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anowlstale-blog · 6 years

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Swords of a Master, Chapter 1

Long ago there was a Master, in whose hands no sword was adequate. They traveled the world, learning the swordplay and smithing techniques from every country and village they visited. Their skill with a hammer and forge was every bit the equal to their skill with a blade, and when they finished their journey, they produced swords of such perfection that even the gods recognized the skill. Each sword was blessed with a unique ability the likes of which had never been seen before. Over time, the Master’s name and identity were lost. The only thing left was the legacy left with the Swords, whose power and mystique shaped the world into what it is today.

~~~

An impossibly large construction of wood floated easily across the sky, soaring above the sparsely wooded plains in the early morning. It was a ship, the masts on the sides, and the deck largely flat. Though the size of a palace, the entire assembly weighed little more than a few pounds. The ship’s buoyancy in the dry air was thanks to a large quantity of “skystone,” a baffling metal that, as far as anyone has ever been able to determine, has a negative weight. The skystone borne airship, Mountaintaker flew in much the same way as a kite, with hundreds of yards of canvas sails catching the wind to keep it aloft. The sails came off of masts, three on each side of the hull, and supported by ropes and rings of skystone. Each mast had a narrow walkway, allowing a crew of airshipmen to walk along the length and pull, slacken, or tie down ropes that manipulated the sails. It featured a wooden figurehead that was carved into the image of the mother goddess Lithis, with her pregnant belly a globe of the earth. She was wrapped in the arms of her husband, the god Lanus wrought in shining skystone.

The airshipmen were the only ones awake through much of the night, taking it in shifts to man the masts, it was their job to keep the ship from crashing to the ground. As light as the skystone made the ship, a rough touchdown could still be catastrophic. Even worse still, though, would be for the ship’s weight to drop too far. An airship not heavy enough to return to the ground could easily become stranded in the sky. The only solution would be to release the skystone, but as it was far and away the most valuable substance in the Tharan Empire, most captains would do this only as a last resort.

As the sun rose over the improbable contraption, men stepped up to the deck from its belly. Some were airshipmen come to take their shifts, but most were the soldiers who were the Mountaintaker’s cargo. They had been allowed to sleep through the night in anticipation of landing at their destination this morning. Sure enough, as the soldiers gathered at the bow they could see the mountain that the ship was meant to take, close enough to make out individual trees now. Most of these soldiers were young, new recruits, or those only tested by drills or peacekeeping duties. The Empire’s peace had shrunk its military until only very recently, when campaigns started pushing toward the mountains in the north. The natives called themselves Dan Hurmding or, so the Tharans understood, “Children of the Mountain.” They had previously left the mountain range quite seldom, and their interactions with the rest of the world were rare for centuries. Even the Tharan colonies in the foothills provoked no reaction. It was when an ambitious company in the area tried to garrison one of the Dan Hurmding’s villages while exploring the mountain that the entire political situation broke in a way no one had predicted. Now the mountain was safe for few outsiders, a situation that the imperial Tharans found unacceptable.

And so it was this company’s mission to storm the top of the mountain, the place that the Dan called King’s Rest. The Tharans understood it to be their capital. Or, at the very least, it was where their “Rhee,” a leader chosen and succeeded by violent and deadly fights, lived in some barbaric sort of wealth. By the Dan’s own laws, whoever killed the Rhee took his place, and it was Emperor Caelus Tharas’ intention to test this law by having one of their own kill him. The man for the job was Admiral Yllicus, who stepped out onto the deck already dressed as if for combat. His bronze chestplate shined, visible through the part in his bright yellow cloak. He wore his helm tipped upward on his head, in a more cavalier and comfortable position. When pulled down over his head it would cover his face, with a T shaped slit for his eyes and mouth, and slots on the sides to leave his ears free. The front extended all the way down past the chin, to protect his face. It was decorated with yellow dyed horse hairs in a crest on top.

The Admiral surveyed his troops. They were, by and large excited at the prospect of the upcoming battle. That was good in Yllicus’ book. He liked spirited soldiers. The young men around him were mostly the olive skinned, coarse haired Tharans, but he spotted a few Osmads. Their dark brown skin and tall stature made them stick out. It also, Yllicus lamented, made a phalanx difficult when a short Tharan stood next to a tall Osmad in formation. Also dotting the growing crowd at the bow, though more difficult to pick out, were the Illuim, who were pale of skin but jet black of hair. Most of the troops were still half naked, and as they saw that their commanding officer was in full regalia it seemed to strike home what they were about to face. A wave of sobriety swept through them, but it did not temper their confidence.

Yllicus stood at the bow with his men and watched the mountain approach.

As the ship advanced, it turned to the east, flying along the mountain range rather than directly towards it. Airshipmen on harnesses dropped off of the masts and hung as the ship descended until their feet could touch the ground. They touched down hard, and walked under the slowing vessel with their ropes. In the wilderness, the best way to moor an airship was to sturdy old trees, and so they had aimed their course to a clearing near the forest, and the airshipmen in charge of mooring carried extra ropes to start tying several lines with. The weight of just the six of them leaving the ship was enough to tip ship’s overall weight to less than nothing, and it hung in the air, pulling gently on the ropes now holding it to the ground. The trees creaked and groaned as the mooring lines were reeled back into the ship, lowering it to the ground. The ship was unable to lay flat on the slope so it rested bizarrely on its bow, the rest of the vessel’s length hanging into space off the side of the mountain. It wasn’t an ideal landing location, but it was strategically important. The mountainside here wouldn’t be visible from the King’s Rest, allowing the troops to sneak up on their target, but only if they struck soon.

A stairway unfolded from the side, near the bow, but the company could not disembark at once, as the loss of weight would cause the ship to rise, ripping the trees right out of the ground. Instead, the mooring mates, aided by a small group of other airshipmen, began collecting stones to use as ballast. They handed the stones up the stairs, where their mates distributed them carefully across the deck to keep the ship balanced where it lay. When the weight was great enough, a handful of soldiers came down, Yllicus among them, as well as the ship’s captain, Vern.

Most of the soldiers went about helping the airshipmen, so that their brothers in arms could disembark as well, but Yllicus, Vern and an Osmad sailor called Orun stayed to set up the tactical camp. Vern and Orun carried between them a table, which they placed on the most level stretch of ground they could, meanwhile Yllicus stood to the side, staring intently at the naked blade of his sword. Vern produced a map that he unrolled onto the table, holding it unfolded with a stone at each corner. He checked a compass and placed a small model ship on the map, about where he supposed they were. Next came a miniature castle, which he placed some distance from the ship. He had a small handful of other carved models that he placed onto the map to represent troops or known villages. Yllicus spared him a glance as he worked and smiled at the captain’s eccentricities.

Vern turned when he was finally done and asked, in a tone as if Yllicus had walked in on him, “Well what do you see, then?”

Yllicus looked into the reflection of his sword a moment longer. He had not one, but two curved scimitars that shared a scabbard. They were among the number of swords blessed by the gods. In the left hand blade, the wielder could see the past. In the right, the future, as much as it could be seen. Yllicus held these swords by the grace of the Emperor, who was meant to entrust them to the greatest of his military commanders. There were some, when Yllicus was first presented with the swords known collectively as Seer, who cried nepotism. It was well known that Yllicus and Caelus Tharas were long time friends, and quite close. These rumors persisted, spurred on by Yllicus’ rivals among the military elite, and by Caelus’ among the aristocrats of Lan. Today would prove them wrong, and he saw as much in the reflection of the sword now.

“Victory, by and large,” he said, sheathing his blades, “By sundown the host under their Rhee will have come back to their hovels and drunk themselves into a stupor. We will come upon them then, and slaughter them in droves.”

“Dirty,” Vern said, not disapprovingly, “But handy.”

“It’s hard to see much more,” Yllicus continued, “Knowing the future makes it unstable. I’ll take my company, and leave the rest of the soldiers under your command. We’ll need to leave soon to make the prophecy. Where’s your man Orun gone? Is the ship clear to be disembarked?”

Vern looked about for the Osmad. “Not sure, working I suppose, he knows what needs to be done. I guess telling you to be patient won’t do me any good now we’ve got a ‘prophecy’ to meet,” he punctuated the word by raising his hands in a mocking gesture. “But if my sailors are half as good as your soldiers - and they’re at least twice that - they should have the ship nice and balanced. We’ll keep loading ballast, but for now the ropes should hold us to the ground well enough. Order your men off.”

Yllicus looked up to the bow, where some of his men, now fully armed and armored as well, were looking down. He gave a grand hand gesture and one of the men shouted back across the ship. The shout was met with a roar from the crowd of soldiers, and they began disembarking down the stairs, two by two. The soldiers formed automatically into ranks five across and five deep. Each was cloaked in yellow wool, and had a sword on their hip and a shield and spear in either hand. Their helms were down over their faces and they marched as if at the ready. Yllicus took a place at the head of the first formation, and began marching immediately. He didn’t look back to bid the captain farewell, or to check as his troops formed. Each new rank followed on and soon they were marching in a great line up the slope. The thunder of their marching feet filled the air, as the great wave of yellow cloaked men ascended the mountain. Not one man looked back toward the ship as it slowly shrank smaller and smaller behind them.

The first indication that something was wrong was a stirring of dust around them, and by then it was already too late. Men and women bearing swords, axes and spears, rose from the loose earth at either side of them, and struck. The outer side of the first three formations fell before the men on the inside were aware that they were under attack. Yllicus pulled his helmet down over his face, drawing his swords out to defend himself. He looked into their reflections as he fought, and saw each attack seconds before it came, parrying and dodging without fail. But he was already cut off from his men, as the ambushers surrounded him. There were piles of dead already, but the soldiers behind him had raised their shields in a much practiced phalanx to keep the attackers at bay.

"Retreat! Back down the mountain," Yllicus called to his men over the din, "Regroup at the ship!" He did not know why, but the prophecy had broken already. He knew it wouldn't be perfect, but this much change was outside of his experience with the swords. He didn't understand it, and would not tempt fate by persisting.

The phalanxes started moving down the mountain, harassed on all sides by the barbarians, but Yllicus couldn't move. Every inch of ground he moved back was taken instantly away from him. He was locked in combat with a vast hoard, only surviving because every move he made was guided by prophecy. Before long, he couldn't even see his men in the distance, and his limbs grew tired from the never ending melee. Countless lay dead at his feet, and he knew he would collapse soon, but was determined to kill as many as possible.

"Stop!" a voice called out from above. It was a woman's voice, strong and confident. The second she spoke, the hoard around Yllicus froze, as if they were statues. Could the gods have come to his rescue? he wondered. Was this the very voice of Lithis? No, he saw. Up the mountain, there was a woman of black hair and austere beauty. She was draped in furs to fight off the cold, and Yllicus could see a sword at her hip. He fell to the ground, looking up, wondering if this was a rescuer or another fiend.

As she drew a wicked, curved blade, he knew which. “Kneel,” the woman commanded, “And throw aside your swords.”

“I will not,” Yllicus spat back at her. He held both hilts tightly, glad of even these few seconds to rest his limbs.

“Stupid Tharan pride. Don’t you see that I have you already? You can’t harm me, and you can’t harm my soldiers.”

“What would you call what I’ve done to half of them?” he quipped, not letting her have the satisfaction of seeing him beaten, “Gentle prodding?”

“I see no corpses.”

Yllicus chanced a look to the ground, where there should be dozens cut down. But every one he had hacked and stabbed still stood. Wounds gaped, limbs hung and entrails fell to the ground, but not a man or woman had stayed where they lay.

Yllicus recoiled, and in that moment hands wrapped around him from behind, and the horde enclosed and pinned his arms to his sides.

“I know this horror,” he said to the woman.

“Good,” she said simply. “Now kneel.”

The hands that held him forced his body down, relentless despite his struggling, until he was on his knees. Some tried to grab his swords by their blades, but he would not release his grasp, even now. He looked up at the woman as she advanced. She was short, and had the olive skin and dark hair of his people. What she was doing among the fair Dan Hurmding he could only guess.

As she stood in front of him, she looked down at her sword instead, refusing to gaze upon him. It was a short blade, curved outward more like an axe. Something meant for hacking rather than slicing or stabbing. Yllicus knew its shape, and he knew it’s perverted power. It was a sister to his own swords, and the fourth blessed blade he had seen in his life. But he had only heard of this one through old inked illustrations. As far as he knew no one had known where it was for almost as long as it had existed. Those who fell to it rose again, forced to do the bidding of whoever held it.

“The Rhee, I think,” she spoke now, still not looking at him, “Would like to take your swords. Sisters, as they are to the ones both he and I wield. But,” she continued, finally gracing him with her cruel eyes. “I don’t think anyone can use it so well as yourself. I think I’ll let you keep it.”

“And I suppose you think I’ll tell you prophecies in exchange for my life?”

“No,” she said, dropping to her knees and thrusting her blade into the inside of Yllicus’ thigh. He began to feel weak as his life’s blood drained from the severed artery. Vision narrowed, darkness enclosing in from the edges of his eyes. Would he see Osmados, the very face of death, before coming back to serve the Witch? No, he saw as the light returned to his vision. The chance to curse the god of death for bestowing this wretched sword on the world was taken from him, and the only face he saw was that of this Witch.

“Don’t move.” she said, and he found that he couldn’t.

#fantasy #writing #fiction #fic

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clangree · 4 years

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Aligning the Text and the Design

The Audience is asked to meet at the Marconi Village early evening. Buses would be organized to get them from the Penarth train station, or they can get there by their own way. They have probably gotten their tickets, online, seing a piece of theater advertised taking place at an abandoned battery in Penarth. They are invited to follow the grassy path beyond the metal gate.

“The audience filter in to what seems a deserted site but is gradually populated by soldiers from WW1, WW2 and the present day: a mix of different ranks and regiments. The soldiers are aware of each other but not the audience, although they intermingle. We see the army setting up camp: assembling equipment, adopting positions, scanning the horizon with binoculars, tuning radio equipment, mapping and measuring the site. The Poet sees both soldiers and audience. There is a timeless quality about her.”

The piece opens when the audience start walking through the muddy path. They can start hearing marching sounds, calling screams, and military camp activity. The audience is slowly brought onto this world of the play.

They enter the space and the first thing they see is the large tree and the poet. The Tree is a center piece and is lit to create a mysterious and misty ambiance. There are large scrolls, written on, or sewn on, coming from the branches. They create extended branches and roots of the tree, extending to the concrete path the audience is walking on. This moment is supposed to mix naturalism with the soldiers and their weapons and their sounds, and magic and mystery with the poet and her tree. The tree is the source of the story and the soldiers look like they are growing from the pages of the scroll

Maybe they see some military activity in the background, but the main focus and light it on that tree. The poet is doing her acitivity as some soldier rise from the tall grass, they seem to either practice or be at war, it is unclear. The audience filters in and sees this action little by little. This army is a large one composed of soldiers of all race and age, and history. Children, young men and women, and elders dressed in military style uniforms walk around, interact together. The generational gap should be a bit of a surprise, but acted as totally normal by the actors. Kids are holding large weapons same as an older woman would.

A soldier or event the poet, guides them as new recruits, to watch some sort of activity of military base, soldiers cooking, eating, smoking, playing cars, relaxed, writing, on the phone, in the first spot. The audience does not enter that space, but acts as audience members, watching the soldiers come in and out, clean their guns etc... The soldier or poet that is guiding them, shows them toward the next circle. The sounds and the activity is all around them.

“1.The performance begins with one of the soldiers unfurling the Welsh dragon and organizing a pole to raise it”

The Audience is informally asked to follow the activity and the rhythm of the other soldier rushing into the circle where a large pole and flag is raised. The Commandent is here and a large crowd of soldier follow his orders, raise the flag, stand up on the cubes. Inside the cubes aligning the inside of the circle are piles of sand bags, weapons, a link to the original purpose of the site. The Poet talks over the activity :

“ The Poet

The poet is writing her masterpiece, the poem to end all war poems. She writes the scenes and visions that run before her like a newsreel. She sees the rural village within view of this estuary. She sees soldiers and armoured corps arrive: “....

As she describes the Commander, the soldiers, the machines, the blinkers, and masks, during that whole speech, the audience sees some sort of argument about the flag; The Welsh Flag is lowered and the Union Jack is erected. The Commandant start speaking. Action is more focused. When the soldiers interject it is all still within the circle. The audience is part of the crowd of soldiers who watch the commandant and flag. Actors intermingle with the audience, yet without really seing them.

“Stand all Give Attention It’s arrived The war “

At this moment, maybe all soldier rise and straiten up, alerted by the “coming war”. The army marches into positions of defense. The athmosphere has gotten more tense, maybe we hear a siren and shuffling, soldiers grab weapons, run around, the audience must feel them “preparing for the war to come”.

“It’s arrived. March! LEFT – RIGHT LEFT – RIGHT, Tapping boot Tap tap Boot boot”

This moment where all the actors start marching at the same time and same rhythm must feel very ominous. The audience feels a shift. The soldier march away from the circle and then scatter away, maybe firing arms above, going to hide in the grass, behind walls, the audience must feel that they are suddenly in danger. They follow maybe a child playing with a airplane toy, as the sounds of RAF fighters arrive. This is probably the moment where the toys are introduced into the play. The weapons and arms the soldiers have are real looking, but there are a few moments, where children (dressed as soldiers) or adults, play with little toys, that make the audience question war.

“During the Poets next section we hear the deafening sounds of RAF fighter jets roaring overhead.”

Maybe this kid playing with his plane, goes down into the bunker, half playing, half for safety. The audience follows him, choosing to either stay on the level of the ground, or choosing to go down under. they are then surrounded by these dark walls, hearing drips, seing graffiti, tightly together. The Poet speaks, Maybe she is on top of the roof, or her voice is hear by speakers. The “deafening sounds of the RAF fighters” is overpowering. The soldiers have left the audience to be alone, but maybe one or two are on the roof, trying to shoot the planes down, maybe one is hiding behind the ruins crouching, with his weapon. The Audience feels alone and scared.

“A striped kite takes flight

Is paraded, raised and praised

Chine birds grip to black Shining cliff, and wing, fowl-of-tar, to rift

In swiveling sea, cold hard as hand on rock:

Bitter sweet birds, and unfortunate flesh;

Go down there further and see

the Plane-of-night, strained with piteous men”

During that whole section the audience is in the bunker, hearing the sounds and waiting for something to happen.

“A plane is shot down and crashes in the sea Plane wreckage is brought up from the sea and laid out ceremoniously. Drenched tattered uniforms are laid out as bodies.”

A plan crash sound is heard, screams, and running happens. The child with the plane leaves the bunker and runs with his plane in his hands toward the sky towards the next circle. Arriving in that space must feel like the whole world is collectivity arriving. Soldiers from around the space arrive running, toward the smoking center of the circle. The audience can see from the bunker before arriving some activity and some smoke. As they enter the first thing they see is a sized down plane broken down in the center, pieces scattered around, traces on the floor of the crash, dark smoke. Around the plane crash, kids dressed up as soldiers playing with little green soldiers on the pieces of the plane. This creates a strange scene that plays with scale, of the plane, the children and the toys. The soldiers from earlier appear, but they have lost their relaxed manners from the beginning of the piece, they look exhausted, and maybe their costumes are ruffled, and look like they’ve been through a lot. In the cubes around the circle, soldiers, looking rough, maybe dead, resting, lie, and wait for help. Kids are also playing with wooden plane around the audience.

After letting the audience settle in and take in the scene, The poet starts talking.

“Drowned in water-swills of crossing waves; The petroleum sky: striking death too soon, Wounded, lie heavily in the dishwater tributary. Night falling catches the flares and bangs Snip up the moon sniggering on its back, For on them sail the hulls of ninety wild birds Defledged by this evening’s raid”

The Drenched tattered uniforms are maybe layed out on the cubes. This is a sad scene, but not gruesome. A strange scene, mixing death and children playing. After the poet’s lines, a soldier rises and starts to speak :

The challenge arises to all to discard their sorrow,

break through destruction

outshine the sun.

Backwards and Forwards soldiers run or march

1, 2, 1, 2, 1, 2, left, right, left, right,

Accumulating into a monotonous pattern tapping out the

The soldiers’ job

the labour of it.

Is this what I was born to do?

The saddened, battered, rough soldiers, suddenly rise as the soldier is describing, discarding their sorrows, and maybe looking brighter, and starting to march. The solder never stops, “the soldier’s job”. quietly during these words the sounds of the opening to Karl Jenkin’s The Armed Man starts playing. The soldier start marching and singing all together. This should be a beautiful moment. They start following the marching soldiers out of the circle and towards the hut.

the path slowly starts to head down.

“3. The audience receives news of their loved ones fighting in the war.Each soldier delivers a single telegram / postcard / air mail from various frontlines from all over the world happening now and from the past to each member of the audience:a love letterofficial notification that your loved one has ‘died in action’ a message to say ‘I’m coming home’Throughout this delivering of messages the poet continues”

As the audience follow the path, the marching soldier scatter around and behind the hut, climbing on the walls from behind, transitioning into the next scene. On that path the audience receives news from their loved ones fighting in the war. Maybe the Poet, standing above them on the hut, is sending pieces of paper from her notebook, or taking pieces off the tree and throwing them above the audience, giving the impression that the news is falling from the sky. On those pieces of paper are love letters, official letters, single telegrams, postcards, air mail in all different languages, and from around the world, from the past and present and futur wars...

The audience arrives in front of the hut and sees a funeral that is taking place. The commandant, same one as the first scene, is here, accompanied by soldiers. Two of them are lowering down a casket into the small space between the walls, where the metal ladder is. The ground is covered with freshly turned earth and the audience treads on it. Again, a play on scale as the audience is lower than the action and is given the impression that they are in the ground, buried with the casket. The poet takes place on the hut with the soldiers observing the funeral and starts talking :

“ The Poet

Dear ancestors of war, whether British, German, Russian,

American or from some other field where bodies rose fresh as the day and solid as your hand.

No more. These soldiers have brothers, have sisters.”

During this, there is no music, the sound of silence must be heavy and the atmosphere quite sad, we can hear maybe one or two soldiers sniffing, looking clearly very sad as one would be at a funeral. Yet it is very official and serious.

“The Union Jack is saluted, Poppies are pinned to chests. The Commandant stands to speak, a mother interjects”

The Casket is lowered and dropped into the ground, the soldiers look up to the commandant as he is about to speak. Mother is representing all the mothers, she is part of the army, maybe she has a kid that is holding an airplane toy. Her speech is touching and beautiful. The soldiers and the commandant watch her deliver her poetic words and listen carefully. There are no sounds but her and the natural sounds of the sea, the grass and the audience.

After Mother’s speech, the funeral ends, and the soldiers and the attendants leave the hut’s roof and disapear in the backround.

“4. The Poet delivers her masterpiece”

This moment is still a bit unclear but the audience follows the path and the “masterpiece” is either played out on the broken circle or back at the tree. Probably the tree. The poet Is back into her element, and the audience has now gone through a whole “cycle of war”. The Poet and Soldier 2 exchange lines and finish the piece.

“The Last Post is played”

As the piece finishes the soldiers have left the premises and the audience is kindly asked to follow the path that leads towards the sea. They might see new soldiers rising from the ground and new audience coming through, creating a real sense of cycle, and rebirth of the soldiers coming from the ground.

The Audience leaves the site by following the path close the the sea . There is no music or anything, they are slowing able to leave the world by enjoying the beuaitufl view. The lighting goes from the same style of the set in the Battery to normal lamp posts. The audience leaves from the Marconi Village Center, same as they came. A bus is offered to them to get back to the station.

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strmgrl-blog · 6 years

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my name’s saturn & this is my meme shop ! aaaaah no, really though bonjour angels ! for a lil introduction for myself let me just get this out of the way GIFJDKL uhhh i love aoa, day6 & sm artists ( like .. all of them Help ). a traumatized bitch who loves suffering so i project onto my muses to Cope ! GIAUDFJKL god gdfroijmkl sorry ummm i love star wars & video games ? catch me throwing an ow comp match & feeding in fortnite ! i love the moon, she’s the only thing that keeps me alive. i don’t have a mitochondria, i have lunar force. i have one (1) indoor cat who i birthed & LITERALLY 4 STRAY CATS who appeared from the mist. i run a ratchet vet service from my front porch & it’s free, i should be named human of the year honestly, truly. more on this mess of a muse, hyeon, who ( btw ) is literally my everything ? i’ve had her for quite a long time & lost motivation to write her so i’m changing some shit up to see how it goes & this is the product ! i hope you all enjoy reading this EXTREMELY long intro ( bc it will be very long im so sorry ) & befriend both myself as well as hyeon. & if you’re feelin’ a little extra, like this to plot ! i have a few ideas in mind but they’re all worth brainstorming over bc they’re SHIT. anyway, i love u all so much already ? genuinely a kind community i’m nut & WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU, here’s hyeon ~ ♥（ﾉ´∀`）

warning ! trigger warnings ahead possibly including ꞉ child prostitution, drug abuse, child abuse, mental abuse, sexual assault, depression, suicidal thoughts + other mental illness, murder, & probably a fuckton more. read with caution, please.

⌠ BACKGROUND ⌡

so starting with her parents, where all stories begin, let’s just preface by saying these were awful people. they ran in similar circles during school, a very bad one at that, & fell in love after sharing a joint. in their high daze they saw what their mind was conjuring but not the truth about one another. but for them, it had been enough. thus, their story began. it was a very rocky road but they managed to stay together regardless. the bond they had created blossomed as they partook in illegal activities such as petty theft, vandalism, & it slowly evolved into larger problems.

after hyeon’s mother, named jung eunbi, stole from her parents for the last time she was kicked out into the street with her boyfriend ( who had also been kicked out ) with no place to go. both dropped out of high school as it wasn’t their “””scene””” & took to the dirty streets of busan trying to turn tricks. they’d do anything they could to get some money to feed their addictions. in the midst of their scrambling for what they deemed as important, they never thought to buy protection. so one fateful night after a good steal, they made love on a dingy couch high as a kite & eunbi got pregnant.

she hid the pregnancy for as long as she could from her boyfriend, he only noticed when there was a rather apparent bump under her baggy clothing. with the weight of the realization they might have to force themselves to become a real family, the couple got hitched & attempted to find real jobs. in some miracle, they managed to find a house to live in & eventually “raise” their child in.

hyeon was born on the 8th of june, on a dark morning with clouds hanging ove the sky & rain starting to pour. she was premature as her mother did drugs during the pregnancy ( which was really no shocker ) & almost was pronounced a still born before they heard the tiny being crying & gasping for air. her parents had assumed that once she was born, they’d feel that parental love that everyone claimed to have but it never came. they stayed in the hospital a total of two days & hardly let their newborn get the help she needed before they hauled ass out of there.

the first 3 years of hyeon’s life were better than expected, her parents at least tried to take care of her but once she was able to do everything on her own they left her be to pursue their own happiness. honestly think of matilda but a lot more severe ok

she would often get locked in a closet while there were parties held & her parents were too strung out to remember their child. she could spend days in there before she was released. this was only the beginning.

at 8 years old, her father lost his job ( her mother stayed at home ) due to a random drug test & he of course failed. this triggered her parents to panic as they no longer could supply themselves with their so desired highs. so after a night of scheming, they came up with a plan so sinister not even the devil himself would agree.

random men & women began to arrive to their dingy home as hyeon would be ushered into quiet rooms with them where they would pay to do whatever they pleased with the young girl. this went on for 2 years before hyeon was pulled into the principals office at school with questions about where those bruises on her came from. her mom was picked up for possession & this prompted the police to raid their home to find many illegal substances throughout the place as well as evidence of abuse towards the child.

soon after her parents were placed in prison, hyeon was shipped off to seoul to the biggest orphanage in the country. there she stayed for 4 more years. the time there was quiet, nobody asked her about where she came from & she never spoke about it. in truth, she never knew how to as she was a blank mind essentially.

luckily when she was 15, after a long & strenuous search, hyeon’s grandparents found her & adopted her into their home in daegu. they were absolutely appalled at this shell of a girl, but could only blame her trauma on their own children. it was here that hyeon was loved for the first time in her life ( & possibly the only time ) & taught how to feel something besids fear. she was still horribly inept at processing emotions or showing them.

two years spent with them & one night as hyeon & her grandfather were sat at the family piano, playing & singing a song as her grandmother recorded them in secret. that same video was sent to an entertainment company without hyeon’s knowledge but was thoroughly surprised & equally as excited when she was recruited. only a measly year in training with her 2 group members before they debuted & they were suddenly the biggest gg in sk.

the group debuted under the name of PTL, hyeon’s stagename was now Tink as she accompanied her members in the ride of a lifetime. they were extremely popular with their girl crush yet enticing vocals with miss tink as the main vocalist & maknae. even so successful as to have a world tour ! the group had their differences, hyeon being the medium for them as the other girls were rather opposing forces. often she was put in the middle of their arguing only to run away when conflict came up. during this time she would write & compose her own songs, bringing a heavy soul feeling to the group with her powerhouse vocals.

with all this being said ( which was a LOT ), there is still more. a year after debut while the group was climbing in popularity, hyeon began receiving texts from an unknown number. she soon found out that the people behind the mask were her parents, somehow having managed to be released from prison & found their new mission in life was to harass their daughter. on an october night, after an argument went down within the dorms between hyeon’s two members, the youngest set out by herself to meet those who hurt her for dinner.

as expected, it went horribly. at this point in her life, she was extremely impressionable, & witnessed how her eonnie handled things which was with a liquor bottle in hand. so, like an idiot, she went to a club by herself to get fucked up. while sitting at the bar, a random man drugged her drink & took hyeon home with him. the night was a blur but when the young woman woke up she felt familiar bruises & a blanket of rage took over. the man was still passed out next to her.

so as she slipped out of his bed & found the nearest blunt object, hyeon managed to bash his skull in. she blacked out after that only to come to with clean hands & far away from the corpse. this was the reactant to lead her to go blind in rage & come to with blood on her hands. soon enough, she took a liking to the feeling & became two people within one while somehow managing to remain anonymous as a killer ran rampant.

earlier this year, after too much shit going on within the group, ptl disbanded & all went their own ways. which hyeon appreciated. the people she had once called her sisters had become like strangers & only cared about themselves, didn’t have the time to look after their maknae.

to say that her already pre - existing depression & anxiety sky rocketed would be an understatement. she left music for a while, deciding to stream on twitch & youtube as a gamer. it made her happy for a short time but has been planning on returning to music with hints of a solo debut soon that has fans excited.

edit: i forgot to put this in here originally IGJFDKL but she moved to jeju after her group disbanded for a new start. plus, her address somehow got leaked so she uprooted all her shit & left for the secluded island.

⌠ OTHER TIDBITS ⌡

stands at 5′7″, 168 pounds ( considered plus size tbh. one day i’ll put picture references LMAO ), with curly, thick hair & freckles from hell.

can speak english, japanese, chinese, & italian. has a slight british accent from who she learned english from was from the UK.

has a rottweiler puppy named chewie, a hedgehog named leia, & two cats named opal & hazel.

voice claim is a mixture of lee haeri, kim taeyeon, park sunyoung, & ailee.

her favorite color is blue, loves the rain, & will 100% be caught standing in the middle of a storm.

is a practicing wiccan ! very much so considers herself a witch.

her favorite drink is strawberry milk, & will eat anything that has strawberries !

#islandintro #THIS IS LITERALLY SO FUCKINGGGG LONGGGOHj #i ghosted over smth rly important but ... I CAN touch on it more later i supposed BUT YEAH IM SORRY IF THIS IS FKNNNN AWFUGLLL #this is a mess n im sorryt plsssjoidkl love me !#like dis if u'd like to plot uwu

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alexthegamingboy · 6 years

Text

Toonami Weekly Recap 1/27/2018

Black Clover EP#07 - The Other New Recruit: As a new member of the Black Bulls, Asta is thrilled to receive his very first private room, even though it's tiny. Everything Asta sees as Magna shows him around the squad's base is new and exciting to him.

Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron Blooded Orphans Season 2 EP#13 (38) - Hunter of Angels: In a grueling showdown, Mikazuki fights and slays the Hashmal, despite the Gundam Barbatos Lupus sustaining heavy damage - and consequently, his entire right side becoming paralyzed from the strain of the battle. One month later, Orga reports to McMurdo about the incident and Gjallarhorn's searching for other Calamity War remnants on Mars. As a show of trust, Orga gives McMurdo his sakazuki cup to break, should Tekkadan be considered a hindrance to Teiwaz. While McMurdo declines to break the cup due to his investments on Mars, he warns Orga that any betrayal of Teiwaz would lead to severe consequences for Tekkadan. Meanwhile, McGillis explains his side of the incident to the Seven Stars council, placing the blame on Iok. Rustal refuses to agree with Iok due to a lack of evidence to support his argument, allowing McGillis to claim credit for slaying the Hashmal. Later, Rustal grants Julieta her request to become the test pilot for Gjallarhorn's new machine, which is powerful but unstable. Fearing that Mikazuki may not come back from the next battle, Atra begs Kudelia to bear his children. Humiliated by McGillis, feeling betrayed by Rustal's refusal to defend him and obsessed with his honor and his men's sacrifice, Iok orders his servants to contact Jasley.

JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders EP#22 - Judgement, Part 2: Corresponding with Polnareff's third wish, Cameo makes a clay doll of Avdol, who joins the Cherie doll in attacking Polnareff, biting off his flesh. Before the dolls can kill off Polnareff, he is suddenly saved by the real Avdol, who had actually survived his encounter with Hol Horse as the seemingly fatal bullet had only grazed him. With the two managing to overcome the dolls, Avdol brings out the full strength of Magician's Red against Cameo's Judgement, effectively disippating it. After the fight, Polnareff and Avdol find a piece of bamboo sticking out from the ground, surmising that the real Cameo is hidden below. The pair drop spiders and mud down to block his breathing, and they finishing by urinating into the bamboo, which forces him to the surface, where Avdol properly deals with him. After reuniting with the group, Polnareff is shocked to find that the others knew Avdol was alive the entire time, keeping it a secret from him to prevent the enemy from finding out. Avdol further reveals he had disguised himself as his father in order to purchase a submarine for the group.

Hunter x Hunter: The Chimera Ant Arc EP#81 - The × Fight × Begins: Confirming his suspicions, Kite finds clues about the dark side of the NGL and meet Rammot, one of the Chimera Ants. Knowing that much stronger foes await them ahead, Kite declares that Gon and Killua must defeat the enemy by themselves, or they will not be allowed to proceed further with him. Meanwhile, the Chimera Ant commanders take heed of Nen-enhanced humans and make plans to capture them in order to attend the Queen's increasing demands for nutrition.

Space Dandy EP#01 - Live with the Flow, Baby: Alien hunter Dandy and his robot companion QT search the galaxies for rare alien species while aboard their spaceship, the Aloha Oe. They travel to a local breastaurant named BooBies, where they eventually find a Betelgeusean, later recognized as Meow. However, Dandy mistakes Meow for a new species after tussling with him. Meow boards the Aloha Oe and tells Dandy and QT about a planet inhabited with rare alien species. The crew of the Aloha Oe ventures into an unknown dimension when Meow foolishly engages their broken warp drive, in which Dandy then pulls on a wayward cosmic string and brings them to the planet by coincidence. Dandy and Meow set foot on this planet, only to be chased by giant creatures. When Dandy and Meow are unable to return to the spaceship, Dandy accidentally orders QT to activate a "secret weapon" that obliterates the entire planet and everything on it, including the crew of the Aloha Oe.

Outlaw Star EP#19 - Law and Lawlessness: The Outlaw Star and its crew is captured by private security forces and Gene confronts their leader, a Saurian named Dooes, accompanied by his colleague, Valeria. The security forces attempt to help an injured civilian ship, but it turns out to be a Trojan horse. The Outlaw Star and its crew save the security forces and are rewarded with dragonite.

Cowboy Bebop EP#17 - Mushroom Samba: The Bebop, out of food and fuel, is sideswiped in a hit-and-run off of Europa and crash-lands on Io. Ed, with Ein by her side, is sent out to procure food, and ends up running across Domino Walker, a bounty-head who is smuggling hallucinogenic mushrooms.

This episode pays homage to 1970s "blaxploitation" films such as Coffy and Shaft. Shaft's dragging a coffin behind him wherever he goes is a reference to the 1966 Spaghetti Western Django.

This episode is also a TV Trope namer. source: http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MushroomSamba

Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex 2nd Gig EP#11 (37) - IN: Grass Labyrinth – AFFECTION: Batou and Togusa test eight potential new recruits for Section 9. The men are placed in pairs to create four different teams, each tasked with tracking Major Kusanagi. However, Kusanagi proves to be a difficult target to track, and eventually she loses all four teams. Shortly after shaking off the last team, Kusanagi unexpectedly loses all communication and finds herself lost in a seemingly empty part of the city. While trying to locate her team, she happens across a shop that stores people's external memories, and hears the story of two child prosthetic bodies carefully preserved in the shop. The bodies once belong to a boy and a girl who were involved in a terrible plane crash, leaving the two children the only survivors of the wreck after the other mortally wounded passengers die. While the boy was in the hospital he learned that he had been paralyzed except for his left hand, which he used to make origami cranes non-stop for the girl. One day, the girl, who had been in a coma since arriving in the hospital, unexpectedly went downhill fast, and was moved to the OR. The boy believed that she had died, but two years later a girl his age was brought to the hospital in an effort to convince the boy to switch to a full-cyborg prosthetic body, after previous attempts by a relative and doctors to convince him had failed. The boy was reluctant to do so at first because the girl had difficulty with the fine motor skills of her own new body, but he eventually relented and accepted the prosthetic body, after realizing the girl visiting him was the very same one from the crash who he believed had died. Years later the boy, who had been searching for the girl since he left the hospital, happened across her childhood prosthetic in a lab and took it upon himself to preserve it. When Kusanagi inquires as to the current whereabouts of the boy, she learns that he was shipped out in the last days of the war, and has not been heard from since. Before Kusanagi leaves, she carefully folds a sugar cube wrapper into an origami crane and places it in the car beside the body of the boy, saying "I'll bet that even now... that girl is still searching for the first boy she ever loved."

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graffiti-vibe-blog · 7 years

Video

Legendary Artist-Producer John Fryer to release new Black Needle Noise LP ~ 'Lost in Reflections' continues This Mortal Coil legacy with multiple vocalists

Artist-producer legend John Fryer has announced the second Black Needle Noise album ‘Lost in Reflections’, to be released on July 13, but is first teasing the single ‘Neon Noir’ with Dr. Strangefryer. Now based in L.A., John Fryer dishes up his trademark goodness and lush atmospheres with layered richness, experimental tones, effects and melodies. As one of the most innovative sonic architects of our age, “John Fryer has practically soundtracked your entire life” (Impose Magazine). His musical imprint is massive, having shaped the sound of bands from Nine Inch Nails and Cocteau Twins to HIM and Depeche Mode. He is also one of just two masterminds behind This Mortal Coil (along with Ivo Watts-Russell – not only producing, but also keyboards, strings and synthesizer sequencing). A sense of expectation about his music has never left him – expectations he has exceeded on this new album, his collaboration with numerous artists resulting in stunning output in 'Lost In Reflections', a collection of 11 tracks featuring Bill Leeb (Front Line Assembly, Delirium), Mimi Page (Delirium), Jennie Vee (also bassist in Hole), Ana Breton (Dead Leaf Echo), Omniflux (Puscifer), Kendra Frost (Kite Base), Andrea Kerr (Colt), Sivert Hoyem, ZiaLand and Dr. Strangefryer. John Fryer started his career in 1979 at London’s Blackwing Studios (London) and soon began working with seminal bands on the 4AD, Mute, Rough Trade and Beggars Banquet record labels, including Depeche Mode, The Wolfgang Press and Cocteau Twins. His achievement in helping develop the latter’s pioneering ethereal and ambient sound ultimately led Watts-Russell to recruit Fryer as his partner for This Mortal Coil. He’s produced many other groundbreaking artists, including Love and Rockets, Swans, HIM, Cradle of Filth, Clan of Xymox, Nitzer Ebb, Dead Can Dance, Yaz (Yazoo), Xmal Deutschland, Fields of the Nephilim, De/Vision, Stabbing Westward, Jesus Jones, Swallow, M|A|R|R|S (A.R.Kane & Colourbox), Kristin Hersh and many others. He also produced the soundtracks to films such as Seven, Clerks, Johnny Mnemonic, Mortal Kombat, Faust and Resident Evil: Apocalypse. The album title 'Lost In Reflections' is significant. “Its like day dreaming, you sit there and get lost in thought, lost in the music, it takes you away to another dimension. Stand in a room full of mirrors and your reflection goes on for ever and you can’t find the real you in there anymore, the reflections have taken over. the music conjures thoughts of things/moods that have had happened or you wish had happened or even something you hope will happen,” explains John Fryer. This album is a continuation or extension of the first Black Needle Noise album ‘Before The Tears Came’ (2016), which featured Jarboe (Swans), Elena Alice Fossi (Kirlian Camera and Spectra Paris), andLedfoot, among others. “I am always surprised where the singers take the songs – they always take them higher to a new level. I never have a pre-conceived notion of where the song could go but when they send the vocals back I always get a ‘wow’ moment and shivers down the spine when I listen to what they have done and where they have taken the song. I am so eternally grateful to them all,” says John Fryer. "About 'Neon Noir', I was asked to write a theme tune for a movie set in the later 80s, they wanted something to sound electro and of the time. The lyrics were inspired by Christiane F. and B-Moive: Lust & Sound.". 'Lost in Reflections' will be released on July 13, but is already available to stream on Black Needle Noise’s Bandcamp. This album arrives on the tail of news of his joint release with David Lynch muse Chrysta Bell (also known as Special Agent Tammy Preston in the new Twin Peaks series). They have paid “homage to the infinitely haunting and enduring music of Twin Peaks” with a cover of 'Falling' by Julee Cruise, Angelo Badalamenti and David Lynch.

SELECT PRESS "An intimate capsule of mood and story that moves cohesively while bringing a singular feeling and unique weight to each song. It truly is “music for movies you haven’t seen yet” – from the artist who produced music for the indelible, iconic film Seven" – Disarm Magazine "John Fryer has practically soundtracked your entire life" – Impose Magazine "Fryer, who has produced everyone from Love and Rockets to Dead Can Dance, is one of the most innovative sonic architects in the business–his moody compositions are nuanced and always compelling" – Stereo Embers Magazine “A revolving door of beauty and celebrated diversity. Powerful, mesmerizing, spacious and penetrating” – Big Takeover "Wonderfully warped – dark, gorgeous and brooding with raw energy, almost like an epic movie, with tranquil and chaotic parts" – The Spill Magazine

"Explores the deepest, darkest parts of human existence alongside possible rays of hope. Fryer creates moments that will both set the listener on edge as well as lull them in with hypnotic ease" – Somewherecold

"Lost in Reflections is a kaleidoscope of musical treasures...each track a new and colorful facet of John Fryer's genius. His ability to pick collaborators is uncanny, their words seamlessly meld with his soundscapes in a way that's nothing short of magic" – Echosynthetic

News story provided by Shameless Promotion PR

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galadrieljones · 7 years

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nsfw DWC prompt: You have been doing these domestic bliss winter & snow in Crestwood. So how about some (semi?) clothed sex in the snow, because they can't wait ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Thank you *blows kisses*

Married, domestic bliss. Sort of a slice of wintry life for Sene and Solas. Thanks, @thevikingwoman. @dadrunkwriting.

Country Living

Sene and Solas were going to a restaurant in town. It was somewhat new, and it was very nice, with the chef recruited from Val Royeaux sometime in the summer, right after they were married. He was very good at Orlesian desserts and puddings. These were the things he was famous for. That night, it was great big orchards of snow and swelling skies. Whole swaths and canopies that sort of opened up overhead and then it all came spilling down and giving everybody feelings. Solas had ordered a carriage. Now all he had to do was wait for Sene.

She’d kicked him out of the bedroom almost an hour ago. He stood now with his hands in his pockets, leaning in the kitchen, just watching the snow. It felt like the only thing to do. He was dressed nice–black pants and jacket with the silk shirt Josephine had brought him from Antiva. If there was anyone who had learned how to properly dress Solas over the years, it was Josie: simple buttons and a sharp collar, a pale, crisp blue–to bring out the eyes, she always said. She had his measurements on file. Of course, Thom wouldn’t let her near his wardrobe, but Solas, being Solas, had always had a certain subtle, sartorial awareness that enchanted Josephine. She had begun sending them boxes of expensive fabric every few months, which Sene would sew into curtains and pillow cases or occasionally, a dress. Solas took frequent trips to the tailor in town.

He liked the way they lived now. It was simple and everything filled with promise. Sene was like this creature of ungodly speed. She wanted everything and she wanted it all the time. But it still took her forever to fix her hair.

When the carriage arrived, Solas went to the bedroom, kicked the door twice. “Sene,” he said. “The carriage is outside.”

“We’re taking a carriage?” she said.

He dropped his forehead to the door and closed his eyes. “Yes, vhenan. You said you were wearing a dress. There’s six inches of snow on the ground. I ordered a carriage”

“There’s no snow on the paths.”

He sighed. “Please come out. I’m dying.”

“You are not,” she said, and she opened the door.

At first, Solas just stayed in position, bent forward and with his hands still in his pockets. “I’m stuck,” he said. He tipped his face into her neck. He breathed. “You smell like the Winter Palace. What is that?”

“It’s my hair. It’s from Josie.”

She hauled him upright. He gave her a long, lazy look, studying as he still so often did. Her dress was simple, a pale green silk, long sleeves, but it sort of dipped in all the right places and it made her look very tall. She’d pulled the red hair off her face, secured it in pretty braids with a few pins in the back, though all he wanted to do was pluck them and put her entire body inside his mouth. When she asked him how she looked, he smirked and leaned against the door jamb.

“Let’s not go,” he said. “Let’s stay here and take off all our clothes and have sex in the living room. I’ll make you pancakes afterward.”

“Oh, please,” she said.

“I said there would be pancakes. Don’t you like pancakes, vhenan?”

“I just spent like forty-five minutes on my hair.”

“That is not unusual.”

“We are leaving this house,” she said. “We are leaving right now.” She picked his hand up out of his pocket and in it, she placed a little pile of metal hairpins. Then she took one pin out of the pile and placed it in his mouth. “I wore them all day,” she said.

He chewed. “I can tell.”

“You are not to take a single pin out of my hair tonight. Got it?”

Still smirking. “Got it.”

“Let’s go.”

He put the pins in his pocket. Together, they blew out the candles, and they went to dinner in the village. Everyone was so glad to see them there. They ate their dinner off lovely, ornamental plates on the very top floor, and they looked out the window and counted the rooftops and talked pleasantly of their lives and how they had found each other. Like kites. At last. They each had two glasses of wine, and then Solas had a brandy, and when they left, it was no longer snowing, and it was so late, and they were so warm with booze and true love, they said to hell with the carriage and just decided to walk.

Solas gave Sene his jacket. She was freezing and had taken to walking backwards out in front of him with her hands hooked into his belt. He was chewing a new hairpin now, and he had been very good all night, but as they went and they were talking of all these nothing subjects, he lost track and started taking down her braids. They were very alone out there. Two lonely elves in a winter dream, and at some point, they found a lamp post, and they leaned.

The paths from the village were well-lit. Most of the fires in those lamps had been enchanted by Solas himself. She had her back against the pole. He had his hand up her dress. It was cold, but they’d endured far worse, and as soon as he dimmed that lamp over head, he blinked a single butterfly into existence, and it hovered there, for warmth, and then he kissed her, and she got rid of his belt and grabbed hold of him, hard. They were both sort of laughing at first, but then Solas locked into his focus, and it became serious. She turned around and held onto that lamp post with both hands so he could put up her skirt and put himself inside. Such moonlight. When they were finished, they went back home, and they took off their clothes, and they put on new clothes–soft clothes, baggy clothes, the kind you sew out of cotton, not silk–and they played cards in the living room, sitting on the floor by the hearth.

This was their life together, plain and simple. As hairpins. As pancakes. As the pastoral snow in a Crestwood winter. Sene had figured out Solas’s tells and, that night, since he was a little drunk and tired, she found a way to beat him, in earnest, at Diamond Back. He loved her so much for this darling trickery, he split right down the middle and turned into a pile of heart parts on the hardwood floor. What a vision.

And then they fell asleep on the couch, as royalty.

#da drunk writing #drunk writing circle #sene and solas #Solavellan #solavellan fanfic

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junker-town · 7 years

Text

THIS WEEK IN SCHADENFREUDE, Tennessee and LSU have both reached the “GoFundMe to pay the coach’s buyout” stage of the season

Your weekly search of the college football internet’s strongest reactions centers on two SEC fan bases.

There is losing.

There is losing to your rival.

There is losing to your rival 41-0.

There is losing to your rival 41-0 at home.

Then there is losing to your rival 41-0 at home one week after almost losing at home to UMass, two weeks after losing because you didn’t have enough defensive backs on the field, and all in front of your fans who call for your coach’s firing even during victories.

The 2017 Tennessee Volunteers, everybody!

Let’s see how some Vols fans across the internet responded to the loss.

We start our travels at the VolNation.com message boards.

Mere weeks ago, some thought athletic director John Currie had hatched a plot to relieve Butch Jones of his duties and replace him with ex-coach Phillip Fulmer. There’s still a fear (or a hope?) that Fulmer, now 67 and an AD assistant will return:

VolNation.com

Someone’s got a more practical idea, obviously:

Do whatever it takes to get Gruden !!!! This was embarrassing

We have to much talent to be losing this badly ... especially at home

Jon Gruden’s turned down the Tennessee job at least three times since 2008.

I agree. Whether it is Gruden or Chip Kelly, or Bobby Petrino, or Mike Leach...take a blank check and make them say no.

I'd still love to see Gruden here. He's clearly a smart coach, great offensive mind, great QB mind. He relates with kids as he has shown on his QB camp shows. I have to imagine he'd be a great recruiter, the question is whether he'd put in the time? He has connections to build a great staff. He wouldn't coach scared. The booth is always there for him to return to.

Why not make a run at him?

Another poster wants to hire the 32-year-old head coach at FCS Austin Peay, which recently snapped a 29-game losing streak:

Bring in Will Healy

Smart young coach on a roll. What could go wrong??

Someone started a thread that was designed purely as a repository for Tennessee fans’ freshest Butch Jones jokes. The original post:

Well, this game is awful. I would usually be ticked off and screaming at the television. Unfortunately, apathy is beginning to set in. In the midst of my boredom, I've created a list of bad Butch Jones jokes. Feel free to add to this list or burn me at the stake.

Butch Jones should be a spokesperson for a vacuum company... He sucks!

Butch Jones likes the yellow starbursts

Butch Jones' mom is disappointed in him and doesn't think he's handsome

Butch Jones pees sitting down

Butch Jones knits blankets for Christmas gifts

Butch Jones drives a Toyota Tercel

Butch Jones vacations in Muncy, Indiana.

Butch Jones thinks the band is underappreciated

Butch Jones wrote the book, Football for Dummies.

Butch Jones owns one book, Football for Dummies.

Butch Jones can't read or write

Butch Jones flies kites every afternoon

Butch Jones thinks the word infallible means sucks

Some of my favorite reader submissions:

“Butch Jones skis in jeans.”

“Butch Jones has a Blockbuster card.”

Someone else proposes everyone go to the next home game dressed in protest gear.

I think fans going to the games should wear black to show their displeasure in Butch and continue to wear black until he is fired. You can still support the team and wear the gear but seeing a stadium that is normally full of orange blacked out sends a loud and clear message.

Let’s stroll on over to Twitter just see what we find, shall we?

This is an idea of how many people have changed their Twitter names — not just tweeted, mind you, but actually changed their names — to FIRE BUTCH JONES:

(This may not be an exhaustive list.)

In Nashville, the trending topics right after the game:

This is a bit of a “choose your own adventure” game, but I’m going down the “Neyland Stadium” rabbit hole first.

A note for the athletic director from Pastor James:

@John_Currie 2nd year coach & freshman QB 4️⃣1️⃣ points #GA 5 year coach and junior qb 0️⃣points #UT & at Neyland Stadium #vols http://pic.twitter.com/CbCfKQKHcM

— Pastor James Chessor (@JamesChessor) September 30, 2017

Separately, one gentleman had a proposal:

I will post nudes on twitter if Butch Jones is fired this weekend.

— Owen Hill (@owenahill) October 1, 2017

Let’s just camp in Butch Jones’ mentions for a minute.

Well I never thought it could happen @UTCoachJones you have broken my husband

— DAT Way (@cable18) September 30, 2017

Fuck Butch Jones. Fuck this ‘excuses’ program he has sold our fan base. Fuck you and your trash ‘ecosystem’ that you push. @UTCoachJones

— Digital Dad (@DigitalDad23) September 30, 2017

Last week, Jones went on a weird rant directed at local media. Therefore:

@UTCoachJones god damn media

— RK Anderson (@RK_Anderson6) September 30, 2017

Shame on the Knoxville media if you can’t find the countless positives in the most lopsided home loss in 94 years. #Vols @utcoachjones

— G (@GFunk_Error) September 30, 2017

@UTCoachJones will bobby Petrino replace you?

— Bones (@mike_the_dick) September 30, 2017

@UTCoachJones i will fight u sir

— pey (@PeytonnBlairr) September 30, 2017

Fire HIM NOW, FULMER for Intern @UTCoachJones

— Caleb Salyers (@crazyreb12) September 30, 2017

Let’s make a super brief stop at UT’s 247Sports board.

Even Vol Nation’s children apparently offer no mercy.

My daughter just came up to me

And said that Tennessee is trash. I couldn't disagree.

And also at the school’s Scout board.

When is butch getting fired i denounce him as coach

Im not watching another game until he is gone period

Once you’ve been denounced, there’s no way back.

These aren’t even from the internet, but you should see them.

Here is a VOL BRAWL that happened in the stands:

Lets check in on the Vols http://pic.twitter.com/FTOKhgMnP8

— SEC Country (@SECcountry) September 30, 2017

Here are some extremely loud second-quarter boos:

More fun stuff here:

http://pic.twitter.com/uGYbp1hqvs

— Gray Hardison (@BellyoftheBeast) September 30, 2017

And here:

Thanks for helping me make sports illustrated for the wrong reasons @UTCoachJones https://t.co/IeJP7ZIYHS

— Quillen B (@ChillinBlack) October 1, 2017

And here:

Here:

And definitely here:

Tennessee fans had fled the premises by the end.

Last snap, 41-0 final. http://pic.twitter.com/UP7jGAH5HJ

— Joe Rexrode (@joerexrode) September 30, 2017

Back to the internet: a brief Q&A to take us home.

Did anyone propose hiring Les Miles yet?

Yes.

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Fire Butch Hire Les Problem solved

Posted by Brad Boles on Saturday, September 30, 2017

Did anyone start a GoFundMe yet to pay Jones’ buyout?

Also yes.

Are people actually going to spend money on that?

It’s possible.

Has anyone called for failed Michigan head coach Brady Hoke, UT’s DL coach, to take over? Via a Rocky Top Talk commenter:

Fire him now. Promote Hoak to interim HC, and start the search.

Has anyone suggested the Vols hire FAU coach Lane Kiffin, the man who once left them in the middle of the night to take the head coaching job at USC and has now found himself running a middling Conference USA team at 42?

Hey @Lane_Kiffin after your games over you think you could head on to Knoxville to take over for Butch or naw? #firebutch

— Scott (@msallen22) October 1, 2017

Hey @Lane_Kiffin there is a job opening up on rocky top. You interested?

— DAT Way (@cable18) October 1, 2017

At this point, I’ll take Lane Kiffin back please. #VolTwitter

— Josh C (@ViperTheShowOff) October 1, 2017

Are these people kidding?

Quite possibly. But when things are this dark, never assume someone’s joking.

Also, LSU lost to Troy.

There is losing.

There is losing at home.

There is losing at home to a team from the Sun Belt.

And there is losing at home to a team from the Sun Belt in the fifth game of your new head coach’s five-year contract, which carries a $12 million buyout.

We now visit with some Tigers fans to take their temperature.

First things first: Yes, there’s also a GoFundMe to buy out Ed Orgeron.

On Sunday evening at 6 p.m. ET, it had raised a fraction of a fraction of a percentage point of the money that’d be needed to pay Orgeron’s walking-away money.

At TigerDroppings.com, posters are plotting AD Joe Alleva’s demise.

In these sharply political times, grassroots activism is more important than ever. Whether you’re fighting for affordable healthcare or trying to get your school to fire its athletic director after a bad loss, real change happens on the ground.

Email addresses if you're interested in taking action

Michigan fans rallied (Fire Dave Brandon Rally) and got their AD ousted. Nebraska fired their AD within days of losing to Northern Illinois earlier this season (Nebraska ousts AD after embarassing loss).

Why can't we as a fanbase get Alleva and F.Kingremoved? It's well-documented that termination of both is completely warranted and way past overdue. These two gentleman have single-handedly made LSU a national laughing-stock. This is a $150 million per year organization and there must be accountability.

Things you can do to help: -Stop auto contribution to TAF today or Monday (I recommend email stopping contributions with CC to board members below) -Email the board as much as your time allows -Do not attend upcoming home games -Do not buy another piece of LSU merchandise -Talk to your powerful friends and legislators and put the BOS on notice -Keep pressure on the media to ask the tough questions and demand accountability for this $150 million per year revenue organization that is LSU athletics -If you know the governor, tell him his job is on the line too and he better stay out of our way -If you know the LSU BOS members, put them on notice that investigations of ethical violations and conflicts of interest are coming on them as individuals

Another way to get the regime out, per one poster: Have one of Louisiana’s smaller schools step in for the good of LSU.

Time for a state school to help LSU out

Get one of them like ULL or Nicholls to offer him the AD and head coaching job and strongly encourage him to accept it. Give whichever school hires him whatever they want. LSU can agree to play at their stadium for a few years.

Of course this is after Alleva is fired.

Infighting’s rampant on message boards, especially after a brutal loss.

This is a thing that happens. It’s also the time to delineate who’s a TRUE FAN and who’s not.

Check in here if you're a true fan

These are the times where people truly prove their fan-hood. I'm very upset and angry right now, but I'll never leave my Tigers. Check in if you'll be here during these dark days.

I bring that up just to share the first reply:

Just here for the downvote

At And the Valley Shook!, the discourse was largely reasonable. This comment is important to note ...

At least Florida had the foresight to schedule us for their homecoming

... because it came in response to this:

Hey @LSU, thanks for having us down for homecoming! We really enjoyed it!

— Troy University (@TROYUnews) October 1, 2017

The folks at R/LSUFootball had good sense of humor about all of this.

Someone brought up the plight of fans of another Louisianan football program: the South Central Louisiana State University Mud Dogs, from The Waterboy.

How I felt before drinking my sorrows away

Here is the problem for LSU: It doesn’t have Bobby Boucher.

Also, someone posted this:

One person did start a thread simply titled, “Calm the fuck down.”

This is college football, and that’s never going to happen.

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shieldsupportstaff · 7 years

Text

Mirza, Zerya G. - Psychologist/Counselor

Zerya Gulsin Mirza. Born in 1984. Psychologist/Counselor. Served in the Peshmerga in the Kurdish Liberation Movement. Born in Kirkuk, Kurdistan. She has black hair in loose curls. light brown eyes and light skin that tans easily. Zerya did well in school and was considering going to medical school when the death of an older brother at the hands of the Iraqi military motivated her to join the Peshmerga. Injured in a skirmish, she walks with a notable limp, having lost most of her right leg. She has also lost her right eye. After she was injured, a cousin in London brought her to England to recuperate and receive medical care.

Zerya spent the first three weeks in hospital, and very angry with her cousin for taking her from Kurdistan while she was unconscious and could not consent.

After her recuperation, she was fitted with a glass eye and a prosthesis and started classes for her Psychology degree at Cambridge with a boost from another relative who worked there in Economics. She focused her studies on combat-related PTSD in adults, but soon her focus drifted a bit and she included children and other non-combatants. Once she finished her degree and started her graduate work, SHIELD recruited her. When she said she was done fighting, and what use could they have for a maimed soldier, Natasha explained the need for therapists and counselors they could trust. SHIELD would talk to her graduate advisors to see if she could get credit for working for them towards her advanced degree. Once her advisors okayed it, she said yes, packed up her things and joined SHIELD.

Zerya worked with many of her patients on the Helicarrier in a small office off the infirmary. She was offered Stark Industry prosthetics and refused for her leg, but said she would be glad of the eye, as long as she could swap out the iris for different designs and colors. The comment was a joke, but Tony took it to heart. Zerya now has a prosthetic eye with several "vision settings" like zoom, thermal and ultraviolet, that she can change the pattern and color of the iris with an app on her phone.

Zerya had been off the Helicarrier getting a new prosthetic leg fitted. She'd ordered a pale blue ceramic leg with darker blue roses and Red Kites (the bird of prey) and was getting it fitted at a local prosthetic company when the Helicarriers fell. Once the leg was fitted comfortably, she took a cab back to the area, and started hunting for survivors up and down the river banks, even wading out into the water to pull several folks up on the bank. After helping all the survivors she could find, she spent time sitting with those who were triaged at a lower urgency, and trying to help them process what had happened. She saw the Winter Soldier pull Captain America from the river, and wait until he was sure Steve was breathing before leaving.

That night Ethel made her go to a hotel room and get some sleep. When Zerya woke up there was a change of clothes and a quick breakfast waiting for her, and a car to take her back to the hospital, where she did the rounds of the injured who were awake, talking with them, letting them know she would be there, talking to the kids of some of them. She spent the better part of the week at the hospital visiting with the wounded.

Once Ethel signed on with Stark Industries she brought Zerya with her to continue to counsel the many SHIELD agents and staff who were also signing on with Stark. She still has the ceramic prosthetic. Tony covered it with a really clear, tough protective coating for her, and services it regularly. It has a hidden compartment where she keeps a knife and a small gun. She has to remember to take these out if she has to go to a civilian airport.

Zerya has discovered a deep love for everything from LUSH, and the employees at the store closest to Stark Tower know her by name. She favors A-line skirts that reach just below the knee and boatneck tops in jersey material in various jeweltones. She carries a battered leather satchel that she's had since she was a child, it had been her father's.

She has offered to counsel Tony, but he just waves a hand and grumbles under his breath. She knows that you can't force someone to actually go into therapy, they have to come to it on their own. If he's ever ready, he'll talk to her. She did serve as Cap's sounding board, more than counselor, before he left. She tries to remain neutral on the subject of the Accords, at least in how she reacts to Tony, but it is difficult. Being raised as a member of a minority that the majority was determined to wipe out is not something you "get over" regardless of how much therapy you get.

Zerya speaks English, Kurdish, Arabic, Syriac and Armenian.

#SHIELDSupportStaff #Tony Stark #Ethel #Steve Rogers

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graffiti-vibe-blog · 7 years

Video

youtube

Black Needle Noise Unveils 80s Retro-Style Video for 'Neon Noir' - This Mortal Coil Founder and Legendary Producer John Fryer features on vocals

Legendary artist-producer John Fryer, mastermind behind the project Black Needle Noise , has unveiled the new video for ‘Neon Noir’ with Dr. Strangefryer. Just as this track is sonically rooted in the best part of 80's synthpop, so too does the video look like a visual flashback to 80's video technology and TV colorama music video shows with then-seemingly-futuristic computer graphics.

This a a great introduction to the new Black Needle Noise album ‘Lost in Reflections’ with a solid offering of 11 tracks. Now based in L.A., John Fryer dishes up his trademark goodness and lush atmospheres with layered richness, experimental tones, effects and melodies.

"About 'Neon Noir', I was asked to write a theme tune for a movie set in the later 80s, they wanted something to sound electro and of the time. The lyrics were inspired by Christiane F. and B-Moive: Lust & Sound," says John Fryer.

"I made the music video for 'Neon Noir' with a custom blend of analog and digital effects," explains Alisa Akay, who created the video and FX for this track. "The visuals were produced with specialized circuit-bent video gear and interactive applications, which responded to both the music and Dr. Strangefryer himself. The result is an homage to the electric palette of the '80s".

As one of the most innovative sonic architects of our age, “John Fryer has practically soundtracked your entire life” (Impose Magazine). His musical imprint is massive, having shaped the sound of bands from Nine Inch Nails and Cocteau Twins to HIM and Depeche Mode. He is also one of just two masterminds behind This Mortal Coil (along with Ivo Watts-Russell – not only producing, but also keyboards, strings and synthesizer sequencing).

A sense of expectation about his music has never left him – expectations he has exceeded on this new album, his collaboration with numerous artists resulting in stunning output in 'Lost In Reflections', a collection of 11 tracks featuring Bill Leeb (Front Line Assembly, Delirium), Mimi Page (Delirium), Jennie Vee (also bassist in Hole), Ana Breton (Dead Leaf Echo), Omniflux (Puscifer), Kendra Frost (Kite Base), Andrea Kerr (Colt), Sivert Hoyem, ZiaLand and Dr. Strangefryer.

John Fryer speaks about the new album: “I am always surprised where the singers take the songs – they always take them higher to a new level. I never have a pre-conceived notion of where the song could go but when they send the vocals back I always get a ‘wow’ moment and shivers down the spine when I listen to what they have done and where they have taken the song. I am so eternally grateful to them all”.

John Fryer started his career in 1979 at London’s Blackwing Studios (London) and soon began working with seminal bands on the 4AD, Mute, Rough Trade and Beggars Banquet record labels, including Depeche Mode, The Wolfgang Press and Cocteau Twins. His achievement in helping develop the latter’s pioneering ethereal and ambient sound ultimately led Watts-Russell to recruit Fryer as his partner for This Mortal Coil.

He’s produced many other groundbreaking artists, including Love and Rockets, Swans, HIM, Cradle of Filth, Clan of Xymox, Nitzer Ebb, Dead Can Dance, Yaz (Yazoo), Xmal Deutschland, Fields of the Nephilim, De/Vision, Stabbing Westward, Jesus Jones, Swallow, M|A|R|R|S (A.R.Kane & Colourbox), Kristin Hersh and many others. He also produced the soundtracks to films such as Seven, Clerks, Johnny Mnemonic, Mortal Kombat, Faust and Resident Evil: Apocalypse.

The album title 'Lost In Reflections' is significant. “Its like day dreaming, you sit there and get lost in thought, lost in the music, it takes you away to another dimension. Stand in a room full of mirrors and your reflection goes on for ever and you can’t find the real you in there anymore, the reflections have taken over. the music conjures thoughts of things/moods that have had happened or you wish had happened or even something you hope will happen,” explains John Fryer.

This album is a continuation or extension of the first Black Needle Noise album ‘Before The Tears Came’ (2016), which featured Jarboe (Swans), Elena Alice Fossi (Kirlian Camera and Spectra Paris), andLedfoot, among others.

'Lost in Reflections' is now available on Black Needle Noise’s Bandcamp. Its release coincided with John Fryer's joint release with David Lynch muse Chrysta Bell (also known as Special Agent Tammy Preston in the new Twin Peaks series), "paying homage to the infinitely haunting and enduring music of Twin Peaks” with a cover of 'Falling' by Julee Cruise, Angelo Badalamenti and David Lynch.

News story provided by Shameless Promotion PR

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