#nancy the ball python

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

You've said this with Nancy and how you think she and Ace would get a basset hound, and it got me thinking..

Would any of your other characters have pets?

OMG I've always considered giving my other characters pets! I think my TMNT character hat a turtle, Nancy as her Basset hound named Rosy, and Talaney does have farm animals... But I could see her or her whole family owning a German Sheperd or Heeler!

And Chrysta probably doesn't have a pet in Santa Carla before she fully lives there, but she and the boys get a Doberman Hellhound when all the girls and Chris are born! Tammy would probably be a snake kinda gal, and own a lil ball python that likes to hang out on her back while she does homework.

[birdy-bird-art]

Images. Have images collected since September.

- Pets feat Raph and her ball python Marrow, Aries @penumbralwoods and his pet millipedes whose names I can't recall, Barry and Leigh with Gigi, and Spencer and Serene @serenefig doggy playdate with Percy and Simon!

- Goofy lil three part comic with Spencer and Nancy

- Gidget @chirpbudgie kitty Halloween costume

- Cursed Perry lovebug

- Even more cursed Stanley B and Perry 'which one is Hikaru' joke

- and brain Perry being gruff and protective of @queenburd

[kennahjune]

Hear me out hear me out hear me out:

Everyone’s always talking about how Steve’s such a mom to the kids. And he is. I totally agree.

But hear me out:

Animal dad Steve adopting the weirdest fucking pets (at least weird to Hawkins).

Like— Steve with a pet duck, a pet snake, a pet RACCOON even. The duck is Sir Cheese Louise the Fourth, the snake is William Snakespeare, and the Raccoon is Philosopher (cuz why not?). The snakes a ball python btw.

And he just— has these rlly weird animals. The kids love them though. Philosopher paints with Will and El (read: he steps in paint and walks over the canvas). Dustin and Lucas love chasing Sir Cheese Louise the Fourth around the house. Max and Mike and Erica love napping in the sun with William Snakespeare.

His collection grows and now he also has 3 cats (a ginger, a calico, and a black cat) and 2 dogs (a golden retriever, and a husky).

The ginger is Lincoln McBlinkin (named by Robin when she was drunk out of her mind). The calico is Miss Thing (named by Nancy). And the black cat is Ethereal (named by Jonathan). Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan have fun with their respective cats.

The golden retriever is Marry Anne Solace, she is the princess of Luxville and rules over her people with a sense of right and order (she really likes cuddles 🥰). The husky is Dasher, he is a simple boy who likes simple toys and playing in the yard with Steve and Dustin.

Was this mainly me projecting my pets and pet-wants onto Steve? Maybe. Maybe not. You’ll never know.

Over and out.

[alligatorpawnshop]

when robin and nancy get a pet, they have trouble deciding what to get. both of them are afraid of having something too dependent (what if the upside down returns, even though it’s been five years, and they have to leave it?), but still fun to have. robin does a ton of research into more unexpected pets like chameleons, parrots, chinchillas, even looking into the ethics of lemurs…and nancy listens happily to her explain how hamsters actually do live in the wild, and how ball pythons can actually be rather fun friends. eventually, however, one of the kids finds a small black kitten in their backyard, and unable to take care of it, give him to nancy and robin. they hand raise him and name him gregor (after a character in a short story robin enjoys) and he is their best friend. he’s affectionate only to them, becoming territorial around anyone else. he loves to sleep on the big, boxy computer they eventually buy and on the tv, and inbetween them in bed. he tries to sneak into robin’s bags, messing them up in the process, and he knocks all of nancy’s meticulous manuscripts to the floor, but they love him nonetheless.

[petpsycho]

Jesse Krueger-Swann

Age: played usually between 16 and 25

Gender: Demi-boy (he/they pronouns)

Sexuality: bisexual

FC: a young Leigh Whannell (recovery era mostly)

Jesse Quentin Krueger-Swann is the son of Kasey Krueger and Tracy Swann. Mostly, amongst those who know the truth of Kasey and his parentage, it’s believed that the only reason a trans man would be able to impregnate his wife is that it was done within a dream. This theory holds up as from an early age, Jesse showed signs of superhuman abilities, like emotion manipulation, minor telekineses, and eventually shapeshifting between human and a blank ball python. It was easy for all who knew the truth of Freddy Krueger to see that this child was fully dream demon, taking some of those powers into the real world. Jesse was homeschooled for a time while he was young to learn to control these powers, so no people from around Springwood would go after the boy.

Despite his demonic nature, he is rather kind and somewhat awkward, more a supporting character than a lead role. He makes a good caretaker for the distressed, but he has a deep passion for writing, especially horror. Whenever he writes about demons, people tend to say his creative his lore is, not knowing he’s actually rather serious in that regard, even if the rest of his story is fiction.

He does, however, have a deep interest in making an autofiction novel about his grandfather and his defeat at the hands of people like Nancy, Alice, and his parents. Not only will it hopefully be a good story, but it will teach people how they too can deal with demons, should they ever find themselves in the wrong end of a nightmare.

[hiromisuzukimicrojournal]

Late Blooming Girl

✽

Uncle Beard had no teeth, I was thinking. First of all, the reason he was called Uncle Beard was quite simple: he had a long white beard growing under his chin. The reason he was thought to be toothless was that he clucked his tongue like small drops of sudden rain hitting the roof, no matter what he ate. Uncle Beard, who was an elder brother of my grandma, ran a shoe shop on the edge of Tokyo. I was set to transfer to a new primary school that autumn and my grandma took me to the shop to have the school-designed one strap low heel shoes, pretty shoes so-called Mary Jane in the 1930s, made. Lovely leather shoes strolling could been seen through the display window, Oxfords, Derbys, marshmallow heel pumps, lace-up ankle boots, and knee-high boots. Even the flat shoes with corsages made by suede for little girls pretended to be prima donnas. In a faded poster of the 1966 tune These Boots Are Made for Walkin’, Nancy Sinatra laid sexy, holding Spotted Python to her breast. Uncle Beard showed me a leather sample book. There were a variety of animals, including cows, pigs, deer, etc. and even reptiles such as crocodiles and snakes. True or not, Uncle Beard told us proudly and exaggeratedly that once a year he went to the Amazon River and Río Orinoco to catch crocodiles. “Lunch is a crocodile dish,” Grandma called everyone from the main house at the back of the shop. On the kitchen table were dishes of chicken and white fish, which appeared to be cod, fried in used rapeseed oil. The plate was garnished with tartar sauce and cut lemon, with pickled olives and plastering a heap of French fries. I had lost my appetite.

Late that afternoon, Uncle Beard took me to a summer festival in the shopping district. Food booths lined the front of each shop in the arcade, I begged for grilled corn due to the temptation by the savoury aroma of soy sauce. We sat on a container of chilled bottled beer and nibbled on a whole corn together. I gazed at Uncle Beard’s mouth from motives of curiosity. When he opened his thin lips inside the bush of his long white beard, a reddish-black tongue glimpsed like a snake through the dark hole leading to his larynx. Then the teeth, which should not be there, especially the big front teeth, dropped the corn grains into his mouth like a bulldozer scraping sediment from a bedrock. The corn cores remained after being ground and eaten up by only his tongue rolled aimlessly away, lost in the footsteps of the festival crowd. ‘Do you want some watermelon?’ Uncle Beard said impatiently and brought two slices of watermelon out of eight equal portions into each hand, from the next booth. The droplets from the surface of watermelon, which had cooled in the icebox, evaporated in the heat of the pavement. I tried again to observe Uncle Beard, but his watermelon quickly disappeared into his long white beard. From a black hole, which might be his mouth, black seeds as small beetles jumped out vigorously one after another and died on the burnt pavement. The juice of watermelon spilled from his relax tongue stained his dry beard a pale pink.

There was a lottery at the exit of the shopping arcade. The Japanese lottery machine was a hexagonal rotating wooden box with plastic balls of about one centimetre in radius in various colours, red, blue, green, white, yellow, etc. The bettor turned a handle on the outside and the prize was determined by the colour of ball out. The first prize of the winner was a one-night trip for a couple to the hot-spring hotel in Hakone. “I hope we win the Fujiya Ryokan, where John & Yoko and Yukio Mishima used to stay,” said Uncle Beard dreamily as he stood in the queue. When it was our turn and I turned the handle of the machine in exchange for a redemption ticket, a white ball rolled out. The prize was a Hello Kitty perfume bottle-style keyring. The madam of the cosmetics shops in charge of the lottery said, “Congratulations, Kitty! you are lucky!” she smiled, hooked a ball chain on the tip of her glittery manicured forefinger and popped Hello Kitty into the palm of my hand. The liquid was noticed to be just water, coloured pink. Madame winked at Uncle Beard with her eyelashes like the wings of a swallowtail butterfly. “You should buy this girl a real perfume. Eau de Parfum named Ever Bloom would suit her. As you know, I work at a distributor of Shiseido Company. The shop is on the ground floor of the building on the corner back down this street. The next door of a book café. Do not forget!”

Even as the seasons passed, I could not adjust to my new primary school. I was a late-blooming girl who never pursued love or dreams. But I fell in love with a dreaming boy in my dream. I could only see his back in the distance. As I woke up from my dream, I was crying hugged the afterimage of his smile. I was listening to These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ on my pillow while eating an apple. Outside the window it was snowing. I thought of sexy alligator-skin boots strutting around town like a Nancy Sinatra song. I remembered the cute boy in the same class as me in the previous school. Although I had forgotten about the Hello Kitty keyring I won as prize on the day of the summer festival, and Eau de Parfum which Uncle Beard bought me. Even the scent of Ever Bloom might have remained in the back of my desk drawer, I cannot remember. I wondered if the truth or not that Uncle Beard was planning an adventure capturing black caiman and Orinoco crocodiles in Venezuela again next summer holidays. Above all, I could never forget the horrible scene, the little black creatures popped out from the dark hole inside his long white beard, then they died on the burnt pavement.

✽

RIContest theme image

✽  ✽  ✽

RIContest #1: Late Blooming Girl / Hiromi Suzuki

© short story by hiromi suzuki, 2023

published in RIC Journal (May 29, 2023)

…

via RIC Journal

[barbtheball]

Nancy getting festive!

[anti-creator]

My Python Regius 🐍❣

[lunaicfantastic]

for the daemon au, here's a master list of everyone's daemons!

Eddie: Guinevere, a black-tailed jackrabbit

Steve: Caroline, a european badger

Nancy: Sebastian, a merlin

Robin: Alexander, a ring-tailed lemur

Jonathan: Calliope, a ball python

Argyle: Cornelia, an orangutan

Max: Hercules, a cougar

Dustin: Samantha, unsettled as of s4 but eventually settles as a hummingbird

Will: Patroclus, a hedgehog

Mike: Bianca, a border collie

Lucas: Etienne, unsettled as of s4, but eventually settles as a trumpeter swan

Eleven: her daemon is technically unnamed, but goes by Tommy bc eleven secretly called him 'me-two' and tommy is that but backwards, kinda. He's half-settled in that he has a default form (flying squirrel) but can still shift if he needs to (it just takes effort). like witches in hdm canon, El and her daemon can be separated for long-distances without pain

[pikartiste]

Here comes new challengers !

Hey guys,

First of all I’m sorry to not be too much present on Tumblr these, work is hard and I’ve not too much time to write and draw. I’m very sorry for that.

Anyway, lemme introduce new main characters I made for my Heartstring comic project. I already posted the drawing on Instagram and Twitter ... erf sorry again.

Here are them !

- Dorian : 22 years old guy who works with Johan in the music shop, and also his second very close friend. In fact, Dorian is the opposite of Johan : confident, bulky and with a certain fondness of being sassy and flirty ... not without having a heart bigger than him ! Hang out with him and you won’t be disappointed.

Dorian comes from a family of divorced parents (not talking to his father since) and with two older brother. He used to be born in Brittany (France) and living there until their parents broke up and moving with his mother and brothers in Paris as a teen. 

He’s the drummer of the band (and having such a goddamned skill in drumming). His most favourite music style are industrial metal (and literally venerating Rammstein), power metal and heavy metal. His others passions are also retro video games, junk food and snakes (happy owner of a ball python named Kopa).

Dorian is now living in a flat with his girlfriend in Paris, and his considered of the jokester of the band.

- Nancy : 18 years old girl who’s studying musicology at university (but considering dropping it). She’s grumpy, sarcastic (aka Johan’s rival in this point) as well as loudmouth; but she’s a real sweatheart inside.

Nancy is Leonie’s cousin - both their father are brothers - and shares with her a very close / sister like relationship. Leonie not having sibling and being just two years old than her, so she took Nancy under her wing. Nancy was born in Birmingham (England) from a conservative mother and a quite scatterbrain father : a real odd couple in fact. But well it’s another story. 

Until her late teens, Nancy lived in England with her parents and little brother. But after her parents’ divorces, she chose to follow her father in France to live with. She has a enough conflictual relationship with her mother (especially after she came out as a lesbian, something her mother never accepted).

Nancy is the bassit of the band after searching for one for a while. She also cultivates a punk style after listening many punk rock music like Sex Pistols and Green Day (her favorites bands since). She also loves grunge music and glam rock.

Nancy owns several pets : 3 rats Pixel, Hashtag and Arobase; as well as 2 cats Billie and Belle (the last one who was Leonie’s). She’s also the shortest of the band and is gently nicknamed Shortcake by Johan.

Pfew ! It was long ! These sketches are real messes, but I need to fix their design better.

Hope you like them ! ;)

[judefan833-blog]

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[thatlesbiannudistcult-stories]

Finding Goddess (Chapter 22)

Carol's mind was in a haze. So much that she couldn't even recall making the trip back to her room. One moment, she was naked, alone, and on the verge of tears in her daughters' shared closet. The next, she was lying facedown in her bed, sobbing into her pillow.

She wanted to be a Zenrist. She wanted to be a Zenrist so much it hurt. She wanted to live naked and carefree until the end of her days, never having to worry about the clothes she hated so much. She wanted to live a sexually-liberated life, where she could make love to whatever girl she wanted wherever she wanted. She wanted...she wanted the Goddess! But she couldn't...she couldn't have any of those things. Her daughters couldn't stand them, and by extension, they wouldn't be able to stand her. They'd be ashamed and uncomfortable living with an eternally nude parent, and the sight of all her private parts would sicken them. They wouldn't look at her, they wouldn't even talk to her. In time, they'd grow distant, and before she would realize it, she would be completely estranged from her own daughters.

No, she wouldn't allow that! She had come this far raising her girls all by herself. She wouldn't dare traumatize them with the constant sight of her nude body, nor would she tarnish her relationship with them when they were this close to adulthood. She would continue to be a normal mother, or at least as normal a mother as she had been for this past decade. A normal mother who wore clothes and only made love in private. Not one who would have anything to do with a lesbian nudist cult.

Wiping her eyes dry, the nudist pushed herself up to her dresser, where her clothing awaited, ready to cover her every inch of beautiful, bare, glistening flesh. But as Carol opened the drawer, she couldn't help but flinch as her eyes fell upon the piles and piles of folded...things before her, each one ragged to the touch and designed to hide her perfect, sacred Goddess-sculpted body. The fact that she actually had to have those things on her was enough to make her want to cry again.

***

After a few minutes, Carol finally exited her room wearing a simple yellow sundress. Held up by a pair of spaghetti straps and boasting a knee-length skirt that flowed loosely around her legs, it was inarguably the most tolerable article of clothing in her wardrobe. With her shoulders bare, her cleavage displayed, and her legs constrained by absolutely nothing, it was as close to being naked as she was willing to get around her girls.

Naked, she sighed sadly. She wanted so desperately to get naked, to tear this infernal thing off her body and frolic around just as the Goddess made her. But no, she couldn't do that, not as long as her daughters were around. Speaking of which...

"Oh, hi Mom," said Mindy, who was sitting at the kitchen table munching on an apple.

"H-hi...sweetie," Carol stammered, curving her lips into a forceful smile, making her look happier to see her girl than she actually was. "I didn't...know you'd get home so soon."

"Neither did I," said Mindy. "The plan originally was we'd stay for a couple more days, but our driver remembered she had a doctor's appointment on Thursday, so we had to cut it short."

"Oh, I see. Did you...have a good trip at l-least?" said Carol, more out of obligation than anything. She already knew the answer to that question.

"Um, you could say that," said Mindy as a faint blush started to appear on her cheeks. "I had fun there...I guess."

"You don't sound too...enthused," said Carol with absolutely no surprise. She overheard her daughters, she knew something had spoiled the trip for both of them.

"Yeah, well, the thing is, it was...kind of embarrassing," said Mindy, her blush deepening and she eyes shifting back and forth uncomfortably.

"Okay then. You...you don't need to tell me," said Carol.

"No, no, it wasn't a big deal or anything. And in retrospect, it was kind of funny. It's just...Erin's friend, Megan, she kind of pulled a fast one on all of us. You see, she plotted to bring us all to this one beach in Duny, right?"

"Yes?"

"Yeah, so on our first day, we were all driven there. We brought everything we needed, bathing suits, suntan lotion, towels, drinks, snacks, umbrellas, all that stuff. And our driver, Nancy, she just took off to supposedly run some errand that would separate us from her and more importantly, the car for at least four hours."

"Go on."

Mindy blushed even redder and starting giggling nervously. "So we're effectively stranded there, that's the important thing, though we didn't really know that at the time. So we're walking along the sand, and next thing we know, Megan is stripping off her bikini and getting naked!"

"N-naked?" said Carol. She felt her dress suddenly tighten all around her. It hugged against her hips, seemed to sliver around her legs, even pushed against her breasts. Her nipples throbbed against the fabric.

"Y-yeah," chuckled Mindy. "We're all freaking out, Erin is covering her boyfriend's eyes telling him not to look and yelling at her to put her suit back on, when all of a sudden we start seeing naked people all around us. Then we see this sign that says 'Nude Beachgoers Ahead,' and...Megan, she starts laughing like a madwoman and it turns out...she, she brought us to a nude beach! Without telling us!"

"Oh...I...see," said Carol who started to rub her thighs together at the mention of the nude beach. So they did go to one after all. It was just as Harold said. This must be what troubled Erin so much.

"So...what happened then?" the mother asked. She knew it was against her better judgment, she knew she had to avoid the topic of nudity, but she wanted, needed to know what happened next.

"Well, we didn't have a choice. Clothing was prohibited, none of us could turn back with our ride being gone and all, so we had to...we had to strip down." Mindy was now red as a tomato, and she now seemed to be looking at everything but her mother.

"I...see," said Carol. "You must have been...you must have been furious." It hurt to say it. It hurt to think it. But she had to face up to it. Nudism was just not something her daughters would ever approve of. She suppressed a wince as she felt the cloth of her dress ooze against her hip like an especially viscous glob of mucus. Goddess, my body isn't making this easy.

"Yeah, I guess I was, a little bit," said Mindy. "Not as much as Erin, though; I swear, she looked like she was going to throttle Megan! But I think, overall, she handled it a whole lot better."

Carol stiffened. She hadn't expected to hear that. "Handled it a whole lot better? What do you mean?"

"Oh, she sulked for about the first hour or so, refused to talk to anyone, tried to murder the whole beach with her angry eyes. But after that, I guess she just got sick of being a sourpuss and decided to just roll with it. So she laid back to work on her tan without having to worry about getting any lines, did a little naked seaside jogging, took in some of the goods that were flopping and bouncing all around her, you know the drill. By the end, she was playing volleyball with total strangers, and by all accounts was having a real ball of it. Metaphorically speaking of course."

"Huh," Carol murmured, furrowing her brow in thought. She...didn't mind it? Really?

"Yeah, she'd probably deny it if you asked her," continued Mindy, "and it'd probably be better right now if you didn't ask her...but I think she enjoyed her time there overall. More than I did, anyway; I spent most of the day huddled in the water. Definitely not my kind of thing. It was really more Erin's kind of thing. And probably yours."

Yes, of course you did, Carol thought despondently, casting her eyes down at the table. Then she caught that last thing her daughter said.

"Wait, what do you mean 'my thing?'" she asked.

Mindy just seemed to turn her head to the side, her smile widening, becoming almost frog-like. "Ohhhh...nnnnnothiiiinnggg, heh-heh-heh!

She must be remembering seeing me naked in my room last week. At least she's taking it in good hu—

"Ughnnn!"

Carol groaned. She squeezed her eyes shut, and she buckled from where she sat, nearly curling up into a fetal ball. Her dress was really starting to constrict around her now, crushing her body like a dozen hungry pythons. Her legs squeezed together, her breasts flattened painfully into her chest, and everywhere the cloth made contact with her skin brought a feeling of pins and needles with it.

"Mom! What's happening? Are you okay?"

Carol gritted her teeth. It's not real...none of it is real. It's all in my head. Fight through it, girl, just fight through it!

"I...have been a bit feverish lately," said Carol as she tugged idly at the sides of her dress to keep it away from her skin. That seemed to help give her some relief. "Truth be told, I...was supposed to be at work today, but I had to call in sick."

"Do you need help with anything?" said Mindy.

"You could take off my dress," is what Carol wanted to tell her. But she couldn't say such a thing to her daughter. So all she let out was a simple: "No. I just...I just need to rest a little."

"If...if you say so," said Mindy, though she didn't look so sure. "Uh, what are we going to do about dinner then? Should we order out? How does Chinese sound?"

"No, no Chinese!" Carol cried. She couldn't have Chinese now. It would just remind her of the experience she had yesterday with her two lovers by the lake. The magical experience she would never get to have again. "Er, I mean...I ate Chinese yesterday, so I...could use something else entirely."

"Um, okay," said Mindy. "I guess I'll talk to Erin about it then. You go get well, Mom."

***

Mindy watched as her mother retreated back to her room, stumbling almost like a drunk the whole way through as she leaned on the wall for support and periodically tugged at her dress. The teen couldn't help but feel concerned for her, but decided it was best not to push the issue just yet. God only knew she had enough on her plate with Erin.

Seeing as there was nothing else to do, Mindy tossed her apple core in the trash and made her way to her own room, deciding to fire up a video game for the time being. It had been a week since she got to sate her taste for some digital action, and she was feeling a little starved for it. A few minutes after turning the console on, Erin came in as well, having finally finished up her shower.

Sure did last a while though, she mused as she played, her gaze glued to the TV screen as Erin wordlessly trotted past her, opening up this drawer and that drawer before settling down at her desk and turning her computer on.

"Did Mom come back while I was gone?" she asked.

"Yeah. We were talking while you were in the...shower," Mindy said, verbally stumbling and doing a double-take as she turned to address her sister. "Um...she's...a little sick right now though, so you should probably leave her alone for the time being."

"What did you talk about?" Erin inquired, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at her sister.

"Just small talk about some of the less...interesting things to happen at Duny Beach," said Mindy, who was finding it harder to keep a straight face as she looked at her sister. The fact that she had to be so evasive with her answer also had something to do with it, though she knew she was technically being honest with Erin. From a certain point of view of course. "Nothing to get your...heh, panties in a bunch over."

"You better not've," said Erin, who turned back to her computer.

Mindy shrugged and returned to her game. She supposed she should tell her sister to put some clothes on, considering she was wearing nothing but a towel around her head. But why embarrass Erin and get another earful out of her when they could both just relax after getting home from such a strenuous trip? Besides, Erin would eventually figure out her mistake, one way or another.

[harrisonstories]

Nancy Dolman, Martin Short, Olivia Harrison, and George Harrison. Both these photos were taken in 1990.

This excerpt is from the audiobook version of Martin Short’s autobiography, I Must Say: My Life As a Humble Comedy Legend. If anyone has the clip from Short’s appearance on Jimmy Fallon in 2012 where he tells this story please let me know because it’s adorable. It disappeared after Fallon moved to the Tonight Show.

As acclimated as Nancy and I became to the Hollywood scene, a few figures still froze us in our tracks, neutralising our normal gregariousness with their megawatt presence. One was George Harrison. You never get over the fact that a Beatle is a Beatle, even after he’s stopped being a Beatle. Nancy and I met George in 1990 at an LA dinner party hosted by Dick Donner and Lauren Schuler Donner. I’d met Ringo Starr when he was on SNL and would later work with Paul McCartney, but George seemed the most mysterious and reclusive of the surviving Beatles. To Nancy and me there was something otherworldly about him. We knew in advance that George was going to be at the Donners’ party.

On the drive over we played Rubber Soul over and over again, and Nan kept saying, “Wouldn’t you love to just corner him, and ask him every Beatle question you’ve ever wondered about?” We both laughed and I said, “Yeah, boy, he’d sure love that, wouldn’t he?” Then we went silent and just listened for a while to the genius music that George made with the three other guys in his old band.

There were ten other guests there that night, and when George walked through the door, all I could think was, “My God! He looks exactly like George Harrison.” George was perfectly friendly throughout dinner. In fact he brought along a tape of the still unreleased second Traveling Wilburys album, which he eagerly played for all of us on the Donners’ stereo like a proud teen showing off his garage band. I found that sweet, but Nan and I maintained a cordial deferential distance from him, fearful that the word “Beatles" might come out of our mouths like an involuntary turrets-like outburst.

After dinner we all retired to the Donners’ screening room where Dick had arranged for us to view an advanced reel of The Hunt For Red October. I ended up sitting right next to George on the couch with Nan on my other side. Dick Donner, an outgoing no-BS guy with a thick thatch of white hair announced, “Does anyone mind if I smoke a doobie?” Then he pulled out a large joint which he proceeded to light, his plans clearly not contingent upon anyone’s answer to the question.

As we watched The Hunt For Red October, the joint was passed around until it landed with Nan. My wife, who could never really handle any kind of smoke, took one puff just for the sake of sociability. She immediately started coughing, and as fast as she could, passed the Donner doobie to me. I took a hit, and then it was my turn to pass the joint to George on my right, but all of a sudden I started to panic - wondering about the etiquette of it all. “Do I pass this to a Beatle? Maybe I shouldn’t. Am I going to offend him? Gee, I wouldn’t want to offend him. Would the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi be pissed or elated? Or maybe it would be rude if I didn’t pass him the joint. Ah, what the hell - probably just best to pass George Harrison the joint.” I gently nudged George who was engrossed in the movie and offered him the spliff. He looked at it, smiled, and in his best documentary narrator’s voice said, “Ahhh, the ‘60s!” He happily accepted the funny cigarette and took several drags on it. I looked back at Nan, and she was already fast asleep. Her head bent back. Her nose in the air.

George on the other hand became totally amped - very gregarious and chatty, talking right over the movie. “I have a hard time watching Sean Connery in a movie - a hard time accepting him in the part he’s playing,” George said, his voice now rising to lecture hall volume. “’Cause he’s too bloody famous! Too iconic! It’s like watching a Beatle.” At that, George’s fortissimo pronouncement of the word “Beatle”, Nancy’s head shot up with a start. Not even quite sure where she was, she muttered, “Who said that?”

Meanwhile, Lauren Schuler Donner had been contemplating for the last minute or so whether it was ok to shush a Beatle. Now she concluded it was. “Guys,” she whispered, “Shh!” George and I were both quiet like reprimanded kids in the fourth grade. After a moment I turned to him and whispered, “Way to go, asshole.” The two of us burst out laughing, eliciting now from the entire group a new round of shushing.

For the remainder of the evening, away from the screening room, George and I enjoyed a rich, funny, fast-moving conversation. He was even familiar with some of the work I’d done which I found incredibly flattering, but then he was a comedy aficionado, close to Lorne [Michaels] and Eric Idle of Monty Python. As we said our goodbyes at the end of the night, George and I exchanged numbers, and we made a plan to have lunch the next day. Nancy, having benefited from a refreshing head-clearing nap, said to me as we buckled into our car-seats, “Out of curiousity, how do you intend to have lunch with your new best friend George Harrison tomorrow? Given that you’re flying to Boston first thing in the morning?” Mother’s balls! I’d forgotten that I had a gig in Boston.

The next day as early as I could without being rude, I telephoned George and told him I’d forgotten about my trip. He was gracious and told me we’d make it happen another time. Sadly that other time never came. Our paths never crossed again, and George passed away in 2001.

Just a few months after his death, I was in Bungalow 8, a New York club that Paul Shaffer dragged me to, when I noticed a skinny fellow who was the spitting image of George - only young George - coming right toward me. Before I could say anything this young man embraced me in a tender hug and then pulled back to explain himself. “I’m Dhani Harrison,” he said. “One of the last things my father told me was that if I ever come across people who were important to him, I should give them a hug.”

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Me vs. You-Billy Hargrove Imagine

Requested: No

Warnings: harrassment, violence, and racial slurs

A/N: I can’t stand Billy as a character and don’t understand all the imagines about him but I got this idea and thought I would write it. Also, this is inspired by another drabble I saw but I don’t know the author’s name. 

   Simply put, I hated Billy Hargrove. I hated how he walked around as though he were the coolest thing God had put on Earth. I hated how he smoked like a chimney.  I hated that mullet that made him look like he was forty instead of seventeen. I especially hated the dead rat above his lip that he called a mustache. All the girls in Hawkins loved him and thought he was so gorgeous, but it was only because he came from California. White girls are weird. 

    Most importantly, I hated how my incredible loathing for him attracted him to me in a disgusting, strange sense. Billy would act as though he could not function during the day unless he bothered me in some way and it had been like this since the first day of school. I had been grabbing some notebooks for class when I realized someone was leaning against the locker next to mine. I glanced over and saw Billy looking at me as though he were appraising my value.

    “Hi, can I help you?” I asked, truly confused. 

    “Not unless you have a light,” Billy said, gesturing to the cigarette in his hand.

    “I don’t smoke.”

    “Yeah, cigarettes are pretty light for your kind.”

    I hesitated. “My kind, what’s that supposed to mean?”

    Billy scoffed. “Like you don’t know.”     Though there weren’t many black people in Hawkins, the people didn’t have the nerve to make comments like that. I wanted to smack him and felt my anger rising up from my toes.

     “No, I don’t. Tell me exactly what my kind is.”

     Billy smirked. “Negroes who would rather do crack than get a job.”

     Then, it was my turn to scoff. “Negroes? Did I suddenly take a time machine back to 1952?” 

    “Oh yeah, I forgot, you guys are so sensitive with your terms. What’s the newest one called? Ni---” 

    Before he could get the rest of the word out, I smacked him. The cocky demeanor flew off his face and was quickly replaced with a glowering red face. However, I only felt a small tinge of fear in my gut since the fury overrode.

    “I don’t know how things go in California but in Hawkins, we show respect to others.” 

   Then, Billy snatched me by the wrist and stared down at me. “You’re lucky that I’m not wringing you up to a tree with rope like your ancestors were. You are going to show me respect, understand?” 

   Before I could respond, Steve interrupted us.

   “Hey, Y/N!” His usual jovial expression faltered when he saw how Billy was holding my wrist. “What’s going on here?”    Billy released me and smirked. “Nothing, just askin’ a girl for a light.”

   “That’s not what it looks like.”

   “Back off, Steve, it’s fine,” I muttered.

   Billy smirked at me and sauntered off, taking the attention of all the white girls in that hallway with him. I massaged my wrist, feeling the ache from Billy’s strong grasp settling in. 

   “Is he messing with you, Y/N?” Steve asked. “Because I could totally handle him for you.”

   “Down boy, I’m fine. He shouldn’t be bothering me again.”     Steve didn’t look convinced, but my best guy friend relented and didn’t bring it up again. Unfortunately, I was wrong in my prediction since Billy made every day horrible for me. He would push me, call me the N-word, make racially-charged jokes, and even some sexual ones. The times he got touchy were the worst and they made me want to cry. One day, I left Honors Biology to go to the bathroom. When I came out, Billy was there and he spun me around and pressed me against the wall, putting his whole body weight on mine to keep me from moving. I yelped but he threatened to cut me if I made another sound. After so much torture, I’d begun to believe him and tried to keep myself from trembling too much. 

     “You smell so good for a niggerette, like flowers or somethin’,” Billy whispered.

    “If you don’t let me go soon, Mr. Fletcher will send someone to look for me,” I begged quietly.

   “Your skin is so brown but it doesn’t look like sh-t, more like chocolate.” Billy leaned closer. “I wonder if you taste like chocolate.” 

   Then, his slimy tongue ran up and down the side of my neck. It felt the same way as the class snake from fifth grade when it wound itself around my hand. However, I was not nearly as afraid of that ball python as I was of Billy. If it were any other guy, I would have shoved him away, but I was afraid of the serious physical repercussions I would face. 

   When he let me go, I was too shaken up as he smirked at me.

   “Until next time, sweetheart.” 

   As soon as he walked away, I wiped off the side of my neck and gagged a bit. It was so strange to be filled with so much anger, fear, and sadness at once. I wanted to strangle him and also let Eleven throw him off the side of a cliff. I wanted to tell people too, but was too ashamed. I blamed every cut and bruise I’d gotten on my clumsiness, but I was sure that Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and my parents were believing in me less and less. I wished for the day that I could finally put Billy in his place.

  The day came quicker than I thought, a few weeks after that disgusting neck licking incident. Steve and I were holed up with Mike, Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Max in the Byers’ house while everyone else went to the lab. Unfortunately, Will was still a bit out of it thanks to the whole possession thing and I was doing my best to help Steve maintain authority.

   “Max, get your a-- out here! I know you’re in there!”

   Just hearing his voice made me freeze and Max’s eyes went super wide.

   “What’s Billy doing here? How did he find me?” Max asked.

   “I have no idea, just whatever you do, don’t go to the windows,” Steve said.

   Of course, the kids didn’t listen and practically ran to the windows. Then, they ducked down and I rolled my eyes.

   “Lucas, stay down!” I hissed at my little cousin. 

   Lucas rolled his eyes but the fear in them was as great as it was in Max’s. 

   “You better not be in there with him!” Billy snapped.

   “Him?” I turned to the kids. “Him who?”

   They collectively shared a glance while I stared down my cousin. 

   “I want an answer,” I said.

   “Lucas, he’s talking about Lucas. He doesn’t like him...or people who look like him.”

    I had to bite back a sarcastic comment that would have outed me as a victim of Billy’s bullying, but turned to Lucas instead. He glared at Max for a quick second before he turned to me. 

    “Watch them, I’ll handle Billy,” Steve said as he headed outside.

    “Don’t you want your bat?” Dustin asked.

    “I don’t need it.”

   I shook my head at Steve and knelt down so I was eye level with Lucas. “We’re family, you know that, right?”

   “Yeah, I’m not an idiot,” Lucas sniped.

   “Well, you’re a plain old fool if you don’t tell me what’s been going on with you and Billy.”

   Lucas pursed his lips. 

   “I will put you in a headlock, Lucas, don’t make me do it in front of your friends, because I will.” 

   I stared him down the way I learned years ago that would make him go along with whatever scheme I had in place. Lucas kept a strong face on but I could tell he was weakening.

   “Dude, just tell her!” Dustin said. 

   “Listen to your buddy, Lucas.” 

   “He bothers me sometimes,” Lucas muttered, looking down at his folded arms.

   “Has he touched you?” When he didn’t look up at me, I smacked his arm. He snapped at me and I raised an eyebrow.

   “He pushed him once,” Max said.

   “Max!” Lucas exclaimed.

   “It’s true!” 

   I slowly stood to my feet, feeling much more stable than I had in a long time. It was one thing for Billy to harass me, but Lucas was just a kid. Billy was nearly twice my little cousin’s size and Lucas was basically defenseless. Anger and determination swept through me as I pivoted and grabbed Steve’s bat.

   “What are you doing, Y/N?” Lucas asked.

   “Teaching a jerk a lesson.” 

   I took a deep breath before ripping the door open. The first thing I saw was Steve lying on the yard, face bloodied and bruised. The second thing I saw was Billy standing over him, not a scratch on him. He looked up at me and his gaze hardened.

   “Look who came to join the party,” Billy said.

   “Get out,” I said.

   “That’s no way to speak to your superior.” Billy took another step towards me. “I thought I taught you your manners by now, little girl.”

   “Get out.”

    “Not without my sister. MAX!” Billy yelled.

   I took a step down the stairs. “You messed with Luke?”

  “Do all you people talk to each other?”

   “We do when we’re family.”    Billy opened his mouth to speak again, but all I saw was red as I lifted the bat and swung it at him. It hit him right in his stupid curly blonde head. He staggered back and I stepped forward, swinging sporadically. He was on the ground, lifting his arms up to protect himself, but I didn’t stop swinging. I saw blood but since he was still breathing, I thought it was fair game.

   “Y/N!” 

    I froze when I heard Lucas’ voice and knew that I couldn’t be anywhere as much of a monster as Billy was. I let the bat rest at my side and looked down at Billy’s face. It was far worse off than Steve’s. He was gasping blood and his one good eye stared at me in shock. I slowly bent down over him. 

   “You come near me or my cousin again and I’ll make sure you get to hang out with the rest of the Klan for eternity.” 

[sjenvs3000]

Unique in Nature

What do think about when you think about nature interpretation? What is your ideal way to interpret nature and why? The answers to these questions depict each individual’s unique way they choose to experience nature and explore the world around them. I believe that each nature interpreter is a unique sum of their experiences and passions which they hopefully can lend to their audience. This way the audience is able to borrow the interpreter’s perspective to explore the landscape in a new way. Just as each interpreter is unique in their craft so is each experience of nature interpretation as even walking the same path through the forest everyday could mean you see different animals, notice different landmarks or stumble across a new path you previously missed. The changing experiences in a stagnant landscape makes me thing of the quote from the Disney movie Pocahontas “You can’t step in the same river twice, the water’s always changing, always flowing” from the song “Just around the River Bend”. I think this line best encourages me to keep asking question and learning every day.

Credit: IMGUR

As one of first influential experiences I had with nature interpretation through technology, watching Pocahontas as a child always reminded me the importance of others perspectives in nature which is best told by the lyrics from “Colours of the Wind” which reads “If you walk the footsteps of a stranger you’ll find things you never knew you never knew”. The children’s movie also urges the message that nature is part of the moral community of human society whether or not we view it as such. This ideal is something that was thought to me during my university career and strongly resonated with me as an aspiring nature interpreter. The core belief is that wildlife deserves as much respect as we give to humans and the world we have constructed for ourselves. Considering wildlife within our scope of values will guide my nature interpretation regardless of the method of delivery. This could include showing others to live harmoniously with wildlife within our environments and respecting theirs. This would hopefully encourage more people to find the beauty of nature closer to home than they thought possible. For me, finding wildlife or small moments like appreciating the sunshine, are small everyday ways I connect with nature that help me remember to not get caught up in the worries of everyday life, especially during these long months of lockdown.

Credit: Conservation Magazine

As nature interpreters, I believe it is our duty to lend our passion to others in order for them to be able to experience nature through the lenses we look through. I believe it is our responsibility to encourage new ways of thought about what others once previously considered ordinary and educate even when we are met with hesitation. Throughout my academic and professional career, I had to overcome and watch others overcome many preconceived notions of certain species. For example, I had to learn that I would be fine extracting a ball python from the twisted ball of napping snakes. I quickly learned my fears had nothing to do with the actual snakes and everything to do with what I had previously thought about this type of species.

After overcoming my fear of snakes! Credit: Avery Harte

I think this is a vital component of nature interpretation as getting our audience to critically challenge their core beliefs using what they experience in nature. I believe as nature interpreters it is our responsibility to speak for those that cannot speak for themselves like the landscapes and wildlife, which is a way I interpret everyday. I believe it is vital to educate and get people to challenge their ungrounded beliefs. I do this by advocating for species such as pit bulls and sharks wherever I can to hopefully allow them to appreciate the things they fear the way I do. I also believe that as nature interpreters we must be able to find new perspectives from familiar surroundings by always questioning and learning. For example, at the beginning of this article I mentioned how the Disney movie Pocahontas was inspirational to me in its view of natural environments. Growing up and learning about privilege and the complexities of society, however, forces me to look at this childhood movie in a different, less flattering light which highlights the romanticizing of colonization, insulting historical inaccuracies and lack of a genuine indigenous perspective. Although I can still appreciate the messages of accepting nature into our moral community and accepting new perspectives, by continuing to critically view my privilege, question and learn, I am able to grow as an interpreter.

The real story of Pocahontas https://wydaily.com/latest-news/2021/03/21/not-a-disney-princess-the-real-story-of-pocahontas/ Credit: WYDaily, Nancy Sheppard

There are many ways I would like to interpret nature throughout my life. Currently, my favourite way to interpret nature is by hiking with my dog. Given the global crisis that is COVID-19, I have struggled with the feeling of house arrest surrounded by the very urban landscape that is Toronto and frequently escape into the woods by the river for reprieve. I love educating others around us on these walks about fascinating things I find such as fossils, forest structures, and evidence of animals. No matter how many times I have walked along those paths, I am taken on a new journey each time.

My dogs favourite way to cool down in the summer! Credit: Stephanie Jones

My favourite way to interpret nature is in the water, however. Through my university career, I have learned a lot about the marine ecosystems which has only made me more passionate about these alien environments. I think the structure of snorkeling and scuba diving is the more ideal way to interpret for me. The time before you enter the water is usually filled with educating the audience on what to expect to see which allows your time in the water to be spent quietly exploring and interpreting what you just learned about this unique environment. This allows the excitement and anticipation to build before the exploration and allows me to make the most out of each experience I get under the waves.

Scuba diving in Thailand! Credit: Roctopus Diving Centre

[barbtheball]

Hi there it’s me, Barb’s dad. Proceeds from this will go directly to help keep Barbara and her rack mates happy and healthy. Barb’s in shed right now expect newer content soon.