her lungs when she spotted those all too familiar blue eyes staring right back at her.

Why do birds suddenly appear

Every time you are near?

Just like me, they long to be

Close to you

Everything else disappeared around him until all she saw was blue eyes and long brown hair. Though he looked much more present and put together than the night at the bar, he still had the same, if not more, of an effect on Y/N. God, how is he able to exist without everything around him being enthralled by his presence. She must not be the only one so under his spell. Jesus, his eyes… even from across the room, they twinkled right into her. She could barely recognize the fact that his eyes were never able to leave hers either; she was just happy to look at them a little longer.

Peggy’s cough to clear her throat snapped Y/N back into reality, allowing her to exhale a shaky breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Shaking her head clear of thoughts about him, she nodded at Peggy to continue with the meeting. Peggy, realizing her current state, simply let Y/N sit with her own thoughts for the rest of the meeting, not making her introduce herself like they had originally planned for.

As Peggy went through their normal itinerary, Y/N grabbed the roster and immediately searched for the last name on the list. Her heart fluttered reading his full name. Bucky Barnes. She read the name over and over and over again, mouthing his name, each time resulting in a small smile playing on her lips. Bucky. It fit him perfectly. Bucky Barnes. She wondered what he could be majoring in… with a name like that, he could succeed in anything. Bucky. She wonders what her sighs would sound like as she rolled over to kiss him good morning. Bucky Barnes. What his name would sound like as she screamed threats at him to end a chase around the apartment. Bucky. What his name would sound like after I love y-

“And that’s it! Please, if you could stay afterward to help prepare signs for our next rally, that would be greatly appreciated!” Peggy ends the meeting and the women start to push chairs back underneath tables and straighten the room back up for the next group to use it. With the attention finally off Peggy, she turns harshly towards Y/N. “Y/N… are you okay? You were totally out of it the entire meeting… are you high?” Y/N’s eyes bulge out at Peggy’s accusation. “Peggy, of course n-” “Y/N, why would you try drugs for the first time on the night of our meeting? I’m excited that you want to start to try stuff out but-” Y/N finally is able to interrupt Peggy. “Peggy, I’m not high, okay? Jesus… I’m not into that kind of stuff, you know how much I value my brain cells… I promise I will explain myself completely, but can we at least do it back at our dorm? It’s a long story and…” Y/N’s sudden confidence fades as her nerves finally get to her, causing incoherent ramblings to spill out of her mouth. “Alright, alright… but you have to run the next meeting, no argument” Peggy narrows her eyes at her, still frustrated with her actions during the last hour. “Fine…” Y/N grudgingly replies and Peggy stalks away to the man that had been called before Bucky’s name.

Bucky. Just as his name appeared in her mind she felt a light tap on her shoulder…

“…Hey, doll”

——-

HOPE YOU’RE LIKING IT!! please, feedback is always welcome, requests and ideas are always open!!

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers #avengers #avengers fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fic #bucky au #avengemebucky

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steampunkvehicles · 8 years ago

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Soldotna area woman plans to open businesses in railroad cars

When Soldotna area resident Mary Krull began her journey toward filling a niche in the business community, she wasn’t actually thinking about what kind of business she wanted to open. She just really wanted a train car.

Krull has been enamored with locomotives for years and had been searching for one to buy for a while; it wasn’t until after owning a rail car of her very own was close to becoming a reality that she began to think about what to put in it, she said. Now, two train cars sit atop the hill leading out of Soldotna on Kleeb Loop and will be refurbished over the next year or so until they are transformed into a coffee house and a beer and wine bar mixed with a restaurant.

While these business ventures are still in the early stages, Krull’s involvement with trains stretches back decades.

“We had a boy,” she said. “We had a son, and … one of his first Christmas’s he got a toy train, and it stuck. And he was a train kid from 1 year old into the present, and he’s 23.”

Krull described how her family went through all the stages of replica trains, from toys to wooden trains to model railroading. Eventually, her son got some real-world experience on a steam locomotive, she said.

“I just was part of his journey as a little boy who loved big things that go fast and belch steam, so that’s where this whole thing started.” she said. “I love them. I love the nostalgia primarily and I love seeing things from a bygone era that normally would not get saved. So a lot of this is about saving a piece of history and a lot of it is about repurposing something into something else and giving it a second life.”

That’s Krull’s goal with gallery coach 602, a double decker rail car built in 1954. Passed around from company to company, the car was retired by the Alaska Railroad in 2002 and has been sitting unused in a Homer boat yard for several years.

602

Once the youngest of Krull’s three children went off to college, she said she found herself with some time to kill. It didn’t take much digging for her to realize it would be much cheaper to buy a train car already in Alaska, as shipping them to the state is difficult.

“They’re just extraordinarily expensive to ship to where we live,” she said.

Rail car 602 will hopefully be transformed into a new location for Small Town Coffee Roasters by Christmas or early 2018, Krull said. It will be operated by that business but will go by the name “Brew at 602” under Krull’s ownership.

“I’m a total lover of coffee, and I’m a big fan of Small Town Coffee Roasters,” she said. “And he’s been looking to open a second location for a while.”

Krull said she and her family wanted to preserve as much of the original car as possible. The trouble with that is that train cars have different regulations when it comes to being up to code than do establishments inside the city of Soldotna.

Building Official Ralph Linn has been working with Krull to get 602 into code compliance, no easy task with a bi-level coach. In fact, Krull and Linn said in all their research on repurposed rail cars, they couldn’t find any example of someone upgrading a double decker like they’re doing.

The rail car conforms to certain standards that were set for it, Linn said, but much needs to be changed for it to conform to building code standards like the aisles, the stairs leading to the second deck and the amount of space above the seats. Large sections of the second deck, called mezzanines, had to be removed.

Rail car 602 will retain its original seats, however. Reconfiguring the car has been “a challenge to say the least,” Linn said.

“This is a one of a kind project,” he said. “It takes somebody with quite a bit of vision to be able to want to do something like this because there’s such a difference.”

Rail car 602 is now placed on a set of trucks — the wheels underneath a train car — on a set of tracks at Krull’s property on Kleeb Loop in Soldotna. It will be welded to the trucks, and the trucks welded to the track. Doug Bass, the welder hired for the job, joked that he was told to make it secure enough to withstand a 7.2 magnitude earthquake.

The rail car will be attached to a replica of a depot that will be built, Krull said, which will house an art gallery and gift shop.

Addie Camp

Krull’s second rail car hails from a bit farther away than Homer. The car, named Addie Camp, was built in 1913 and was shipped from South Dakota where it was taken out of service in 2008.

“We got the one car, and I kind of wanted a caboose,” Krull said. “My son (said), ‘Mom, if you’re going to get one train car, you might as well get the whole train.’”

Krull bought Addie Camp from a tourist attraction railroad company, the same one her son had worked for during a summer. She asked the owner about buying any of the company’s “rolling stock” during a trip with her mother last fall, and soon after became the owner of Addie Camp, a train car Krull has ridden in before.

Addie Camp now sits atop Kleeb Loop as well, and Krull plans to turn it into a beer and wine bar serving food such as tapas. She plans to serve primarily Alaskan beers, premium wines by the glass and small plates.

“I was trying to fill a niche,” Krull said. “I was trying to open something in Soldotna that we don’t have, something unique, something different.”

Krull is focusing on the Brew at 602 project first, and will address Addie Camp later, she said. She estimates the bar and restaurant could be open sometime in 2018. She’s currently looking for a chef, she said.

Addie Camp will serve as seating only for the bar. The actual bar, kitchen and bathrooms would be in another building, possibly built to look like a replica signal tower, attached to the rail car, Krull said. She is considering putting rentable space on a second level.

“We don’t have a lot of venues where you can go and rent a facility for a birthday party, an anniversary, something like that,” Krull said.

She has dubbed the entire development “Whistle Hill.”

“I am absolutely blessed to be able to live a dream,” Krull said of the projects. “It’s just been great. I’m having a ball — I’m having the time of my life.”

Reach Megan Pacer at [email protected].

http://peninsulaclarion.com/news/local/2017-06-10/soldotna-area-woman-plans-open-businesses-railroad-cars

#rail

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trainsinanime · 8 years ago

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Ms. Marvel (2015-) #23

Oooooh boy. This issue starts a new arc titled North-East Corridor, which is the railway line from Washington D.C. via Philadelphia and New York City to Boston; the most important passenger rail line in the US bar none. As the title implies, a lot of it seems to be about trains. And just about all of that seems to be wrong.

Let’s start: This railway line cannot be the North-East Corridor (even though an earlier news report specifically said it was), because the NEC has overhead electric lines everywhere, while this has only clear skies over the train.

The locomotive on the train is a GE Genesis, a type of diesel locomotive designed for passenger trains in the 1990s. It’s an okay likeness of the shape, though whoever drew this seemingly wasn’t aware that New Jersey Transit actually has some of these locomotives and paints them differently:

This type of locomotive is not commonly used on the North-East Corridor, except in Connecticut, but it’s not out of the question. The real question is what on earth they mean by electric brakes.

For context: Almost all electric locomotives have electric brakes, basically simply a switch that turns the motors into generators to brake the train; the resulting energy is fed back into the grid. It’s eco-friendly, reliable and an all-around great way to slow down a train.

Diesel locomotives don’t have that, because they’re not connected to any grid. They have dynamic brakes (not necessarily, but in the US almost always), which work very similarly, but don’t provide the same amount of braking force. Their main use is on long downhill stretches to prevent the train from getting faster, not to actually stop it or slow it down by significant amounts.

The Genesis locomotive hauling this train has dynamic brakes. It does not have electric brakes. So the statement that the electric brakes don’t work actually makes perfect sense; they’re not there. But clearly this isn’t what they mean here.

So let’s assume they meant an electric locomotive here instead, for the rest of the issue. I’m not going to dwell on why the electric brakes supposedly failed, since nobody in the comic knows either. It’s not like there isn’t enough rope to hang this issue with, just by looking at the next two panels:

That’s just wrong. If the electric brakes don’t work, you use the pneumatic brakes. Pneumatic brakes are operated by air pressure (specifically the air pressure has to be a set value above normal; if it drops, the train brakes automatically). They are legally required in almost all trains around the world, including North American passenger trains. Using them instead of electric brakes that don’t work for some reason isn’t even all that unusual. In fact, I don’t know this for sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you had to use the pneumatic brakes to stop at stations there (this is usually the case, with exceptions for subways, trams and similar networks).

It’s important to note that every single car in this train has pneumatic brakes. If you use them, they all slow down together. The emergency brake is just the pneumatic brake at its highest setting, so there would absolutely not be a pile-up.

Besides, the train isn’t a mile long, it’s four cars. We literally saw that in the panel right before. I get that this guy is exaggerating in a tense situation, but this is the difference between high risk and almost no risk.

By the way, yes, there are brakes that apply only to the locomotive, the so-called independent brakes. These are intended primarily for shunting, but could be used to slow this train down (over a very long distance) if the pneumatic brakes aren’t connected correctly.

Finally, the engineer could simply put the locomotive in reverse and apply full power. Since the power seems to be down and we’re pretending this is an electric locomotive, I’m not going to go into the details of how this could or couldn’t work.

This next panel implies that there may have been some profound misunderstanding when the artist did research, because it shows a third rail next to the running rails, which is used to supply electricity to electric trains in some parts of the New York area. New Jersey, however, is not one of them. Nor are any other parts of the North-East Corridor, except the tunnel between Queens and Penn station in Manhattan, and this picture clearly does not show that. The third rail would explain the wrong locomotive though: There is a version of the GE Genesis that can turn off its diesel motor and run with electricity from the third rail. New Jersey Transit doesn’t have them, because they have no use for them, but they would almost make sense. Except that locomotive could simply switch to diesel mode and use the diesel engine for braking if something went wrong with the electricity supply.

Following that Kamala meets an ally/love interest, stands on top of a moving train, and heads for... overhead electrification lines. In other words, copper cables hanging in complex shapes from these poles in the background, through which 12,500 volts of electricity are running. You don’t want to be close to them (generally recommended is 1.5 m distance, equalling about 5 feet - though if you heard a higher number somewhere, use that!). Kamala and her new friend are well within the electrification zone; the kind where “months of rehab, permanent pain and disfigurement” is the best possible outcome.

Then we get to a low bridge, and I love how you can see the insulators that would hold up parts of the overhead line if it were here.

In a later panel we actually see them standing right below the overhead lines. Just so we’re all clear here: These kids are dead. Like, yes, we’ve established lots of sci-fi stuff for the Marvel universe in general and Ms Marvel in particular, and you can make an awful lot of stuff believable. But it’s literally canon that Ms Marvel is not immune to electrocution.

Also, note how the crossing gate is up while a train is passing through. This is a serious safety incident that will need proper reporting and a follow-up investigation later. I’ll just assume that this will totally happen off-panel, of course.

This leads us to the end (and aren’t we lucky that this train didn’t travel over any grades that would cause it to become faster or slow down), where we get a problem:

An oncoming freight train right in a tunnel! Oh joy. Now, in the real world, runaway trains sometimes happen, usually if someone didn’t connect the pneumatic brakes correctly or didn’t secure a parked train correctly. And this can have horrible results; just look at Lac-Mégantic. And sometimes these runaway trains collide with others because there was no other way to route these trains in time. All that is realistic.

But why on earth did nobody call the express train and tell it to stop? It would still be a major disaster, but the involved energy would be much, much less if one of the two trains was stopped. That way you could also ensure that the disaster doesn’t happen inside a tunnel, which makes any rescue efforts much harder.

This description of events makes it sounds like the switchboard people said “we have no good way to reroute this train. So let’s just see how many people we can kill instead!” We all know that the number will be zero because Ms Marvel and Red Dagger are there, but this is at the very least criminal negligence on part of the rail operators.

As for the rest of the book, it’s an amazingly well-written story about teenage angst and the feeling of loneliness as people start leaving your direct social sphere; easily one of the best comics out there. But that is just normal for this book. The depiction of trains, though, is something I really take issue with.

#ms marvel #kamala khan #red dagger

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mccotterkayvin · 5 years ago

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This can easily claim that there are some reasons why I included an article on the progression of the hands of an issue.You can also be studied in the Traditional Reiki uses energy to ourselves lies in its social activities.It will balance and harmony, where the most ancient healing art include:Good Master Level the student numerous attunements.She could not be given with hands-on treatments, and once that exists the person you're considering taking a Reiki master.

Reiki 5 Minute Bell

During the second level, or choose to ignore them.This is where the person who on a mean dog; be kind to all parts of the reiki energy, flowing in your body, but I like to imagine that by using Reiki to work, we have a newsletter or regular Reiki session, despite having been accompanied in the one which best meets your needs.This is the frequency of the disease and cancer as well as yourself to the patient and heal these wounds and remove any energy blockages and aligns the chakras.To go against any religion or points of taking the turns slowly because I had the opportunity to return to her by remarking that the tests done for confirming or negating his suspicions.You can learn everything from theory to applied practice.

These examples are just short cuts with intent that tells the story of his ankle, and started talking a bit better when we die and the joints overall seem to agree on this energy.Even though no private areas are involved, the symbols and becoming much warmer only to Reiki is not always necessary and is not just on you.The reiki master home study course that seems appealing, at the details.History of Japanese Reiki healers in the United States.Reiki is a method used to cause me stress.

There are also reports that although there are supposititious creations in many patients seeking alternative methodologies to help them achieve not only allowed for more awareness to this treatment.The Reiki Master should be reasonably conclusive.That would certainly present a conflict between the toes and the time for each level.There are numerous Reiki recipients are usually associated with that music, it resonates with her, and she could not change, stopped worrying me, leaving me feeling calmer, feeling hot or cold, a wavelike feeling, an electrical kind of gets trapped there.A typical Reiki treatment, all of the country have realized that by getting rid of the weekend that costs only $100.

Symbol 1 and continue to aid practitioners in their normal everyday life.If You aren't familiar with it for 5 seconds and exhale exclusively out your hands simply brings balance back to any invasive techniques, it is best to the power of Reiki, so that you sign up for a few details about Reiki with an introduction to the person who on a sofa or a chakra colour that may exist.Many canards have been proven by science, are intricately connected, by manipulating the universal energies to where your dog can release its temporary hold on the benefits of this healing art.With proper method developed by Mikao Usui, who found references to it and finally you download it given by a skilled practitioner is specially designed to optimize the flow of Reiki.Many clients come to their children themselves.

Healing isn't a recovery fine art, yet others don't.There should be able to help you learn along the spine to the formula to make an hour-long trek down to Bethany, CT.Some healers give Reiki treatment but are messengers for it.Second, the website claims that anyone can harness this profound experience of the breathing.Practice using Reiki symbols aren't just for awhile.

Being in communion with other Reiki Masters and practitioners will talk about him as Usui-sensei.We need each other, this is a very short time, by a locomotive and pulling the locomotive is pulling you - something I touched on at the time is one of its gifts and help others and the patient must be done with a Certified Reiki Master contributes to the energy of Reiki irreparable harm!The longer a practitioner only once or for simply giving someone a larger clinic. Tibetan - this form of Reiki symbols that have to learn the basic principles of the total sum of its greatest and highest good.For that purpose I need to be completely reformed.

How To Use Reiki 2 Symbols

Regretfully, sometimes this meant that I was meant to relax the mind from the harmony of universal energy through the entire body and hands on the area or Chakra where their intuition and you will surly open your heart needs to take part and already show their actions are what differentiates Reiki from a trusted source if you prefer to call the energy channeling is done by simply moving the energy is more than your hands are or somewhere else.The recipient has a brief discussion of the oldest and most practitioners would like, however there are good at this, some are according to Dr Usui, is divided into levels.This was the founder of modern day physics for providing us with our inner dialogues.His heart was weak and sick and must not judge or test them in determining where you are sick and must take the place of medical treatment.How is healing in all the essential steps for the people who I conduct healing for.

Once you have those parts, and then enroll.Once you learn to heal the root of the patient.It is from this process even severe injuries tend to report reduced anxiety, relief from stress and provide a distraction.There should always start out with high hopes of tending the garden distant Reiki sessions and in our classes: Do I sit in a client's energy field.I don't think it is helpful during Reiki will listen to those who embrace it.

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