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closetofanxiety · 6 years

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Beyond Wrestling: Americanrana 18

I got home after 1 a.m. today and woke up at 6 a.m. Then it was a full day of home improvement stuff. I’m tired. I’ve got ice on my bad foot. But I have some thoughts and impressions about the hottest US independent wrestling show of, uh, the month of July, at least.

Big crowd: This was Beyond’s biggest live gate of all time, and at the same time the most-watched live stream in the young life of Powerbomb TV, AND the single event responsible for more new subscribers than anything else they’ve shown so far. At the venue, a Polish-American club in Worcester with oil paintings of the Old Country on the walls, people were berserk for almost everything that happened during the night. I don’t know how it came across on TV (or whatever, screen, I’m talking about watching it on a screen), but people were loud and excitable. Dan Barry got the biggest reaction Dan Barry has possibly ever had. People reacted to the surprise appearance of Anthony Green like he was Mike Bailey, and they reacted to the surprise appearance of Mike Quackenbush like he was Steve Austin. It’s so much fun to be with a crowd of people who are just going nuts for professional wrestling.

Final appearance: Matt Riddle had what is almost certainly his last-ever Beyond Wrestling match, getting pinned by Nick Fuckin Gage during a tag match that pitted Gage and Matt Tremont (the New H8 Club) against Riddle and Filthy Tom Lawlor. It’s wild to think that a year ago he was putting his undefeated streak on the line in the main event at Americanrana 17, and this year he was in a mid-card tag match where he ate a pin. He’s headed for big things, though. Gage is great as the fan favorite, thanking people for willing him onto victory, and looking genuinely delighted when he got the pin. Awkward moment: the crowd, excited at the announcement that the winning team was now called “the New H8 Club,” started chanting “C-Z-Dub! C-Z-Dub!” despite Gage having gone over to bitter rivals GCW and Tremont wrestling his final CZW match on Saturday night. Just chant “Nick Fuckin Gage! Nick Fuckin Gage!” Speaking of which ...

Working blue: This was the sweariest Beyond Wrestling show I can remember for some time. They had pregame interviewers with Wrestling Social Media Personality Alicia Atout in front of a fancy Beyond/Powerbomb backdrop, and Janela and ring announcer Rich Palladino, of all people, kept using the word “fuck” like a comma. Kids in the room, gentlemen!

Unpopular Opinion #1: I like intergender wrestling a lot, but in order for it to become a normal part of pro wrestling, promotions and wrestlers have to stop loudly drawing attention to the fact that THEY AREN’T AFRAID TO HAVE INTERGENDER WRESTLING, DAMN IT. The opening match on the show was a terrifically fun four-on-four pitting Team Pazuzu against “Team WWR”: Kimber Lee, Jordynne Grace, Mia Yim, and Skylar. It was fun and crazy, as you’d expect from that cast of characters, and Skylar did a good job of keeping up with wrestlers who are much more experienced and established than she is. But then after the match, Chris Dickinson cut a promo about how HE RESPECTS THESE GIRLS SO GODDAMN MUCH AND INTERGENDER WRESTLING IS HERE TO STAY. Good! I like that! But the more you act like it’s some remarkable anomaly, the more people are going to treat it like that. It’s just another variety of match, like tag team wrestling.

Oh, also: There was a GREAT moment in the match where Dickinson was about to give Jordynne Grace a Pazuzu Bomb, but she was saved by Kimber Lee, who then stared Dickinson down. This was a callback to the spot in Beyond years ago where Dickinson waffled Lee with a chair and then hit her with a crazy Pazuzu Bomb in a clip that went viral and gave both of them some not-entirely-wanted exposure to the wider world. The crowd, happily, recognized this immediately and went APESHIT. I loved it!

Loco spotfests: There was an announced four-way tag match with Team Tremendous, the Gentlemen’s Club, the Beaver Boys, and the recently renamed Massage Force. There was also an unannounced Chikara showcase, with Solo Darling, Fire Ant, someone working a “Dasher Hatfield’s kid” gimmick, and Quack himself against a Dungeon of Doom-esque cast of characters. Also Travis Huckabee. I honestly groaned when I heard “Chikara showcase,” but they tore down the house. Quackenbush may be a guy who talks like Darril and wants to turn wrestling into TED Talk fodder, but he’s one of the most important US indie wrestlers of all time, and I had never seen him wrestle in person before. At one point, a sea creature or maybe the Gimp or someone picked Quackenbush up by his feet and heaved him backwards over the rope, and he sailed higher and farther than any person I’ve ever seen launched out of a wrestling ring. It was just a hugely fun match, and the four-way tag managed to top it. There was no “storytelling” or “psychology” in either match, and honestly, that’s fine for a big-spectacle show like Americanrana. Just have a bunch of talented people come out and do stuff they don’t normally do in a show, and go wild.

The plot thickens: The big news from the four-way tag is Dan Barry’s betrayal of beloved partner Bill Carr (there was a loud, enthusiastic chant of “Bill Carr fucks! Bill Carr fucks!” after the big man launched himself through the ropes. “Oh my God, I love it! I love it, you guys!” he yelled back. He is like a big happy golden retriever and it’s impossible to think negatively about him). Betrayals don’t always work on the indie level, and I’ve seen my share of partners turning on partners that are greeted with shrugs by the crowd, but people went NUTS after Barry screwed over Carr. A louder, more sustained negative reaction than I’ve ever heard in Beyond. Should be a hot feud! In further plot twists, MJF was injured and couldn’t wrestle Gresham in their blowoff, so Trent was drafted as a surprise Dream Team member. The match ended in a DQ and Gresham roughed up Stokely Hathaway while MFJ watched helplessly from the outside. THIS SETTLED NOTHING. Presumably.

Unpopular Opinion #2: I think PCO’s run as the TV veteran who has inexplicably become an indie darling is nearing its conclusion. I also think that run does not sit as well on PCO’s shoulders as it would Gangrel. It should be Gangrel out there, getting the big paydays and the crazy receptions from crowds. PCO does not have a lot in his toolbox, if I’m being honest. He had a sloppy, overlong match with Brian Cage that was full of blown spots and awkward pauses. Let’s all focus on Gangrel from now on.

A new favorite: I’ve done a total 180 on “Hot Sauce” Tracy Williams, who used to bore me to distraction. I really like him now. I think it’s because I’ve heard him on commentary a bunch, and he reminds me of friends who lived in squats and punk houses in the 1990s but who now live in Brooklyn and have respectable jobs in the low six figures, but who are still capable of smashing a bottle in the face of a Nazi skinhead.

Mayhem: What can I say about the main event, a no-ropes barbed wire death match between David Starr and Joey Janela, to settle a feud that’s been simmering on and off for years? It was extremely violent and bloody. It lasted 22 minutes but felt like 10. Starr won, and cut an absolutely searing promo afterward, calling Janela “a glorified stuntman” who only came to prominence because someone else made goofy Internet videos about him; seriously, it’s one of the best promos I’ve heard an indie wrestler give. Bile and bitterness from a man covered in his own blood; there would be no Triple H Handshake of Respect between these two gladiators.

Grace notes: This was the most efficiently run Americanrana I’ve ever attended. The doors were supposed to open at 6:30, and they opened EARLY. An indie show! This was good, but it trapped one of my friends outside, because he had gone to a bar, assuming it would take forever to get inside the building. I mean, he made it in eventually, he just had to wait at the back of the line ... There was a nice shoutout to Dominki Dijakovicokowiczogonov, gone but not forgotten from Beyond: during his match with AR Fox, Anthony Greene did the Feast Your Eyes and hit Dijakulakovich’s poses while the crowd chanted “Feast Your Eyes! Feast Your Eyes!” ... Chuck Taylor hit a Rainmaker during the four-way tag match and screamed “This one’s for you, Little Kazu!,” which is a reference to an ongoing Twitter joke that I’m almost ashamed to have recognized ... I bought a hat from David Starr and we talked about the need for national healthcare, which is a conversation topic that wouldn’t work with most wrestlers .... I don’t know why or how they do it, but Americanrana really feels special. Everyone seems to raise their game for the show, and the fans are really in a holiday mood. It’s not a show I ever want to miss ... The crowd went from skepticism over the Chikara wrestlers - one guy grunted, “Fuckin’ Vince Russo gimmicks” when the bad guys came out - to joyous acceptance, capped when the same guy yelled at the sea monster character, “Look at this big green bastard! How’s he able to breathe on land?” ... One of my favorite parts of the day was sitting in the bar downstairs while they broke down the ring and set up the barbed wire. Just seeing a bunch of the wrestlers relaxing and enjoying themselves, having a (non-alcoholic) drink with my friend Mike, enjoying the air conditioning on a summer night: this was a good night ... after the show, we stopped at a service plaza on the Masss Pike to get some unhealthy snacks and use the bathroom, and on our way in we passed Solo Darling. “Great match tonight,” we said. “Thank you!” she said. On our way out, we passed a much less happy Solo Darling as she walked over to the counter to give the McDonald’s people hell. “I distinctly said no cheese on ...” she began, as we hurried out.

Final thought: There was a 20 or 25 minute break before the main event, where they set up the barbed wire and all that. Mike and I went downstairs to the bar while Mark stayed up in the hall. The first person we saw in the bar, sitting by himself at one end, was David Starr. He was hunched over a glass of water and a shot glass and staring into the middle distance, at nothing in particular. In a few minutes, he was going to walk upstairs and wrestle the most violent match of his career in front of 500 people and you could see the concern on his face as he went over the possibilities: barbed wire, steel chairs, staple guns, cinder blocks, baseball bats. One spot that goes a little sideways and someone leaves the building in an ambulance. That glimpse of David Starr brooding put the whole night - put all of wrestling, really - into perspective. This wasn’t an angle, this wasn’t a promo, he wasn’t in character: this was a man working up the courage to do something reckless and potentially dangerous because he wanted to do it more than anything in the world. It was the look of a man who has willingly taken a great weight onto his shoulders, as many of us have, or will have to one day. It was a wordless rejoinder to all those snide comments about how wrestling is fake: looking at David Starr’s face, sitting alone and being left alone by his friends and peers, his staring eyes showing exactly what he was prepared to do, one thing was clear to anyone who was paying attention - nothing is more real than wrestling.

#Beyond Wrestling #Americanrana #Americanrana 18 #show reviews #David Starr

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anyarusama · 6 years

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Xmas poem part 01

001 ‘Twas the night before Xmas and all thru LA

002 Everyone was preparing for the fun holiday

003 The hookers all wore some green and some red

004 While the depleted drug dealers were preparing for bed

005 The gangs all traded their guns and their caps

006 For a cup of hot cocoa to share with their paps

007 Yet in one business stood an overworked girl

008 For she had a boss whose rage could unfurl

009 You see she had asked for Christmas Eve off

010 That day was denied which made the night rough

011 And now here she stands making pizza for none

012 While everyone’s Christmas is nearly But done

013 “Hate working” complained the overworked girl

014 “Should be at home Fuck Manager WURL!”

015 She played with a laser pointer she snuck to work

016 She had nothing to do! This made her berserk!

017 No one buys Pizza on Christmas Eve night

018 “Fuck Christmas” she said straight outta spite

019 ‘“Chill out and relax!” Said her special pig friend

020 “For all you need now! Is joint till the end

021 “When all turns out bad, Pull out your stash

022 “And go smoke it all all faster than flash”

023 The overworked said feeling reassured

024 “I’m down to do it! It’s Tonight’s perfect cure!”

025 They ran to the alley way into the back

026 And they would stay there till the joints turned all black

027 “Give me a lighter” said the special pig friend

028 “So we can begin my unique special blend”

029 she then began to realized she had not brought a lighter

030 But she did had something although a little less brighter

031 Remembered that pointer deep in her pocket

032 Which she would now use to get high as a rocket

033 She aimed her pointer straight right up at the sky

034 Which brought a red sleigh down, along with a guy

035 The laser had blinded the guy on the sleigh

036 In turn brought the sleigh down and left him astray

037 The bang had confused the overworked girl

038 As well as the pig friend both were all in swirls

039 The two muddled up to the guy in the sleigh

040 Guy wore all red and looked very cliche

041 The overworked pointed to the guys eye

042 But the man just laid there and did not comply

043 “The mans dead!” Yelled the overworked girl

044 But the light eventually, gave him reason to twirl

045 ‘Tis a zombie” shouted the special pig friend

046 So both of the friends now have to defend

047 The overworked girl gave him a hard punch

048 Which made the poor man deliver his lunch

049 She grabbed the mans hat and strangled the man

050 Now turning back she must finish what she began

051 Once all was done she knew who he was

052 ‘Tis was ol Saint Nick! AKA Santa Claus!

053 The Overworked girl checked the man for a pulse

054 The man her none so this made her repulse

055 Her assumption had now become true

056 Santa was dead and his face was full blue

057 “What now!” Panicked the overworked girl

058 “I wish not arrest by our officer Earl”

059 “No worries” said the special pig friend

060 “For hiding the body is what I recommend”

061 “But first burn the evidence, it’s easy like so”

062 Store the body in the freezer is whatnot should know

063 But chop the body and keep it hidden

064 In barrel which will now stay forbidden

065 The overworked girl complied without second thought

066 She did not want jail time and feared getting caught

067 At the very moment a family of six entered the store

068 Which made the overworked girl stop all the gore

069 The family sat down and ordered a pizza

070 They wanted the best like they were in Pisa!

071 the special pig friend began making the pizza

072 And The overworked girl waited and prayed for amnesia

073 She served up the pizza and caught something strange

074 It was Saint Nick finger which made her derange

075 “Sorry we are now closed” Said the overworked girl

076 “And i must take the pizza it has a Diseased sausage curl”

077 “But we have no meal tonight” said the little poor boy

078 This was our meal for tonight now we have no more joy”

079 But the family did not leave feeling hungry or sad

080 The overworked girl gave them all money for she felt really bad

081 The overworked girl had brought her conscience

082 A solution she needed for Santa strange absence

083 As the family left she got a terrific idea

084 Everyone’s Christmas was saved! Even Korea’s!

085 She ran to the sleigh and put out the fire

086 She will save Christmas for she was inspired!

087 With Santa dead and the toys all destroyed

088 She will give her stuff which she quickly deployed

089 Off to her home the girl sure did hush

090 And filled up the sleigh all done in a hush

091 Her big screen TV went in as well as her food

092 For hopes that this Christmas will be any good

093 She packed up her fun video game console

094 As well as her liquor to prove she’s no asshole

095 Off in the sky she delivered her stuff

096 While her special pig friend smoked all his puffs

097 She read off the list made by good ol Saint Nick

098 And Matched up her stuff in hopes it would stick

099 Lil boy jimmy had asked for planting seeds

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yuki-d-raizel-blog · 6 years

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Believe Me

Chapter 10/??

Relationship: Rin x Reader (Your/Name) , (Full/Name)

Summit: Inside the class there was the same confusion of always, Rin and Bon were fighting over something stupid, Shima and Konekomaru were trying to stop them while Shiemi and Izumo were laughing for the scene. Everything was as always. Until the bell rang. The Exwires notice that the professor was late, but nobody knew why. When the door opened… A new student arrived to the True Cross Academy. She’s smart and strong, still a quiet and solitary person. Moved by a strange feeling, Rin would like to know her, help her if he can but nobody would think that that student was someone so… special.

---

You open the fridge to check the ingredients and ask if Rin has any preferences. When you turn, he’s touching every tool he can see. Magazines, knifes, pots, the oven, everything is brand-new and is stimulating so hard his curiosity.

“He’s so simple and easy to read.” <<Hey master chef, do you prefer Italian, French, meat or fish?>>

<<C-can I make dinner again? I wanna try everything… I’ll clean->>

<<Don’t say that. You’re a precious guest, I can’t make you clean and cook.>>

<<Eh? I don’t mind it, for real! I really love cooking, you have fresh ingredients and new-brand tools, so…>>

<<Then let me help you.>> you move aside and let the fridge open, <<You’re the chef and I’m your assistant. What about this?>>

Enthusiastic, Rin starts to select each ingredient and gives you instructions. As you prepare the different type of blends, he washes and chops the vegetables and the meat. Once everything is done, Rin dries his hands and follows your movements with the corner of the eyes. While you’re pourring the flour in a bowl, he keeps watching your figure, when Yukiya’s words raise inside his mind.

“If I touch a little higher on the shoulder, she’ll jump…” he stops behind you and touches you with one finger in a spot.

<<SWEET JESUS!>> you catch the bowl in time before it fall, <<Oi->>

<<Very interesting.>> he has a smirk and a very sadistic face, <<Come here (Y/N).>>

<<Don’t you dare! Bad Rin!>>

<<Caught ya!>> he assaults your hips touching all the weak spots in a second, <<Now (Y/N), on a scale from 1 to 10, how ticklish are you right here?>> Rin circled your bellybutton torturous slow with his index finger. The demon smirked when he felt your body twitch under his touch before he decides to add a little more pressure.

“Don’t laugh for the love of god!” you’ve tried sucking your stomach in to avoid the ticklish touch and you bit your own lips to keep the giggles inside. “(Y/N) don’t!” but when Rin decided to spider-tickle around your bellybutton and gently scratch at his waistline, the dam broke.

<<Well, that’s an 11 for me.>> the boy laughs down at you, who are trying to swatt his fingers away, but it’s not working.

“Goddammit!” you really tried to fight against your friend’s teasing hands but it seemed like the son of Satan had the worryingly talent to tickle you right there, where it made you grow and fell helplessly into the floor, squirming and laughing under Rin’s torturous touch.

<<What’s wrong, (Y/N)?>>

<<Little->> you tried sending him a glare but then there were suddenly finger wriggling and digging into your underarms sending you into a hysteric giggle fit.

<<Aww is someone a bit ticklish? Maybe here too?>> Rin is smirking down at an air gasping classmate before that cute girl throws her head back in the floor and her hands uselessly clutching his wrists but she hasn’t the strength to actually push him off.

“I’ll die from lack of oxygen and out of embarrassment! Fuck!” you should be thankful at your body, when Rin dugged his fingers into your ribs, he fell off due to your suddenly back arching. Your face is red and your voice sound suffocate, so he stops. All the flour is on the floor, in your hair and probably in his too.

“What am I doing?!” thinks the Exwire while is sitting on your legs, “She’s trying to catch her breath… Woah, stop that thought right away Rin! You can’t think at it!”

<<You bastard…>> with an invisible move, now you’re on top, <<How dare you!>> this time you’re the one that will torture him, and he will beg for mercy.

<<Wait, it’s not fair->> he tried to stop your hand too but like it happened to you, he lost all his strength and couldn’t do anything against his teammate.

<<It’s so fair!>> your fingers are long and thin, so they can go everywhere without problems, <<I’m not even touching your tail, I’m magnanimous!>>

“Oh, I forgot about it!” he moves it in your neck, <<Bullseye!>> your body tense immediately and Rin has the chance to bring you down again and tickle you even with his tail.

<<YoohU uSheeEd YoUhR tAaaahil! It’S NhOt FaIhr!>>

<<It’s so fair!>>

“Don’t steal my lines!” you can’t talk anymore, your hysterical laugh won’t stop, when an idea born in your mind. Using the last strength left, you move your legs and close them firmly on Rin’s hips, hitting his tail. He loses his force but manages to not fall on you, <<Hah… haa… this is… the second time… you caught me… off guard…>>

<<I’m getting better then…>> he feels the grip on the hips loosen, “She has really strong legs. They’re thin… I get it, she is the personification of the proverb -don’t judge a book by its cover-“ <<!>> when he looks at you again, your face is so red for the embarrassment… “She’s so cute with that hard blush- Wait, if she’s reacting like this it means…”

<<This is not… good…>> you relax your head on the floor, <>

“Maybe Yukiya was right. I’ve never seen her with that hard blush with somebody, only me.” he lends over your face slowly, “I feel like without her I can’t do anything anymore. She’s my strength and weakness, what am I supposed to do with these strong feelings?” his body is moving instinctively.

“He’s gonna... kiss me?” you felt his tail twirled gently in your leg and his hand has moved until it reached your fingers, “He has such strong and incontrollable powers, but he’s caring with the others, even if they hate him. While with me is gentler, vulnerable… Every time I discover a new side… I love that. I’ve never had a weakness; until now. He has my life in his hands and I’m fine with it. In the past I would fight against it I’m sure, nobody was able to control me as they liked.” you put your forearms on the floor and push yourself a little higher, "If I’m not resisting… How much I love him for change even myself?”

Right before the lips could touch, a phone ring and break the atmosphere. Both of you are blushing and can’t even speak, so you get quickly away from each other.

“That was so close! Damn it!” you two had the same thought.

While the Exwire checks the phone, you clean the mess you’re done with that silly tickle war. Fortunately, all the ingredients are safe, lack only the flour. You replace it and wait for your friend to comes back.

<<You’ll pay for this, four-eyes!>> Rin takes the call frustrated, <<What you want?>>

<<Sorry nii-san, I would only tell you that Shura wants to continue the training with your flame.>>

<<Gimme a break! It’s summer holidays, you can’t do this to me!>>

<<You’re under Vatican’s observation, you->>

<<Yeah, yeah. But when the training will be over, I’ll do what I want!>>

<<Until you don’t destroy anything and your flame will not go wild, I’m fine with everything.>>

<<Then bye, stupid four-eyes!>> the son of Satan ends the call and with a growl he looks at the sky.

<<Everything ok?>> the girl approaches him slowly for not invade his privacy, <<Need to go back?>>

<<Eh? No, no.>> he looks really pissed, <<Yukio told me that I must do my training with my flames.>>

<> you speak honestly, <<Yes, your powers are strong but it’s all a mental issue.>>

<<What do you mean?>>

<<Let’s eat first!>> Rin goes back with you and while you two are cooking, you answer at him, <<When I used my powers for the first time, I thought I’ll hurt everyone, and they often went wild. Yukiya told me that I mustn’t fear them, but accept them and accept myself for what I am. It was hard, but I did it. Now I can control my powers easily, and rarely go on berserk like the past.>>

<<So, what can I do?>>

<<First, accept yourself.>> she sets the table with glasses, drinks, plates, <<You’re afraid to be alone due to them. You’re rejecting your demon part, don’t do that, Rin. I know it’s difficult, but when you can finally see who you are, then the others will understand that you aren’t a weapon or a danger.>>

<<You really believe that?>>

<<Of course, I know you enough to prove it. One day maybe, I’ll show you my true powers and our roles will be inverted.>>

<<Eh?>> both of you sit on the chair and began to eat, <<(Y/N)->>

<<My strength and existence are like a catastrophe for humans. Except for Shion, everyone has rejected me and tried to kill me when they saw my true powers. Will you react like them or not?>>

---Continue...

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

#rin okumura #yukio okumura #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #scenarios #fanfcition #anime #manga

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xxbalamazxx · 5 years

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Some One To Look Up To

Throughout our lives, many of us have many people we have looked up to. Yet there was always our first hero. Usually for most, if they are a boy it would be their father. If they are a girl it would be their mother. Sometimes it is the other way around. For some, it may not even be a family member but a local police officer or a firefighter. Either way, we all have that one person we looked up to. That one person whom we wanted to be like… For me it was none of the above really, rather it was my uncle John. Now to many they never knew that. They never knew that I looked up to him. Many would have said maybe someone at school, or a firefighter. Or that “Jerry” ( the nickname given to me by my grandmother) does not look up to anyone. Yet in truth, it was my uncle John. Growing up as a kid I had the dis-privilege of having most of the men that came in and out of my life to be well, garbage. Many of them were vile, liars and deceitful. I never really made a bond with many of them. I never really knew my father. He vanished when I was a kid. So for me, the first male that I ever came across that was genuinely decent to me and my brothers/sisters was my uncle. Even though I had a grandfather, we did not connect at first me. For me, my uncle John always seemed intelligent. He always seemed to know everything. On the weekends he would host a Dungeons & Dragon game for my older brother and my other uncle who was not much older than I, and me. We would enter a land of fantasy, usually, my brother would be a warrior, a wielder of the sword and shield. Or just a straight-up full-on berserker, my uncle that played would usually be a mage, and I a cleric or a priest… ( Though on several occasions we did change this up.) To me, a boy no older than eleven years of age, someone that could create some rich and deep stories at the drop of the hat was someone special. He provided an escape for us after the hardships my brother and I grew up knowing. In those moments we lost all memory of the world around us and battle dragons hunted goblins and treasure. We scaled mountains and raided dungeons… Even though we never left the kitchen table… Later on, my uncle would get us to play sports like basketball, and American football. With these came sword fighting and playing out some of our adventures in the forest. But these weren't just the things that made me look up to him. But rather John was huge and still is, though I have not seen him in years. To me, he was proof that someone could be strong, fast, intelligent and everything someone wanted to be, and yet not be violent, spiteful and hurtful. For while many would look him and most likely would have seen an oversized brute… They would have been wrong. Usually, he was kind and caring. Usually, he was what many people should have had aspired, personality-wise to be at the time… Over the years of growing up, I would reflect on those days as we played our games. I would reflect on the times we went there on holidays, and the few years we lived there. Even when things got hard for me, there was always the memory that just because could hurt you, does not mean they would… Who was someone you looked up to? Someone that may have changed your perception on people as you grew up? Someone that others may not have suspected. I want to know. Please leave a comment in the comments section. Read the full article

#AmericanFootBall #BasketBall #D&D #DungeonsAndDragons #Family #Football #Friends #Games #Hero #Lookup #LookUpto #SwordFighting #Uncle

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fyaorlandonorth · 7 years

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Exquisite Corpse Epilogue

If you're looking for a hopeful ending, read on:

Epilogue:

Diana stared up at the sky with a look of long-suffering that all older sisters make at one point or another. “Benny,” she said slowly. “If you do not tell me where you hid that stupid red cloak, I swear on all of your Star Wars action figures that I will not rest until they’ve returned to the plastic sludge from whence they came. All of them. Even Rey.” She paused. “BB-8 will be first.”

Benedict looked aghast and then promptly folded his arms into a sulk. “You’re no fun,” he muttered as he started to walk again. “Fine. It’s at home.”

My heart had finally stopped pounding, we’d rescued a little boy from the claws of a prissy werewolf diva, and I found myself loathe to leave them when we walked up to my street. Well, okay, being honest, I was loathe to leave Diana. She barely had a hair out of place, even after all that fighting, and her skin glowed fetchingly in the moonlight.

I must have hesitated too long, because she paused and looked over her shoulder at me. “Coming, Haven?”

I didn’t give my street a second glance.

Back at their house, Benedict avoided the front door and led us around to the backyard, where an impressive tree house dominated the upper-levels of a large oak tree in the corner. We filed up the ladder and breathed a collective sigh of relief as he produced the now-grubby red cloak from underneath a nest of blankets.

“What do we do with it?” I asked, leaning closer to Diana and catching a whiff of her citrusy shampoo. I didn’t see what was so special about the garment, but I suppose most magic can’t be seen by the naked eye.

“We make sure no other werewolf can use it for their own nefarious purposes,” she said emphatically.

Then, with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk, she held up the cloak and asked, “Anybody up for a bonfire?”

It was almost a week later before I saw Diana again, due to the Labor Day holiday and some mandatory city-wide curfews after an anonymous group of hoodlums went berserk and trashed a bunch of stuff on Main Street on their way out of town. I was standing on the edge of the field watching practice go on without me—Taylor had left town, sure, but I was still an uncoordinated mess with a ball—when I smelled a hint of citrus and my insides did a happy dance.

She materialized next to me, same slouchy bag on her shoulder and neat braid. “Why aren’t you out there?”

I snorted. “Let’s just say I’m quitting while I’m ahead. What are you doing here? You don’t go to this school.”

Diana shrugged. “I transferred. Felt like I needed a fresh start.”

I couldn’t stop the grin that spread across my face, and, frankly, I didn’t want to. “Oh. Well…cool.”

Diana eyed me and grinned herself. “Yeah, cool. Hey, I heard you guys have a nice gym. I was thinking of practicing some of my body flips, but I need a partner. Would you…?”

I linked my arm in hers and turned us towards the gym, leaving the game behind me. “Anytime, Diana. Anytime.”

#fyaon #exquisite corpse cyoa #2017 artifact hunt #2017 yasummershowdown

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thesilverthreadsmith · 4 years

Text

Bloodlines, Ch. 1

I'm home. Tony took a deep, deep breath of the fresh, clean air just outside of the Wall. Out here, in Ancelstierre, it was early autumn, still hot and dry, with the long grasses shh-shhing over the low voices of the soldiers unloading the trucks fast. The winds blowing out of the Old Kingdom weren't usually too bad until the winter hit, but even a stray breeze, heavy with both Free and Charter magic, would shut down their trucks for hours. Tony had even helped at first; it was always all hands on deck when they came this far north, and finally, he no longer had a reason to return to the South.

The job he'd finished for the very last client of his father's old company was done at long last, and he'd turned over all the operations back to Obie, including all the finances; he wasn't terribly worried about his own, not when he had a thriving little shop back in Belisaere. He'd only come this far into Ancelstierre on his old man's dying wishes anyway; what fun was all the technology in the world, when he could replicate it, and do far more, with the Charter.

“Mr. Stark, may I see your paperwork...?” The young corporal looked a little awestruck; they went through the papers and his dual passports, and Tony bent his head a little to allow for his Charter mark to be verified. He gave Lieutenant Maria Hill a grin and a wink, and she rolled her dark eyes, lips twitching a little as she shook her head.

“Good to see you, Tony.”

“Good to see you too, Maria...everything in order?”

“So far as I can see. Are you planning on returning to Ancelstierre?”

“Nope. I’m going home to Belisaere. You getting leave soon?”

“That’s the goal; we’d like to be home by the holidays...but, we’ll see. Are you heading up the Old North Road?”

“That’s the goal, why?” She grimaced and sighed.

“Just....be on your watch. There’s been reports of Dead about.” Tony’s eyes narrowed, and he took back his papers, stowing them safely in the waterproofed saddle bags.

“...You know the Abhorsen will be traveling...”

“I know. Still...there’s plenty of tales of people, the Abhorsen included, dying all too easily. Keep your guard up.” He nodded, bowing in respect to her position, and she gave him a similar gesture, turning it into one of welcome as she rose back up. Her soldiers read the signal for what it was; they set to unpacking the trucks with greater haste now, wary of the winds blowing out of the Old Kingdom.

Another truck roared up from behind them, but it went straight for the guard post, so Tony only paid enough attention to ensure that it wouldn’t hamper his way back home, and ignored the idiotic accusations and vile threats that were being leveled at a particularly unflappable man with the faint hint of a Charter mark and the air of someone who is thoroughly done with this shit.

He smiled as the boys finished up, and finished his own preparations, tightening his roan mare's belly strap with care and checking that everything was in place on her saddle, the bags all tied down tightly for fastest travel. On his back were his crossbow, and quiver of bolts, each of them blessed with a dozen fiery Charter marks if he encountered any Dead...at each hip sat a similarly blessed and forged short sword of his own work, and his armor alive with marks, the chainmail glowing even in the early afternoon light.

Across the wall, the warmth of September immediately gave way to a light, chilly snow, and he was grateful for the heavy doublet he'd packed months ago, complete with a hood and snow-mask, and her padded, full-body blanket. It wouldn't be an easy trip for Dottie, or him, but they had to make it home to Belisaere before the first heavy snow, and he'd already spent more money than most would have thought wise to get here as early as he had.

But...even with the long, rough journey over land ahead of them, the snow, the cold they could feel even now...he mounted with a surge of excitement, the same excitement he felt in Dottie too. They'd both been born and bred in the Old Kingdom; she'd been a tiny runt of a foal in Anstyr's Field, her and her weary mother the last horses after the massive faire, and his father had seen the way Tony had coaxed both filly and mare to the fence with carrots and a bit of sugar, soothing them and befriending them as easily as his mother had people...

Dottie had been his from that day on. Now, she was counting her years, but still just as strong and ready to start out on the trek, and Tony wondered if he might see a little filly again this coming summer. He rather hoped so; her many daughters were well sought after, and he wouldn't mind keeping the last...But, her dancing shook him out of his thoughts, and he soothed her with voice and touch; he didn't tolerate a bit in her mouth in the slightest.

Finally, the soldiers had turned to their posts, the trucks had roared away...and he was given the all clear from Maria, who‘d returned to her post at the top of the Wall. He cantered up to the gate, eying the heavy iron portcullis with a sense of pride, marking little areas of wear, where the Charter marks were fading, where his apprentices would need to make repairs...and at long last, it moved enough for him touch his heels to the mare's flanks, darting through at a lope. As it shut smoothly behind them, the first of winter's winds cut into his skin, and he drew up the mask, pulled on his gloves one at a time, and leaned low over Dottie's neck, letting her find her pace...

And with an Old Kingdom hunter, that was a very fast pace indeed; before long, she was in full motion, eating up the kilometers with deceptive ease, and Tony kept his eyes on their surroundings, trusting the mare's senses to keep them on the right track. She knew this road of old, knew where it lead, and she was just as eager to return home as he was...Tony took another breath, and smiled under his mask, feeling his heart sing as Charter's power surged up within him.

I'm finally home...

--- Far past the Seventh Gate...too far...too far gone...yet not far enough. It seeks, burning and bleeding shadows... It seeks you, Natalial. Green eyes opened, yet another shade lighter than before, and Tasha shook the ice off her armor, wincing as the numbness turned to burning pins and needles throughout her arms and legs, and she glanced around her cardinal shield, relaxing as only her horse glanced up at her. A few deep stretches and a drink of gaspingly cold water, and she was revived enough to release the cardinal points, sheathing her sword as another ice-white strand of hair fell into her eyes. Her hair was more white now than fiery red, an after effect of the many years she'd spent sending the dead back where they belonged. Not all Abhorsens came out of Death so pale; a good many, like her apprentice, Darciel, lost coloration in only their skin, their dark hair growing darker as they aged. Darcy, however, was in direct lineage to the famed Sabriel and Lirael, her father a royal advisor and one of past royal blood himself; Tasha was...a little different. She and Darcy were, in fact, half-sisters; their mother had been Abhorsen before them, though Tasha had been left to the traders her father traveled with at birth. Tasha had never been meant to be Abhorsen; when her coloring had been so like her father's, Marael had chosen to seek another mate elsewhere, for all Abhorsen children were born with dark hair and pale pale skin, with blue or brown eyes. But Nikolas had known, unlike his lover, that his daughter truly was something special; from a young age, her power in the Charter had been incredible, and when they'd fought a rogue necromancer, it had been Natasha who had plunged into Death, defeating him with nothing but her wits and a handful of throwing daggers at the tender age of eleven. Bravery had had nothing to do with it, though; the traders who had raised her, if a bit rough and brusque, were kind men and women who loved her in their own ways, and she had already lost enough...It had been simple to throw her soul into Death, reckless and full of rage...a rage that some had whispered about. Berserker, they had called her...like King Touchstone, like so many of the royal line, fierce, proud warriors...In any case, her power had been unearthed at last, and her right to bear the Abhorsen name was only cemented further. Marael had been...well, annoyed was putting it mildly. Nikolas had taken his child back to her to be trained, properly, but...well, Marael had a husband then, and a tiny baby who was the perfect Abhorsen child. She had been quite blunt with her former flame, and it was Natasha...no, Natalial, who had proven her worth, there in the center of Abhorsen's garden. She passed every test set to her from then on, proved her power and strength...had even earned the passing approval of Yrael himself, formerly Mogget, the immortal servant of the Abhorsen. And yet... It wasn't enough. Marael never said so much as a gentle word to her firstborn, though she showered Darcy with praise and love, gifts so lavish they made Tasha's throat squeeze closed, even now, even after all these years...And yet, not once had Darcy played the spoiled brat. It was almost infuriating at times, how even-keeled she was, but then...it had been Natasha, not Marael, who'd taught Darcy of Death, of the Gates, of the Bells...Marael had thought she had all the time in the world. Does the Walker choose the Path, or the Path, the Walker?

Tasha smiled, faintly, at the remembered words, so oft quoted in both the Book of the Dead, and the worn old almanac in her saddle bags...and turned to her little sister, who was tending the fire with a book before her nose. The Book, to be precise; Darciel had her sword unsheathed at her side, and the faint crook of her head told Tasha that she was listening, despite being engrossed, and she limped over to her seat by the fire, taking comfort in the warmth within Darcy's larger shields. "How was Death?" Her lips quirked in a smile at the vapid-sounding question; she did appreciate Darcy's humor even in her dark moods, and settled, stretching her bad leg with a faint groan and a pop of her knee. A murmur of Charter magic made her raise an eyebrow, but she just accepted it with another smile; Darcy always knew when that leg was acting up, and Natasha was more than willing to accept the healing these days. "Death was quiet, for a change. Thank you for allowing for this detour to our trip." "Psh, Cloven Crest isn't that far off our path, sis, and considering how long this one lay broken back in the old days, it's never a bad thing to check it out, juuuust to be certain." Darcy had a very fair, and good, point about that; it was rare for a Charter Stone to be broken in these days, thank all the gods. Kerrigor had been laid into deep, deep slumber in the deepest part of the Abhorsen's House a century ago, and Natasha was never more grateful than the present to live in a time where the country's Charter Stones were largely whole...not shattered, across every tiny village and town, all the way into the enormous cistern beneath the Palace itself.

She shivered a little, remembering the excerpts of the Great Stones being broken, written by Touchstone I. Death was an open door for every necromancer, this was true...but at a broken Stone, it was a gaping, ugly wound for Dead to escape. Thankfully, though, the warmth and familiar feel of the Cloven Crest Stone emanated all around their camp, and she sank back against the stone itself, feeling the Charter soothe not just her weary, injured mortal form...but the battered, broken soul underneath. "...Still. I appreciate it." Dark eyes glanced up at her, full of love and sweetness, then returned to her book, and Natasha just smiled, focusing her attention on the horses' warm mash, and their own rabbit stew. No, she wasn't supposed to be the Abhorsen...and yet, sitting here, her apprentice and half-sister studying furiously, in the presence of the one thing worthy of that judgment...well, she rather felt that, frankly, their mother had been wrong. She was Abhorsen; Charter willing, she would remain so for a good long time yet. And if not...well, Darcy was strong enough now to take up that mantle, should Natasha have to pass it on. Does the Walker choose the Path, or the Path, the Walker? --- ...Blond hair. Ancient, Ancelstierren armor. Frozen beneath a round shield, yet no sword...He is kin, yet he is forgotten. He is foreign to this land, yet he is of Clayr blood...Find him, little brother. Find the Fallen One. Crack. The hooded hunter whirled silently, his soft boots hardly making a sound on the ice-covered snow, and blue eyes narrowed over a knitted balaclava, piercing and tracking the movements of the shadows about him. His bow had been cocked and drawn a half a second into that twirl, and he eyed a darker shadow than the rest, and advanced a half-step. “Show yourselves.” The rough, raspy timbre of his own voice made him wince inwardly, but he didn’t show that weakness into the darkness; too often, it’d been used against him. And right now, he needed all his wits, and every weapon they could muster if he was to survive this forest. He hadn’t meant to track so far into the Northern lands, but there was no hope for it; all he could do now was make his way back to the south, and hope that he could get to Belisaere before the snows really started to fly. Another movement scattered those thoughts, and he came forward another half-step...leaning back as a tall, battered youth, his silvery hair dirty from too many weeks unwashed, unfolded himself from a tiny shelter between two old trees, followed by a waif-like girl with long, tangled dark hair and huge dark eyes. Slowly, his bow lowered; both children were barely clothed for decent weather, let alone a Northern winter, and already he could see fingers turning purple with the cold, with nary a blanket or cloak between them, both of them shaking so hard they couldn’t even speak, let alone fight. That and their pinched faces decided him. Clint settled arrow and bow back over his shoulders, and pulled out his sleeping roll and spare blankets, wrapping both kids in the warm woolens before dropping to a knee and scraping the snow off the sleeping earth. With all the speed and skill he possessed, soon he had a strong blaze going, and sitting both kids in front of it on an old log seemed to help both of them. It was the matter of another hour before he had stew going, his tent put up, and a Charter Mark shield around the whole camp, and he was splitting a few small logs for the fire with his hatchet when the boy finally spoke up, his voice cracking with cold and age both. “Th-thank you, sir...” “...It’s no trouble, kids. Honestly. You both curl up in the tent tonight; it’s got a warming spell on it and we’ll make a semi-permanent camp here for a few days while I make up some stuff to help get all three of us to the next village.” Clint replied with a faint smile, coming over to sit on a piece of old stump he’d pried up when he was searching for tubers for the stew earlier. Speaking of...finally finished, he ladled out bowls to both kids first, heavily supplemented with his journey bread and a bit of dried beef, and got his own bowl as well. To his surprise, the kids savored the meal; they soaked the bread for a bit (always a wise decision; he was certain he could nail boards with the hardtack), and took their time...Or...rather, took it easy on their clearly empty bellies, and his sympathies grew a little more. He knew that feeling all too well. He made sure they ate the rest of the stew, and got out a little more food for them, smiling when the girl stammered out a weak denial. “Kiddo, you’re both starving; eat up, then sleep. I’ll keep watch over both of you, okay? I’ve been where you are, I know exactly how you both feel.” They both looked down, and he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes gentle as he pulled down his mask to reveal the scar crossing his cheek. “My father gave me this when I was just a boy; for what? I have no idea, even to this day. I ran away, out into the snow...and it was a good man who saved me when I was your ages. It’s my turn to pay it forward, okay?” They both nodded, looking shy, and he got them into the bedroll, suddenly realizing that a boy, and a girl, at their ages...and the boy must have seen his face, because a weak grin crossed his chapped lips. “Please, sir, don’t worry, we’re twins. I‘m the older one.” A groan sounded in the tent, and the girl popped her head out, glaring in what was clearly an old argument. “You are twelve minutes older, Pietro!” He grinned, hands on his hips, and stuck his tongue out at her. “I’m still olllder, Wanda! C’mon, let’s let the nice man relax...” They both settled down as Clint bit his tongue on a bark of laughter, and settled back on his stump, pocket knife and a piece of fragrant rosewood in his hands, which was being turned into a elegant little hawk carving. It was...odd. Very odd. But like the vision that had been haunting him before the children had stirred, it felt as though he was setting the wheels right on the track again. No, he had no idea how he was going to stretch his money to clothe and feed all three of them. No, he had no idea if they’d make it to the capital before winter truly hit. No, he wasn’t back home, deep in the heart of the glacier he‘d been born in, where all Clayr resided...but...he could do this. They could do this. The quiet voice that had always been a part of his heart rose up again, and he welcomed it with a pang of longing, the sound like the echo inside a glacier... Have faith, little brother. Have faith. --- The little boy let out a soft sigh as he slid into a proper deep sleep finally, and Bruce sat back, slowly, carefully, letting his mother in to wrap around the boy, keeping him safe and warm. The last few Charter marks fluttered from his fingertips to the boy's forehead, glowing golden and familiar before fading in the soft darkness. Twilight murmured outside the small thatch-roofed house, silent except for the crystalline sounds of ice and snow. Winter was starting to build now, the heavy, dark clouds from the northern lands of the Clayr rolling from the mountain tops to settle low over the Old Kingdom. Winter wasn't his favorite time for a myriad of reasons, but he was deeply grateful for the quiet and the peace...and for the cold, for it kept the Dead at bay. He felt the familiar itch under his skin, and took his leave in the shadows, letting the family focus on their child while he slipped out of the village, wrapping his cloak around him. Not far from here, a Charter stone lay in two pieces, split by the violent death of a Charter mage...not, thankfully, a resident of this village.

More and more now, Charter mages took to the roads to learn more of both the history of their homelands, and to do a sort of 'tour' of the Stones, which always ended with the Great Stones beneath the palace. However...such tours were often dangerous, for necromancy and Free Magic still held a heavy hand over the Old Kingdom, and it only took a moment for it all to go wrong. The wrongness grew as he made his way through heather and bracken, eyes grim behind the balaclava he wore, flashing a deep, dangerous green as he felt the yawning void that was Death. He could not traverse such waters...not in any way...but he knew who could. Carefully, he set up a beacon; part Charter magic, part phosphorus and chemical combustion, it would draw the one who could set the Dead to rest. But...the Abhorsen would have to deal with the Dead, and would have no time to hunt the necromancer responsible. This Stone had been broken almost two weeks prior... Too many Dead had escaped already. He could sense them, lurking in the darkness, shadows upon shadows...but they would not attack him. No...they couldn't. He dropped his cloak, dropped his long robes to leave himself only in his trousers, breath ghosting in the icy darkness...and felt a harsh smile with no humor burn across his lips, the first fiery words of Free Magic tumbling from them. He was one of the few things even a Greater Dead feared...for he was more than human. Dark green spread across his skin as his body grew and changed, the same green glowing out of his eyes... It was time to hunt. The beast lifted his great head as the wind blew up; a giant’s powerful muscles quivered with excitement as he sniffed once, twice, three times...and let out an echoing howl that made every single creature, alive and dead, shrink down in sudden terror. He leapt down the hillside, and took off at an earth-shaking run. The necromancer was foolish, close to his handiwork, building a tiny army of Hands and Shadows... They could no more hurt the beast than flies a bull; he tore through them, and through the necromancer, in quick order...and he howled again, though this time, the sound held...a note. A distinct, echoing, sorrowful note...and the Dead who heard it, who felt that deep, unbreakable call, were sent beyond the Ninth Gate, forever sealed to their final judgments. Not only the Dead, either; birds fell from their roosts, little spirits extinguished in a single moment, small creatures still as the snow around them, an old doe fallen forever. Such was the price the beast paid...and as the man returned, gasping, aching, chilled to the bone, Bruce washed away the blood with a few shaking handfuls of snow, dragging himself back to the hill and wrapping up in the warmth of his cloak and robes as he began to lay a fire. Grief shrouded his soul once more as he moved, and finally, Bruce settled on the rock farthest from the Stone, taking a little comfort in the distant sound of hoofbeats, pounding down the road. Help was arriving very soon, and the few Dead that had remained within the area of the Stone would be vanquished. He...well, he hated that the beast within had such a power, but he couldn't deny that it helped. He just...wished that it wouldn't cost so very much. One thing he would do, however, before the Abhorsen arrived, was to find the frozen body of the girl whose life had been so brutally cast out. He searched the snow around the Stone, pushing back the nausea and despair that radiated from it, and found her, throat slit, dark eyes faded and blued from the icy cold...he closed them, with a physician’s touch, and murmured the soft words of the Charter, a balm for his throat after the burning tang of Free Magic, and set the spell of conflagration with a single gesture. It burned swiftly, breaking the last bonds the soul might have had with the body, and as the wind cooled the still hot ashes, he pulled out a small jar and did his best to gather them, knowing that there might be a parent who would wish to have their child’s remains brought back home. It wasn’t much...but he could not leave her to be corrupted. He just...couldn’t. Too much Death, too much violence...and he sat back down, feeling black grief overwhelm him. "...Charter, forgive me..." --- "Sire, a message from the Abhorsen." Thor looked up from his paperwork, eyes almost crossed from all the legislation he'd been signing all day long, and he took the thick missive with a heavy, worried heart. They'd sent out runners nearly three weeks prior in search of his beloved niece when she'd failed to appear at the next checkpoint, and truly, he feared the worst...which, given the magic of the Old Kingdom, could wind up very bad indeed. He opened the black and silver seal with a single Charter mark, and read through the contents swiftly...feeling his last hope fade completely. Hela was dead, and in her death, the Heather Crest Stone had been violently broken. Loki would be heartbroken...

Majesty; I shall keep this short and simple; Lady Hela has passed beyond the Ninth Gate at the hands of a renegade necromancer from the West, judging by the markings left in his robes. He, and the Dead he summoned, have also been cast into Death, and will not return. A Charter mage-healer, Doctor Banner, aided us in fighting the necromancer, and provided the proper rites to Lady Hela; her ashes rest with me. There is, however, another problem; the necromancer murdered the Lady upon the Heather Crest Stone, splitting it in two, and opening the door to Death. I cannot close it completely; my blood is not sufficient. I beg that you come and heal the Stone. I would not ask this of his Highness Prince Loki, but I must of you; only those of Royal, or Clayr, blood may heal the Stones, it seems, and the Glacier is too far away to make it in time. Respectfully, Abhorsen.

The King stood, striding out of the room with the letter in hand, and made his way through the enormous Palace to his brother's tower. There, Loki had once lived with his family, his wife, three children, and their magic...but sadly, the years had taken much from the Royal Advisor and younger Prince. First his wife, Angbroda of the Northern Wastes, to a terrible fever that had carried off half the population of both Ancelstierre and the Old Kingdom, just after his youngest child, Hela, had been born. Then Fenrir and Jorgamundr, to the dangers of the Kingdom itself...and now... He knocked, carefully, on the door to Loki's suite, and frowned deeper when the door simply swung open...only to find his brother completely unconscious, a second letter in his hand, and a bottle of brandy in the other. Tears still wet his cheeks, and Thor felt a wave of protective sorrow fill him as he gently dislodged the heavy bottle, then carefully scooped up his brother and carried him to bed. The letter Loki had held bore the same message, if a little more sympathetic, and Thor recognized Darcy's hand; wise, for as good as Natasha was, she was...a bit more stoic about such things. It was a gentle and kindly gesture, though, and he would remember it down the road. For now, though, it was his duty to care for his brother, and help him through the terrible grief... --- Hours must have passed when Loki opened sticky, sore eyes to the darkness in his rooms, and he dully wondered if he'd truly died; he wished it, with all his soul, for now his family was all beyond the Ninth Gate, and he was so alone...But...no. He ached all over, he was nursing a terrible hangover that could have only come from that damned brandy from the Clayr's Glacier, and he was lying in his bed, still fully clothed. So. He was alive. "Brother?" His heart, weary and worn and hurting, took comfort in Thor's soft voice, and a huge hand very gently clasped his own slender one, lending warmth and gentleness...but then, Thor had always been a rather gentle soul when he wasn't after a fight. He gave the hand a weak squeeze, and there was a small sound, then a flask held to his lips. Little sips, but that was all he needed; the fiery liquid burned away the headache and nausea, and Loki sighed softly, turning his eyes to his brother as the Charter lamp came into soft light. "...I am sorry I was a drunkard..." "Were I in your place, I suspect I would be worse, Loki. I...Gods, words cannot describe how sorry I am..." "...It's alright. Hela would have chafed over 'unnecessary protection', and she would have never accepted a cage, no matter how gilded. I knew my daughter well enough, Thor...but...that doesn't lessen the guilt. I should have just gone with her, like she asked..." Thor hung his head, clearly feeling just as much guilt, for he had insisted that Loki stay, and the mage sighed, patting his brother's hand absently. "Please don't guilt yourself, brother. It was my choice...And I may not have been able to fight the necromancer who killed her. Then you would have had two losses, and possibly us used against you as Greater Dead. I'm...grateful, that Natalial and Darciel were able to send the Dead on, and give Hela the proper cremation. But...Natalial cannot heal that Stone." He hated to move past the grief, hated to think of something other than his mourning...but it was in the blood. It was his duty to look after the peoples of the Old Kingdom...and his duty to protect them. "No. We, however..." Loki glanced up at Thor, surprised, especially at the look of contemplation on his older brother's face, and slowly shook his head. "Brother, I can heal it..." "I know. But you and I, we have not ventured beyond the Palace in...well. Too long. And this Stone would be stronger for two Royals." Well, he did have a point...But Thor was not just his own man...

"But, the Senate!" "They rarely notice me anyway; what's a few weeks in the Winter Recess? We go out, meet the Abhorsen, and if there are other Stones, then we do our solemn duty. We visit our people again, Loki, and pay our respects not just to Hela, but to the boys, and to your beloved." He glanced down at that, feeling his heart twinge a little more...but Thor was right. Going out to heal the Stone was...a much better idea than sitting here, dead drunk in his grief. He took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded, looking back up with something that...wasn't a smile, but wasn't despair, either. "...Alright. Let us make haste; that Stone should not remain broken for too much longer." And while the grief only ebbed away a little...it did ebb. And...as Loki well knew, it would fade with time... --- "Captain!" Phil turned, keeping his face an impassive smile, and stifled a sigh as the truck roared up over the hill. It was a big, flashy affair, brand new by Ancelstierre standards, and clearly out here simply to drop off some very important people...and of course, just as soon as he thought that, the winds out of the Old Kingdom roared up and over the Wall, and the truck died at the first breath of magic and icy cold air in the warm autumn day. "Aw, damn..." He muttered, slinging his now useless gun over his shoulder and walking up to the truck, steeling himself for the barrage of insults and demands. He wasn't long in waiting at all. "What the hell is going on here?!" Came the familiar bellow, and Coulson sighed again as first Commander Pierce, then all of his lackeys and hangers-on poured out of the vehicle, absolutely infuriated. He endured the tidal wave of rage and indignation for a solid thirty minutes before finally clearing his throat, and motioning to the vast stretch of Wall behind him. "What is going on, Commander, is the very thing we've warned you about, many, many times. You cannot drive this close to the Wall, especially in the winter and fall, without risking complete shutdown of all vehicles and machinery. We can't even use our guns here; ever wonder why more sword and knife and bow wounds come from this area, and that we never use up our bullet rations? Well, this is why. The winds out of the Old Kingdom are full of both Charter and Free magic, and whether you believe it or not, I don't really care; the fact is that they exist, and they wreak total havoc on normal items." As per usual, there were stares, more indignation, and yet more yelling, and he finally just had them all sent to the guesthouse in one of the nicer carriages they'd kept from their Old Kingdom compatriots, and went back to his bunker to go over the rest of the night's plans with his own CO. General Fury had been on the Wall for most of his nearly forty year career, and knew every grisly story that had ever been told about it, too. More than that, though...he was a powerful Charter mage, like many of his captains and sergeants. He was even considering retirement in Belisaere; though he hadn't been born inside the Old Kingdom, his father had been, and so it ran in his blood. Phil, however, had just been one of the oddball ducks who had a knack for the magic, and so he'd been granted a Charter mark, and taught pretty well. And fifteen years on the Wall had only reinforced his preference; he'd only left for the South once, and he'd hated every second of it. "Captain, what was Pierce squawking about out there?" "Mostly about how we were all liars, etc, etc...think he'll feel that way tomorrow, when we do a Charter magic demonstration?" "Oh, probably...he's one of those old Our Country fools from the old days of Touchstone I and the Abhorsen Sabriel. You could burn him with Free magic, even, and he'd say you took a torch to him. In any case, we've been asked for a favor from the King." Phil perked up at that, and pulled out the Old Kingdom almanac and map; always useful, especially since the map was enchanted. "What's His Highness up to?" "Evidently, there's been a Stone broken by a necromancer; he's heading out with his brother to heal it, but he'd like to request further patrols inside the Wall, with Charter mages." "Sounds like my kinda job." "That's what I thought, too. You're gonna gather up May, Hill, and Carter, and head towards Heather Crest; you should meet the King there if you four hurry." "...you sure you wanna put four mages together, sir? Why not spread us out?" "Because I want my four strongest with the King. He's a pretty tough guy, and his brother is a damned fine sorcerer, but something is very wrong on the ground there. This is the fourth necromancer attack we've heard of in this month; all down along the Wall's border, too. And as you well know..." Phil blanched; Dead from literal centuries rested uneasy beneath the soil here on the Wall, and if a necromancer managed to, say, break the Wind Flutes the Abhorsen had carved... "He'd have an army in the blink of an eye that could number in the millions." "Exactly. I've got a bunch of new, young mages who're pretty damn smart and steady; I trust them to guard the Wall itself. You, however, are in charge of helping guard the King and his brother...rumor has it that it was Loki's last surviving child that was murdered." The sickness must have shown, because Nick sighed softly. "Don't pass that around, okay? He's...pretty damned heartbroken, from all accounts, and understandably so." Phil could only nod; it was the Wall Guard's one great failure in this generation, the deaths of Royal Advisor Loki's two sons, who'd been out on the Ranger patrols when they'd been attacked by a Mordicant, broken free from the fledgling necromancer who'd summoned it. It had taken a suicide move by both of them to send it back into death, and had taken the life of the Abhorsen Marael to seal it away beyond the final Gates. It had been a terrible, terrible day, ten years ago...And now, to lose the one child he'd had left. "Of course, sir...We'll set out first thing in the morning." "Thank you. Pass along the word to the other three that you four are dismissed from night duty; pack and rest up, and grab the best horses for a long ride in the morning. Here's my writ; if the quartermaster gives you hell, give 'im this." He nodded again, snapping out a crisp salute, and went back to the mess, glad he could catch the three women just in time. They all nodded at the new orders, and he was gratified to see them all go back to their bunker, clearly intent on a night of packing and sleep. He wouldn't worry about them, then; that part of the trip was in good hands. He, however, would stay up, memorize the roads to the Stones he knew...and by morning, he'd be ready to point the right way. He just...hoped, and prayed, that this was the last necromancer for awhile; there had been too much blood shed already, and it was more than time for the Old Kingdom to enjoy a little peace. --- Ancelstierre, 80 years ago “C’mon, Bucky, let’s go!” Steve bounced with careless abandon as he tossed their baggage into the belly of the stealth plane that would be carrying them on the scouting mission over the Old Kingdom. His best friend and co-pilot, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, sighed and went over the map yet again; Steve was about ready to rip it out of his hands, he was so annoyed. “Buck, seriously, we’ll be fine!” “Oh really? How are we gonna be fine in a place with actual magic?” He growled, making a few more notations over the carefully sketched lines Steve had already drawn the night before. Most of the map was pretty empty still; they’d done stratospheric scouting for the last two weeks, mostly edging close to the Old Kingdom border but staying in Ancelstierren airspace. However, it was time to go farther afield; Steve and Bucky had mapped out nearly all of the area visible within the confines of their binoculars. And their commanding officer was hellbent that he’d deliver a full map of the Old Kingdom by Christmas...complete with all the crucial army and navy supply depots and outposts. Steve sighed a little as Bucky finished rolling up their copy (the general had his own) and tucked it safely in beside Steve’s seat. “Ready, Mr. Chicken?” He teased, swinging himself up into the plane proper and pulling on his helmet and gear, and Bucky growled more, following him. “I’m tellin’ ya, Steve, this is a huge mistake. We’ve never been in a place with magic before-” “You keep talkin’ about magic, Buck, but where’s the proof? I thought you were a guy who loved science more than anything, and here ya are freakin’ out over some mumbo-jumbo those guys up by the Wall were talkin’ about! Hell, all the Southerlings were over the moon to get some free land up around those parts, so clearly they don’t care at all! And they’re the most superstitious people ever!” He ruffled Bucky’s hair right before he put on his helmet, ignoring his best friend’s swat and snarl, and buckled himself in, starting up the fancy jet. It was brand spanking new, with all the latest gadgets and gizmos, and had Steve and Bucky not been the two best pilots in all of Ancelstierre, they’d never have gotten a chance to even breathe on it. It was that important; all their work was important, in fact, but this...this mapping, it was special. This was going to the prime minister and Parliament, who were, even now, getting ready to welcome the King and Queen of the Old Kingdom...well, false king and queen, he supposed. After all, didn’t Ancelstierre claim the Old Kingdom as a northern province? So, they were part of this nation now, and for his part, Steve hoped they’d take it well. Bucky’s silence broke him from his musings, however, and he sighed. “...I’m sorry for razzing you...” Another sigh met him, and Bucky just waved it off. “Let it go. I’m not in the mood to hear your shit, and you’re too...whatever to hear mine. Let’s just get this done; I’m kinda tired today.” He winced a little, but set to work, and in no time at all, they were making their faintly terrifying way down the runway, bumping hard over the tarmac towards the cliffs, towards certain doom...when like a sling shot, they rocketed into the sky, and Bucky set a course to follow the jet stream up into the atmosphere. Steve, for his part, was stabilizing the cockpit so that they could endure the stresses so high up, and he kept a weather eye on the dials, checking as he pulled out the map, tightened it on his board, and peered out the window to see if he could start sketching. They’d taken off near the Eastern Light, curving up over the ocean like usual, but staying over it for a change, following the winds to the north. Sure enough, they passed the initial cut-off margin in about fifteen minutes; he was sketching out the expanse of a huge wooded area and two little towns, one right on the coast, one near the Ratterlin further inland. Bucky kept his hands on the throttle and guided them up, up slowly, curving now over the island city of Belisaere. Steve made sure to furiously sketch all that he could; no one currently in the Ancelstierren army had even set foot near the capital of the Old Kingdom, let alone seen it. He was so enthralled with the sights and his map, in fact, that he didn’t realize there was a problem until Bucky swore, and the jet gave a great, shuddering gasp...then dropped like a struck bird. Steve tossed the board behind him with a swear of his own and both men fought against both the forces of gravity and the throttles, desperately trying to manually level off the plane with absolutely no electronic aid. It was terrifying to see the earth rushing up so fast to meet them, and Steve’s arms screamed as finally, finally they managed to level off enough to bring it in for a rough landing. Rough, and cold; the mountains looming up fast were icy white and snow began to plaster their windows, destroying their visibility within moments. Both men, however, held tight to the controls and prayed; the last image before the snow had promised a valley to crash in, if they stayed on this path, and as the snow and ice began to blanket the ship, slowing it and dragging it down, Bucky gave Steve a faint, weak smile... Just as he opened his mouth to say something, some...thing tore through the side of the plane and Bucky was ripped away with a scream, while Steve howled out his loss into the merciless blizzard...And that was the last thing he knew, before darkness stole him away. --- The Old Kingdom, present day “Show me the last known coordinates again, and line them up over the map the General gave us.” Alexander Pierce studied the hand drawn map with care, taking his time over the area his aides had put on the Charter-run projector he’d requested. He himself could not reach the Charter; that was why they were using one of the young mages, a private by the name of Rollins, who was manning the projector with rather estimable quiet.

Unlike the arrogant mage earlier...but, as always, Pierce swallowed the urge to throttle Captain Coulson and went back to his paperwork, carefully drawing out a leather-bound book that was cracked and gray with age. The book itself wasn’t truly all that important; it was full of sketches, everything from a dancing monkey in a suit to some truly lovely profiles of the female administration, their features and fashion of a style that was nearly a century old now. Captain Steven Rogers and his compatriot, Sergeant Barnes, had been declared MIA after a failed scouting flight over the capital of the Old Kingdom, back in the tumultuous days of the Our Country party and the assassinations of the King and Queen. There had been, of course, a huge uproar, with hundreds, both soldiers and civilians, demanding to know the price Belisaere would pay for shooting their men out of the sky... However...that had been when things had started to change. Belisaere had claimed innocence, even stating that they had no means with which to harm such a technological marvel as the stealth jet, even being so bold as to state that it was clearly a magical cause. Millions had protested that particular statement, until a group of powerful officials had demanded access to all of Belisaere’s secrets... And to their collective shock, Queen Ellimere had given it. Somber from her parents’ deaths, she had led the politicians and Army officials throughout all of Belisaere, explaining to them that her people had the Charter magic with which to create the wonders they saw...they had no need for technology that wouldn’t work even if they did bring it here. Upon seeing, and documenting, the very obvious technological inferiority of the city, and the villages outside it, a decision had been made... The Old Kingdom would remain its own sovereign entity, for it posed no true threat to the people of Ancelstierre. The Queen agreed to all terms, even sending a rich shipment of treasure and fine horses with them across the Wall to show her willingness to obey, and Ancelstierre quieted and accepted that the two men were sent on a mission that was too out of their league, and that while it was a grievous loss, it was not a reason to start a war. The Queen, and her descendants had kept their end of the bargain rather neatly, though with a few more shadows behind them than ninety percent of the South knew... For King Touchstone and Queen Sabriel had not perished in the bomb that killed nearly all of their guards. They had escaped, making their grim way along the Western coast until they were able to seek refuge at the Abhorsen’s House, safe along the Ratterlin River. He had seen the original documents of all those officials; the King had met with them, once it was all said and done, and reminded them that their actions could very easily have cost them dearly for trying to kill him, and his wife. It was then that they learned what the Abhorsen truly was...and what her power meant. Pierce thumbed through the sketches as all this ran through his mind, partly memory, from hearing one of those old, old men speak when he was just a boy, partly factual knowledge from the reports. He paused, however, on the last sketch, and felt a smile with no humor stretch across his lips, a familiar heat making him wet them with the tip of his tongue. Steve Rogers had not believed in the magic, but it knew him; Charter marks, old and faded, scattered as Pierce picked up a very special piece of the thick parchment. The Clayr glacier and mountains were beautifully sketched across the span of the page, colored in with only the lightest of blues and grays, and done with such care that it might have been his birthplace...

And in fact...it was. He dismissed all of the aides, and the young mage, with a warm smile and fatherly waves out the door, and settled himself down in front of the fire, still holding that sketch before him...when some...thing emerged from the shadows, walking silently over the old wooden floors, face hidden behind a black mask, shaggy hair lit in the hellish light of the flames that glinted too off the metallic, too fluid skin of that left arm... It....no....he stood tall, darkness incarnate, and Pierce felt his lips tug up into a vicious, proper smile, the heat of the Free magic on his tongue burning to be set free, to be given deadly purpose. Now...this was a proper welcome home. “Come, my friend; we’ve a great deal of work to do.”

#threadsmithwrites #fanfiction #the old kingdom #marvel comics: the avengers #crossover au #crossposted from ao3 #it's me don't worry #not a troll #amaranthe/awildlokiappears #alllll the characters #i won't include character tags here #it'd literally be a page #maybe more #i gotta work out how to copypasta and keep my formatting...

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katiecad · 5 years

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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Hanson ‘Wintry Mix Live’ Tour Hits House of Blues this December

Plus musical tributes for Led Zeppelin, The Beatles and Rolling Stones

LAS VEGAS – Sept. 17, 2019 – ‘90s pop heartthrobs Hanson bring the Wintry Mix Live Tour to House of Blues Las Vegas on Tuesday, Dec. 3, 2019. The “MmmBop” musicians will showcase classic holiday hits along with Hanson favorites.

Other announcements this week include tribute artist, Led Zepagain and Beatles vs. Stones – A Musical Showdown. Unless otherwise noted, all tickets are on sale now by visiting HouseofBlues.com, MandalayBay.com, Ticketmaster.com or by calling 702-632-7600.

JUST ANNOUNCED Thursday, Oct. 10 | Gasolina Party Doors: 9 p.m. | Tickets: start at $12 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Reggaeton

Saturday, Oct. 12 | Led Zepagain: Tribute to Led Zeppelin Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $12 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Rock Tribute

Tuesday, Oct. 15 | Beatles vs. Stones – A Musical Showdown Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $12 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Rock Tribute

Tuesday, Dec. 3 | Hanson – Wintry Mix Live Doors: 6 p.m. | Tickets: start at $39.50 (on sale Sept. 20) | Ages: All Ages| Genre: Pop

UPCOMING SHOWS Thursday, Sept. 19 | Dreams Never Die Presents: Till Next Time Doors: 6 p.m. | Tickets: start at $12 | Ages: 18+| Genre: R&B/Hip-Hop

Sept. 18, 20-22, 25, 27-29 | Carlos Santana – An Intimate Evening with Santana: Greatest Hits Live Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $99.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Classic Rock/Latin Fusion

Thursday, Sept. 26 | Rancid with Special Guests Pennywise, The English Beat and Iron Reagon Doors: 5:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $45 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Punk Rock

Monday, Sept. 30 | BABYMETAL Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $46.50 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: International Metal

Monday, Sept. 30 | Ziggy Alberts – Inside B Side at House of Blues Las Vegas Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $20 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Indie

Wednesday, Oct. 2 | Calexico and Iron & Wine Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $39.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Indie Rock

Friday, Oct. 4 | Angels & Airwaves Doors: 6:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $35 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Rock

Saturday, Oct. 5 | Big K.R.I.T. – From The South With Love Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $25 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Hip-Hop/Rap

Saturday, Oct. 5 | Sound The Groove Presents: Glow Party + Live Music Night – Inside B Side at House of Blues Las Vegas Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $15 | Ages: 21+ | Genre: Rock

Wednesday, Oct. 9 | Motionless in White: The Trick ‘R Treat Tour Doors: 6 p.m. | Tickets: start at $27 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Heavy Metal

Thursday, Oct. 10 | Gasolina Party Doors: 9 p.m. | Tickets: start at $12 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Reggaeton

Friday, Oct. 11 | UFO Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $25 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Metal

Saturday, Oct. 12 | Led Zepagain: Tribute to Led Zeppelin Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $12 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Rock Tribute

Tuesday, Oct. 15 | Beatles vs. Stones – A Musical Showdown Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $12 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Rock Tribute

Wednesday, Oct. 16 | Sum 41: Order in Decline Tour Doors: 6 p.m. | Tickets: start at $33.50 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Rock

Thursday, Oct. 17 | DSB – Tribute to Journey Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $10 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Rock Tribute

Friday, Oct. 18 | The Fall Tour of Hobo Johnson & The Lovemakers Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $27.50 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Indie Rap

Saturday, Oct. 19 | Clairo – Immunity Tour Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $22.50 | Ages: All Ages| Genre: Electropop

Wednesday, Oct. 23 | The Noise Presents: Amon Amarth – Berserker Tour Doors: 6 p.m. | Tickets: start at $37.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Heavy Metal

Thursday, Oct. 24 | Lagwagon with Face To Face and Destroy Boys Doors: 6:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $27.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Punk Rock

Friday, Oct. 25 | Christian Nodal – Ahora Tour 2019 Doors: 8 p.m. | Tickets: start at $60 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Regional Mexican

Saturday, Oct. 26 | YELAWOLF Presents The GhettoCowboy Tour Doors: 8 p.m. | Tickets: start at $30 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Hip Hop/Rap

Sunday, Oct. 27 | The Story So Far with The Frights, Hunny & Just Friends Doors: 6 p.m. | Tickets: start at $25 | Ages: All Ages| Genre: Punk Rock

Monday, Oct. 28 | Gente De Zona Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $59 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Reggaeton

Oct. 30, Nov. 1-3, 6, 8-10 | Carlos Santana – An Intimate Evening with Santana: Greatest Hits Live Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $99.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Classic Rock/Latin Fusion

Tuesday, Nov. 5 | Fobia – US Tour Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $27.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Rock

Thursday, Nov. 7 | Sabrina Claudio – The Truth Tour Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $29.50 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Alternative R&B

Wednesday, Nov. 13 | Panteon Rococo Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $30 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Latin Ska

Thursday, Nov. 14 | Charley Crockett – Inside B Side at House of Blues Las Vegas Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $22 | Ages: 21+ | Genre: Blues

Friday, Nov. 15 | As I Lay Dying: Shaped By Fire Tour Powered by Heart Support Doors: 6:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $25 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Heavy Metal

Wednesday, Nov. 20 | Simple Plan and State Champs with We The Kings Doors: 5:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $33.50 | Ages: All Ages| Genre: Rock

Saturday, Nov. 23 | Electric Feels: Indie Rock + Indie Dance Party Doors: 9 p.m. | Tickets: start at $10 | Ages: 18+| Genre: Indie, Pop, Electro

Monday, Nov. 25 | Ones to Watch Presents: The Dead South – Served Cold Tour Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $28 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Folk/Bluegrass

Saturday, Nov. 30 | Aly & Aj: Sanctuary Tour Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $25 | Ages: All Ages| Genre: Pop

Tuesday, Dec. 3 | Hanson – Wintry Mix Live Doors: 6 p.m. | Tickets: start at $39.50 (on sale Sept. 20) | Ages: All Ages| Genre: Pop

Saturday, Dec. 7 | Murray & Peter Present: A Drag Queen Christmas Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $33 | Ages: All Ages| Genre: Drag

Jan. 8, 10, 11| David Lee Roth: Rocks Vegas Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $63.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Rock

Jan. 22, 24-26, 28, 29, 31, Feb. 1| Carlos Santana – An Intimate Evening with Santana: Greatest Hits Live Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $99.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Classic Rock/Latin Fusion

Saturday, Feb. 15, 2020 | Ana Barbara “Mi Revancaha Tour” Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $55 | Ages: All Ages | Genre: Latin Pop

March 18, 20, 21, 25, 27, 28| David Lee Roth: Rocks Vegas Doors: 7:30 p.m. | Tickets: start at $63.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Rock

May 13, 15-17, 20, 22-24| Carlos Santana – An Intimate Evening with Santana: Greatest Hits Live Doors: 7 p.m. | Tickets: start at $99.50 | Ages: 18+ | Genre: Classic Rock/Latin Fusion

About House of Blues: Founded in 1992, the 11 House of Blues are located throughout the United States and form the country’s pre-eminent group of intimate music venues. Each features state-of-the-art sound and lighting technology in one-of-a-kind custom designed environments aimed to bring fans as close as possible to the artists. Every location’s restaurant and bar is adorned with signature original folk-art – part of the world’s largest collection – combined with the House of Blues legendary hospitality and tantalizing cuisine.

The post Hanson ‘Wintry Mix Live’ Tour Hits House of Blues this December appeared first on PR Plus.

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hootywhom · 5 years