It’s no secret that Michael and I clash. My dislike for him is rooted in the fact I can see in his eyes that he wants to be like Tommy, and I don’t particularly like Tommy. I mean, I respect him, but I don’t like him, so I’m definitely not going to like a second rate copy of him.
Michael’s dislike for me is rooted in the fact he knows I don’t like him. That and the fact I’m a “gobby cow”… His words.
That’s how it started any way, but now Michael’s developed into his own - there’s still a little too much imitating Tommy for me to like him - and I can’t deny his ambition and drive is impressive. And he’s learnt to appreciate my confidence and honesty. Although we’d never admit it, we’ve both started to respect each other a little bit.
Bridge collapse during a Michael Jackson concert in Munich, 1999
While performing “Earth Song”, the bridge carrying Michael ascended 30+ feet into the air, but instead of pausing at its pinnacle, it came careening down gaining speed due to a mechanical failure.
Michael was badly injured but finished the song, as well as performing “You Are Not Alone” before he collapsed backstage.
Makeup artist Karen Faye about the incident:
Backstage, there was crying and screaming, only the crew and performers knew there was something desperately wrong. From our vantage point we had lost sight of Michael, as the bridge had fallen below the front of the stage. My heart stopped beating, while in the strong arms of a perplexed security guard. Even though the show continued for everyone else, time stood still for me as I could not imagine how Michael could have survived such a fall…
…Looking dazed, he made his way to our side of the stage. “Michael, sit down….”
“NO!” He demanded.
“Security… please get him to the hospital!” I was begging.
“NO!” He grabbed the microphone and ran out to finish performing “You Are Not Alone”.
I could not believe what I was witnessing. He finished the song, took his final bow, and returned once again to his stage dressing room and then… collapsed. Security whisked him off to a hospital in Munich.
Later I asked him… why did you continue? I cannot believe you were able to do that.
“The only thing that I heard in my head, was my father’s voice saying to me, MICHAEL, DON’T DISAPPOINT THE AUDIENCE!“
Shit, I’m excited to write this. Based on a prompt from this post.
Jeremy hates patrolling during winter. Because he’s more sensitive to the cold, he has to exert more energy tapping into the heat from his fire abilities to keep himself from freezing to death. He finds himself yearning to trade places with Goranski, who thrives during the winter season thanks to his ice abilities. But, when summer rolls back around and Rich is hiding in doors glued to an AC unit, Jeremy forgets his difficulties in winter as he runs through the streets with the heat dancing around him.
A sharp breeze whips past, brushing his hair to the side, and Jeremy shivers hard and wraps his arms around his trembling frame. “Damn,” he breathes out, scanning the streets for any sign of trouble. He’s not even sure why he’s out today. Things are typically quiet in New Jersey during the winter season because no one wants to leave the warmth of their houses.
Jeremy’s just mid-thought on how he wishes he were curled up under multiple blankets in front of a fire when his comm chirps in his ear and Rich’s loud voice bleeds through.
“Heere! Get your ass down to the river! We’ve got trouble!”
Jeremy’s already pushing into a sprint toward the river, eyes scanning wildly for trouble. “What’s up?” He asks, voice slightly breathless as his arms pump hard at his sides.
“Wind bastard from the city over. He’s got someone from our school. Can’t think of the dude’s name. Michael…. Tell? Bell?”
michael latta one where the girl is going through a breakup and shes just a mess and but he doesnt know that and she calls him over and they just kinda cuddle on the couch and michael holds her while she cries and stuff
I wrote this late last night, so I’m sorry for any mistakes.
Boyf riends "I know its 3 in the morning but I cant find my cat"
Michael clicked the tv off, plunging the basement into thick darkness. He had spent the past countless hours playing a first-person shooter game. After positively annihilating his opponents for the twenty-fifth time, Michael decided that it was about time to call it quits. He had messaged a couple quick good-byes to his buddies, ignoring their requests for him to stay and play “just one round more.”
He pulled out his phone, blinking at the bright light. Almost 3 AM. Fabulous. At least, tomorrow–wait, scratch that. At least, today was Saturday, so he could sleep as long as he wanted. Michael stuffed his phone back into his pocket and felt against the wall as he made his way upstairs, out of the basement.
Michael pressed a fist to his mouth as he yawned, shutting the door to the stairs that led to the basement. Once it had snicked shut, Michael began to creep to his room. His parents generally didn’t give a crap about his whereabouts, but the last time he had been caught up after midnight, his father had flipped out and–
Well, that was neither here nor there.
Michael just wouldn’t get caught. Simple as that.
He eased the door shut to his bedroom, cringing as it clicked shut, obscenely loud in the silence. Michael froze for a moment, anxiously waiting for that familiar grumble and the creaking of the hallway. Nothing. He was safe. Michael sighed in relief, intending to collapse into bed and sleep the rest of the weekend away.
A sharp tapping at his window derailed that train of thought.
Michael turned quickly to the window. Jeremy waved at him, gesturing to open the window. He smiled crookedly, cocking his head as he waited for Michael to acquiesce. Michael wanted to say that he was surprised, except, who else would be at his window at–Michael checked his alarm clock–3:04 in the morning.
Jeremy rapped the glass again, harder this time. Michael rushed over, yanking the window open. “Be quiet,” he hissed. “If my father hears you, we’re both dead.”
“Hi, Michael,” Jeremy greeted, tumbling through the open window and onto the floor. He hit the ground with a loud thump that had Michael jerking towards the direction of his bedroom door and just praying that– “I missed you.”
“Are you… drunk?” Michael asked, his nose wrinkling at the scent of alcohol that seemed to seep off of Jeremy’s clothes.
Jeremy frowned at him. “I missed you, Michael. Do… Do you not miss me?”
Michael rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time for this. It was three in the goddamn morning. “I did miss you, Jeremy, but I would have much preferred for this conversation to take place when the sun was up.” Michael punctuated his comment by gesturing to the stars that still glittered outside.
Jeremy followed Michael’s gesture, leaning against the window frame. “Yeahhhh… But the stars are just so pretty, aren’t they? I wish I could just have one for my own. Just one.” Jeremy started to reach for a star, Michael supposed, and began to tilt out of the window dangerously. Michael grabbed Jeremy’s shirt before he could fall to his untimely death (though, Michael was just about exasperated enough to shove Jeremy out and deal with all of this in the morning) and shut the window before Jeremy could accidentally–or not so accidentally, depending on how fed up Michael became–tumbled to the ground.
“That’s nice, Jeremy, but what in the world are you doing here?”
“Oh. I can’t find my cat.”
Michael stared at Jeremy, wondering if he had misheard his best friend. “Your cat?”
“Yeah, my cat. It’s orange. I think. Huh, I can’t remember now.”
“That’s… Jeremy, you don’t have a cat,” Michael explained.
Jeremy grinned. “Well, that would explain why I couldn’t find it!”
Michael pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his best friend, he truly did. But, he just couldn’t deal with a drunk Jeremy right now. “Okay, we solved that mystery. You’ve got to get home.”
Jeremy’s forehead crinkled. “You… you want me to leave?” he asked, almost pitifully.
“No, Jeremy… Well, yes, I do, but not because–”
It was too late. Jeremy had begun to cry.
Michael really just wanted to pound his head against the wall, but that would really wake up his father. He hadn’t realized that Jeremy was so… emotional when drunk. “B-but, Michael,” Jeremy was blubbering, “I–I don’t want to g-go. I want to stay here with you!” Jeremy grabbed Michael’s waist, pulling him onto the bed.
“That’s, uh, nice, but, Jeremy, I really need to get you home.”
“Don’t you love me?” Jeremy wailed.
Michael clapped a hand over Jeremy’s mouth. “Be quiet,” Michael hissed. “You’ll wake my father.” Once Jeremy had quieted down, except for the constant mournful sniffs, Michael removed his hand. “Okay, okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to drive you home and help you settle down and, after you’re asleep, I’ll leave. Does that sound okay?”
Jeremy nodded slowly. “W-we’re still friends?” he asked.
“Yes, of course, we’re still friends. Even though it’s…” Michael glanced at the clock, sighing. “Even though it’s 3:19 in the morning. You owe me sushi.” Michael helped Jeremy to his feet, before pausing. There wasn’t really any good way to get Jeremy out of the house. Going out the window could very well lead to Jeremy falling to his death. And going through the house would involve creeping past his parents’ room and Michael didn’t trust Jeremy to be quiet enough. Which meant…
“Um, change of plans,” Michael decided. “You’ll stay here and I’ll just set my phone alarm so that we can get up before my father gets up.” Michael figured that he could stash Jeremy in his closet or something and then pretend to be asleep when his father would, inevitably, check on him in the morning. That would have to work. If Michael had thought it had hurt when his father had caught him up after midnight, getting caught with a boy in his room would be indescribably painful.
“Okay,” Jeremy said, laying down on Michael’s bed and pulling the blankets up to his chin. “I knew you loved me.”
Michael sighed, quickly setting an alarm on his phone and praying that he would wake up to it this time. “Yeah, yeah,” Michael agreed, slipping under the covers. Jeremy immediately latched onto him, cuddling against his shoulder. Michael stiffened for a moment, before relaxing. “Yeah, Jeremy, of course, I love you.”
Once in awhile, a new artist comes along who manages to unite the scene under the conviction that we’ve come across one of the most exciting new burgeoning talents of the moment. George Van De Broek, better known as Yellow Days, is one such artist. The young UK singer songwriter and producer first caught our attention last year with haunting yet honeyed, woozy and psychedelic alt soul ballad Your Hand Holding Mine. Yellow Days’ debut EP, Harmless Melodies, has been extolled across the board. He now returns with a phenomenal first song from an new EP to come. That Easy is a vintage soul meets psych rock spectacular. It’s a distorted, smelted cross between Michael Kiwanuka and Leon Bridges. Yellow Day’s next EP is entitled ‘Is Everything OK In Your World?’. I’m sure everything will seem fantastic by the time this EP drops later this year.
“It was the most apocalyptic thing I’d ever seen,” said Aida Mušanović, an artist from Sarajevo, describing the burning of the National Library. For days a thick black cloud of ash hung over the city and residents would find pieces of charred paper or ashes of burned books and manuscripts in their hair and on their clothes.
On August 25, 1992, the Serb army began shelling the National Library of Bosnia-Herzegovina in Sarajevo from positions on the mountainside directly in front of it. In the next few days in the largest book-burning in modern human history, over a million books, more than a hundred thousand manuscripts and rare books, and centuries of historical records of Bosnia-Herzegovina went up in flames.
[…] Aida Mušanović had visited the hospital in Sarajevo and seen the carnage brought by war. Yet the burning of the library struck her with a special horror. In the fire of the National Library, she realized that what she was experiencing was not only war but also something else. The centuries of culture that fell back in ash onto the besieged city revealed a secret. The gunners on the hills above Sarajevo did not seek to defeat an enemy army; at the time there was no organized, opposing army. They sought to take territory, but not only territory. They sought political concessions, but also something more. Their goal was the eradication of a people and all evidence of that people’s culture and existence.
Michael A. Shells, The Bridge Betrayed, Religion and Genocide in Bosnia