#eric northern reader

[vikingstoner69]

Fandom: True Blood

Pairing: Eric Northman/reader

A/N: I may do part two if anyone may want one too.

Summary: you were tired of Eric always choosing sookie so you leave him in the day and that night he comes for you

You were done with Eric always going to Sookie. At one point he had calmed you as his but now you weren't so sure now you all he cared about was Sookie. You had lived with him for some time so you waited for the morning. you packed quickly and quietly as you went. Loading up your car you go to your old family house that was left to you.

Three hours later you are pulling into the drive. You knew Eric would be pissed but another part of you wondered if he would care or even notice. You bite your lip and push thoughts of him out of your mind. Once the car is unloaded you put your things away. This was the only place Eric had not been invited into so you knew if he did come he couldn't get in. You bite your lip harder as tears spring to your eyes and you try so hard to blink them away. Your heart hurt and you felt empty.

Changing into a shirt you grab the whiskey and glass and sit at the table. Looking out the window you see the sun has now set and your phone starts to go off walking over to the table. You see Eric's name on the screen and feel your stomach turn into knots. All you wanted to do was go running back to him but you couldn't, no matter how much you wanted to. Some time had passed before your phone finally went quiet. So you curl up on the couch with your drink and a knock at the door makes you jump. You sit up and freeze when you see Eric's outline through the blinds.

"I'm not going away (y/n)! You might as well open the door" he says loudly through the door. You sigh and stand up and slowly make your way to the door and you slowly open it.

"What do you want Eric? I'm busy" you snap trying to hide how affected you are that he is here. When you decided to leave, never actually thought he would come for you but here he was.

"Care to invite me in?" He asks his light and smooth. You cross your arms over your chest and he gives you a smirk.

"No, I'm sure you have better things to do like running after Sookie" you snap and he chuckles and you growl losing more of your temper.

"Is someone jealous?" He smirks and you stand up straight. At one point you had been but now he was not your anymore to be jealous over. Now he could do whatever he wanted without.

"You're not mine to be jealous over Eric! I'm done being your second thought! I'm done waiting for you to make good on your promise and turn me! I'm done being your problem" you yell tears breaking free with each word. You felt like your heart had been ripped from your chest. You had traveled and been by his and Pam's side for 7 years now. An along the way you and Eric finally stopped fighting your feelings and you became his.

"(Y/n) please don't do this! Invite me in!"he yells his hand slamming on the door frame. You felt a sob break free for a moment but you pushed it away.

"Why shouldn't I? You made it pretty fucking clear who you wanted!" You snap your anger coming back through the heartache, you truly loved him.

"I don't want her, she's useful! But I made you mine, not her!" He says his tone changed a bit as this went on.

"Maybe I should try showing you how it feels! Find me some hot guy and let him have me" you snap, the look on Eric's face was deadly and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

"You are mine" he growls through clenched teeth. You roll your eyes and sigh as you cross your arms.

"Not any more Eric, you should go, the sun will be up soon" you say softly, seeing the time on your watch.

"I'm not leaving so either invite me in or watch me burn" he growls, you bite your lip and feel your stomach drop. You didn't really want to find out if he was bluffing.

"Eric please come in" you whisper and Eric walks into the living room. You close the door and look up at him.

"I must go to ground and you are coming with me and then we shall continue this tomorrow night" he says he grabs your arm tightly but not painful. You try to pull your arm free but he won't let go.

"Eric let go! I won't take off, it's pretty clear you will just track me down!" You snap and he chuckles, he slowly lets you go but his hand doesn't leave your arm.

"I want you close to me" he says softly, looking down at you. You bite your lip and nod.

"Fine, follow me" you say, you walk away from Eric and start for the door that leads to the underground seller. Once you both enter the room with the only bed in it. You look back over at Eric and see him standing at the foot of the bed.

"What is this place?" He asks, watching you move around the room. There was a small fridge and drinks in the corner.

"Before I was bron my great grandfather used to run moonshine. Now it's just my little hide away when I was a kid" you tell him looking around the room. Eric comes into the room fully and closes the door behind him.

"How interesting" he chuckles, laying down on the bed. You walk to the other side and climb in bed. Eric watches as you get settled before he rolls over and throws an arm over you.

"Eric! Let me go!" You snap trying to move out of his arms only for him to pull you flush against his chest and you feel his breath on your neck and fight back a shiver.

"Good night" he says softly kissing his healed fang marks in your neck and heat flowed through your body. You bite your lip and wiggle a bit and he groans his hand goes to your hip with a tight hold.

"Trying to get comfortable" you tell him his arm goes back around you and you feel his nose run up your neck and it takes forever not to let out a moan.

"If you're not in this bed when I arise you will be punished" he growls, you bite your and nod your head.

"I won't leave, but don't think that means this changes anything" you say softly and he sighs and lays his head back down. You felt his body go slack and you knew that the sun had risen and you closed your eyes and let sleep take you.

--------

You groan and roll and stretch as you open your eyes. Eric is still holding you tightly and your legs are tangled with your head on his chest, his fingers lightly sliding up and down your arm.

"Good evening" he says softly and you sit up and look down at him.

"What time is it?" You ask your eyes to lock with him and he leans up on his elbow.

"The sun just set 10 minutes ago" he says, reaching to stroke your face. You bite your lip and sigh.

"You should go Eric" you say softly, and he sighs sitting up.

"I choose you, Sookie came to me for help but I turned her away to come for you" he says sternly making you look up at him. Your stomach was in knots and your heart was racing.

"Why? You love her" you snap a bit more harsher than you meant to. Eric growls and pins you to the bed. You gasp and look up at Eric.

"I have loved you for years! I promised to turn you! Do you really have so little faith in my feelings?" He stats hovering over you, you look up at him, his words sinking in and tears spring to your eyes.

"Then make good on your promise! Turn me!" You say looking up at him. His fang popped out with a 'click' and you felt heat rush through your body.

"Alright then" he grins and leans down to your neck and you feel your clit throb and you bite your lip to stop the moan.

"Tonight?" You ask hopeful and he chuckles.

"Tomorrow night" he says, pulling back to look down at you. Eric lets your arms go and you reach up with your hands resting on his chest and they glide up behind his neck.

"Then fuck me one last time as a human" you say, Eric's lips crash on yours and you moan your fingers tangled in his hair. You moan when he grinds into you his lips travel down your neck to your ear.

"Your mine" he says hotly in your ear and you moan. Eric leans up and pulls his shirt off. You sit up and do the same Eric helps you strip naked and he pushes you on the bed.

"Eric, don't make me wait!" You beg your back arches as his lips travel down your body. When he reached your thighs he kissed them both before nipping them.

"Oh no sweetheart I plan to take my sweet time with you" he smirks from between your legs making you bite your lip. The moan slips free when he grazes your groin and your hands tug his hair and he groans.

"Bite me Eric" you moan your breath coming out in quick pants. You look down at him, your eyes as his fang sinks into your thigh making you cry out in pleasure. Eric drinks deeply from you as you both keep eye contact. When he had his fill he lets your thigh and healed your bite marks.

"Now it's time for dessert" he growls, you cry out when you feel his mouth on you. Your head falls back as you moan for Eric. He groaned as he ate you sloppy.

"Fuck Eric I'm so close!" You cry out, your eyes close for a brief moment and he takes that second to remove his mouth making you whine at the loss.

"It's not gonna be that easy princess? You need to be punished" he growled against your skin and you bit your lip. Eric starts a hot blazing trail up your body stopping to kiss and suck at your neck.

"Punish me after you turn me, just fuck me" you beg moving your hands to undo his pants and you grab his hard cock making him groan.

"Beging so soon? My you must want me bad" he chuckles toing off his pants leaving him naked above you. You bring his mouth back to yours and you moan at the taste of yourself both blood and your juices.

"I do! I want you so bad" you cry out as he grinds into you. Your hold on him tightens. He runs his cock through your drenched folds. Eric slowly pushed slowly into you and you both moaned.

"You're so tight and warm" he groans in your neck. You whine when he starts to pull out but your whine turns into a scream of his name as he thrusts into you hard and deep.

"Eric!" You cry out your nails dig down his back. Eric snarls and picks up his pace making your toes curl. Without warning he pulls out and flips you to your hands and knees. He retenters you from behind using your hair as a lead, pulling you back into him. His hand runs from your hair to your throat he pulls you back till you are flush with him he nips your lobe.

"I'm gonna fuck you like this every night" he says huskily and you moan as thoughts of him turning you enter your mind. Eric's fangs enter your neck and you push back taking him deeper. He groans as he drinks from you, you always feel close to him like this. He lets your neck go and you cry out feeling so close to cumming.

"Please Eric!" You beg your head on his shoulder and your hand in his hair. Eric groans, his hand slips between your legs and he slowly rubs your clit.

"Please what princess? If you want something, you gotta ask" he says hotly in your ear making you moan.

"Please let me cum Eric" you beg, you felt like your body would explode if the bubble didn't pop, you were so close.

"Good girl, cum for me" he groans in your ear and you moan as you cum hard on his cock. Eric groans as you clamp down hard on him.

"Oh fuck! Eric!" You cry out your vision blurd. He groans as he pulls out and flips you back over leaning down to kiss you deeply. Eric fucks you hard and deep. He groans and cums in you deeply and you moan.

"I love you" he breathes and leans down kissing you deeply. His hands roam your body making you bite your lip.

"I love you two my viking king" you lean up and kiss him deeply before you flip him over on his back with you straddling him his hands go to your hips.

"Oh, what's this? Does my queen want more?" He grins his hands, runs up your thighs to your breasts and you moan as you start to rock your hips and he groans.

"I want to ride you" you smirk down at him and he chuckles.

"Go on then"

[path11podcast]

413 Soul Level Astrology with Mark Borax

Mark Borax has been a nomadic poet his whole life. In the late seventies he traveled the U.S. and Canada performing and selling his poetry. In the mid-eighties, Mark was befriended by his adolescent idol, writer Ray Bradbury, who became his literary godfather, believing in Mark's writing even though it was taking forever. In 1984 he became a comic book writer and the managing editor of Comics Interview magazine. In 1998 Mark rode his Harley Davidson Low Rider, through the U.S. and Europe, stopping for a year in the Tuscan countryside of Northern Italy. Mark's first book, 2012: Crossing the Bridge to the Future, is a bestseller that describes the author's seven-year apprenticeship to visionary astrologer Ellias Lonsdale. Under the redwoods in northern California they created a mystery school which birthed a new form of astrology called Star Genesis, that helps people contact their core nature and life purpose. Mark's new book (co-authored with Ellias) is a Cosmic Weather Report that inspires readers to rethink the whole purpose of humankind and bring on a new future. Mark isn’t like other astrologers—in fact, he’s not like many other people on this earth. Since the late 1970’s, he’s been collecting adventures and spiritual wisdom as a poet, writer, world traveler, and finally, as an astrologer. His journey into astrology began with his apprenticeship under Ellias Lonsdale, an experience which inspired Mark’s first best-selling book, 2012: Crossing the Bridge to the Future, which told the story of his life with Ellias. He continued writing, encouraged by his childhood-idol-turned-friend, Ray Bradbury, and used his growing astrological knowledge to co-author his second book, Cosmic Weather Report, with Ellias, a book that inspires readers to rethink the whole purpose of humankind and bring on a new future. While writing remains a vocation for him, he spends a large chunk of time offering his astrological services to clients and students. Starting in the 80’s, he and Ellias created a new form of astrology called Star Genesis, which helps people contact their core nature and life purpose. Then in 1987, Mark and his wife founded the College of Visionaries and Wizards, an online school that teaches students to read astrology charts in the deepest, most soulful way. In that same year, 1987, he created Soul Level Astrology to free the core nature of human beings and he’s since done thousands of private sessions for people around the world. Mark is a dynamic and provocative author, counselor, teacher, public speaker, musician and songwriter, whose humorous, compassionate and startling insights inspire others to awaken their soul force.

You can learn more about Mark at https://markborax.com/, and you can learn more about his books and services here: https://markborax.com/books/. His third book, The Ruby Heart of the Dragon, which contains a radical revision of the 12 sun signs, is set to be released this year.

-------------------------------

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Check out our new music from Uppbeat (free for Creators!): https://uppbeat.io/t/all-good-folks/connections

Check out this episode!

[lajicarita]

A Note to La Jicarita readers

La Jicarita News began publication as a hard copy journal of environmental politics in 1996, distributed throughout northern New Mexico. Co-editor Mark Schiller and I supported the paper with contributions from foundations like McCune Charitable, New Mexico Community, and Healy, and with subscriptions and donations from you, our readers. After Mark died in 2010, David Correia and Eric Shultz…

[celticbarb]

Book: Highland Surrender

Author: Heather McCollum 

Series: Sons of Sinclair, book 5

Release date: October 24, 2023 

Publisher: Entangled

Book Length: 340 pages

Overall rating: 5/5 Stars

Blog Rating: 5/5 Saltire Flags

Northern Scotland 1592

Hannah Sinclair is feeling a bit of sorrow and depressed watching all her sister in laws with their bairns. She isn’t jealous as she is happy for each of them, it is just that she desires a child of her own. Yet there was no special man for her to love and she was almost 30 years old!  Plus even if there was one it had to be one who wasn’t afraid of her four over protective brothers who are known as the four horsemen of the apocalypse! She felt she was surely headed for a lonely future of spinsterhood and every one of her nieces and nephews favorite Auntie. Yet she desired that special someone to love too but more than anything she wants a baby! 

Erik Halverston of Norway has no choice, but to follow orders of the House of Denmark since his precious sister Iselin’s life is on the line. He will do anything to protect his sister, even deceiving the Sinclairs of Scotia. He really is not a villain, he is just between a rock and a hard place and his sister is the only family he has left and the only person he will ever love! According to his Queen he must find the Clan Sinclair’s weakest link and he feels kidnapping his Queen’s enemies sister is the answer, but he is in for a rude awakening since Hannah Sinclair is far from being a frightened,  biddable, timid, lass who will obey to an enemy! Especially one who lied claiming he was a trader not a Wolf Warrior seeking to abduct her and  forcing her to marry this middle aged chancellor to keep her brother’s in line! See who becomes the real prisoner in this battle of the sexes!

The attraction between Hannah and Eric is immediate, but there are a lot of obstacles in their way, for one he is trying to protect his sister who is in the Queen's custody. He is the General and leader of Wolf Warriors for the House of Denmark. For another he kidnapped a Sinclair sister and he will have to deal with four braw horsemen of the apocalypse who will not accept a man who took their sister against her will! So dealing with a dowager Queen and four protective braw highland brothers Eric will definitely be in a bad position, not to mention their wives. Will it take a warrior Sinclair sister to save him from some of his own mistakes even if he had no real choice. Will the brothers accept this or even care? Read and find out in this brilliant series finale! 

In this series finale which I am sad to see end as I have loved each and every book in the Sinclair series including this book Highland Surrender. McCollum’s books have a bit of everything including true history. As this one for example has Dowager Sophie of Mecklenburg-Güstrow. She was the Dowager Queen, mother of King Christian IV of Denmark and Anne of Denmark. She was Regent of Schleswig-Holstein from 1590 to 1594. Her daughter Anne was married to King James of Scotland and James I of England and Ireland.

I absolutely love how she puts some true iconic characters from history into her fictional stories which are positively brilliant! She also does an amazing amount of research, including interviews with experts that is absolutely extraordinary! This also includes enchanting landscapes, breathtaking betrayal and heartwarming passion that includes this author's triumphant series finale! It had me mesmerized and glued to each word on every single page that definitely swept me away. Yet the major scene stealer is the two stallaways Libby and Trix! It shows how two wee lassies try to save and rescue their favorite Aunt, yet win the hearts of all of the Wolf warriors too! One of the many reasons Heather McCollum has become one of my most favorite authors in the Scottish historical genre.

Disclaimer: I received a free advance readers copy  from Entangled publishing. I voluntarily agreed to do an honest, fair, review and blog through netgalley. All words, thoughts, ideas are my own. 

Buy Links:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BSD4DH2S?_bbid=169567907&tag=individualbookpagesite-20

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/highland-surrender-heather-mccollum/1142856547?ean=9781649374950&st=AFF&2sid=

https://books.apple.com/us/book/highland-surrender/id6445438791

https://play.google.com/store/books/details?_bbid=169567914&_bbreg=us&_bbtype=blog&id=lJunEAAAQBAJ

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Highland%20Surrender%20(Heather%20McCollum)&ac=1&acp=Highla&ac.title=Highland%20Surrender&ac.author=Heather%20McCollum

https://www.entangledpublishing.com/books/highland-surrender

[brn1029]

On this date in music…at least stuff that we are connected with…

April 14th

2009 - George Harrison

Former Beatle George Harrison was honoured with a posthumous star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in Los Angeles. Sir Paul McCartney attended the unveiling outside the landmark Capitol Records building, joining Harrison's widow Olivia and son Dhani. Eric Idle, Oscar-winning actor Tom Hanks and musician Tom Petty also attended the ceremony.

1978 - Art Garfunkel

Art Garfunkel started a six week run at No.1 in the UK with the theme from the film 'Watership Down', 'Bright Eyes' which went on to become the biggest selling single of the year. The song was written by the man behind The Wombles, Mike Batt.

1975 - Ron Wood

After rumours that Jimmy Page, Steve Marriott, Jeff Beck or Chris Spedding variously would replace Mick Taylor as guitarist in The Rolling Stones, a press release confirmed that Ronnie Wood would be joining the band for their forthcoming American tour.

1973 - Led Zeppelin

Led Zeppelin started a two-week run at No.1 on the UK album chart with Houses Of The Holy also a No.1 in the US. The young girl featured on the cover of the album climbing naked up Giants Causeway in Northern Ireland is Samantha Gates who was 6 years old at the time of the photo shoot.

1971 - Procol Harum

The Illinois Crime Commission issued a list of 'drug-oriented records' including 'White Rabbit' by Jefferson Airplane, ’A Whiter Shade Of Pale’ by Procol Harum and The Beatles 'Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds.' (What???…)

1970 - Creedance Clearwater Revival

Creedence Clearwater Revival made their live UK debut when they played the first of two nights at The Royal Albert Hall, London.

1969 - John Lennon

The recording of 'The Ballad Of John and Yoko' took place, with just two Beatles, Paul McCartney and John Lennon. Paul played bass, drums and piano with John on guitars and lead vocals. The song was banned from many radio stations as being blasphemous. On some stations, the word 'Christ' was edited in backwards to avoid the ban.

1967 - David Bowie

David Bowie's novelty record 'The Laughing Gnome' was released in the UK. The track consisted of the singer meeting and conversing with the creature of the title, whose sped-up voice (created by Bowie and studio engineer Gus Dudgeon) delivered several puns on the word 'gnome'. The song became a hit when reissued in 1973, despite it being radically different to his material at the time, the single made No. 6 in the UK charts.

1967 - The Rolling Stones

A riot broke out at Warsaw's Palace Of Culture as The Rolling Stones made their first appearance in an Iron curtain Country; police used tear gas in a battle with 2,000 fans.

1953 - Lita Roza

Lita Roza was at No.1 on the UK singles chart with '(How Much) Is That Doggie In Window.' The 27 year old singer was the NME readers' Top Female artist of 1953 and with this single became the first British female singer to top the UK singles Chart, (and the first Liverpudlian to do so).

[notesfromtheunderground1312]

The Emerald Triangle

Introduction:

In August of 2014,  the US, experienced an unparalleled rebellion over the murder of Michael Brown, a Black man, by Darren Wilson, a white police officer. Like many cities, we had looted and rioted for weeks on end, searching for the limits of our revolutionary capabilities, which turned out to be a lack of  imagination in the end. The same old tools, produced the same results, the talking heads “representing” the people gained a seat at the negotiating table of power, to produce several more black people being killed by the police over the next few years (Tamir Rice 2014,Eric Harris 2015,Walter Scott 2015,Freddie Gray 2015, Philando Castile 2016, Stephon Clark 2018, Breonna Taylor 2020, George Floyd 2020)   without any significant consequence.  This is one story among many that was never supposed to be told. It is about an exploration into the unknown, to build capacity for militant struggle against the US government.

Lex, Jessie, and Bronson aimed to leave town at 10:00am. Jessie borrowed a plain white van from a friend. Jessie was supposed to pick up Lex and Bronson who had gathered all the necessary tools:  bullet proof vests, guns, bolt cutters, crow bars, drills etc. When Jessie finally arrived the two had stepped off the curb becoming more aware of the heavy weight of the bags, and got into the van. Jessie sat in the drivers seat, he was to take the first shift driving the 4 hours to the Emerald Triangle ( the US’s largest cannabis producer located in Northern California)

As the crew drove to the outskirts of the busy city, Jessie nervously chain  smoked cigarettes with the window down, his hat which was covering his balding head, was fluttering with the turbulence of the incoming freeway air.  While on the drive Jessie and Bronson debated philosophy as a way to pass the time, and to get to know each other, this was the longest amount of time the 3 of them would spend together.  Bronson, had spent his teenage years in and out of incarceration, and had become an avid reader. He argued against any universal statements, proclaimed the fiction of race and gender as social constructs. Jessie didn’t really believe one way or the other, he was just driving, fascinated by the conversation.

Bronson and Lex were essentially hired thugs and tacticians for this operation. The two of them had worked together in the streets, organizing black bloc demonstrations, occupations, looting, rioting, and getting into street fights with the police. They where seasoned anarchists.

Jessie was a pot farmer, who had been cut out of a $100,000 grow operation.  The season for harvesting weed in CA is in October, in early August the owner of the pot farm had let Jessie go, claiming the operation didn’t need him anymore. Jessie had managed the farm from start to finish, and was expecting around $50k when all the weed was sold. Instead the owner gave him $8k and cut him loose.

Jessie and Bronson had met at a party during the height of the Ferguson Uprising.  Every major city in the US was on fire, and many seasoned street fighters had reached the peak of their skill sets. The horizon of the struggle was simply out of reach. It was in this moment as Jessie explained the debacle with his boss, that Bronson plotted  on a simple experiment. If armed struggle was to become the next step, revolutionaries would need practice, what better than a relatively low stakes robbery, a dress rehearsal for larger expropriations. The weed farmers wouldn’t call the police, they might try an armed defense of the farm, but by being caught off guard they didn’t have much of a chance.  The same organizing attention to detail and security could be used to plan the heist.

So there the 3 of them where, hurling down the freeway. The philosophical banter continued,   “There is a kind of inherent, although unintentional, anti-authoritarian nature to oral histories” explained Bronson to the van of would be thieves. Lex jumped in to hammer the point home

“ Without a definitive reference point, social regulation becomes like a game of telephone, it’s harder to concentrate power, cause no one really knows exactly what the rule was, or how it should be interpreted. Hammurabi’s code was probably the first solidified reference for law,  literally written in stone…” 

the van began to slow as they approached the exit,  the conversation fell to a silence as the gravity of the situation was beginning to be felt, and they awaited to stop exactly where they had planned.

The road off the exit turned to dirt, and continued toward the mountains. They winded through the steep alpine forest for what seemed like hours, taking deep breaths of the fresh air to calm the nerves .  Finally the van stopped at an unused campsite a few miles from the entrance to the farm. So much planning and discreet meetings, the emotional preparation to possibly get into a gun fight, to shoot someone, or to be shot, in the backdrop of a looming revolution in the US.  

They slide open the old van door and began ruffling through the large bags, found the bullet proof vests and began to put them on.  Bronson was realizing that he had never put a bullet proof vest on before, it was a lot heavier than he thought. They began to load the ghost guns, clearly none of them had much experience, fumbling the bullets around before finding a rhythm of putting them into the magazines, they checked the tools, the last touch to make their fantasy into a reality was to dawn the black mask. The plan was to climb the mountain, a 6 mile walk along the ridge following the electrical lines that lead to the house, to avoid walking up the only road to the  farm. This particular date was chosen by following the “Boss” on Facebook  which indicated that they wold be on vacation during this time. No one in the crew could know for sure, so it was agreed that during the robbery if the “Boss” came up the dirt road they’d have no choice but take the “Boss” hostage to ensure a clean get away.

As they hiked, the sweat poured into Bonson’s face forcing him to stop every so often to wipe his eyes as they went up the dirt hill with 100 lbs of equipment and a loaded gun. The ideological reasons for being there didn’t exist in that moment, only the immediate physical reality was present, the sweat under the bullet proof vest soaking his shirt underneath,  the slightest need to pee, the discomfort of his shoes. Jessie was getting further and further ahead, not only because he knew the route but also because he carried the least amount of equipment. He saw Lex and Bronson lagging behind, the plan needed to be altered, it didn’t meet the physical needs of the terrain. Jessie waited near one of the electrical towers sprinkled along the ridge line, as Lex and Bronson struggled to keep up the the sun started to go down. Jessie signaled for them to come in closer, he whispered “ I’m going to run up ahead and scout to see if anyone is there, you two keep coming, we are getting close. Just keep following the electrical line and stop at the tree line before the farm.” Lex and Bronson looked at each other panting and simply nodded their heads trying to catch their breath. Jessie had worked on the farm a year ago and knew where they might be storing all the weed, he was the best person to go ahead and scout it out.

As Lex and Bronson finally approached the tree line of the farm the sun had just began to set on the valley where the small house was located.  Jessie snaked his way to the tree line to meet them he knelt closer “ I need you guys to aim the guns at the front door while I look in the windows to make sure no one is here before we crack open the storage unit.”  Eye contact between Lex and Bronson  was made and a quick nod, they carefully set down the tools in the darkness of the forest and crept up to the house to take their positions aiming at the door just in case anyone saw Jessie in the window and tried to come out.  Jessie had started at the window closest to the door and worked around the building in a clockwise rotation. He slowly peeked his head up above the window sill like a cartoon bear trying to steal a freshly baked pie. As he ended his search he returned to the other two’s firing positions. “There is no one fucking here!” The excitement of the three of them noticeably lit up their faces even under the black ski masks.  After retrieving the tools, they still moved cautiously together, guns drawn moving in a column towards the shed where the loot was hidden.  

As they approached the door Lex and Bronson assessed the security of the door and the tools needed to open it. The door was held shut with a thick padlock on your basic barn door hinge. Bronson had always been amused at the logic of locks, even the strongest lock in the world can’t make a weak hinge stronger. The bolt cutters where taken out of the large black bag, and Lex and Bronson simply cut the hinge the lock was attached to in two cuts. The thieves swung the door wide open, the room was full of bags and two refrigerators. Jessie quickly  rummaged thru the bags to make sure it contained what they where looking for. He stuck his head in and deeply inhaled, his eyes through his mask looked like he had reunited with an old friend. He simply said “ That’s it” Everyone readjusted their equipment and picked up two bags each. The bags themselves contained 20 lbs of weed each. They hauled them to the side of dirt road, Jessie again volunteered to run down the road to retrieve the van and drive it back up to gather them and the loot. Lex brought up the fact that the “Boss” could up the road at anytime and that we needed a plan on what to do if they did. Bronson took the radios out handed one to Jessie, “ At this point if the Boss comes up that road you need to fire a warning shot at them and radio us, we’ll take them hostage until we are done, and leave them tied up in the woods somewhere.” The risk was assessed by the group and the plan went ahead.  Immediately after Jessie took a radio and a hand gun and began sprinting down the hill, leaving everything with the other two.

Lex and Bronson waited on the side of the dirt road for Jessie to return with the van. No words where exchanged between them, just the silence of the woods. Suddenly some lights came up the road, firing positions where taken until the vehicle could be recognized. It was Jessie, he found a place to turn the van around and the three quickly loaded all the equipment and the loot into the back of the van. All three got in the car and made their way down the dirt road, hoping that this wouldn’t be the moment that someone came up the road. The job wasn’t done until they made it home, they where now traveling with 120 lbs of weed which could still land them all felonies.

The trio made their way to a nearby hotel to check in and hold tight until morning. Jessie had moved weight before but not this much, the standard operating procedure was to travel with a “tail,” a separate vehicle that would trail the carrying car in case police tried to pull it over. They rented a box truck, and flipped a coin on who would drive the truck holding all the loot.  Lex got the short end of the stick while Jessie and Bronson would follow in the tail van, now only carrying the weapons.

As the months went up by after the robbery the three had made an impressive selling operation. Weed sales in CA don’t yield as much profit as out of state sales, plus anyone who happened to sell the weed to the “boss” or their clientele could lead them back to the trio.  Jessie knew real estate agents on the East Coast who could be hired to receive their  mailed weed packages at empty homes they where selling, and could mail back the money disguised in coloring books with the pages cut out. Over a course of a few months the plan unfolded, and the trio made a good profit around $20k each. Lex and Bronson had agreed to use a certain percentage of the money for political causes to up the capacity for militant organizing. But what was specifically  done with the money is a different story all together….

[digital-cameras-singapore]

5 Frames in Old California with an Old Leica - By Eric Norris

5 Frames in Old California with an Old Leica – By Eric Norris

Let me start by admitting that here in California we have a slightly different view of what is “historic” than our fellow 35MMC readers in England and the rest of Europe. Where I live in Northern California, anything more than 50 years old is considered old. A building 100 years old is really old… the state of California, after all, has existed for just over 170 years. Readers in England, no…

[cas-kingdom]

Would you do "Did you just swear at me" with Eric northman x reader for the prompt one. X

“Did you just swear at me?” Eric Northman asked as he stretched languidly out across the swing bench. His blue eyes trained on the small ten-year-old standing in front of him and his voice swirled with an uncommon edge of curiosity.

He crossed his legs at the ankle and you, who’d since realised the mistake you’d perhaps made and resigned yourself to the far corner of the porch, metaphorically sealed your mouth shut.

Eric hummed, lifting his arms above his head to cross on the pillows behind him. He turned his head out to stare across the wide fields of northern Sweden, catching sight of the cows and sheep roaming the meadows, the sky darkening into that wonderful state following sunset. Vampires rarely had time to relax, but he was closest to that when he was here, in his homeland with you, Pam and her persistent mouth still in America. And it was this relaxed feeling that saved you this time, you figured.

“Did you?” he asked again, turning back to you with a raised brow.

You bit your bottom lip and steadied your breathing, knowing that was the first thing he’d hear, whether he was listening for it or not. Lying would make things worse, so you accepted your fate and leaned back against the wooden fence, mustering up a load of bravery to fill your little body.

“Yes,” you said quietly, then took a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

Eric twisted a lock of his hair in the hands above his head. “Come,” he said, giving you a little nod, and you indiscreetly made a face of displeasure, which he smiled to himself at. You dragged yourself to his seat, sitting on the very edge, in front of his feet, hands in your lap, eyes following his gaze in staring out across the grasslands.

“I don’t think you’ve ever used that word before,” Eric mused, peering at you. ‘You can’t fucking leave me!’ still echoed in his brain, in your little voice.

“I didn’t mean to,” you insisted.

Eric doubted that. He doubted you hadn’t known exactly what you were saying in the moment, and hadn’t simply regretted it after. He also doubted you didn’t still mean it.

“I am leaving for three days at most,” he said gently, lowering an arm to lay by his side. “We have had this conversation. Astrid will watch you while I’m away. You will be able to go out in the daytime and help Lukas feed the animals their breakfast. Do you not want that?”

You heaved a deep breath, casting a quick glance his way. “But I’ll worry about you.”

Eric laughed, his eyes smiling with him. “The last thing you need to worry about is me, älskling. That is not the kind of weight a ten-year-old should have on her shoulders.” He sat up, swinging his feet over your head to place on the floor. He sat back and pulled you onto his lap. “I’m going to visit a friend,” he told you, and you scrunched your nose up, knowing that was a lie, knowing he’d been talking about business on the phone just last week, “and I’ll be home before you know it.”

“Fine.” You sat back against his chest.

“Oh, and one more thing—” You shut your eyes at his words— “I don’t care if you swear,” he said slowly, lowering his voice, “but not now, when you’re a child, and never, ever at me. Understand?”

You nodded, your little head bobbing against him, and he pat your leg, settling back once more. “Good girl.”

True Blood Masterpost

[kpoporacle]

Stories

Male reader 👨‍🦰, gender neutral 👤, male oc 🦸‍♂️

Fluff 🧸, smut 💦, making out 👄, angst💔, horny 🥵

Drabble 📃, short story 📑, closer to a novel 📖

AB6IX

Woojin

Summertime 👨‍🦰🧸📃

The Boyz

Haknyeon

Just A Little Longer 👤🧸📃

BTS

Jin and Jungkook

Sandwiched 👨‍🦰💦📃

GOLDENCHILD

Donghyun

The Boy Behind The Mask 👨‍🦰💦📃

INFINITE

Woohyun

Creature Of The Night 👨‍🦰🥵📑

Distraction 👨‍🦰💦📑

Melancholic 👤🧸📃

Safe And Secure 👤🧸💔🥵📃

Tracing 👤💔🥵📃

NCT

Haechan

I Get What I Want 👤🥵📃

Shotaro

Champagne Kisses 👨‍🦰🥵📃

Taeyong

Americano 🦸‍♂️👄🥵📃

Yuta

Disaster 👤🧸💔📃

ONEUS

Leedo

Confession 👤🧸📃

Love Bites 👤💦📃

Suited 🦸‍♂️👄🥵📃

SEVENTEEN

Woozi

Falling Leaves 👤🧸📃

Warm 👤👄🥵📃

TXT

Soobin and Yeonjun

Three is Company 👨‍🦰💦📑

STRAY KIDS

Chan

Held 👤🧸📃

Morning Coffee 👤🧸🥵📃

In Progress

Drafting Stage

Writing Stage

Feel (Jaehyun) 👨‍🦰💦📃

Missionary (Woohyun) 👨‍🦰💦📃

Therapy (Hangyul) 👨‍🦰🧸📃

To Felix With Love (Felix/Male Reader)

Untitled Smut (Leedo/Male Reader)(based off suggestion) flip-fuck

Wake Up The Beast (Bang Chan/Male Reader) fingering and fucking

Plotting Stage

Edge Of Your Seat (Sangyeon) 👨‍🦰💦📃

Exercise In Restraints (Sangyeon) 👨‍🦰💦📑

Kneel (Hangyul) 👨‍🦰💦📃

On His Knees (Seungmin) 👨‍🦰💦📑

Untitled (Jongho) bdsm

Untitled (Moonbin)

Untitled Story (Woohyun/Male Reader) A fading idol works with a detective to find a serial killer

Untitled Smut (Woohyun/Reader) BDSM with a venus 2000 🥵

Untitled Smut (Woohyun/Reader) teasing Woohyun in public with a vibrator

Untitled Story (Rowoon/Male Reader) An agency CEO falls for his model employee

Idea/Concept/Research Stage

Untitled (Leedo) bondage 👨‍🦰💦📃

Untitled (Woohyun) teasing 👨‍🦰💦📃

Untitled (Yunho/Changmin/Reader) 👨‍🦰💦📃

Untitled (Jacob) 👨‍🦰💦📃

Untitled (Haknyeon/Eric/Reader) 👨‍🦰💦📑

Untitled (Sangyeon) morning after

Untitled (Doyoung/Jaehyun/Reader) skinny dipping

Untitled Story (Junho/Male Reader, plus various) high flying comedic space opera

Untitled Story (Leedo/Male Reader) Romanesque, iron age, loosely inspired by the Roman conquest of Britain. The Reader is an imperial citizen who is carried off into the northern tribes

Untitled Story (Minchan/Male Reader) star trek au

Untitled Story (Jung Yunho/Male Reader, plus various) hospital drama

Untitled Story (Jongho) the stone age reader is cursed with immortality

[1962dude420-blog]

Today we remember the passing of Mick Ronson who Died: April 29, 1993, London, England

Michael Ronson (26 May 1946 – 29 April 1993) was an English guitarist, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist, arranger, and producer. He achieved critical and commercial success working with David Bowie as one of the Spiders from Mars. He was a session musician who recorded five studio albums with Bowie followed by four with Ian Hunter, and also worked as a sideman in touring bands with Van Morrison and Bob Dylan.

Ronson and Bowie also produced Lou Reed's Transformer with Ronson playing lead guitar and piano and writing string arrangements, and brought mainstream recognition. The album is considered an influential landmark of the glam rock genre, anchored by Reed's most successful single, "Walk on the Wild Side".

Ronson also recorded five solo studio albums, the most popular being Slaughter on 10th Avenue, which reached No. 9 on the UK Albums Chart. He played with various bands after his time with Bowie. A classically trained musician, Ronson was known for his melodic approach to guitar playing. He was named the 64th-greatest guitarist of all time by Rolling Stone in 2003 and 41st in 2012 by the same magazine.

Early in 1970, John Cambridge came back to Hull in search of Ronson, intent upon recruiting him for a new David Bowie backing band called The Hype. He found Ronson marking out a rugby pitch, one of his duties as a Parks Department gardener for Hull City Council. Having failed in his earlier attempts in London, Ronson was reluctant, but eventually agreed to accompany Cambridge to a meeting with Bowie. Two days later, on 5 February, Ronson made his debut with Bowie on John Peel's national BBC Radio 1 show.

The Hype played their first gig at The Roundhouse on 22 February with a line-up that included Bowie, Ronson, Cambridge, and producer/bassist Tony Visconti. The group dressed up in superhero costumes, with Bowie as Rainbowman, Visconti as Hypeman, Ronson as Gangsterman, and Cambridge as Cowboyman. Also on the bill that day were Bachdenkel, The Groundhogs and Caravan. The following day they performed at the Streatham Arms in London under the pseudonym of 'Harry The Butcher'. They also performed on 28 February at the Basildon Arts Lab experimental music club at the Basildon Arts Centre in Essex, billed as 'David Bowie's New Electric Band'. Also on the bill were High Tide, Overson and Iron Butterfly. Strawbs were due to perform but were replaced by Bowie's New Electric Band. John Cambridge left in March, again replaced by Woody Woodmansey. In April 1970, Ronson, Woodmansey, and Visconti started recording Bowie's The Man Who Sold the World album.

During the sessions for The Man Who Sold the World, the trio of Ronson, Visconti, and Woodmansey – still under The Hype moniker – signed to Vertigo Records. The group recruited Benny Marshall from The Rats as vocalist, and entered the studio to record an album. By the time a single appeared, The Hype had been renamed Ronno. "4th Hour of My Sleep" was released on Vertigo to an indifferent reception in January 1971. The song was written by Tucker Zimmerman. The B-side was a Ronson/Marshall composition called "Powers of Darkness". The Ronno album was never completed.

Bowie's backing ensemble, which now included Trevor Bolder, who had replaced Visconti on bass guitar, and keyboardist Rick Wakeman, were used in the recording of Hunky Dory. The departure of Visconti also meant that Ronson, with Bowie, took over the arrangements, while Ken Scott co-produced with Bowie. Hunky Dory featured Ronson's string arrangements on several tracks, including "Life On Mars?".

It was this band, minus Wakeman, that became known as The Spiders from Mars from the title of the next Bowie album. Again, Ronson was a key part of The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, providing string arrangements and various instrumentation, as well as playing lead guitar. Ronson and Bowie achieved some popularity over the concerts promoting this album, when Bowie would simulate fellatio on Ronson's guitar as he played. Ronson's guitar and arranging during the Spiders from Mars era provided much of the underpinning for later punk rock musicians. In 1972 Ronson provided a strings-and-brass arrangement for the song "Sea Diver" on the Bowie-produced All the Young Dudes album for Mott the Hoople. Ronson co-produced Lou Reed's album Transformer with Bowie, playing lead guitar and piano on the songs "Perfect Day" and "Satellite of Love". Again with Bowie, he re-recorded and produced the track "The Man Who Sold the World" for Lulu, released as a single in the UK, and played on a few tracks on the Dana Gillespie album Weren't Born a Man. Ronson appeared on the 1972 country rock album Bustin' Out by Pure Prairie League, where he undertook string ensemble arrangements. Ronson recorded "Angel #9" for his second solo LP Play Don't Worry), and string arrangements on "Boulder Skies" and "Call Me, Tell Me" .

His guitar work was next heard on Bowie's Aladdin Sane and 1973 covers album Pin Ups. However, he was absent from the subsequent Diamond Dogs album. In September 1983 he was a special guest at the Toronto leg of the Serious Moonlight Tour, playing lead guitar during the performance of "The Jean Genie". He had only been asked to play the day before.

Bowie said in a 1994 interview that "Mick was the perfect foil for the Ziggy character. He was very much a salt-of-the-earth type, the blunt northerner with a defiantly masculine personality, so that what you got was the old-fashioned Yin and Yang thing. As a rock duo, I thought we were every bit as good as Mick and Keith or Axl and Slash. Ziggy and Mick were the personification of that rock n roll dualism.

After leaving Bowie's entourage after the "Farewell Concert" in 1973, Ronson released three solo albums. His solo debut Slaughter on 10th Avenue, featured a version of Elvis Presley's "Love Me Tender", as well as Ronson's most famous solo track, "Only After Dark". In addition, his sister, Margaret (Maggi) Ronson, provided the backing vocals for the set. Between this and the 1975 follow-up, Ronson had a short-lived stint with Mott the Hoople.

He then became a long-time collaborator with Mott's former leader Ian Hunter, commencing with the album Ian Hunter and featuring the UK Singles Chart No. 14 hit "Once Bitten, Twice Shy", including a spell touring as the Hunter Ronson Band. In 1980, the live album Welcome to the Club was released, including a couple of Ronson contributions, although it also contained a few studio-based tracks – one of which was a Hunter/Ronson composition. In 1974, Ronson secured the No. 2 spot from a reader's poll in Creem magazine as the best guitarist that year (with Jimmy Page taking first place), and Eric Clapton in third place after Ronson.

Ronson contributed guitar to the title track of the 1976 David Cassidy release Getting It in the Street. On 11 February 1977 the single "Billy Porter" (b/w "Seven Days") was released on RCA Victor Records, but did not chart. Roger Daltrey employed Ronson's guitar on his 1977 solo release One of the Boys. In 1979, Ronson and Hunter produced and played on the Ellen Foley debut album, Night Out, with "We Belong to the Night" and the hit single "What's a Matter Baby".

He also played guitar on Roger C Reale’s “Reptiles in Motion” album recorded in 1979 and only released in 2019 after the master tapes were acquired from the family of the original rights owners. The label Big Sound, based in Connecticut, had gone bust and the album remained unreleased for forty years.

In 1982, Ronson worked with John Mellencamp on his American Fool album, and in particular the song "Jack & Diane". Both "Jack & Diane" and American Fool topped their respective US Billboard charts.

In 1990, Ronson again collaborated with Hunter on the album YUI Orta, this time getting joint credit, as "Hunter/Ronson". One of the backing singers on the album was Carola Westerlund. While in Sweden Ronson wrote and produced three new songs with Estelle Millburne and Westerlund as EC2: "I'm So Sorry"/"Kiss Me" (1990), then a second single as ECII: "Passion" with a B-side cover of J. Kilette and K. Brown's "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles".

In 1993, he again appeared on a Bowie album, Black Tie White Noise, playing on the track "I Feel Free", originally recorded by Cream. Ronson and Bowie had already covered this track live 20 years earlier, whilst touring as Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. He also played lead guitar on the Morrissey-penned "I Know It's Gonna Happen Someday".

His second and third solo albums were Play Don't Worry in 1975, and Heaven and Hull in 1994. The latter set was only partly completed at the time of Ronson's death, and was released posthumously. Artists involved with the album included Bowie, John Mellencamp, Joe Elliott, Ian Hunter, Chrissie Hynde, and Martin Chambers.

Besides Bowie and Hunter, Ronson went on to work as a musician, songwriter and record producer with many other acts. He did not restrict his influence behind the recording desk to just established acts. His production work appears on albums by more obscure artists, such as Payolas, Phil Rambow and Los Illegals, The Mundanes and Italian band Moda. Ronson produced The Visible Targets, a Seattle, Washington-based group, on their 1983 five track EP, "Autistic Savant". In 1985 he produced and played on the four song EP "Stillwell Avenue" with the NYC based band XDAVIS.

Ronson was also a member of Bob Dylan's "Rolling Thunder Revue" live band, and can be seen both on and off-stage in the film of the tour. He made a connection with Roger McGuinn during this time, which led to his producing and contributing guitar and arrangements to McGuinn's 1976 solo album Cardiff Rose.

In 1982, he participated on lead guitar in a short-lived band with Hilly Michaels on drums and Les Fradkin on bass guitar. One of their recordings from this group, "Spare Change", appeared on the Fradkin's 2006 album, Goin' Back. In 1987, Ronson made an appearance on a record by The Toll. Ronson played lead on the band's song, "Stand in Winter", from the album The Price of Progression.

In 1991, Ronson produced the Swedish cult band The Leather Nun's album, Nun Permanent, adding backing vocals and guitar overdubs on several tracks. At the end of the production, during a short visit to his sister in London, Ronson was diagnosed with cancer. In 1992 he produced Morrissey's album, Your Arsenal. The same year, Ronson's final high-profile live performance was his appearance at The Freddie Mercury Tribute Concert. He played on "All the Young Dudes" with Bowie and Hunter; and "Heroes" with Bowie. Ronson's final recorded session was as a guest on the 1993 Wildhearts album Earth vs the Wildhearts, where he played the guitar solo on the song "My Baby is a Headfuck". Liner notes for the Earth vs The Wildhearts album give credit to Mick Ronson for guitar on the track "My Baby Is A Headfuck" and the "album is dedicated to Mick Ronson".

Ronson died of liver cancer on April 29, 1993 at age 46.

[trans-artivism]

Kyle Simmers

Kyle Simmers (they/them) is a non-binary artist currently residing on Treaty 7 territory in Calgary, AB. I was pleased when a friend of mine pointed me in the direction of Simmers’ work after I mentioned this upcoming class project. Born and raised in the middle-of-nowhere town of Bashaw, Alberta, Kyle Simmers is another prairie artist whose work I found myself feeling acutely connected to. According to their website, Simmers’ work “highlights overlooked intersections of queer and rural experience.” Working through mediums of mural, graphic novel, and illustration, Simmers “explores identity and relationships to engage the public in conversations about queer identity, mental health and what happens to the stories you never tell.” [1]

According to an interview with The Calgary Herald, when Simmers was a student at the Alberta University of the Arts, they dreamed up a storyline for a comic about a character named “Ed,” who was facing the onset of dementia in a small northern-Canadian town. This comic was initially created as a way to help Simmers get through a dark time in their life; “a time when my maternal grandmother was in the early stages of that disease and so it was a thing that my whole family was forced to deal with” … “It started as a project where I was trying to find the light when I could only see dark.” [2] This storyline snowballed to eventually become Pass Me By: Gone Fishin’, the first of a planned five-part series of graphic novels about Ed, created in collaboration with fellow artist Ryan Danny Owen. Perhaps this is part of the reason I feel drawn to Simmers’ work — my own grandmother is currently in the throes of the long, dark battle against dementia; a hardship that has only exacerbated during the COVID-19 pandemic. I love that Simmers took this extremely difficult experience as an opportunity to create a queer, romantic-tragedy graphic novel that traverses time and space, reflecting on memory loss and the histories we choose to forget — or so we think. [3]

After Gone Fishin’ was published, Simmers and Owen set out to create part two of the series, Pass Me By: Electric Vice; bringing readers back to Ed’s youth in 1972. Simmers describes Electric Vice as “a chance encounter between Ed and the charismatic, enigmatic, and androgynous Lou, frontman of the pulse pounding glamorous Electric Vice sends Ed into a world of mascara, weathered leather, platform heels and neon.” [4] Having grown up deeply inspired by the musical likes of Led Zeppelin and the gender-bending fashion of figures like David Bowie, Freddie Mercury, Mick Jagger, and T. Rex, Simmers returns to this beloved, iconic era in Electric Vice. The 1970s and “glam-rock” challenged binary notions of gender and sexuality in the mainstream and “push[ed] a frontier in terms of how you were allowed to express femininity in our culture.” [2] Bathed in pink and purple hues, the photos of this novel (set to release in the fall of 2021) invite the reader on a queer journey back in time to an earlier, long-forgotten period of Ed’s life.

SOURCES

[1] “About,” Kyle Simmers, accessed April 11, 2021, http://www.kylesimmers.com/about.

[2] Eric Volmers, “'Queer rural Canadian tragedy' Explores Glam-Rock, Small-town Life and Dementia,” Calgary Herald online, February 4, 2021, https://calgaryherald.com/entertainment/local-arts/queer-rural-canadian-tragedy-explores-glam-rock-small-town-life-and-dementia.

[3] “Pass Me By: Gone Fishin’,” Renegade Arts Entertainment, accessed April 11, 2021, https://renegadeartsentertainment.com/product/pass-me-by-gone-fishin/.

[4] “Electric Vice,” Projects, Kyle Simmers, accessed April 11, 2021, http://www.kylesimmers.com/electric-vice/3fljiovq2amefi7nnmwpz50yc6gljt.

[vikingstoner69]

Fandom:true blood

Pairing: Eric/ reader

Summry: you tell Eric your leaving town and he sets some things straight.

This is pure smut not edited. There will be more true blood fics requests are open

Title: making you his

You feel anger when you see Eric with a blonde kneeling at his feet and offering herself to him. He wasn't yours but you wanted him to be with everything inside you. You snarl and strom pass him without so much as a hello. You reach the back office and the door slams behind you as you enter the cluttered room and you throw your bag in the corner.

"Fucking asshole" you grumble your mind going back to what you saw out in the club and the anger got worse.

"What may I ask, has you so pissed?" You hear his voice and jump spinning around to see Eric leaning against the closed door to the office.

"Doesn't matter, did you need something?" You ask your tone coming out more rough than you intended and you sigh and look away from him.

"We're linked, remember?" He asks, his voice sounding closer to you now than it was before. And you look behind you to find him standing so close to you.

"I'm leaving Eric I can't do this anymore" your voice is barely above a whisper and you feel him stiffen behind you.

"Do what exactly (y/n)" he asks, his voice low and rough to your ears. You turn and look up at him and your breath catches in your throat. He looked pained. You sigh, biting your lip and looking him in the eyes. You take a step back and try to put distance between you two but no matter the distance you felt like prey under his Intense gaze.

"Be in love with you and you not return the feelings Eric! You want sookie I get that but I can't stay here and watch you chase after her!" You snap your temper rising with your heartbeat and Eric takes a step closer and you step back till your back hits the wall and Eric's hand gose lightly around your throat and you gasp at the rush of arousal that slams into you at his touch and his hold tightens lightly.

"Let me make this Crystal clear (y/n), You. Are. Mine" he growls slowly. Your heart was pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears, your eyes locked with his and the world started to slow till all you saw was Eric and you leaned up and kissed him, his hold going into your hair and your hands clinging to him. You pull back, catching your breath.

"If I'm yours than your mine Eric I will not share you" you say possessivly and he growled lowly your hand running up his chest to the back of his neck and you tug lightly.

"Only yours, forever" he swears before his lips crash onto yours and you moan when you find yourself now straddling Eric, his hands roaming your body. You moan and give him more of your neck as he leaves kisses and soft bites along your neck making your toes curl and your pussy to ache.

"Bite me Eric, please I wanna feel it" you beg pulling his head away from your neck for him to look you in the eyes. His eyes were blown with lust and you could see his fangs poking out of his mouth. He grins showing you his fangs as he brings his mouth closer to your neck and you bere your throat to him. You cry out in pleasure as his fangs enter your neck and you grind down without thinking, getting lost to the pleasure.

"You're all mine the only other vampire you can let feed from you is Pam an you can fuck her as well" he says nipping your ear an you moan at the thought Pam was hot as hell.

"You wanna see Pam and me fuck, hmm Eric would you like that" you moan your head thrown back as he licked your neck clean as you dry humprd him. His hands grabbing your ass and dragging you down harder.

"Maybe one day perhaps but tonight you're mine" he says and before you knkw it your in a king size bed with him hovering over you. You moan and lean up and kiss him deeply, nipping his bottom lip. Eric leans up and so do you, your hands going to his shirt and you pull it up and he takes it off and you lick your lips.

"Eric I want to taste you" you say licking your lip and he chuckles as he follows your command and laws against the pillows as you straddle him taking off your top and bra leaving you in jeans.

"Oh? And how do you want to taste me?" He grins his hands running up and cups your full breasts and you moan your nails running down his chest.

"I want your cock in my mouth and your cum down my throat" you tell him never breaking eye contact as you undo his pants and free his hard cock as you fully remove his pants and you remove your jeans.

"My My, (y/n) who would've thought you had such a dirty mind and mouth. I can't wait to feel your mouth on my cock" he says roughly and you bite your lip. As arousal soaks your undies.

"Oh you haven't seen anything yet" you smirk and grab his cock in your hand and you slowly start to jack him off and he groans. You lean down and suck the head in your mouth and moan as his taste hits your tongue. You moan and take him as deep as you could and Eric's head falls back as you suck him fast and hard.

"You're such a good girl for me" he groans his hand fistsed into your hair as you blow him. You look up and lock eyes with Eric his fangs out and his eyes blown with lust making you moan around him making him cus and he cums down your throat and you take everything he has to give you and you pull off with a loud pop.

"Delicious" you smirk licking your lips and in the blink of an eye you are on your back. Eric smirks over you as his hand skims down your body to your soaked undies. He rubs your clit making you moan your hips thrusting up your hand grip his shoulder as he brings you on the brink of orgsam.

"I want to taste you" he says, kissing you deeply an you moan as his mouth travels down your body and you cry out when he nips your hip. Eric rips off your undies and sucks your clit into his hot mouth making you cry out your hands going into his hair. He groans as you tug his hair and your toes curl as he eats you out like you were his last meal on earth.

"Oh Eric! Fuck so close" you moan grinding into his mouth his hands roaming up your body to your breasts.

"Cum" he growls the feeling sending you over the edge and you scarem as you cum hard, your head thrown back. He groans as you cum on his face and he laps at your cunt working you through it. Eric kisses his way up your body to your lips and you moan at the mixed taste of him and you on your tongue.

"Fuck me Eric" you beg as your cunt throbs for him as he rubs his cock head through your soaked folds.

"I wan't to hear you as I fuck you, be as loud as you want" he smirks and he slowly enters you and you both moan as he stretches you open. You moan his name your nails digging into his back as he fucks you hard and deep. You cry out loudly as he pounds you into the bed.

"Oh fuck Eric! You feel so good" you moan Eric pulls out and flips you over and then enters you from behind. He groans in your ear as he moves your hair and he pulls your head back as he fucks you deeply.

"I have thought about how good you would feel like this" he growls in your ear as he fucks you.

"Let me touch you Eric" you beg and then are on your back once again with Eric fucking you hard. You cling to him, his mouth crashing on yours and you bite his lip and he growls as your nails drag down his back to his ass.

"Fuck (y/n)!" He groans, you kiss him sloppily as you both get even closer to your climax.

"Eric please so close!" You beg, you felt so close your body was buzzing with engry as you got right at the peak.

"Cum for me!" He growls before his fangs enter your neck and you cry out his name as you cum hard. You moan as you feel him fill you full. His fang leaves your neck and he kisses you deeply.

"Guess I'm not leaving after all" you smirk your hand running up his chest and you push him on his back and lean over him.

"Good because I would hate to have to chain you to the bed to keep you here" he smirks his hands running up your side and you bite your lip.

"Maybe I want you to" you grin and he sits up and strokes your face.

"perhaps but you need rest" he smirks and you grin.

"Oh really" you grin and kiss him biting his lip his hold on your hip tightens.

"Rest love" he says and you lay your head on his chest and you close your eyes feeling safe in your vampires arms.

[pprecipitation]

Swagger Souls x Reader

Synopsis: Disapproval is shown throughout the Misfits once feelings are confessed.

Words: 850

Requested on AO3: Jasper ".51 with Swaggersouls ;u; pls and thank <3"

—

It was mid-day, the rest of the crew was already up and moving. But {Name} and Eric still reside in their bed. Normally Eric was up and recording, occupying himself with video games or pot. But today he laid in bed, sleeping the day away, holding each other as if they'll never touch one another again.

The thing is, both of them rarely saw each other. {Name} lived in the Northern part of Australia, which was too many kilometers apart to count. She constantly visited the Misfits house though, coming a few times a month. Although it's a pricey trip, the moments and time spent are definitely worth it. Especially since they are mostly spent with a Eric.

Their relationship was odd, per say. Neither of them called it official. When asked if they are dating, they both denied it. But everyone, meaning their friends, knew they slept together. Their fans would catch on to their flirting and kept an eye out for videos with them together. {Ship Name} fans did have a somewhat good surprise though in the recent podcast.

Toby was talking about how he wouldn't feel too effected if his significant other cheated on him. But the conversation soon switched to open relationships and friends with benefits, Toby took this to his advantage. "You can't say that if you're bangin' {Name} all the time," Toby defended himself. Eric had just mentioned an open relationship is pretty much being friends with benefits, which is something he wouldn't do. But his cheeks turned bright red at Toby's mention, luckily his helmet and mask covered his flustered face. "Okay wait, It's not - agh," He let out a groan of gibberish. "It's nothing like that." He tried to defend himself, but his friends knew the truth. He obviously liked her, and there was no point in hiding it.

But the main reason he tried to hid it, was because none of them approved of their relationship. In all of their stupid jokes about them, there was always a pinch of disapproval. It's odd to say of course, but they all adored {Name}. She was the sweetest and kindest out of their group of friends. Although Eric could be mature and responsible, they still didn't like them together. His reckless demeanor didn't match with her sweet one.

The rest of the podcast was filled with tension, and Eric couldn't stand it. As they finished up, he decided to confront his friends even if that meant an argument would stir. "Did you seriously have to mention {Name} like that?" He questioned Toby, his voice was definitely stern. It was obvious he wasn't happy. Toby turned to his friend, looking at him with confusion, "So now we can talk about her?" Eric wasn't in the mood to deal with his sassy attitude, he just couldn't stand hearing {Name} be talked about like that. "Seriously I don't get it. You act like she's your sweet ol' friend and all one minute, then act like you own her the next," Toby shouted back, he loved both of his friends. But he couldn't stand the fact Eric couldn't grow some balls and actually date the girl he likes.

Eric inhaled sharply trying to calm himself down, "Yeah I like her, but you guys knows that! Can't you just get over that." He tried to lower his voice, surprisingly he hated yelling. It admits bad vibes, and he definitely wasn't for it. Before Toby could speak, Cameron pushed him to the side, "Eric grow up dude. Seriously just stop thinking with your dick, if you liked her you would be dating by now." His heart skipped a beat, he did like her. He really did. But all of this started to hurt, and he started second guessing himself. He knew he was right though, he loves her. He really does.

It wasn't long until {Name} started to stir awake, slowly opening her eyes they landed right on Eric's. They looked at each other with such adoration that it was painful. Soon he broke the silence, "You know I love you." She blushed, her cheeks burning from embarrassment. "I know," She cupped his cheek, not wanting this moment to end. "It's just, everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy." Both of them froze, neither of them wanted to hear that, but it needed to be said. Eric nodded, trying to think of what to say. His thoughts were storming his head, he couldn't think properly. "Listen I still," {Name} stopped as Eric interrupted her. "I know, I know. I'm just afraid that things are going to turn out horrible for us," He paused, only taking a quick breath, "But we love each other, right? And I don't want to hear your name being tossed around like you're a slut, I just - I want you to be my girlfriend."

{Name} smiled, kissing his nose, "I don't care what they say Eric. But, yes, I'll be your girlfriend." He smiled and kissed her back, hiding his red face in her chest. They were happy and that's all that mattered.

—

All writings can be found on Wattpad, Tumblr, and AO3

Wattpad: precipitation

Tumblr: pprecipitation

AO3: pprecipitation

[ballroomhistory]

Origins of the ballroom culture that are seen today can be traced back to the 1920s. A seminal reading by Eric Garber wrote that ‘at the beginning of the twentieth century, a homosexual subculture uniquely Afro-American in substance, began to take shape in New York's Harlem. Throughout the so-called Harlem Renaissance period, roughly 1920 to 1935, black lesbians and gay men were meeting each other on street corners, socializing in cabarets and rent parties and worshipping in church on Sundays. Creating a language, a social structure, and a complex network of institutions’ (1990:318). One of these institutions also being, ‘balls’.

Garber goes on to explain that ‘the key historical factor in the development of the lesbian and gay subculture in Harlem was the massive migration of thousands of Afro-Americans to northern urban areas after the turn of the century’ (1990:319). With the large majority of Afro-Americans living in rural southern states at the end of American slavery, one of the most significant shifts in population occurred when many moved to developed northern urban areas with the prospects of factory work, creating large communities of black Americans, also now known as the ‘Great Migration’ (figure one). One of the largest communities formed was in Harlem. With a celebration of progress and possibilities and described as ‘spiritual emancipation’ by Rhodes scholar, Alain Locke, Harlem soon became a centre of black music and art.

Self-named as ‘The New Negros’ (figure two), Garber goes on to explain that ‘[the] movement created a new kind of art. Harlem, as the New Negro Capital, became a worldwide centre for Afro-American jazz, literature, and the fine arts. Many black musicians, artists, writers, and entertainers were drawn to the vibrant black uptown neighbourhood’ (1990:319). And with this art also came a growing homosexual community.

Esther Newton, American cultural anthropologist, argues that ‘homosexual communities are entirely urban and suburban phenomena. They depend on the anonymity and segmentation of metropolitan life’ (1972:21). It could be said that this creation of an urban settlement for black Americans allowed for the anonymous growth of the black homosexual community and for ‘homosexual behaviour’ to become ‘homosexual identity’. This new, young urban artistic setting ‘[..] made possible the formation of urban communities of lesbian and gay men and [..] of a politics based on a sexual identity’ (D’Emilio 1993:470).

D’Emilio, John (1993) Capitalism and Gay Identity. In The Lesbian and Gay Studies Reader, ed. Henry Abelove, Michèle Aine Barale and David M. Halperin. New York: Routledge, pp. 467-476.

Garber, Eric (1990) A Spectacle in Colour: The Lesbian and Gay Subculture of Jazz Age Harlem. In Hidden from History: Reclaiming the Gay and Lesbian Past. New York: Penguin, pp. 318 – 331.

King Howes, Kelly (2001) ‘Yes! It Captured Them ....': The Performing Arts. In Harlem Renaissance, ed. by Christine Slovey and Kelly King Howes. Detroit: Gale, pp. 69-103.

Locke, Alain (1925) Enter the New Negro. In Survey Graphic, vol lll. 

Newton, Esther (1972) Mother Camp: Female Impersonators in America. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.  

Photo 1: Woodward (1921) Union Terminal Railroad Depot Concourse, black & white photoprint, 8x10 in. State Archives of Florida, Florida Memory.

Photo 2: Unknown (1920) UNIA Parade, organized in Harlem, 1920. Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture, Photographs and Prints Division, The New York Public Library.

Photo 3: Unknown n.d. Webster Hall hosting a drag ball during the 1920s. Schlesinger Library, Radcliffe Institute, Harvard University.

[april-ruffin-world]

BLACK MOSES SONG

“If it is true that black people are becoming increasingly well adjusted to the American way of life, then we may lose our capacity to tell the truth about our black life in America.” - Cornel West (Hope on a Tightrope p 202) The purpose of this thesis is to shed light on the historical and current, ever-increasing influence of African American/Black music on American culture and why it is crucially important to remember the past in order to thrive in the future. Secondly, I aim to demonstrate how powerful black music is and how it has been used as a catalyst for freedom. I will use as my dialogue partner, Dr. Cornel West, one of America’s most gifted theologians, educator, activist and philosopher. Dr. West, Class of 1943 University Professor at Princeton University, in 2012, returned to Union Theological Seminary in New York City where he first began his teaching career. He has written over twenty books such as Hope on A Tightrope (2008), The Cornel West Reader (1999), The Future of the Race (with Henry Louis Gates, Jr., 1996), and Race Matters (1993), where I will be drawing from for conversation. I witnessed for myself earlier this year on April 30th, 2015 at Biola University, Dr. West in dialouge with Robert George and Pastor Rick Warren, where Dr. West made reference to saxophonist, John Coltrane, whose music was lightly playing as the attendees waited for the forum to begin. In his opening comments, Dr. West expressed that he hoped Coltrane wasn’t just music playing in the background because, “John Coltrane is a part and a voice and figure in one of the greatest traditions in the modern world; which is a musical tradition that in the face of catastrophe mustered the courage to bear witness to compassion… in the face of being terrorized for four hundred years decides not to terrorize others, but fight for freedom for everybody…it’s a human tradition.” Because of the age of consumerism we live in today, “Obsession of money making and profit taking…we have less gas in our spiritual tanks, a spiritual malnutrition, an indifference to the suffering of others…a calousness,” West continued. He then quoted Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, “An indifference to evil is more insidious than evil itself.” America is in a state of emergency; many of its citizens are living and operating from a state of fear. We’re subconsciously encouraged when we watch the nightly news or peruse social media sites to fear. We are to fear terrorism, fear cancer, fear consumption of any foods that are not glucose, lactose or sugar free, and little black boys and girls are taught to fear for their lives lest they end up like Sandra Bland, Trayvon Martin, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Freddie Gray, Oscar Grant, Jordan Davis, Tamir Rice and countless others victims who suffered the penalty of death simply because of the color of their skin. Dr. West not only used John Coltrane as example, but referred to Frederick Douglas, Sojourner Truth, Curtis Mayfield, Aretha Franklin, Erykah Badu, Toni Morrison, and James Baldwin to stress his point that Black musicians, writers and artists use creative expression as an outlet to overcome and to stay above negative forces that would aim to steal their creative ideas or kill and destroy (literally) their lives. No doubt, West has perused the pages of works such as the Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglas, an American Slave where Douglas writes: “The slaves selected to go to the Great House Farm, for the monthly allowance for themselves and their fellow-slaves, were peculiarly enthusiastic. While on their way, they would make the dense old woods, for miles around, reverberate with their wild songs, revealing at once the highest joy and the deepest sadness. They would compose and sing as they went along, consulting neither time nor tune. The thought that came up, came out—if not in the word, in the sound;—and as frequently in the one as in the other. They would sometimes sing the most pathetic sentiment in the most rapturous tone, and the most rapturous sentiment in the most pathetic tone. Into all of their songs they would manage to weave something of the Great Houses Farm. Especially would they do this, when leaving home. They would then sing most exultingly the following words:— I am going away to the Great House Farm! O, yea! O, yea! O! This they would sing, as a chorus, to words which to many would seem unmeaning jargon, but which, nevertheless, were full of meaning to themselves. I have sometimes thought that the mere hearing of those songs would do more to impress some minds with the horrible character of slavery, than the reading of whole volumes of philosophy on the subject could do. I did not, when a slave, understand the deep meaning of those rude and apparently incoherent songs. I was myself within the circle; so that I neither saw nor heard as those without might see and hear. They told a tale of woe which was then altogether beyond my feeble comprehension; they were tones loud, long, and deep; they breathed the prayer and complaint of souls boiling over with the bitterest anguish. Every tone was a testimony against slavery, and a prayer to God for deliverance from chains. The hearing of those wild notes always depressed my spirit, and filled me with ineffable sadness. I have frequently found myself in tears while hearing them. The mere recurrence to those songs, even now, afflicts me; and while I am writing these lines, an expression of feeling has already found its way down my cheek. To those songs I trace my first glimmering conception of the dehumanizing character of slavery. I can never get rid of that conception. Those songs still follow me, to deepen my hatred of slavery, and quicken my sympathies for my brethren in bonds. If any one wishes to be impressed with the soul-killing effects of slavery, let him go to Colonel Lloyd’s plantation, and, on allowance-day, place himself in the deep pine woods, and there let him, in silence, analyze the sounds that shall pass through the chambers of his soul,—and if he is not thus impressed, it will only be because ‘there is no flesh in his obdurate heart.’” (p 25-26) These songs composed by slaves would come to be known as negro spirituals. Many of these spirituals had a code message aimed to guide slaves, via the Underground Railroad, to freedom or to the “Jordan”, which was on the Northern side of the Ohio River. Here is one example of this hidden message, weaved within the words of a song: Deep River, my home is over Jordan; Deep River, my home is over Jordan. O don’t you want to go to that Gospel Feast That Promised Land where all is Peace? Deep River, I want to cross over into camp ground. These spirituals were always inspired by the “good news” message from the Bible; by Christ and his message that “you can be saved.” Negro spirituals would later influence chain gang songs, sung by “prisoners” or victims of the unscrupulous sharecropper system following the abolishment of slavery in 1865. Inmates would sing in the call and response format; the leader began a line and the other workers followed, often using their axes to keep rhythm and to keep up with the rigorous demands of the day. In 1927, the Mississippi River broke levees in almost 150 places and caused one of the greatest floods in American history. Many blacks were forced, by gunpoint, to fill sandbags to set in place to resist the flowing waters. When the flood overpowered their attempts, these blacks were left to fend for themselves and many fled, migrating north. This great flood is responsible for the largest migration of blacks in U.S. history. In fact, the actual terms “Chicago Blues” and “Muddy Waters” stem from this Mississippi flood of ’27. The blues musician known as Muddy Waters was born and raised on a plantation in Mississippi, but moved to Chicago in 1943 in hopes to become a professional musician. In Hope on a Tightrope, “Blues,” first on the list of Westian core concepts, is defined as, “The elegant coping with catastrophe that yields a grace and dignity so that the spirit of resistance is never completely snuffed out.” (p 221) It is intriguing how a rhythm birthed from pain, and the pursuit to overcome that pain, would mother genres of music we refer to today such as rhythm and blues, rock ’n’ roll, folk, country and jazz. Muddy Waters, himself, influenced musicians such as Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, Paul Rodgers, and even Jimi Hendrix. Muddy Waters’ 1950 release of the single “Catfish Blues” or “Rollin’ Stone” is where the famous London group got their name from and the magazine, too. Even the Beatles referenced Muddy Waters in their song “Come Together.” More recently, the rock group AC/DC borrowed from Muddy Waters’ lyrics and Angus Young, one of the group members, has often cited Waters as one of his greatest influences. Me: Dr. West, Besides Muddy Waters, can you name another example of a black musician who you would consider a trailblazer in this plight of using self expression to gain freedom from enervated mental and physical circumstance in America? West: Louis Armstrong, who grew up in the red-light district of Storyville among prostitutes and brothels, was able to escape the social misery and express his unbelievable genius and imagination to keep alive the greatest musical tradition of the modern world. The black musical tradition gave us blues and jazz idioms that the rest of the world now understands. (Hope p 179) Me: Dr. West, I was born and raised in New York City and have often pondered as I passed by the Cotton Club or The Apollo theater in Harlem, what it must have been like for these early black musicians who were still combating the remnants of slavery and Jim Crow laws, but simultaneously, had this new outlet and opportunity because of their musical talent. I know, from even watching the film, that blacks weren’t allowed entrance into the Cotton Club as patrons, but were only allowed access as performers. Duke Ellington and his orchestra became renown because of his appearances at the Cotton Club, but the members of his orchestra would, most likely, never be able to walk in through the front door. Blacks, as we’ve discussed, like Muddy Waters’ inspired not only other musicians, but entire musical genres and in the end, it seems he got the shorter end of the stick as far as making a profit and being in full control of his artistry. Why is this? West: Blues and jazz lost much of their black audience in the 50s and 60s when they abandoned black public spaces, such as black dances, clubs, and street corners. Without access to the participatory rituals in public spaces of black everyday life, blues and jazz became marginal to ordinary working black people in urban centers. In their stead, rhythm and blues, soul music, and now hip-hop seized the imagination and pocketbook of young black America. This fundamental shift in the musical tastes of black America resulted from two basic features of the larger American culture industry: the profit-driven need to increase the production pace and number of records, reinforcing fashion, fad, and novelty, and the explosive growth of black talent spilling out of churches and clubs in search of upward social mobility. The lessening of racist barriers in the industry and wider acceptance of black music by white consumers created new opportunities. Since neither blues nor jazz could satisfy or saturate this market, they fell by the cultural wayside or, at least, were pushed to the margins. (Hope p 122-123) Me: That explains it. So it’s all about capitalism and profit. I always thought of blues and jazz as a distinctive genre and sound influenced, primarily, by the time period that those musicians lived. I have always gotten chills while listening to Billie Holiday’s unique voice, but only recently came to understand the deep meaning behind the tone and lyrics of say, Strange Fruit. And growing up, listening to my mother play Kenny G when he first became popular in the 1980s or for example, when I was invited to see Kurt Elling in concert at Carnegie Hall, I just assumed that jazz had become “white music.” West: One of the reasons jazz is so appealing to large numbers of white Americans is precisely because they feel that in this black musical tradition, not just black musicians, but black humanity is being asserted by artists who do not look at themselves in relation to whites or engage in self-pity or white put-down. This type of active, as opposed to reactive, expression is very rare in any aspect of African American culture. (Hope p 119). West: For me, the deepest existential source of coming to terms with white racism is music. From the very beginning, I always conceived of myself as an aspiring bluesman in a world of ideas and a jazzman in the life of the mind. What is distinctive about using blues and jazz as a source of intellectual inspiration is the ability to be flexible, fluid, improvisational, and multi-dimensional—finding one’s own voice, but using that voice in a variety of different ways. (Hope p 114) The human voice itself is the greatest instrument. Black folks’ tradition begins with the voice. (Hope p 113). It was music that sustained Africans on slave ships making their way from Africa to the New World. We often didn’t speak a common language that allowed us to communicate with each other in a deep way. We had to constitute some form of comradery and community, and music did that. It preserved our sanity, as well as our dignity. Owing to white supremacist sanctions, enslaved Africans were not allowed to read or write. As a nonliterate people, we learned to manifest our genius through what no one could take away—our voices and our music. (Hope p 110). When you look at this tradition from the spirituals on through Louis Armstrong, Sarah Vaughan, Curtis Mayfield, Luther Vandross, and Aretha Franklin on up to Prince and Gerald Levert, music sustained our humanity, dignity, and integrity. Me: Ah, yes! It seems that during the 1960s when black leaders emerged such as Dr. Martin King Jr. and Malcolm X, there were also black musicians that answered the call to use their voices as an impetus for change. James Brown released “Say it loud, I’m black and I’m proud,” to inspire and uplift the people, while Nina Simone released “Mississippi Goddamn,” but was blacklisted because of it; her music not allowed airplay over the radio. In The Future of the Race, published in 1996, you wrote prophetically: “The twenty-first century will almost certainly not be a time in which American exceptionalism will flower in the world or American optimism will flourish among people of African descent. If there are any historical parallels between black Americans at the end of the twentieth century and other peoples in earlier times, two candidates loom large: Tolstoy’s Russia and Kafka’s Prague—soul starved Russians a generation after the emancipation of the serfs in 1861 and anxiety-ridden Central European Jews a generation before the European Holocaust in the 1940s.” (p 75) If I am understanding correctly, Dr. West, black music has been created and ushered out into the world almost as a push-back; a resistance to hopeless situations and music has served as a remedy or cure. The black life and tradition in America is not separate from black music and the arts, it is one in the same. And therefore, the fight for justice; for mental, physical and financial freedom which is only experienced by a small percentage of blacks in America, is a very real and urgent task. Earlier black musicians were aware of this plight because the chains of slavery (literal and proverbial) were still evident. Today, we are in greater danger because those chains are invisible and have been set in permanent institutions such as urban schools and prisons. Nearly fifty years ago, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. led marches and other peaceful demonstrations to bring attention to racism, segregation, and discrimination which greatly influenced the signing of both the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. As it can be seen, just because a law is passed, that doesn’t mean that people’s beliefs and behaviors change. In the early 1950’s, racial segregation was customary in America. Basic math would then imply that members of the KKK are still living, in fact, one can readily log onto the internet and find a current KKK website. The media and most curriculums taught in educational institutions depict the Civil Rights movement as a thing of the past, something that happened then, and everyone should just move on and never bring it up, because “Today, we live in a fair and equal society.” Contrary to these false aphorisms, racism is prevalent in 2015 America. Even after repeated injuries, incarcerations and murders of blacks, both male and female, the racism conflict advances, leaving behind blood stained sidewalks and unbottled tears. Historical advances in American music and the arts woud prove that it’s okay to imitate blacks, which is seen as early as “black face” stage and film productions where white actors would paint themselves blacks to make fun of and entertain the audience, to the Beach Boys to the modern day where so called “pop” artists imitate and appropiate hip-hop culture. It would seem that the fight for freedom is futile and a far cry from reality. West: As freedom fighters, we’ve got to become much like the jazz women and jazz men. Fluid and flexible and protean—open to a variety of different sources and perspectives. (Hope p 187). [Again] We come from a particular tradition of struggle. Our people have been on intimate terms with the constant threat of social death. No legal status, no social standing, no public value—you were only a commodity to be bought and sold. If you don’t come to terms with death in that context, there’s no way you can live psychically and culturally because the rights and priveleges that your fellow human beings of European descent had access to were stripped from you. (Hope p 184) Freedom fighters struggle for justice, not revenge. We love in the face of bigotry. We keep track of the indescribable scars and bruises. Yet we refuse to be victims! We instead mount constant heroic resistance against injustice. (Hope p 206) Those who have never despaired have neither lived nor loved. Hope is inseparable from despair. Those of us who truly hope make despair a constant companion whom we outwrestle every day owing to our commitment to justice, love and hope. It is impossible to look honestly at our catastrophic conditions and not have some despair—it is a healthy sign of how deeply we care. It is also a mark of maturity—a rejection of cheap American optimism. (Hope p 217) Black people’s deep memory of history is a legacy of catastrophe. It’s the slave ship and the body swinging from the tree. It’s the disgraceful school systems and being taught to hate ourselves. America’s concept of history is that of a chosen people, a city on a hill where the sun is always shining. Therefore, black people’s conception of memory is that of trauma, whereas the mainstream conception of memory is this progress of an every generation toward a more perfect Union. If your conception of history is one of catastrophe and your conception of memory is one of trauma, the only countermovement against catastrophe and trauma is never forgetting the catastrophic and yet still attempting to triumph. (Hope p 188) Me: The Hebrew verb zakhor ("remember") appears in the Torah about one hundred and sixty-nine times, Moses while leading the Israelites out of Egypt towards the Promised Land, would often encourage them to remember. In Deuteronomy Chapter 8, Moses and Miriam’s song Me: J. Wendell Mapson, Jr., author of The Ministry of Music in the Black Church writes: “The task, then, is to affirm the good in black theology and to offer correctives so that black theology may continue to address the needs of black people in light of their relationship to God and culture. Historically…, music in the black church has reflected the theology of the pilgrimage of black people. Set within the context of the black church, the religious music of black people has helped to articulate the very soul and substance of the black experience, most especially for those who belong to the family of God. In many instances, music has not only been shaped by theology but has also shaped theology. Not only may one speak of a theology of music, but one might also speak of the music of theology. There is no doubt that in the black church music is the lifeblood. Among blacks, music is not always compartmentalized into categories such as sacred and secular. In fact, the black church itself does not always see itself in light of such labels. Among Afro-Americans, just as in African cuture, religion permeates the whole of life, and so does music.” (p 16) Similarly, in The Cross and The Lynching Tree, author, James Cone offers a corrective and brilliantly explicates how by connecting the cross to the lynching tree, not only blacks in America, but all Americans may benefit: “Despite the obvious similarities between Jesus’ death on the cross and the death of thousands of black men and women strung up to die on a lamppost or tree, relatively few people, apart from the black poets, novelists, and other reality-seeing artists, have explored the symbolic connections. Yet, I believe this is the challenge we must face. What is at stake is the credibility and the promise of the Christian gospel and the hope that we may heal the wounds of racial violence that continue to divide our churches and our society…Until we can see the cross and the lynching tree together, until we can identify Christ with a ‘recrucified’ black body hanging from a lynching tree, there can be no genuine understanding of Christian identity in America, and no deliverance from the brutal legacy of slavery and white supremacy. (xiii-xiv, xv) Later, in this sermonic book, Cone writes: We are bound together in America by faith and tragedy. West: The major black cultural response to the temptation of despair has been the black Christian tradition—a tradition dominated by music in song, prayer, and sermon. (The Future of the Race p 101) You can’t talk about the crucifixion without talking about nihilism and spiritual abandonment. The feeling that you have no connection whatsoever to any of the forces for good in the universe underscores your relatively helpless situation (referring to Matt 27:46 when Jesus cried out “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?). If Jesus had American advisors, they would have said, Negotiate with Pontius Pilate, sacrifice your sense of who you are, call your mission into question, and sneak away at night under the protective cover of the Roman Empire to live free. Jesus would have responded, No, there’s a cross for me. In fact, if you look closely enough in your life, there’s a cross for you, too. (Hope p 198) West: The American Empire is still governed by its desire to shape the world for American interests. It is still determined to have its way and do whatever it takes to preserve the resources necessary to sustain the “American way of life…” The new American Dream is to never run out of things to buy and sell, and people to buy and sell. What must happen for us to stay awake permanently and commit to critically engaging the public interest or expanding the common good? (Hope 181) West: Subversive joy is the ability to transform tears into laughter, a laughter that allows one to acknowledge just how difficult the journey is, and to delight in one’s own sense of humanity and folly and humor in the midst of this very serious struggle. This is true freedom of spirit. We can think and feel, laugh and weep, and with the belief and capacity of everyday people, we can fight. Fight with a smile on our faces and tears in our eyes. We can see the deprivation, yet hold up a bloodstained banner with a sense of hope based on genuine discernment and connection. We can point out hypocrisy and keep alive some sense of possibility for both ourselves and our children, thus fulfilling our sacred duty. (Hope p 192) West: Hip-hop, the most powerful cultural force on the globe right now, was one of the ways in which the black underclass responded to being forgotten and overlooked, with its pain downplayed and ignored. The response to invisibility was to create a whole cultural genre that represented young, black, and underclass folk. The culture and entertainment industry had to take notice by 1985. Now hip-hop is the most lucrative cultural area of the entertainment industry. It’s another tribute to the tremendous cultural imagination and genius of black folk. (Hope p 178) The vitality and vigor of Afro-American popular music depends not only on the talents of Afro-American musicians, but also on the moral visions, social analyses and political strategies that highlight personal dignity, provide political promise and give existential hope to the underclass and poor working class in Afro-America. (The Cornel West Reader p 484) is that it’s a human condition…a love caravan. West: To be human you must bearwitness to justice. Justice is what love looks like in public—to be human is to love and be loved. Me in closing: I have to believe that there is hope for Black men and women in this nation and throughout the world. Inherently, all human beings know that greatness is not achieved through material gain and worldly acquisitions, but true greatness is seen by observing the character of a man. While listening to a eulogy, we never hear the orator bloviate about how many cars the deceased one drove or how many houses he had, never! Whether the deceased was a criminal or clergyman, we hear of how good the person was, how thoughtful and generous. We sit and listen to people go on about how much they loved the person or how that person made them laugh. We know deep in our souls what really matters while we’re here on this Earth. God’s beauty, truth, love and freedom is still attractive in a world full of deceit, hate and restriction. We are all longing for more. Everyone wants to know their purpose in life and we often do not feel satisfied until it has been identified. When it is identified, but not actively pursued, one lives or exists, rather, in a dulled, gray state—full of regret and disappointment that slowly leads to an anger filled heart of stone. Even the apathetic ones feel, too. Whether acknowledged or not, these emotionless souls are feeling something, deeply. Life is completely mundane, boring and hopeless without a mission. The beauty in the knowledge of Yeshua is that we all have been given a mission…we were commanded to love God and to love our neighbor as ourselves. That’s what it all boils down to…love! It is impossible to know Love, to know what love is, without knowing God. And how can we say that we love God, whom we have never seen, but hate others who we see everyday (1 John 4:20)? I want to enhance this notion of God’s beauty and take it to the streets of the marginalized, in hopes to impart the knowledge that their lives, too, have a meaning and purpose. To those who have given up on God and themselves, who will never step foot into a church, they too must know that they are wanted by God. Too long have I witnessed churches that sit in communities filled with indigent people full of despair, but the congregants sit securely in that church building, worshipping and reaching out to the Lord, yet do not reach out to the people in need that are in the community. We are to worship the Lord in Spirit and in truth; and truth is, there is so much work to be done outside of those four walls of the church building. God’s church is not the physical edifice, but His people. We must do the will of our Father, lest He say, “I knew you not,” when we go to enter the kingdom of Heaven (Matt 7:21-23). With the power of the Holy Spirit, we are to be witnesses of Yeshua to everyone to the ends of this earth (Acts 1:8). The end is delayed because of the mission. We often pray, “Come quickly,” but we must first work before He comes. We all have been given spiritual gifts in order to serve others. We serve, never because of “what’s in it for me,” but to exalt Christ. All of our giftings should be conformed and exercised to the dictates of love. The body of Christ will be edified as we serve together, some teaching, some preaching, some praying, some singing. With the songs given to me by the Holy Spirit, I wish to communicate that: “Nothing is lost, everything to gain, forget the past, forget the pain, you can climb higher, you can achieve, if only you trust and believe and never look back!” Feelings of emptiness and hopelessness can lead one to suicide or a life lived without purpose. But the knowledge of new life, believing that we ought not remember the former things, because God is about to do something new (Isaiah 43:18-19), will save lives! People must see the beauty in God’s light and how it shines in darkness, transforming from the inside out. Aristotle believed that music is the most representative of all the arts and I agree. Music is powerful! A melody could be dimly playing in the background and the listener, incognizant at times, mechanically taps along. The Bronx nursing home, Beth Abraham's experiment with catatonic patients was revolutionary. Ask any college student what gets him or her through when they have to pull an all-nighter and the answer is usually, music. Listening to their favorite soundtrack or artists helps the time pass, without feeling the burden of the task at hand. Hearing a particular song can trigger memories from our past, taking us to places long forgotten about and treasured. Music can be used to awaken a nation, as seen in the 1960s with the release of A Change is Gonna Come, by Sam Cooke, which became an anthem for the Civil Rights Movement. When John Legend and Common stood to deliver their speech for winning “Best Original Song” for Glory from the Oscar-nominated film Selma, Legend conveyed that, “There are more black men under correctional control than there were under slavery in 1850.” Something is terribly wrong with that picture. In the words of Frederick Douglass, “Where justice is denied, where poverty is enforced, where ignorance prevails, and where any one class is made to feel that society is an organized conspiracy to oppress, rob and degrade them, neither persons nor property will be safe.” SEE MORE (YOUTUBE: thekingherself)

[chroniclesofamber]

THE CHRONICLES OF AMBER & History Lessons

It should be obvious that writers, composers, painters and all artists respond to the time in which they live, and that this is reflected in their art.  And it should also come as no surprise that some material is more strongly influenced by the historical moment than other art.  All this is at least as true for Roger Zelazny and his idolized Chronicles of Amber — perhaps somewhat more so, given that these five books in no small way chart a complete decade.

NINE PRINCES IN AMBER (1970)

History:  Pieces of the first book saw print as early as 1967.  It appears Zelazny worked on the book here and there for three years or more until its publication in 1970.  Still looming over the political landscape of the time was the assassination of John F. Kennedy years earlier, which had led to the Johnson “great society” era and from there to Nixon’s struggles with China, the Soviet Union and the Vietnam War.  Just as influential was the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr., as well as that of Robert Kennedy.  The 1960s were dominated by these issues, the Cold War and threat of nuclear annihilation, the rise of the counter-culture and protest movements, the Beatles and Woodstock, and the first landing of men on the Moon.

As someone familiar with Jungian psychology and Frazer’s Golden Bough, Zelazny saw a way to harness the interregnum turmoil of the Sixties while incorporating the ritual of “the Killing of the King.”  (Conspiriologists left and right — politically, and otherwise — have long adhered to the notion that it was not a coincidence that this particular killing of the king had been carried out in accordance with ancient ritual.)  The King of Amber is missing or deceased. Factions have quickly aligned to jockey for the best position to take advantage of the power vacuum.  That a conspiracy to remove both the king and Corwin is uncovered, a few books later, also mirrors the deaths of the Kennedys.  Our hero, already in a state of confusion over his own identity and situation, is thrust into the midst of this power-struggle and — like Armstrong and Aldrin aboard the Eagle — soon finds himself visiting another world.

Lesson:  Corwin charges in somewhat blindly, and is literally blinded (and imprisoned) as a result.  When he miraculously regains both his sight and his freedom, he vows that patience and planning will guide him going forward and that, this time, he will prevail and take his rightful place in Amber.  He also learns that what drives you, what you want, has a lot to say about who you are.

Journey:  He starts out being held against his will in a hospital, recovering from broken legs and near-drowning from a car accident.  By the end of the book, he is recuperating from years of blindness and imprisonment under much better circumstances in a remote lighthouse while cared for by an old friend.  When he leaves the lighthouse, no one tries to thwart his departure (he is voluntarily assisted, in point of fact), he knows exactly who he is and what he wants, and has a clear idea of his objective and how to achieve it.

THE GUNS OF AVALON (1972)

History:  Two years pass, eventful ones.  No shortage of natural disasters — major cholera epidemics in Istanbul and Slovakia; avalanches in France and Peru; earthquakes in Tonghai, Gediz, Burdur, Bingöl, Peru and elsewhere destroy cities and kill thousands; Mount Etna erupts; Montreal is buried by the blizzard dubbed La Tempête du Siècle; the Odisha cyclone overtakes the Bay of Bengal and claims 10,000 lives; 50 tornadoes tear through Louisiana and Mississippi; floods put Bangladesh and eastern Bengal underwater; the Bhola cyclone wipes out half a million people.  But the real disasters turn out to be man-made, so much so that this period could easily be described by the phrase “state of emergency.”  The Apollo 13 mission fails, though the astronauts survive and the summer of 1971 sees a rover rolling across the surface of the Moon.  Oil-price instability and Nixon taking the dollar off the gold standard together signal economic and energy crises yet-to-come, but the real instability is social, political and military.  Coups and assassinations become commonplace as former colonial possessions are granted independence.

Keyword:  Napalm.  Bombs, terrorism, murder and violence, state-sanctioned and otherwise, plague the United Kingdom due to resistance to British rule in Northern Ireland.  American incursions into Laos and Cambodia fuel growing anti-war sentiment.  The publication of the Pentagon Papers and the COINTELPRO documents stolen from FBI offices in Pennsylvania, news images of the Kent State shootings, and revelations of the My Lai Massacre throw gasoline onto the fire:  150,000 protest the Vietnam War in San Francisco on the same day that half a million march on Washington, D.C.  60% of Americans oppose American troops in Southeast Asia.  Meanwhile, the ashes of Hitler, Eva Braun, and the Goebbels family are scattered in East Germany’s Biederitz River.  Echoing all this, Zelazny pulls from the Grail quest an idea which unites the chaos reflected in the natural and human worlds in a single image — the Wasteland — and gives it the form of the Black Road, which Corwin discovers runs all the way to the outskirts of his beloved Amber.

Lesson:  Corwin struggles with his commitment to his system of values as demonic beings and foreign-imposed dictatorship threaten the shadow world Lorraine and Amber herself.  With some reluctance, he risks his own neck for a place lost to him long ago, and abandons his scheme to turn his troops and guns against Amber when the kingdom seems on the brink of falling to an enemy coming in strength.  He understands the necessity to adapt to changing conditions and to remain flexible while pursuing his goals.

Journey:  Corwin intends to sail straight to Avalon but gets lost in his very own Wood of Error, so that a spontaneous choice leads him instead into the hell of Lorraine, its Goat, and the citadel at the heart of the Black Circle.  Toward the end of the book he is again diverted from his course in that his original mission, to exact vengeance on his brother Eric and seize the throne, is set aside when he comes upon the creatures of the Black Road at Amber’s gates.  Just as he set out seeking gunpowder in Avalon but found something else along the way — the knight errant he once was long ago — he marches to Amber to find that the regicide he believed he desired was not what he would ultimately want or choose to do.

Vietnam and the 1970s

The tide had definitely turned against U.S. participation in the Vietnam War by the first years of the decade.  Nixon, having seen Johnson’s presidency founder and meet an early end due to the war, initiated a draw-down of forces.  Australia and New Zealand pulled out of the war in 1971.  By the end of that same year, American ground forces had been withdrawn from the war effort, though involvement would drag on a few more years.

Britain, though victorious after World War I, had been left depleted and weary of war — brutal trench warfare had cost the nation more than a million lives.  The Gulf of Tonkin Resolution of 1964 more or less marked the beginning of the Vietnam War in the minds of Americans, when U.S. troop strength went from 23,000 to 184,000.  It had therefore gone on longer than World War I and wound up costing approximately 60,000 American lives.  In America a fatigue had taken hold which was not so different from what post-Great War Britain had known.

Zelazny may have been responding to the mood of the times when portraying the enormity and senselessness of the losses witnessed, and caused, by Corwin and other princes of Amber.

From the first book:

“…ten thousand men dead in a plains battle with centaurs, five thousand lost in an earthquake of frightening proportions, fifteen hundred dead of a whirlwind plague that swept the camps, nineteen thousand dead or missing in action as they passed through the jungles of a place I didn’t recognize, when the napalm fell upon them from the strange buzzing things that passed overhead, six thousand deserting in a place that looked like the heaven they had been promised, five hundred unaccounted for as they crossed a sand flat where a mushroom cloud burned and towered beside them, eighty-six hundred gone as they moved through a valley of suddenly militant machines that rolled forward on treads and fired fires, eight hundred sick and abandoned, two hundred dead from flash floods, fifty-four dying of duels among themselves, three hundred dead from eating poisonous native fruits, a thousand slain in a massive stampede of buffalo-like creatures, seventy-three gone when their tents caught fire, fifteen hundred carried away by the floods, two thousand slain by the winds that came down from the blue hills.”

What tends to jump out from that passage (especially to readers harkening back to the ’70s):

(1)    napalm dropped from aircraft on troops moving through jungles below results in a number of casualties far higher than deaths from any other cause;

(2)    immediately after thousands depart for paradise, their desertion is contrasted with the hell of the detonation of a nuclear weapon;

(3)    aside from deaths due to centaurs, war machines, nuclear warfare and napalm, natural disasters are responsible for the mass losses of life, yet the total taken by disaster is still dwarfed by the number slain in combat.

There is not much other commentary on war in the series.  The subject of warfare is largely confined to the first two books.  But there is this from the end of the sixth chapter of Nine Princes in Amber:

“As I stood on a hilltop and the evening began around me, it seemed as if I looked out over every camp I had ever stood within, stretching on and on over the miles and the centuries without end.  I suddenly felt tears come into my eyes, for the men who are not like the lords of Amber, living but a brief span and passing into dust, that so many of them must meet their ends upon the battlefields of the world.”

[…to be continued in a future post…]