#<- kind of (it's the ending from the season of skies es)

[esteemed-excellency]

[fallenlondonreviewed]

The Pursuit of Moths

You come across a street-artist whose artworks depict chains and whose cloak is buzzing with frost-moths. You decide to investigate and join a small club dedicated to her art.  As you delve deeper into your investigation, you learn more about this troubled soul, discover that nobody is who they say they are, and ultimately have to decide who to support when time is running out.

My Rating: ★★☆☆☆ Community Rating: ★★★☆☆ (Community Survey January 2023) A tragedy hidden behind lighthearted writing, which is sadly over way too soon. Main Focus: Judgements, Snuffers, Sunless Skies Secondary Focus: Liberation of Night

Spoiler Free

Opening

While strolling down a road, you see a young woman in a black coat finishing her art-instalment. Something with chains, correspondence symbols, melting faces and a seven-pointed star. Before you can ask, the artist flees up a drainpipe. You are left with just a torn-off piece of her cloak when the men of the ministry already arrive to defuse this incendiary instalment.

Later, you find a letter in your mailbox: The Society in Pursuit of Moths wants to hear your first-hand account of this newest instalment of their favourite artist.

As far as openings go, this is another one that happens by chance and is therefore suitable for all characters. Especially characters interested in the Liberation of Night might want to check this one out. During the course of the story, you’re never forced to break the law, but you will cause or witness some death. It ties into Sunless Skies a lot – not to the point where you can’t follow if you haven’t played SS, but one will feel a little bit clever if they understand the references.

Review

If I had to assign one word to “The Pursuit of Moths,” it would be ‘tragedy.’ It has a rather light-hearted tone and loves to joke around with its writing, but underneath it’s a deeply tragic story. In fact, the longer I’ve been away from the screen and the more I processed the implications, the sadder the entire story got. It is the opening story in the seasons of adoration, but this story is about a kind of love that only the Masters and the Bazaar will find romantic. It is self-destructive, unrequited love that will end in death.

At its centre is the Vandal – a character we rarely interact with, but that one cannot help but feel compassion for. She is deeply troubled, firm in her decisions and with that, doomed from the start.

The other characters we interact with are less tragic, but interesting in their own right. Over the course of the story, we get to know them – and through them the Vandal – a bit. All of them offer a very unique insight into the workings of the Neath.

Which is one of the biggest draws of this ES: The lore. While not on the forefront, the Liberation of Night vs. the Judgements play a huge part in the characters’ motivations. We can even get to see the Judgments working their powers right in front of our eyes. Additionally, we learn a bit about snuffers in London, including some interesting conclusions as to their biology.

In the end, the best we can get is a bittersweet ending, and by a long stretch of the word. The other options leave a feeling of powerlessness and disappointment in oneself, down to feeling outright sick. The biggest point of critique this ES received is about how there is no way to circumvent the death of certain characters and that, to add insult to injury, the text doesn’t make it clear how severe the outcome of a set of very pivotal actions is. (My cryptic clue: Go to the docks alone.)

From a roleplay perspective, it’s a mixed bag. At the climax, you have to make a few decisions that are really challenging to both the player and to the character. However, the ES doesn’t really offer a broad spectrum of solutions. It’s one of those where you have to decide on one character’s approach instead of offering one yourself. Therefore, to some the ending might feel like it was forced upon them. Otherwise the ES offers next to no branches where your decisions matter. Most cards move the story along its path. In my opinion, this story would have been better off as a non-interactive short-story instead of a roleplay experience.

However, my personal gripe with this ES is its shortness. Many revelations feel earned too easily. In retrospect, some of the events in this story read more like a summary instead of my character actually discovering them. That is not to say that the writing is bad -- the writing and tone are on point. I just wished there would have been more checks and interrogations before characters readily spill their secrets onto me.

All in all, I have to give this ES ★★☆☆☆ two stars. It is a very good and touching story with some awesome implications, but it doesn’t deliver on the 14€ it set me back. For half the price, this would have been four stars. But as it stands, it’s simply too short to warrant this price-tag.

Additional Thoughts (Full Spoilers)

I was lucky to have been in a good spot mentally when I played this. This could easily be read as a depressed person who has convinced themselves that suicide is the only right thing to do, and the narrative paints their self-destruction as a tragic, unpreventable twist of fate. As a suicide survivor myself, I find stories like these absolutely insulting. It takes away my player agency, and the mentally ill person’s agency as well.

And yes, not everyone can be saved. But to make me stand by and watch is just another twist of the knife.

This makes it sound like I disliked this ES way more than I did. I actually didn’t mind the Vandal’s suicide and its romantization too much. In a weird sense, the ES offering so little agency to the player made it feel less personal. This story really would have made for a great short story about flawed characters who try, but in the end fail – to stop the Vandal, to connect with her, or, in the Vandal’s case, to accept herself. And throughout the entire play, I felt very much like reading a book, or watching a movie – with no agency to influence the plot. And this passive sort of consumption makes reading about a tragedy much easier than standing by and failing to prevent it.

As far as suicide representation in books and movies goes, this ES did a terrible job, but I guess it was never meant to do a good one. It was written to be a tragedy, and the Vandal was written as this tragic manic pixie dream girl whose only job is to invoke a sense of sadness in the reader, not to show how debilitating the process was that she went through to come to this point in her life. The ES frames her suicide as a victory, like her three steps in the sun make up for her lifetime of suffering. The impact her action has on her surroundings are minimal – her father’s despair is only mentioned in a half-sentence between two comedic bits.

It is bad suicide representation – it is, however, good drama.

And that’s really the crux here, isn’t it? As someone who has gone through this (and has been successfully talked out of it), stories like these will read a lot different than they will for people who have never had any contact with it.

… at least the story acknowledged the animal cruelty that was going on and didn’t just use the moths as romantic decal…

Now, away with the media analysis side and into the thicket of the Neath itself.

It’s a rare thing to see a worshipper of the Judgements. And a Neath-born and a (half-)snuffer as well. For her to have figured out all the things about the Judgements, the stars etc. without ever being to the surface is a tremendous feat. She clearly had a very avid mind, and it did her no good in the end.

I really love how the ES handles her characterisation. Since we rarely interact with her herself, most is done via other people sharing little glimpses of her backstory, and it’s up to us to connect the dots and to see why she is so troubled. And yes, being a half-snuffer in London must be hard, especially when you were raised by humans. (But also, I never knew snuffers can produce offspring with humans and now I’m thinking about biology in ways I never expected to.)

What I didn’t quite understand was her moth-coat. The way I read it was that she was torturing these moths because to her, they were abominations just like her and only deserved pain. But then why did the one moth fly back to her? Are all Frost-Moths self-deprecating creatures? Why didn’t she kill the moths, but instead tucked her to her coat?

Anyway, I was positively surprised about the option to tell her that she doesn’t get to take the moths with her. It felt like the only decision that we, the players, could make that was actually our own (that and tipping the relicker.) Before, the ES seemingly ignored the blatant animal abuse that was going on. Whenever my character tried to catch and subdue her, it was because he wanted to get that damn coat off of her and set the moths free! Not for some public decency or admiration or curiosity reasons or whatever the game offered.

That and the moral dilemma this ES created in probably a lot of players. I’m pretty sure every player sympathises with one of the club-members. Either because they’re a revolutionary themselves, or because the father’s story is really moving, or because the constable is a hot piece of ass. But in the end, all of them don’t want what’s best for the Vandal, who is clearly the emotional centrepiece of the story. So almost every character will have asked themselves at one point ‘For the Cause? Or for the Vandal?’

Also, big kudos for the Conspirator casually revealing some of the day-to-day inner workings in the Liberation of Night. Usually I get that only from the Revolutionary Firebrand when married.

Other than that, all my points from above still stand: The club members give up their identities way too easily, the choices in the fight between the Vandal and the Scoundrel are unclear and the story is simply too short as a whole.

Oh, and I’m so glad I didn’t get the ending where the Collector showed me her ‘collection’ because then I’d probably rate this ES with one star. That was so ghoulish, and a bit out of tone with the rest of the story. And in quite the same fashion as the entire ES, we can’t to anything about her.

It almost makes me gloss over the fact that my character, fresh off the slow boat, took a ship up the Cumaean Canal and didn’t disintegrate on the spot.

I scoured the forum thread, however, and a lot of people expressed that they really enjoyed this ES. They enjoyed the gravity that the ending choices had, the moral dilemma about one’s loyalties and many pointed out that the characters were very lovable and memorable in their own ways.

Sigh… I really enjoyed playing this ES. I really did. It was aesthetics over implications, and the aesthetics were really wonderful. One shouldn’t think too much about it, however.

Credits for “The Pursuit of Moths” Writing: Harry Tuffs Editing and QA: James Chew and Caolain Porter Art: Paul Arendt

Link to the FL Forums

[artharakka]

15  OC ASSOCIATIONS — Rhiam

I was tagged by @mogwaei and I surely took my time because your idea of illustrating the aesthetics was too tempting ✨(didn’t know how to illustrate everything tho)

I could have done a Dragon Age character as well, but alas Rhiam consumes my soul. (And I’ve done similar sheets for Sonera and Velka already, Might do one for Petja later though!)

Explanations and rest of the associations under the cut:

Animal: Guinea pig (or ‘marsu’). He’s soft and friend shaped, and was half raised by a local marsu herder. And how you herd them is that in this world they are about the size of a capybara or sheep (and capybaras are about the size of a horse or pony). (Don’t ask me why, I don’t make the rules) (I love it tho). So a big guinea pig.

Colour: Blue of the night sky.

Month: He was born under the clear starry skies of Tilhenkierto / Waxwing (roughly December in our calendar).

Song: Jorvik Lullaby by Folk’ Avant (and by Star Stable. Yes it feels very nostalgic, yes I think it fits my babygirl). Also Schrei es in die Winde by Faun.

Number: Hmmm… maybe 7 since he's the seventh child in his family. Or 12 because that was his age when he realized his magic.

Day or Night: Rhiam exists during day, Maihr during night. Even though they are the same person, I feel like they are starting to have somewhat different experiences because Maihr doesn’t remember much of the things happening during the days. In the end though, I think stars and night skys are more him.

Plant: Ferns 🌿

Scent: The air of a cold winter day that hurts your face and lungs, with a hint of smoke in it. Or maybe melting spruce forest in the spring?

Gemstone: Sapphire.

Season: The transition between autumn and winter.

Place: By a small river, rapids, or stream.

Food: Specific kind of marsu cheese from his home village Sula, with rye bread.

Drink: Coffee with cream.

Astrological sign: I don’t know if they have those in that world? But I guess he would be sagittarius.

Element: Water.

I’m not tagging anyone in particular, but do this if you want to! It was fun!  ...Oh no wait I am tagging @iijadraws (who plays Rhiam’s fellow character 🧡) (no pressure to you either though and no need to illustrate it)

[maximumcheese]

218. Mission

Season: Summer

Location: Stage

Hiiro: “♪～♪～♪”

“—Mission, Start!”

Aira: “～……♪ Everyone, thank you so much for coming to see us!”

Tatsumi: “Fufu. It’s like all the ES idols at MDM are here—Although the people who came to see only us are probably in the minority.”

“And yet, such a great number of people are watching us on stage now.”

“I thank God for that fact, so at the very least, I hope you don’t think it was a waste of time—”

Hiiro: “Yes! If this performance just does neither harm nor good, at least I hope you don’t think it was a complete waste of time!”

Mayoi: “We will sing and dance as best we can! Please enjoy yourselves, the night is just beginning—Ufufufufu ♪”

Aira: “Yeah! Since the skies have been summer-clear since this morning, today’s a great day for stargazing! But while the stars in the night sky are great and all, please look at us shining on the ground! ♪”

“Hey! So watch us carefully, alright? Mayday, mayday, come in—♪”

Hiiro: “We can see all of you, as well! I hope that you all will have sparkling smiles on your faces—So we pray, we shout, we march!”

Hiiro: “Army, charge!”

Tatsumi: “Hallelujah……☆”

Mayoi & Aira: “♪～♪～♪”

Rinne: …Those guys, they’re really the rather happy-go-lucky MCs, aren't they?

Kohaku: That kinda vocab comin’ outta you’s a little unsettling, huh?

Rabu-han’s tryin’ to replace the doom and gloom motif of “soldiers” given from the higher-ups with somethin’ a little more positive and peaceful, ya know?

HiMERU: —Yes, soldiers were originally supposed to be a symbol of hope and peace, not bloody, murderous maniacs.

In ancient Rome, it seems that the ceremony for a triumphant return was the most cheerful and joyful festival for the people.

The stage being full of brilliance and happiness is somehow reminding me of that. Well, that sort of stink is somewhat hypocritical—Very Tatsumi, if I’d say so myself.

Niki: Wheh, Idols all think about small, difficult things, don't they~?

Even though I get all hungry and don’t want to think about anything, singing and dancing for people is a whole lotta fun—

If it’s fun, then it’s right! This is how life’s outta’ be……monch monch ♪

Kohaku: How long are ya gonna keep eatin’ for, Niki-han?

HiMERU: —Yes. It's time to stop eating. We'll be summoned onto stage soon enough.

I don't think it's right to be seen sloppily devouring food from a festival stall in front of the customers.

It goes against HiMERU's aesthetics—Even if it's only to be mercilessly executed, let's at least stand firm.

Rinne: Nah, it’s not gonna be an execution at all.

They seem to be good, kind people, and it seems that even in Ancient Rome, prisoners of war from the defeated side were brought to the return ceremony.

But, things like getting executed as an example and gettin’ rocks thrown at you were a rarity…

If only just to show that they had won, I’m told that even the prisoners were treated with a certain amount of respect.

It's really not for me to say, but there are rules in war. Even if your opponent is an inhumane barbarian, you’re a civilized person if you respect them without excess humiliation.

No. That's exactly how we keep our pride, our justice.

......Will those ES idols who insist that they are the "real thing" be able to keep their pride until the end?

I'm looking forward to it. That’d really be nice. Well then, I won’t have to worry any longer—

Niki: ……

Hiiro: “♪～♪～♪” 

Aira: “Come on! We've got plenty of time, but we're still just newborn idols!”

"We can't waste a second, so let’s get a move on ♪”

Tatsumi: “Yes ♪ Let's live life to the fullest, this irreplaceable, human life!”

Hiiro: “Now! For what you all have been waiting for! Crazy:B, you are invited to the stage as promised at the opening ceremony!”

“Please, I wish you direct your attention to our costars!”

Mayoi: “Fufu. Crazy: B has probably earned enough likes in the beginning of the first half of the match though…”

“To that extent, I suspect that our combined efforts have given us a considerable amount of time.”

Aira: “Ah, now that you say it, maybe? I was wondering why they were treating newcomers like us so well?”

Hiiro: “Hmph. If that's the case, I'm going to need you guys to come up on stage even more—Crazy: B.”

“We don't want to be the robbers who steal the results of your hard-earned time.”

“We are, as I keep saying, soldiers. Looting is never a soldier's style.”

“We exist only to protect something. That is why we train ourselves, run around carrying equipment, and do the best that we possibly can.”

Mayoi: “Yes. So please, without being frightened or confused, come out from your hiding place. Don't be afraid~ We are your allies ♪”

next →

[dancedance-resolution]

i was tagged by @c-nan for this interests tag game :) thank you for the tag <3

MUSIC Favorite Genres: some modern day pop (like taylor swift and olivia rodrigo) and not-depressing-alternative (like florence welsh and hozier), 70s pop/rock, romantic era and later classical music, jazz standards (like ella fitzgerald and nat king cole)

Favorite Artists: abba, billy joel, donna summer, ella fitzgerald, fleetwood mac, florence welsh, the guess who, hozier, nat king cole, ola gjielo, olivia rodrigo, the orion experience (but only for cosmiccandy), stevie wonder, sugarloaf, taylor swift, and a lot more!

Favorite Song: oh gosh i have so many, but for now i'll say: treacherous by taylor swift

Most Listened to Song Lately: we built this city on rock and roll by starship

Song Currently Stuck in my Head: the day before you came by abba

Five Favorite Lyrics:

just. the entirety of treacherous by taylor swift.

dress in love, she lives for life to be / green-eyed lady feels life i never see (green-eyed lady by sugarloaf)

address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings / and when the clouds won't iron out / when the monsters creep into your house / well, i hope you know how proud i am you were created (hope ur ok by olivia rodrigo)

the autumn chill that wakes me up / you loved the amber skies so much / long limbs and frozen swims / you'd always go past where our feet could touch / and i complained the whole way there / the car ride back and up the stairs / i should've asked you questions / i should've asked you how to be / asked you to write it down for me / should've kept every grocery store receipt / cause every scrap of you would be taken from me / watched as you signed your name marjorie / all your closets of backlogged dreams / and how you left them all to me / what died didn't stay dead / what died didn't stay dead / you're alive, you're alive in my head / and if i didn't know better / i'd think you were singing to me now (marjorie by taylor swift)

hey, look up / you don't have to be a ghost / here among the living / you are flesh and blood / and you deserve to be loved / and you deserve what you are given (third eye by florence + the machine)

radio or your own playlist | solo artists or bands | pop or indie | loud or quiet volume | slow or fast songs | music video or lyric video | speakers or headset | riding a bus in silence or while listening to music | driving in silence or with radio on

BOOKS

Favorite Book Genre: niche non-fiction! and fic <3

also gonna add my Favorite Fic Tropes/Tags: hurt/comfort, slow burn, fake dating, roomates au, there was only one bed!, college au, enemies to lovers, idiots (pining) to idiots (togther), established relationship, sports au, royalty au, fantasy au, friends to lovers, and many more!

Favorite Writers: marguerite bennett

Favorite Fic Writers: ayeti, bigmamallama5, coffeeshib, drfitzmonster, ekingston, jazzfordshire, littlemousejelly, lovedandliked, robie, searidings, shipsandglitter, takarter, wtfoctagon, you_get_to_exhale_now_cyrus, zedpm, and so many more!!

Favorite Books: the poet x by elizabeth acevedo, 1984 by george orwell, rebecca by daphne du murier

Favorite Book Series: the babysitters club by ann m martin, the mother-daughter book club by heather vogel frederick, mercy watson by kate dicamillo

Comfort Book: robie's wedding date au

Perfect Book to Read on a Rainy Day: jazz's 70s au

Favorite Characters: the second mrs de winter (rebecca), mercy watson (mercy watson)

Five Quotes From Your Favorite Books:

mi boca no puede escribir una bandera blanca, nunca será un verso de biblio. mi boca no puede formarse el lamento que tú dices tú y dios merecen. tú dices que todo esto es culpa de mi boca. porque tenía hambre, porque era callada. pero, ¿y la boca tuya? cómo tus labios son grapas que me perforan rápido y fuerte. y las palabras que nuna dije quedan mejor muertas en mi lengua porque solamente hubieran chocado contra la puerta cerrado de tu espalda. tu silencio amuelba una casa oscura. pero aun que riesgo de quemarse, la maripose nocturna siempre busca la luz. (the poet x by elizabeth acevedo)

but if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought. (1984 by george orwell)

but by degrees the flood of music drove all speculations out of his mind. it was as though it were a kind of liquid stuff that poured all over and got mixed up with the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. he stopped thinking and merely felt. the girl's waist in the bend of his arm was soft and warm. he pulled her round so that they were breast to breast; her body seemed to melt into his. wherever his hands moved it was as yielding as water. their mouths clung together. (1984)

but you could not have pure love or pure lust nowadays. no emotion was pure...their embrace had been a battle, the climax a victory. it was a blow struck against the party. it was a political act. (1984) (this quote is so gay lol.)

he did not stir, because julia was sleeping with her head in the crook of his arm. most of her makeup had transferred itself to his own face or bolster, but a light stain of rouge still brought out the beauty of her cheekbone. a yellow ray from the sinking sun fell across the foot of the bed and lighted up the fireplace, where the water in the pan was boiling fast. down in the yard the woman had stopped singing, but the faint shouts of children floated in from the street. he wondered vaguely whether in the abolished past it had been a normal experience to lie in bed like this, in the cool of a summer evening, a man and a woman with no clothes on, making love when they choose, talking of what they choose, not feeling any compulsion to get up, simply lying there and listening to peaceful sounds outside. (1984)

hardcover or paperback | buy or rent | standalone novels or book series | ebook or physical copy | read at night or during the day | reading at home or in nature | listening to music while reading or in silence | reading in order or reading the ending first | reliable or unreliable narrator | realism or fantasy | one or multiple POVs | judging by the covers or by summaries | rereading or just once

TV AND MOVIES

Favorite TV/Movie Genre: .........ones with actractive actors...

Favorite Movies: pretty woman, muppets from space

Comfort Movie: i don't really watch movies that often lol. i find them hard to get into since they're so short

Movie You Watch Every Year: the year without a santa claus

Favorite TV Shows: supergirl, batwoman, legends of tomorrow, parks and rec, the good place, veronica mars, andi mack, diary of a future president, arthur, word girl, closer to truth, martha speaks, cyberchase, curious george, the king of queens, and probably more that i'm forgetting!

Comfort TV Show: the king of queens, arthur, parks and rec

Most Rewatched TV Show: the king of queens, martha speaks, word girl, cyberchase, parks and rec

Five Favorite Characters:

kara zor-el

veronica mars

leslie knope

zari tomaz

lena luthor

tv shows or movies | short seasons (8-13 episodes) or full seasons (22 episodes or more) | one episode a week or binging | one season or multiple seasons | one part or saga | half hour or one hour long episodes | subtitles on or off | rewatching or watching just once | downloads or watches online

this was really fun to do fhsdhfkd. tagging anyone who wants to try this!

[wallofweird]

hi fae, how do you feel about people saying that kevin only tolerates madison bc of kate and therefore they won't work? :/

Hi! Well, I think these people are definitely not watching This Is Us (or any type of television, for that matter) or living on Earth. Or seeing and unseeing things according to their pre-established opinions. Either way, that’s absolutely not true. On most of their interactions Kevin is polite, as you can see it here:

I love this part because there are at least three other guests closer to him but she is the first person he offers a glass of champagne... If you pay attention to the scene, he is holding THREE glasses. He gives one to Madison and he puts another on a shelf, I don’t know about the third, but there were definitely more women in the room that could’ve had that(those) glass(es), he just didn’t care, lol. Also, Rebecca is looking and smiling at him, but he doesn’t even notice it because he is too busy looking at Madi... I mean, another direction.

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com (all the gifs above)

Kevin doesn’t look very happy with the idea of dancing and still he doesn’t protest.

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/616600065662926848/kevin-x-madison-height-difference

This gif doesn’t show it, but he turns his head and watches Madison as she walks away just like on gif number 4.

Siding with her during a conversation with Kate.

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com (all the gifs above)

Comforting Madison.

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/618991372262916096/kevin-looking-at-madison-nothing-but-blue-skies

He isn’t smiling here, but does this seem to be a person that is annoyed with the other? He has soft, delicate, gentle eyes while looking at her.

And this whole thing about Kevin despising Madison and only tolerating her because of Kate is even more ridiculous because on this scene he is basically begging her to invite him to come inside.

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/616600065662926848/kevin-x-madison-height-difference

If he thought her company was so unpleasant, why would he accept it in the first place? He could’ve left and gone to Rebecca’s house instead, or come back after Toby got back from work, he could’ve called Randall, or Nicky, or simply gone somewhere else to make new friends because it’s not like struggles when he socializes with strangers.

And here is what Madison had to say about her night with him:

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com/post/617836054621339648/do-you-want-to-know-why-i-think-i-slept-with

He made her feel comfortable enough to be her true self and he ended up spending at least a few hours with Madison. He spent the night at her place and only left the next morning... If her presence were so repellent, why didn’t he leave after the sex? Madison didn’t point a gun at him and forced him to stay. Even after he woke up, he kept lying next to her on the bed without a shirt on... Plus, there was the option of leaving without saying anything while she was asleep, but he didn’t do that.

Actually, the only time I believe Kevin was rude to her was at the hospital, but you have to analyze the context: his sister went into early labor, there was an endless list of possible complications to the baby and herself, it took hours until Kevin got some information, Kevin had been drinking, he was dealing with his failed attempt to connect with his uncle, the frustration of having relapsed after an entire year of being sober, feeling guilty for lying to everyone about it and the fear of losing Zoe because of those lies. He was going through A LOT. Those were probably some of the hardest hours of his life. Yet, at first he treated her just fine, it was the fact she wouldn’t stop talking (because that’s the way she was coping with the situation and usually what he does too when he’s sober, btw) that he said those things to her. Now, I don’t drink, but as far as I know people on hangover usually have headaches so it’s not weird that they will avoid noises and I remember Kevin saying a few minutes before that he was on hangover.

I also remember that he immediately regretted it and apologized to Madison, but she didn’t listen and left (I don’t blame her). And when she walked away he was hit by a dose of consciousness and realized his was being “an ass” and apologized to his family. She wasn’t the only one, he was snapping at everybody, because it wasn’t Madison, Randall or anyone else that was annoying him. It wasn’t personal. It was the stress of the entire situation that was making Kevin take it out on everybody. Plus, even though he didn’t specifically snap at Zoe, when he went outside to get some air and clear his head, she offered him company and Kevin shut her out.

CREDIT: https://thisiskevison.tumblr.com/post/618572824853069824/im-sorry-what-exactly-are-you-doing-here

By the way, Kevin bumped into Madison when he was getting out of the elevator and attempted to apologize for a second time.

Another scene people use as an ‘example’ of rudeness is this moment on the season finale, but I sincerely disagree. Here’s why:

Kevin was in the middle of a heated fight with his brother and that was almost getting physical when Madison arrived for the party.

And when she showed up at the door he just told her the truth: it wasn’t a good time.

Now, does that look like an angry, utterly annoyed and disdainful face for you? Because the way I see it, it’s just a guy who’s weary and not in his best state of mind, which is comprehensible since he was in a middle of an argument, his mother’s health is deteriorating, Randall had talked her into doing a clinical trial in the other side of the country despite her previous refusal and that’s just SOME of the heavy stuff he was dealing with at that specific moment.

However, Madison doesn’t bother and enters the place anyway.

And Kevin doesn’t yell at her, protest or leaves, he just lets her in and closes the door.

Again: does this look like he hates Madison so much like some people make it seem?

THIS is being annoyed and/or angry:

CREDIT: https://rostovarps.tumblr.com/post/165520445651/kevin-pearson-in-this-is-us-01x07-the-best

CREDIT: https://adyadintheforce.tumblr.com/post/177326964546/shame-on-all-of-us

And this is just being upset, tired, feeling like all your energy has been drained out of your body:

If you watch the scene, his face on the picture above and on this gif has identical expressions:

CREDIT: https://ltbelanna.tumblr.com/post/189147462109/this-is-us-4x08-sorry-im-sorry-me-too-see

And really, how did these people expect him to react? Did they expect him to smile, kiss her and propose a second round of hookup? His reaction made perfect sense to everything that was happening at the time.

Do they believe things would’ve been different if it had been someone else at the door, like Kate’s neighbor Gregory or somebody from her support group? Do they think that if it had been another person he would’ve hugged them, offer coffee and crack jokes? That the problem was Madison and not the situation he was in with Randall and Rebecca? 

Anywaaaay, by the end of their conversation he had already softened up and was even slightly smiling at her. 

CREDIT: https://millennial-mess.tumblr.com/post/613565105725194240/im-so-sick-of-chasing-ghosts-im-tired-of

CREDIT: https://madsdefencesquad.tumblr.com/post/620438418688704513/you-da-best

Sure, it wan’t a wide smile because it wasn’t like his problems had disappeared all of a sudden, but he had found a silver lining in the midst of everything.

And being exhausted, upset, annoyed, stressed or angry is part of the human experience and part of being in a relationship of ANY KIND: romantic, platonic, familial. Taking it out on someone can happen sometimes as well. It’s not always sunshine and rainbows. People are not perfect. People are not robots. They navigate through negative feelings and emotions too. It’s how things are in real life and also how things are on television, specially on This Is Us, which is a show that focuses on relationships and emotions.

Jack and Rebecca, Beth and Randall, Kate and Toby, Randall and Kevin, Kevin and Kate, Nicky and Kevin, Kevin and Sophie, William and Randall, Kevin and Cassidy all had moments like this... The list goes on. Would the same people define these relationships/friendships as unsuccessful and fake because of a few unfriendly moments? I doubt it, because what really defines a relationship as healthy and successful is the people’s ability to recognize their own mistakes, forgive each other, work on themselves as individuals and as friends/a couple/a family and getting even closer and stronger after facing the hardships. It’s not smiling, talking, hugging and kissing 24/7 because nobody does that. Maybe for a few days and weeks, but you won’t last even a month behaving like this, let alone YEARS.

And the complications are also what keep the story interesting and engaging. I don’t mean something like toxicity and abuse, but if couples, relatives and friends don’t disagree, argue and face problems out and within their relationship, the show doesn’t go anywhere. There must be conflict. There must be drama. And there must be happiness. It’s about balancing these aspects out.

If they want to watch something that’s always sunshine and rainbows and where the characters are always happy, they should watch a TV show targeted to three-year-old children, because honestly This Is Us has never been and will never be this kind of show. 

And we know Kevin has a pregnant fiancee on season 5 and since This Is Us is not a soap opera, I seriously doubt Kevin will go out there impregnating multiple women with multiple children and multiple sets of twins. I reckon it’s safe to say it’s Madison. That means they will go through one of the most amazing and yet vulnerable and challenging experiences two people can ever face and instead of pulling them apart, it will only bring them closer to the point they will get engaged. For me, this sounds like a relationship that is DEFINITELY WORKING.

[indomitablemegnolia]

Languishing at the bar, ruby lips caressing my glamorously green margarita; the midnight purple dress hugged my body like a sports cars paint, black beaded fringe thrummed on my thighs as I moved my hips to the music, all road signs spoke of warning hazards; my goal, mayhem; I am tired of being this good reliable human; I have a deeply hidden and inarticulate desire for something beyond this daily life; I am here at this lovely bar, to test the morality of a priest, I am prowling, wanting, needing desperately to have an itch scratched, and finding; and needless to say, oh Lordy he was no priest. The single purple jeweled flower pinning my hair slipped making the picture perfect, exquisite, glittering in the sunshine of preening laughter showing the dulling edge of my personal lack of compunction and slipping morals. I watched his dark eyes watch me in the mirror, why him, I licked my lips, he was just the kind of naughty I had in mind; oh yes, there he is, exactly what I was hoping to find; I was just thinking, I am in the mood for some Latin spice. He watched me from a distance just waiting for his opening and here it was, I swilled the last of my drink through the red straw, reaching my tongue out to lick seductively at the salt; the song changed my laugh was unstoppable as the bartender flirted with me; he pounced sliding next to me; “Dos margaritas por favor” he held up two fingers; the bartender waited for me to approve before starting assemble the drinks in a shaker; he stood there smiling that suave smile at me sliding in close to me, running a hand along my back, I didn’t pull away “It is too beautiful of a night to be drinking alone.”

I took it, shrugging evocatively, dipping my top lip over the edge I took in a fair-sized drink, “So, how is the weather in Albuquerque?” I settled closer to him but not touching, never taking my eyes off of him in the mirror, he expected me to turn and look at him, I smiled a half smile and waited swirling my drink slowly.

Oh, the way he just let his full bottom lip lower, then hang still a little knocked askew; god that lip, so provocative, so titillating, so kissable; it was the perfect mismatch for his shaped cupids bow top lip; God though, the way his sensuous, heavy, pouty bottom lip hanging slightly ajar, showing interest and the evaluation that was being made; so enticing, seductively evocative; when his assessment was finished the muscles tensed in his cheeks pulling that mouth into the most provocative suave smile; given the deep, wildly dark abyss of his eyes that were swimming with approval and temptation; lord with the light crinkle to the corners and that smile sharp teeth and delicious dimples a belying innocence it was a dead certainty that he may well be Lucifer himself; solidifying my assumption as he spoke dropping the delicious sound-sex of his carnal voice down a full octave; letting it rumble through his chest; his simple words not seductive in and of themselves; goddamn, the concerted effort together all served to bring my pulse to life; his chuckle danced on my skin. I watched his satisfied lazy smile draw his lips as the offhand phrase that taunted like a dare. “Perhaps, we are lost in translation.” God that Latin lilt at the end of his words. The Oxytocin running through my veins thick as honey; “though as long as you stay, I hope that we are never found.” He clinked the rim of his glass on mine.

My eyes drawn away from those lips’ reflection; “Oh, darlin’, there is no translation for this, just instinct.” I licked the salt, snagging the cherry stem from the rim I pulled it into my mouth; I watched those terrible, sexy fingers rolling deliciously, accentuating the dare, telegraphing a none too subtle promise of delicate fiddling with my vivid, hungry nerves. Yes, this might be a mistake, but if all I do is all I have ever done, nothing will ever change; I have to break the cycle; nibbling the fruit from the stem my mind wandered from those hands.

God, this time of year, this season, there is not much in it to make me smile; it is not yet, not quite yet, the saddest time of the year; yet, there is a haunting sense of the imminent doom, like a bleak abeyance of life; it’s not stark introspective weather, grey and bleak, but none the less the blue skies, fresh green, seemed to be festering, suppurating, killing my soul, I know that time had run out; that horrible clock with the second hand ticking tightening the garrote around my neck painfully, slowly; Jesus what a sick suffocating weight; there are too many things that I wanted to feel, wanted to do and always time… that small hyphen between birth and death the ultimate cause of death… that time; I tied the stem into a knot using my tongue, pressing it back between my shiny lips, pulling it cleanly from my lips with a thumb and forefinger. The time to hesitate was through; my hand shook as I watched a delectable twinge running along that delicious bottom lip, like a smile still trying to hide; waiting for the trap to spring when I ask a simple single syllable question, the ubiquitous air of his words raised several; or did I miss part of the conversation? Should I ask… mmm why, or what, but no, I so not want to play his game; I double down and call the bluff, answering with a simple whispered. The trap is sprung, I really have no idea if it is, he who is caught or me.

“Yes.” My whisper much huskier than I had intended, my margarita wavering in my hand, my hip bumping his; his delicious thick brow shot up tilting his head slightly to the left, he let out a silent ‘what?’ I watched him in the mirror behind the bar, he hovered those dark delicious eyes staring into mine; I nodded, and again “Yes.” I smiled chewing lightly on my straw; I took joy in his face caught off guard, lazy smile pulled the edge of his lips; again, his lips waved in a silent, ‘what?’

“Oh, come on, I answered your real question, the one written in your eyes and on that sensual pouty lip, the answer is yes.”

He looked even more confused, “What is the question are you are answering?”

“Well, I have read promises written loosely in your fingertips, I saw previews of plans in your eyes, and lies you will tell to get there, on that lip.” I turned and stepped to him, running my thumb along that bottom lip. “Why go with pretense, so simply, I said yes, should I include a please?”

He chuckled and edged behind me turning me back to the mirror, pressing his forehead to the back of my head, his cool fingers sweeping my hair out of the way, he kissed the back of my hair, “Then no, mi cariño don’t say anything.” His eyes so lusciously dark and turbulent never looking away from mine in the mirror; “I want to watch you revel in the feel of my hot breath against your ear. Now I ask you;” he breathed in deeply, the cool air passing my skin into his lungs sent a shiver down my spine; the contrast in temperature mind blowing, my skin prickled into Goosebumps; “do not move.” He let his breath excite yet again, the warmth had all those tiny hairs stand to attention, his lips touched feather soft, moist warm breath, my heart kicked a little each pass of his lips, then words. “Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo ni de dónde.” I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. His lips caressed the skin just behind my ear, “Te amo simplemente, sin problemas ni orgullo.” I love you simply, without problems or pride, his hands with those delicious rolling fingers danced down the satin at my sides, my breath shuddering; “te amo de esta manera porque no conozco otra forma de amar sino esta,” I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, his lips ghosted just along the edge of my ear sending small shivers through me, “en la que no hay yo ni tú, tan íntimo que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mi mano. Tan íntimo que cuando me duermo tus ojos se cierran.” so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close. My eyes reflexively flutter closed, and I lean back into him. I took a long breath, pulling away looking right into his

“Coelho?” Arching one eyebrow, I downed my margarita looking somewhat the part of the provocateur

“Si.” He looked cocky, he looked far too self-assured, so much so that I almost forgot my goal.

“Esto no es amor, es lujuria.” this is not love but lust… hmm, in my current state lust even the delectable word sounded so much more alluring en español.

“En este momento la lujuria functiona para mi.” in this moment lust works for me, oh yes it does for me as well. Good lord that word in his Spanish just added a delicious wanton edge to the overdose of libidinous delight that he wrought in me, making my head literally spin. His soft cool fingers delectably caressed the other side of my throat, his tongue ran lightly along the rim of my ear; I shivered still our eyes connected in the mirror, I was putty in his hands.

His lips danced along my neck commanding my already tittillated nerves into a frenzy; nuzzling with intent, his cheek pushing my head to a delicious angle, he feasted on the left side; his lips and teeth acting in a beautiful tango so delicious that I leaned back into him reaching behind me for an anchor; he gripped my wrists in one hand, using his other to sweep my hair such as it was to the other side as his libertine lips began to such and feast on the right side, “Ser mío no es fácil. Tengo expectativas Yo hago demandas.” Being mine is not easy. I have expectations. I fell back into him, his warmth reminding me that I was indeed alive for now, his tongue caressing the side of my neck. “Cuando ofrezco mi corazón espero devoción.” I make demands. When I offer my heart, I expect devotion, he devoted his tongue and teeth to appreciating my flesh, and I accepted. “Insisto en la pasión, cruda y completa, necesitada y fuera de control.” I insist on passion, raw and all encompassing, needy and out of control. He pulled me roughly to him, his hands claiming parts of my soul, “Quiero que me duela el corazón cuando estamos separados. Quiero que mis manos sean incapaces de no tocar su piel cuando esté cerca.” I want my heart to ache when we’re apart. I want my hands to be incapable of not touching your skin whenever you are near. His hands seemed to somehow bypass the satin of my dress and let him feast of my skin directly, I shivered; “Quiero que nuestros cuerpos se quemen cada vez que nos besamos. No puedo y nunca aceptaré nada menos. Por eso ser mío no es fácil, pero créeme, vale la pena.” I want our bodies to burn every time we kiss. I can’t and I will never accept anything less. That’s why being mine is not easy, but believe me, it’s absolutely fucking worth it. Needy and out of control I could do, I was on a mission for exactly that; I let myself ease into the moment, feeling as much as I possibly could devouring it as if it was my last chance at living, enjoying the sweet and the salt and … oh gosh, my eyes flared as he kicked it up a notch his tongue sliding from just behind my ear to the spot where all nerves collide where shoulder and neck meet, my eyes fluttered; apparently to get my attention back his free hand traced across my bare flesh just above my modest neckline, dipping lightly between my breasts.

Jittery my attention came front and center back on his eyes; I raised a single eyebrow; "¿Quién dijo que era tuyo?” Who ever said I was yours? His lips again moved along my neck to the place where neck meets shoulder, I became soft in his hands; his free hand caressing up to the edge of my chin, coaxing my head turning it, he kissed along my clavicle; my eyes finally rolled closed as he kissed my lips, he tasted of strong tequila, lime and dreams; I moaned softly.

“Oh, you just did, right there. No translation needed for that…” his hands more licentious pushing farther “Voy a probar, disfrutar del calor de su sabor embriagador.” I want to breathe in your sighs. He kissed me roughly, my breath leaving in a sigh, “Quiero respirar tus suspiros; quiero sentirte desde adentro,” I’m going to try, to enjoy the heat of its heady taste; he kissed me deep again, “I am drawn to you, like a moth to fire, he kept his glorious mouth moving, all tongue and teeth and temptation, “I see a frantic almost panic on you;” his hand still holding mine in check, “I have you safe here,” his loose hand pulling me to him; “I hunger for your touch after get you excited and how easy it is.” Neck kissing, is honestly the most sensual, seductive things that I have ever known, but when it is done as well as this gorgeous man is… it is not just a syllogy for sex, I feel his talented tongue slide on my skin, we may as well be going at it right on the bar. “Deliciosa, caliente, con una gota de salsa picante” Delicious, hot, like a drop of hot sauce. He gripped my wrist spun me on the stool, taking off at a run.

We made it as far as the dance floor where he stopped suddenly, turning with accentuated drama. The smooth rolling bass, guitar plucking with an ironic blusey twang; my soul soaked deep in the delicious vibrations; the difference in the textures of the sound, graceful single plunking guitar with that light percussive slap, reverent, erotic. He closes the distance of those few inches between us, his dark deep eyes searching my face; I stretch my arm up above my head, arching back, his hands pulling me closer. At that second the song hits a soaring note, my pulse kicking up making me dizzy I confuse the feeling and I set myself soaring; my hips tolling into his, arms dropping to drape around his neck; we spun in tight circles; I laugh, his face intent; I watch the gentle subtle light refract through the beads of sweat that graced his brow. His grip on my waist strong, lifting me high on the music and we sink into the slower rolling bass again; a natural rhythm to our clashing hips, searching hands in this pulsating dance. His steps now slow rocking, like a playful cat pounce back and forth, rocking up onto the toes; delicious salty perspiration bonded his heather gray shirt to his glorious chest. Then closely he held me as we spin in small circles in a circuit around the room, he spins me out, only to retract me even closer to his tall frame. The music builds again soaring, romp of cross over foot work and dramatic hip work, our bodies meeting and clashing lending a dramatic friction between bodies, two souls.

Slowing again to that now extremely sensual bass roll, spinning in wide circles this time rolling me back into almost a dip on each half revolution, every time he pulls me back up we make a sizzling eye contact, the zing of it traveling my entire body making it to the tips of my toes. He spins me out pulling me back, his front to my back.

The pace picks up again, we step in a syncopated pattern, he pulls my arms in tight holding my body so close to his we may well become one, then spreading my arms wide, our hips taking a wide swinging cadence as we step, step, then spin. He spins me out leaving us at arm’s length from each other, the music slows rolling. He lowers his head; I take retreating steps as we keep to the sensuous rhythm. He pulls me in and close then out spinning me so many times I leave the earth far behind. Pulling me to him tight we keep the playful foot work a back and forth pounce, my face tucked close to the collar of his shirt, his fresh lavender and tea tree scent relaxing the last of my senses.

“So if you wake up with the sunrise;” he sang along with the music, “with all your dreams still brand new;” his lips caressing my neck, my ear; “happiness is what you need so badly…” his hands lifted me again, “girl you know it’s up to you…” he spins us again

Soon it feels as if my feet leave the earth, slowly using a foxtrot step on a delicate cloud, the rest of the world disappears and it’s just the riot of music, his hands and the feel of my soul on the melody singing my own vow of love, the moon and all the stars. The soft strum of guitars transports us away. His lips finding the rim of my ear caressing it sweetly whist we are spinning in small circles, making a completely transcendent feeling. We continue dancing for endless moments close, held in a spell. Slowly the world returns and finally I notice there is no longer that melody cradling us in its soft arms. I look up at his classic beautiful face; the world comes back into focus but the ethereal feeling still there. We smile softly at one another.

He danced me in circles, whirling me making me feel as if I were flying. He dipped me and lightly kissed me as the song ended. An argentine tango starts. He stops in his tracks and spins me to face him, a motion soaked with drama. I chew my bottom lip unsure of my ability; he wiggles that delicious eyebrow, giving me a new amazing smile. His beautiful straight teeth taking on a Big Bad Wolf glint as the look in his eyes goes from that ever-charming cavalier to dazzlingly predatory. My stomach drops out like the upswing on a roller coaster completely titillated, entranced by this new facet of his nature. With that smile he pulls me tight to him, our frames lock, we step and we are gone. My chin lowered nearly touching my chest a coquettish shyness over taking me. My eyes looking up into his gloriously seductive gaze, his face looks as if to say, all the better to eat you with my dear, a provocative and risqué promise to me, body and soul. His pearly white grin showing more of his straight sharp teeth than usual, my heart speeds its rhythm, thumping hard in my chest. Spinning in tight circles we make a circuit of the floor, the background swirls the only thing clear and constant in my vision was his fantastically angular face enveloped in secreted promise. As I step into him, keeping pace, not being shy of how our bodies are clashing and rubbing, one of his fantastic eyebrows slowly rose. The look on his face now completely Big Bad Wolf thrilled that Red Riding Hood snapped up his challenge. I tenaciously add flair as I keep step with him and boy did he step.

Our gazes locked, he spins me out to arm’s length, inertia and drama send my outer arm and leg flinging artfully as he retracts me like a yo-yo.

He pushes me around the floor his chin lowered a predatory look to his eye growing deeper, darker. He spins me twice under his arm and out and leaves me out there. I wrap my arms around myself and sway he adds a little light stepping pizazz. Suddenly he stops looking straight into my eyes. He hesitates one, two, three, beats then slowly stepping with a stalking intent towards me, I retreat, stifling a welling up giggle. I gather my skirt in my hands not entirely sure if it is just part of the act of the dance or if I truly was about to bolt. That look in his eyes tied my stomach in knots, I retreat two steps but his beautiful legs eat up the ground between us. His lovely long legs moving to a sensual rhythm he catches me around the waist, I freeze. He steps between my separated feet, pulling me tight to his chest. Our eyes, hips and arms locked. My insides nearly gelatin, the rhythm, the dance and his looks affecting me drastically, my breath coming out in short pants, desire kicking up to amazing levels. He pushes me around the dance floor our legs stepping in the syncopated pattern he draws us in. Spinning me under his arm holding my back to his front, I hear his faint growl in my ear, the hair on my neck stands on end as we again spin in tight circles around the floor, a high note on the accordion signals him to spin me out again. Retracting me, pulling me tight to his chest face inches from mine my heart roaring in my ears. We undulate together, hips colliding adding drama to the dance. My eyes lock onto his beautiful blue green depths and he sweeps me away, sparking my truly libidinous nature. Sensuality and passion overtaking me, I had never felt as free or as alluring as I used every ounce of my soul to keep up with him, dips, twirls and some of the sexiest looks I have ever seen.

As always the entire world fell away as we danced, nothing existed but he and I and the music, desire racing through my veins, ratcheting up every time our hips touched, I had only eyes for him. Our bodies match in a fantastic unison he anticipates my foot falls and I knowing when he is going to use me for a frisbee. This was the most intimate and carnal experience, fantastically delicious nearly out of body moment in my life. As the music spools up for its dramatic end, my cheeks are cramping from the smile. A laugh escapes me as we crescendo, nearly hitting an erotic plateau. A sudden sexy spin sets me out and retracts me, my back to his front. The last pose full of drama, his arms wrapped around me, holding my one my hand pulling my arm across my torso to my hip, as the last keening note peals across my ears; my arm tossed up and behind his neck, my palm caressing his cheek. My eyes closed, breath coming in heaves. I enjoyed his delicious rasping breath on my neck a step above a growl. I turn my face to him, our gazes lock; slowly our faces magnetically nudge closer, our lips all but touching in a kiss before the applause breaks into our private universe. Confusion floods my brain as he chuckles the cavalier returning to his face. He spins me out, and bows, I take his cue offering an awkward curtsy, laughing like mad.

He pulls me tight to him his hands delicious on my skin he pulls me to a dark corner and pressing my back to the wall he kisses me with a passion I had never felt, hot, searing like kissing the sun; he pushes for more my hands greedy grabbing him deliciously, one finding his rump, the other pulling his lightly sweaty hair. He leaned in closer, his hand ghosted my face, his finger ran along my cheek, his tongue playing merry hob in my mouth, his warm, fingertips lightly whisper along my throat, coaxing me, and honestly it didn't take much coaxing; I surrendered, returning the kiss, my breath now coming billowing pants, he frames my face with his hands. His jittering hands held a desperation that ratcheted up my own to a frenzy; the hip that had cocked toward mine pressed delightfully as it came to meet mine dominating, rocking lightly; a knee nudges slyly between mine making my skirt wrap tightly around my thighs. I bite his full bottom lip playfully, his hands glide down the sides of my neck tickling, he nips me back, my hands gathering his suit jacket tight in my fists; I slide my body along his, rising on my tip toes, flicking my tongue along the roof of his mouth; the clean sweetness of margarita and his flavour making such a heady delicious cocktail.

My hands loose themselves from his lapels, hunting for more of him; caressing along his jaw; his fingers finding their way beneath the edge of my blouse, flitting along my waistband; the small tickling caress sending shivers through my body; my hands pushing into his curls, they wrap around my fingers invitingly, I fist my hands pulling lightly; pressing into me, bending me slowly backward, his kiss deepens, air and breathing become elective, superfluous. He growls, his fingers now gripping, pulling, demanding; I am overcome, letting out a breathless whimper. He slows. He sighs, dropping his chin to his chest, emerging from the throughs of passion.

God do I want him… I want him so badly; I try to clamp my legs together until the wanting passes, but I find his knee there, keeping me from relieving pressure; in fact, he added to it. He grips both my wrists swinging them above my head; I am lost in feeling, watching his hands, those fingers, feeling his determination; I shiver as he chuckles, letting it rumble deep in his chest; the thrill of his gasping breath dancing across my face with the delicious sweet libidinous sigh making the loose hairs at my forehead dance; his scent exhilarating, and so intoxicating to me. I watch a surge of electric passion wash over his features like an ocean wave, intention evident in his every motion.

He slowly presses into me, holding me securely in place; he stood close, but not touching, simply dominating with his presence, using that delectable knee pressed between my own; he pressed it higher adding even more libidinous pressure to my need; my slim fit skirt worked like hobbles holding my thighs in place for his teasing; his posture holding me lightly suspended secured, but freely dangling in his grasp pressed against the wall for his rapacious perusal; he raised that knee higher, eliciting a shiver from me and a full smile from him, all locking us into place, using his muscled thigh pressed deep between mine coaxing, caressing, keeping me bent to his will. My breath escaped as a ragged sigh, my heart hammering in my chest feel my pulse surge," yeah, no kidding, I was a rabbit being toyed with; he dips his head, his lips and tongue dancing along my neck as my blood thrums along the column of my throat under his lips, my body reacts as I try to regain control, but I am simply left to move against him.

His voice quivered, his hands shook: I, myself was a leaf in a hurricane. His breath was shaky as he went on, caressing the place where neck meets shoulder. God it’s hard to admit this, but the feeling of him holding my wrists above my head with one hand, trailing the other lithe fingered, free hand flowing down the inside of my arm, tracing the edge of my blouse, dipping a single sticky finger in deeply caressing the edge of the lacy black longline bustier and the side of my breast. Lifting my chin with that same reverent fingertip, tilting my head back. Gently, pushing my hair from my forehead, tucking it behind my ear, letting his hand slowly softly caress down my neck. Finally, I look up into his wide exotic deep dark soul-searching eyes, he peers down into mine… into my soul, his holding a particularly delicious intensity that changed his from a tranquil, reflective, mirrored abyss to a raging blackhole pulling me in. As those fiery orbs, searing with the desire I am sure matched the one burning deep in mine. I barely stop myself from devouring him whole.

He leans in close letting his shaking, raspy breath tickles my face, caress my ear. He almost inaudibly whispers his wanting wish so close, so low; “Ah, dios mio is that answer still, Yes.” It may as well have been coming from my soul, speaking in that delicious rumble of rolling thunder voice adding to the evocative question.

“Si.” I feel him shiver as I become boneless in his hands, His long-lashed lids flutter closed as he finally leans into me, his hand softly finishing the descent to my hip. Then, only then does he softly brush my lips with is sweetly supple soft lips, I feel him sigh, warm against my lips. I kiss him slowly, intently, but playfully, it will be a dance, a dance of caress, a give and take, a feel and respond. I never would be the first to break that kiss. My hands strain against his hold, but he never lets loose. Not even when the passion notches up quickly in this kiss.

@keeper0fthestars @pedeka @writernotwaiting @iamhisgloriouspurpose @freudensteins-monster

Last try at regaining my words.

[dwindledglow]

001. MEET JADE

FULL NAME: jade beatrice montgomery. PREFERRED NAME: jade. NICKNAME/S: jadey or jadee — from family only — and her little brother calls her nova due to her gaming years but people in general don’t tend to use nicknames with her. DATE OF BIRTH: march 21st, 1998. GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis female & she/her. ORIENTATION: hetero. RELIGION: non-practicing christian. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: in a relationship with nicolas leuthold. OCCUPATION: full time university student and freelance designer. RESIDENCE: gramercy park, new york city though she currently lives in zurich, switzerland.

002. CHECK JADE’S BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: perth, australia. NATIONALITY: australian. ETHNIC BACKGROUND: australian. LINGUISTICS: english which is her native language and french, spanish, portuguese and italian in a fluent level. EDUCATION: she studies game design at nyu. CRIMINAL RECORD: clean. BIRTH ORDER: second. FATHER: joshua seth montgomery, born on december 2nd, 1971 in sydney, australia, currently residing in greenwich village, new york city and working as a psychiatrist. MOTHER: meredith eva montgomery, née adams, born on april 12th, 1972 in melbourne, australia, currently residing in greenwich village, new york city and working as an anesthesiologist. SISTER/S: helena sophia montgomery, born on august 8th, 1995 in perth, australia, currently residing in boston, massachusetts and working as a cardiologist and heart surgeon. BROTHER/S: blake stephen montgomery, born on november 9th, 1999 in perth, australia, currently residing in boston, massachusetts where he studies.  SIGNIFICANT OTHER: nicolas leuthold. CHILDREN: none so far. OTHER RELEVANT FAMILY: eliza marie montgomery, grandmother.  EX/ES: benjamin lucas and noah williams. PETS: kylo ren, a cavoodle and drax, a french bulldog.

003. GET UP CLOSE & PERSONAL

HEIGHT: 5′6″ or 168 cm. WEIGHT: between 116 lbs or 53 kg and 121 lbs or 55 kg. BODY BUILD: body-shape wise, and following the stereotypes, she would be considered the classic shape. jade is naturally slim, she never had ease putting on weight and when she was younger that translated into being made fun of because she had no actual curves. with a lot of hard work at the gym, and a diet tailored by a nutritionist, over the years she managed to achieve a body she’s proud of. nowadays, jade is the epitome of fit. she has particularly long, toned legs as well as toned arms and abs. she’s willowy, has a defined waist and though she’s by no means thick, she does have a medium sized bust - 32C - and bum. EYE COLOR: green. EYESIGHT: she wears glasses, blue-light blocking ones, when she’s working on the computer for hours on end and when she’s resting her eyes. otherwise and on a daily basis, she wears contacts. HAIR COLOR & STYLE: her hair is naturally brown, but instead of being one shade only, it’s a few different ones. usually she keeps her long hair loose and allows it to dry into its natural waves but at times, she’ll throw it up in a bun or in a high ponytail. if she’s going to an event of any kind or for a more special occasion, she goes for more of a classic low bun with some strands framing her face or she just straightens her hair. other moments, she just keeps half of her hair up and the other half down. DOMINANT HAND: right. NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: from the cat-shape of her eyes and the long eyelashes framing them, the little ski-slope nose, as people have taken a liking to call it through the years, to her plump lips and chiseled features, there’s a lot to notice about jade. people say god was playing favorites when she was born, that she stole all the good genes in the family and really? they’re not wrong. SCARS AND MARKS: jade is, as she usually says, team random bruise which means every now and again, without her even noticing and probably as the result of some workout or daily activity, a bruise will appear on her skin. besides those, a few scars she’s gotten over the course of her life and a few little marks, like little moles and freckles, she doesn’t have anything particularly outstanding. TATTOOS: she has a 11:11 on the underside of her right upper arm, she has a subtle orion constellation on the inside of right arm, she has a dainty, watercolor supernova tattoo on the left side of her ribcage, often covered up by her bra straps, she has her grandma’s name in morse code, on the inside of her left wrist and she has four little arrows pointing upwards on the back of her right ear. PIERCINGS: she has her regular lobes pierced. VOICECLAIM: isabelle mathers. ACCENT & INTENSITY: she’s been living in new york since she was four, meaning the australian accent should’ve faded into nothing by now, but with the amount of time spent with her parents and siblings through the years, all the facetime calls to her granny and the friends back home, as well as the frequent visits to sunny australia, it stayed put and it’s still as intense as always. ALLERGIES: insect stings. PHOBIAS & FEARS: failing, not being able to achieve what she wants in life. MENTAL & PHYSICAL ILLNESSES: none so far. ALCOHOL USE: sometimes. SMOKING: she doesn’t smoke. NARCOTICS USE: no, she doesn’t use drugs. INDULGENT FOOD: occasionally, she won’t say no to her favorites. SPLURGE SPENDING: not so often. GAMBLING: no, never.

004. DIG DEEPER

CAN THEY DRIVE? yes, she can drive. CAN THEY COOK & BAKE? yes and yes. CAN THEY CHANGE A FLAT TIRE? ish. CAN THEY TIE A TIE? yes. CAN THEY SWIM? yes. CAN THEY RIDE A BICYCLE? yes. CAN THEY JUMP START A CAR? no. CAN THEY BRAID HAIR? yes. CAN THEY PICK A LOCK? no. EXTROVERTED OR INTROVERTED? extroverted. DISORGANIZED OR ORGANIZED? organized. CLOSE OR OPEN MINDED? open minded. CALM OR ANXIOUS? calm. PATIENT OR IMPATIENT? in-between. OUTSPOKEN OR RESERVED? outspoken. LEADER OR FOLLOWER? leader. OPTIMISTIC OR PESSIMISTIC? optimistic. TRADITIONAL OR MODERN? modern. HARD-WORKING OR LAZY? hard-working. CULTURED OR UNCULTURED? cultured. LOYAL OR DISLOYAL? loyal. FAITHFUL OR UNFAITHFUL? faithful. NIGHT OWL OR EARLY BIRD? night owl. HEAVY OR LIGHT SLEEPER? heavy sleeper. COFFEE OR TEA? coffee. DAY OR NIGHT? night. TAKING BATHS OR SHOWERS? baths. COCA COLA OR PEPSI? neither. CATS OR DOGS? dogs. NETFLIX OR CINEMA? netflix. SHOWS OR MOVIES? movies. LAPTOP OR GAMING CONSOLE? gaming console. HEALTHY OR JUNK FOOD? healthy food. ICE CREAM OR FROZEN YOGURT? ice cream. PIZZA OR HAMBURGER? pizza. LOLLIPOPS OR GUMMY WORMS? gummy worms. BEACH OR POOL? beach. SNOWBALLS FIGHTING OR ICESKATING? iceskating. LITERATURE OR SCIENCE? literature. HISTORY OR ART? art. CHOCOLATE BARS OR COTTON CANDY? chocolate bars. XBOX OR PLAYSTATION? playstation. FACE-TO-FACE OR PHONE INTERACTIONS? face-to-face interactions. DRAMA OR SCI-FI? sci-fi. HORROR OR COMEDY? horror.

005. JADE’S FAVORITES

FAVORITE ACTIVITY: gaming. FAVORITE ANIMAL: koala. FAVORITE BOOK: city of girls by elizabeth gilbert. FAVORITE COLOR/S: she doesn’t have one. FAVORITE CUISINE: mediterranean, thai and chinese. FAVORITE DISH/ES: parmigiana, som tum, avocado toast, khao pad, pad thai (anything thai mostly), pavlova, tim tams, chocolate crackles. FAVORITE DRINK/S: lemon lavender tea latte and coconut water. FAVORITE FLOWER/S: water lillies and dahlias. FAVORITE GEM: jade. FAVORITE MOVIE: eternal sunshine of the spotless mind by michel gondry. FAVORITE SONG: mona lisa by VALNTN and Peter Fenn, featuring tray haggerty. FAVORITE SCENT/S: rose, vanilla, coffee and lime. FAVORITE SHOW/S: la casa de papel is her ultimate favorite show and currently the only one she’s been keeping up with. FAVORITE SPORT/S & TEAM THEY SUPPORT: basketball, she supports boston celtics. FAVORITE SEASON OF THE YEAR: summer. VACATION DESTINATION: seoul, south korea. 

[babylonianpirate]

Bio

"Yo, ho, all together Hoist the colors high Heave ho, thieves and beggars Never shall we die"

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G E N E R A L

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✘【 Atreya the Bird of Paradise  】

✘【Ah-Tray-uh】 ✘【Captain of the Star Chaser Pirates】 ✘【 6″9 】

✘【 Atreya. Meaning :Name of a sage, Clever, Receptacle of glory】

✘【 8/15】

✘【 Babylon】

✘【 Wherever she decides to stay 】

✘【 Secret! (28) 】

✘【 Female 】

✘【 Bird of Paradise 】

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A P P E A R A N C E

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T R A I T S

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✘【 Atreya is rather intelligent despite her usual brash disposition. Be it solving complicated mechanisms and puzzles in ruins. Or lying her way out of a sticky situation. She is also considerate towards her crew, choosing to put their safety as well as her own first should a job prove too much for the group to handle. 】

✘【 Having lost her leg to Metal Sonic during an altercation over one of the Chaos Emeralds, there’s a lingering fear in the back of her mind towards the mental menace. So much so that ANYTHING involving Metal is an absolute no in Atreya’s eyes. This stigma showed its head especially towards the Metal Virus incident. While others were doing their best to hide away below on Mobius, Atreya stayed to the skies in her ship along with the rest of her crew. A choice that she regrets to this day. Another “bad trait” would be her reliance/pride in the green jewel that serves as her “leg.” At first glance anyone would assume it was just a fancy rock, but in truth, the peg leg as a whole is an augmented Arc of the Cosmos. Allowing Atreya to manipulate gravity at will for a time. 】

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P E R S O N A L I T Y

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Atreya is a trickster who uses wit and deceit to attain her goals, preferring to end disputes verbally instead of by force. She walks with a slightly drunken swagger and flailing hand gestures. Atreya is shrewd, calculating, and eccentric. 

Though a skilled swordswoman, Atreya prefers to use her superior intelligence during combat, exploiting her environment to turn the tables on her foes, reasoning "Why fight when you can negotiate?" She uses strategies of non-violent negotiation and turning his enemies against each other. She invokes parleys and tempts her enemies away from their murderous intentions, encouraging them to see the bigger picture.

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I N T E R E S T S

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✘【 Fave. Food 】 Red grapes, grapefruit, oranges, mandarins, rum [to her crews ever growing frustration] almost any kind of salad, tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, fruit salad, fruit salad with tomato slices [again, to her crews frustration] dragon fruit, catfish, passion fruit

✘【 Fave. Color(s) 】 Any

✘【 Fave. Music Genre(s) 】 Whatever shanty her crew decides to sing, Honey the Cat’s music

✘【 Fave. Season(s) 】 All except Winter

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H E A L T H

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✘【 Phobia(s) 】 Metal Sonic, Emeraldphobia...? Atychiphobia

✘【 illness(es) 】 None as of yet

✘【 Mental illness(es) 】 None as of yet

✘【 Personality Disorder(s) 】 None

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B A C K S T O R Y

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Born in the now fallen Babylon, Atreya spent a good chunk of her life admiring the advances of her people. Before their fall, she and her father had working on creating the very sky ship Atreya uses now. Just as the usual Arc of the Cosmos testing was beginning the very attack that would damn her kin to banishment within the sands stuck at the same time of activation. Though her father perished before Atreya’s eyes, the coalescing energy created a sort of prison around the bird, freezing in time as garden sunk for a millennia on end. 

It wasn’t until the Babylon Rouges, and by extension Sonic and the others had “resorted” the hanging gardens did Atreya’s prison finally grant her release. Though frozen her mind was very much active for all that time. Time she spent focusing on how to perfect her ship and carry on what she and late father failed to complete. While the events above transpired, Atreya rushed all the repairs she could to at least get the ship flyable before fleeing her ruined home. There was some difficulty here and there. Mostly the Arc itself actually sustaining such a massive air craft for long periods of time. But sure enough, Atreya managed to free herself from Babylon amidst the chaos. Give or take some stops every now and again. From there, she began taking what jobs she could. Some...less savory that others. It was then that she met the crew she cherishes now. 

Though the bird Mobians weren’t exactly her people they did offer a comfort all the same. The final member to join the crew was the one who made her privy to the existence of the Chaos Emeralds. The plan originally was the find one then put it up for auction to the highest bidder. On the plus side? They found their emerald...but the “buyer” was none too keen on negotiation. Try as Atreya might Metal Sonic proved to be her better in terms of combat. The Captain ended up losing not only the Chaos Emerald, but her leg as well. And very nearly her life had it not been for the sheer luck of Metal being called away. 

In the time it took Atreya to recover, that fear took root in the back of her mind and henceforth she’s strayed away from anything involving the Chaos Emeralds outside of selling location information. 

These days she and her crew sail through the skies of Mobius gathering riches, and telling a myriad of stories amongst themselves. 

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VOICE CLAIM

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[the-panam-experiment-blog]

SERBIA

The first part of Serbia reminds us so much of home...!

Looks a lot like "Mostviertel", fruit trees everywhere, hilly landscape... we leave the big mountains behind for now. Our original idea of just crossing the country at its southern part and soon move on into Romania we changed quickly - somehow we just can't leave that early! Full of surprises, too interesting it is here. Diverse landscapes, every day totally different. So lovely people, so much nature. And this is how the initial idea of spending a couple days turned out to be three weeks...

Only one time the finding of a good place to sleep doesn't really work out... searching all afternoon without success, we end up pitching the tent in between the corn fields, just in time before the heavy thunderstorm hits us. This place is infested with mosquitos, the stream nearby useless for us, since it is full of trash and dirt and its shores seem to be alive from tons of crawling maggots. Damn! This means a waterless, thirsty evening and morning for us!

As a compensation, we treat ourselves with a cosy room in the city of Krusevac. This is one of the rare moments when we realize the weird impression we sometimes must make to strangers. It this certain case, we first don't want to park our bicycle in the parking lot - although obviously okay for a couple of motorbikes and fancy cars. Not secure enough for us, we stuff the bicycles under the stairway where is actually no space for them. But we are used by now to making space everywhere. Then, as the friendly hosts serve us coffee at the sunny terrace, just where we spread out all of our wet and dirty stuff to dry within seconds, and where us two exhausted, sweaty creatures sit, stuffing old bread into our mounths in our ravenous hunger... Gives us big laughs once we notice that this is not what "normal" guests would do after their arrival in a guesthouse. As a contrasting program, we get dressed in our "non cycling" clothes, go out, spend a great evening with good dinner and a couple drinks in this lovely city and totally fit in with the other people!

The regoin around Negotin is our next stop after a few more days of pedalling through the fields and forests of southern Serbia. Camping along rivers, underneath big walnut trees, crossing tiny remote villages where time seems to stand still. Here in Negotin, another very nice town, we find the perfect place for resting - a camp for cyclists - the backyard of a super hospitable family, we gather with other cyclists, having wonderful conversations and good, memorable evenings together. This is also the place where we reach the Danube for the first time. Exactly as we stop at its banks, our bike computer jumps over the 14.000 km mark! We can not believe it, this is it, our highway back home... We still have a few weeks left, but still, it already feels a bit like home, standing here at a so well known river. From now on it should get easier finding camping spots. Going slowly and easily along the EuroVelo 6 bike route now, experiencing so many perfect sunrises, sunsets, clearest night skies, super red full moons. The perfect package. Intially, we expected a kind of boring, dull riding in a kind of boring, dull landscape. But surprisingly, it is really beautiful and diverse. Going through the "Iron Gate" for instance, lets us stop several times in astonishment - leading though narrow gorges, passing by old castles, big lakes, just stunning nature at its best. Just a few kilometers before we reach Belgrade, as we stop for our daily picknick in the sun, we spot several white tailed ealgles, a large group of black storchs on their way south for the winter, huge numbers of white herons. Incredible, this biodiverity just outside a huge city! Out on the plains an enormous cloud is darkening the sky - a massive swarm of starlings is showing us its full beauty of their impressive flight formations...

As we stop one afternoon at a "beach bar" on the Danube's riverbank, we immediately decide to stay here for the rest of the day. It is so quiet, so nice, seeming to be the perfect place for us. The owner is happy to let us stay and pitch the tent, we are looking forward to an afternoon of sitting in the sun, staring at the water, reading a book, doing nothing. Well, so it was, until a boat landed from the other side of the river, carrying three men, who invited us for a drink right away. And so, this was it with our quiet afternoon. Not easy to get away again, having dinner together (great fish out of the danube by the way). The "boss" of this group, the one who is carrying a big bag full of cash, soon had a little too much Slibowica, as had his companeros. This, and the setting sun, finally gave us an excuse to leave, get into our tents, without the quiet afternoon we desired, but one more - well, 'interesting' - encounter instead.

Definitely, no more mountains here for us! After the "Iron Gate" it gets really flat. Such plains we did not see in a long, long time (crossing Arizona to the Mexican border, maybe?). But still not boring or dull, a quite nice contrast to the almost 140.000 m of elevation gain we did before. Fast and quick we pedal through the serbian fall, which is definitely not to be regretted anymore. Busy life on the fields, harvesting season is on its peak, the nights are getting more and more chilly and longer, the sun not as hot anymore. Well, our endless summer is indeed coming to an end as it seems!

Der erste Teil Serbiens erinnert uns sehr stark an zu Hause! Wie im Mostviertel sieht's aus, Obstbäume überall, hügelige Landschaft... Unser ursprünglicher Plan - das Land im Süden zu durchqueren, um im Osten nach Rumänien zu wechseln - ist schnell verworfen. Irgendwie kommen wir hier nicht  so schnell weg. So voller Überraschungen, so facettenreich, so interessant ist dieses Land! Verschiedenste Landschaften, jeden Tag ganz neu. So liebe Menschen, so viel Natur. Und so sind es dann anstatt weniger Tage drei Wochen, die wir hier verbringen!

Mit dem Finden von supertollen Schlafplätzen ist es nicht immer ganz einfach... Einen Nachmittag lang suchen wir eine Ewigkeit, finden nichts Geeignetes, bis ein Gewitter aufzieht und wir schlussendlich zwischen den Maisfeldern landen. Komplett verseucht mit Moskitos, ist zu allem Überfluss der Bach nebenan zum Filtern von Trinkwasser absolut unbrauchbar - verdreckt, vermüllt, das Ufer übersät mit Maden... So bleiben wir ziemlich durstig und ungewaschen im Zelt zurück für die Nacht...

Am nächsten Tag gönnen wir uns zur Entschädigun ein Zimmer in Kruševac. Und da wird uns erstmals so richtig bewusst, welch komischen Eindruck wir manchmal abgeben. Heute zeigen wir bei der Ankunft erstmal ziemlich unzufrieden darüber, unsere Räder hinten auf dem Parkplatz zu lassen. Viel zu unsicher finden wir, obwohl es für die Besitzer der teuren Motorräder und Audis offenbar reicht. Wir aber geben erst Ruhe, nachdem wir Möbel und  Zimmerplanzen im Vorraum verschoben, die Räder unter die Stiege platziert und am Geländer angekettet haben. Im Zimmer angekommen, serviert man uns zur Begrüßung Kaffee auf die Terrasse, wo wir gerade sitzen und bereits überall unser noch von letzter Nacht klitschnasses Zeug ausgebreitet haben und gerade dabei sind, im Heißhunger die Reste unseres Brotes von der Mittagspause in uns hineinzustopfen, das wir vorher in ein Glas Ajvar getunkt haben. Als wir uns vor Augen führen, wie das wohl alles wirken muss, kriegen wir uns kaum ein vor Lachen. Als Kontrastprogramm dazu machen wir uns am Abend schick, gehen aus, fein Essen in dieser sympathischen Stadt, und verhalten uns wie “normale” Menschen!

In Negotin, dem letzten Halt bevor wir die Donau erreichen, finden wir ein europäisches Pendant zu den lateinamerikanischen "casa de ciclistas". Ein Ort voll und ganz für Radfahrer, mit allen Annehmlichkeiten die man sich nur wünschen kann, und wunderbare Gesellschaft inklusive. Feine Tage und Abende, mit gemeinschaftlichem Kochen und langen, interessanten Gesprächen.

Kurz darauf haben wie sie erreicht: die Donau! Genau als wir ans Ufer gelangen, springt der Tacho auf 14.000 km um! Kaum zu glauben, das ist er also, unser Highway nach Hause! Ein bisschen Weg haben wir ja noch vor uns, und doch fühlt es sich ein klein wenig nach Heimat an, an diesem Fluss zu stehen, der uns so vertraut ist. Ab jetzt wird es wieder einfach mit dem Zeltplätze finden. Wunderbare Sonnenaufgänge dürfen wir erleben, und so unglaubliche sternenklare Nächte, die es einem nicht leicht machen, sich ins Zelt zu verziehen. Haben wir beide eher mit etwas monotonen, flachen Tagen, auf Dämmen dahintretend, gerechnet, werden wir schnell eines Besseren belehrt. Es ist wunderschön und abwechslungsreich. Das Eiserne Tor zum Beispiel ist eine eindrucksvolle Landschaft, durch enge Schluchten und an alten Burgen vorbei. An unseren mittäglichen Picknicks am Flussufer beobachten wir nur wenige Kilometer vom Großstadttrubel Belgrads entfernt Seeadler, Schwarzstörche und riesige Schwärme Stare, die in grandiosen Formationen den Himmel verdunkeln. Ein Spektakel nach dem anderen!

Eines Nachmittags kommen wir an einer Beach Bar, mitten im Nirgendwo, vorbei. So schön ruhig hier am Wasser, der nette Beitzer lässt uns das Zelt aufschlagen, wir freuen uns auf ein paar gemütliche Stunden - denken wir zumindest. Bis ein kleines Boot mit drei Herren ankommt, wir von diesen auf ein Getränk eingeladen werden, um anschließend an ihrem Tisch hängen zu bleiben, mit ihnen Essen (hervorragenden Fisch direkt aus der Donau), ob wir wollen oder nicht. Der "Boss" der Runde, wie auch eine Kumpanen schon etwas zu viel Schnaps erwischt, trägt eine Kameratasche mit sich herum. Statt einer Kamera quillt aber das Bargeld nur so heraus. Erst die untergehende Sonne gibt uns einen geeigneten Vorwand, die illustre Runde zu verlassen. Nun, soviel zu einem ruhigen Nachmittag am Donaustrand.

Mit den Bergen, oder Hügeln, ist es nun endgültig vorbei. Nach dem Eisernen Tor wird es dann so richtig flach. So eine Ebene haben wir schon lange nicht mehr gesehen! Eine angenehme Abwechslung nach knapp 140.000 Höhenmetern im letzten Jahr! Und so geht es ziemlich flott dahin, durch den serbischen Herbst, der sich langsam nicht mehr verleugnen lässt. Auf den Feldern herrscht reges Treiben, die Nächte werden schon ziemlich kalt, die Sonne ist nicht mehr so kräftig. Ja, unser nahezu endloser Sommer neigt sich nun tatsächlich dem Ende zu!

[thebuckblogimo]

The ever-changing face of America and what I make of it after all these years.

July 21, 2019

As a proud member of the gerontocracy, I’ve seen the world evolve in ways I never imagined as a child. Take, for example, the not-so-simple matter of race relations and attitudes toward skin color.

When I started school at St. Alphonsus in 1953, every kid was white. But not really white. My first big box of Crayolas included a color called “Flesh.” I remember staring at it, thinking that it did not look like the color of the skin of anyone I knew. And certainly not like that of the “colored people” (as African-Americans were known in the early ‘50s) in the Detroit neighborhood where my grandparents lived.

Crayola didn’t even try to make a crayon for them.

As I got a little older and started playing youth baseball, my team, the Bullets, occasionally played a team from the south end of Dearborn that everyone called “the Syrians.” They were a bunch of Arabic kids whose parents or grandparents actually came from Lebanon, and I recall thinking that they looked white but that most of them had better tans than the kids on my team.

By the time I was in high school during the early to mid ‘60s, the civil rights movement, led by Martin Luther King Jr., was ascending in national attention. I didn’t watch much nightly news in those days, but I was aware that Walter Cronkite of CBS, and “Huntley-Brinkley” of NBC, covered it every evening on TV.  At that point in my life I remember often hearing the words “prejudice,” “discrimination,” “segregation” and “integration,” but I don’t recall ever hearing the word “diversity.”

Actually, in my mostly blue collar neighborhood, there may have been more discussion about “nationality” than skin color during those years. The grandparents of most of my friends had all immigrated to America from somewhere else--Italy, Poland, Germany, Ireland, Scotland and Belgium. Canada, too, although we never thought of Canadians as immigrants. In any case, Dearborn was “all white.” Period. And mayor Orville Hubbard neither said nor did much to refute his separatist reputation.

When I went off to college, one of my biggest surprises was the racial--and geographic--composition of the Michigan State football team. The mid 1960s were the glory years of Spartan football and most of the best players were black and from the South. Such as All-American defensive end Bubba Smith (Beaumont, Texas); All-American wide receiver Gene Washington (LaPorte, Texas); All-American roverback George Webster (Anderson, South Carolina); and Jimmy Raye (Fayetteville, North Carolina) who became the first black quarterback from the South to win a national title. Those great ‘65 and ‘66 teams also included two Hawaiians, placekicker Dick Kenny and All-American fullback Bob Apisa who was born in American Samoa.

If you search for a photo of the 1965 Alabama football team, which shared the national championship with MSU that season, you will find that it does not include a single black face. And if you Google photos of the 1966 Notre Dame team, which shared the next year’s national title with the Spartans, it reveals just one black player--that of All-American defensive tackle Alan Page.

In my estimation, head coach Duffy Daugherty has never received sufficient credit for all the things he did to integrate college football.

By the end of my second year on campus, the civil rights movement, student protests against the war in Vietnam, worries over being drafted into the military, the emerging sexual revolution, drug use and all the cultural changes associated with the ‘60s--in music, literature, hair styles, clothing, etc.--made “crazy” feel routine.

And then on Sunday, July 23, 1967, things got even crazier.

I recall sitting with some pals at “the Canteen” at Camp Dearborn, eating a black cherry ice cream cone in the late afternoon sun, when a St. Al’s girl I had known since first grade walked up to our table and said, “Have you heard about the riot going on in Detroit?”

Riot? Detroit? What? Huh?

The next evening I drove down Warren Avenue into the city with my Dad, and I remember seeing independent business owners sitting on the steps of their stores, with rifles locked and loaded, prepared to defend their properties. The following day at the Detroit paint factory where I worked that summer, I took the staircase to the rooftop of Building 42, looked out toward the Detroit River and could see hundreds of fires dotting the cityscape. Detroit was put under curfew for four days; the National Guard, as well as two divisions of the U.S. Army, were called in to quell the disturbance; and in the end, 43 people died, over 7,000 arrests were made and 2,000 buildings were destroyed. The riot was triggered by an early-hours bust of a blind pig, but black frustration with racial inequities was at the root of it all.

Detroit has never been the same since.

I graduated from college in December of 1969, and about two months later drove across the country with my buddy Joe on an adventure to the West Coast. I was soon able to find a job as a janitor at the uber-exclusive Pacific Union (Men’s) Club at the top of Nob Hill in San Francisco. It was my first introduction to people with “yellow skin.”

I was part of a work crew that consisted of a Filipino, a Korean, a Chinese man and three white guys. The three Asians had all come to America in hopes of saving enough money to bring their families to the U.S. All three struggled with English, and I helped my Korean buddy learn the language by reading aloud the comics section of the Sunday paper, while pointing at the illustrations.

Because of the language barrier and my short time on the job, I gained few good insights into those guys and their respective cultures, other than to say I knew them as great workers.

After a couple of months, Joe and I moved on to Los Angeles, but I was feeling like a bit of loser, homesick and hungry. He found a gig as a carpenter; I soon caught a ride back home with some pals who were visiting the coast. In December of 1970 I finally landed my first big boy job as a copywriter for the Automobile Club of Michigan (AAA) at its headquarters in downtown Detroit.

It was the fulfillment of my boyhood dreams. I was writing every day about insurance, travel and auto financing services. I was being taken to lunch several times a week by art studios or the ad agency that created AAA’s radio and TV advertising. And I finally had a couple of bucks in my pocket.

But something was percolating below the surface at work. Word leaked out that the Auto Club would be moving its headquarters from downtown Detroit to Dearborn. And, suddenly, there was a concurrent realization that there was not a single black person or woman who was a department manager at the downtown headquarters or at any of the 56 Michigan AAA branch offices at that time.

Although it still felt like the ‘60s, instead of revolting, disgruntled black employees and a female employee filed separate discriminatory lawsuits against the Auto Club. The suits dragged on for years in the courts, but by the time I left the company in 1979 there were numerous blacks and many women in prominent positions at AAA throughout the state.

Meanwhile, during the early-to-mid ‘70s, the Motor City came to be known as the Murder City. Also, federally imposed school busing accelerated the flight of white people from Detroit. Nevertheless, in December of 1977, I bought my first home in an integrated Detroit neighborhood called North Rosedale Park. Thanks to an active civic association, involved block clubs, a community house for hosting neighborhood events, etc., North Rosedale worked.

However, to the south, the neighborhoods branching out from nearby Evergreen Road, and the ones north of West McNichols, had become virtually all black. I was inside a few homes in those neighborhoods only a handful of times, visiting or partying with black colleagues from work. However, I slow-cruised the streets of Northwest Detroit many times in my car, an admittedly imperfect way to try to understand what it was like to live there. I observed people who were obviously middle class, but I observed many more who appeared to be “underclass.”

For a time I was a member of a North Rosedale Park committee to help prevent neighborhood crime and was privy to a police department map with pinpoints that plotted major crimes in the 16th precinct. Car thefts. B&Es. Shootings. Murders. I could clearly see the extent of the problem throughout the precinct. Like everyone else I read about the crime throughout the city in the daily newspapers. I watched the coverage of it on TV. And I could “feel it” when I drove through the neighborhoods in my car.

I got married in 1979. And by the end of the ‘80s Debbie and I had four small children. It was time to make a big decision. Stay in Detroit and send our kids to Detroit schools, which had become dysfunctional? Drive our kids many miles to private schools in the suburbs? Or move?

In 1989, Ross Roy, the long-time downtown Detroit ad agency that I was then working for, relocated to Bloomfield Hills. And we moved even farther north to Clarkston where the public schools had an excellent reputation.

Once again I was living in a virtually all white community.

We lived in Clarkston for 20 years. As I attended local high school football and basketball games over that time, I began to notice an increasing number of black players on the mostly suburban teams in Clarkston’s league. And I recalled that when we moved out of Detroit, it wasn’t just white families that were leaving the city, many middle class black families left for the suburbs, too.

My children rarely met kids with black, brown or yellow skin in Clarkston. In fact, they rarely met kids with the kinds of last names--ending in “i” or “o” or “ski” or “wicz”--that I took for granted while growing up. But they met many such people in college and continue to do so in their respective careers. And I’m proud that they tend not to be judgmental of people with different skin colors.

After we lost our home due to an electrical fire in 2010, Debbie and I embarked on a new adventure that took us to Grand Haven in West Michigan. Heavy Dutch influence. Politically conservative. Predominantly white. During my first summer here, someone I met at a party referred to Detroit as “Detoilet.” Also, at estate sales and neighborhood functions, I was often asked whether I go to church--something I was not used to on the other side of the state. It’s a whole different vibe in West Michigan, to be sure.

We’re now into our eighth summer in Grand Haven, and even here you can see the changing face of America. There’s a family down the street whose daughter is marrying an African-American man this month. There’s a woman I know at the gym whose son married an African-American woman last month. And one day recently, a neighbor from the next street over stopped to talk while pushing a stroller and introduced me to his son’s twin boys. With their darkish skin color, dark hair and eyes, I assumed that they had an Indian or perhaps Pakistani   mother.

Such things were unheard of when I first visited Grand Haven in the early ‘70s.

I was inspired to write about what I’ve observed concerning the ever-changing face of America after shopping one evening at Westborn Market during a visit to Dearborn earlier this summer. When I walked into the store I felt as though I had entered into some sort of international marketplace. White people. Black people. Arabic people. Asian people. Indian people. The place was packed with people of color of all types. It was certainly not the “cake eaters’” market of my youth.

WHERE I COME OUT. I’ve been thinking about attitudes toward skin color since early childhood, when I first realized that there were black people who could speak Polish living on my grandparents’ block. As I look back on the past seven decades, here are five observations and my opinions about them:

Birds of a feather flock together. My grandparents lived in Polish enclaves. The Arab families I knew as a kid clustered in an area of Dearborn called “Salina.” In college, the black kids usually sat together in the grill and cafeteria. And rich people tend to reside in the same zip code. It’s a natural human tendency for people who share a common culture to congregate with their own kind. I get that. Yet I’ve always felt that if Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal desire to build their home next to Mr. and Mrs. Robin, they have every right to do so.

I was in perhaps the sixth grade when I first heard about school “busing” to achieve racial integration. Brilliant idea, thought my 12-year-old mind. But as a young man I reversed my position as I came to understand the vital importance of “neighborhood schools.” When moms and dads, no matter their color, give a serious damn about their kids’ education, they prefer to live close to their children’s schools, facilitating the parental involvement--school open houses; child progress meetings; attendance at plays, concerts and sporting events--that is so important to the successful education of their kids. Also, there were many times I ran into our children’s teachers at the bakery or Damman Hardware in Clarkston--everyday community encounters that enhanced a “connection” with their teachers. The chance of that happening with cross-district busing is far less likely. I would argue that whatever slim chance Detroit had to remain a viable major American city after the riots of ‘67 was killed by forced busing in the early-to-mid ‘70s. It caused the last of Detroit’s white middle class to say, “That’s it...we’re out of here.” Many black middle class families said the same. So, ultimately, the city was left to a population that was mostly poor and black. (Interestingly, Coleman Young, Detroit’s first black mayor, was an opponent of busing.)

No matter race, ethnicity, age or income level, most people make little effort to learn anything about the attitudes, interests or culture of the “other guy.” I’m far from being a hundred percent at it, but when I have done so the results have often been astounding. Such as the time I walked into a large Arabic market on Warren Avenue in East Dearborn a few years ago in search of the secret to making authentic Middle Eastern shawarma. When I showed sincere interest to doing so, I was escorted around the store and introduced to four or five different employees who filled my head with knowledge about Arabic spices and marinating techniques. I was the only “white person” in the store that day, but when I walked out the door I got high fives, slaps on the back, wishes of good luck--and big smiles--from every employee I encountered. I’ve had many similar experiences with black people when I’ve shown interest in their music, food, personal histories, etc. It’s amazing what you get back when you attempt to find out what the other guy is really all about. I would also add that being curious about or empathetic with “the other” should be a two-way street. If everyone--white, black, Hispanic, yellow, Arabic, native American, etc.--made small, incremental efforts to knock down the invisible barriers between us, it would be so much easier to coexist on this rapidly shrinking planet.

Diversity is infinitely more interesting than homogeneity. I could cite hundreds of personal experiences that cause me to feel this way. From listening to folk songs while sitting in a circle of Scotch people to eating kimchi with Korean folks in San Francisco. From drinking cherry-juice- infused spirytus with relatives in Poland to attempting to harmonize around the piano in a black family’s home in Toledo. From torching my tastebuds with sauteed jalapeno peppers in an authentic Mexican market in Pontiac to the youthful insights of the black North Carolina teenager who spends a part of every summer in the home across the street from us in Grand Haven. Diversity broadens horizons. Changes perspectives. Expands one’s view of the world. No matter where or with whom one ordinarily flocks, it’s highly beneficial, sez I, to get out and fly with birds of a different color.

We could really use a modern-day Henry Ford, someone with a not-yet-conceived, revolutionary new product--or process--that employs large numbers of ordinary workers and pays them a living wage to build it. That’s what Henry did when he introduced assembly line production to build the Model T and doubled the wage of his workers to $5 a day, putting them on the road to the middle class. Or maybe we need a modern-day Work Projects Administration (WPA) that employs unskilled people--and pays them enough to afford a dignified middle class life--to rebuild our roads, bridges, water lines, public transit systems, the entire U.S. infrastructure. Because I now think that racially segregated poverty persists more due to economic inequality than any other factor. There are available jobs galore in the fast food industry, tourism, hospitality, health care and more. But they’re jobs that don’t pay enough to secure a middle class life. And it is now generally accepted that the single greatest predictor of a student’s achievement and eventual economic success is household income. I used to think that education was the key to lifting up the poverty stricken-- whether black, brown, white, whatever--into the middle class. But while the American population is more educated than ever before, the canyon between rich and poor has only widened over the last 40 years.

Like everyone else, I have opinions. These have been mine about racial issues. I’ve never lived in a ghetto. I haven’t had much interplay with Hispanics. I’ve never been poor. And I claim no special expertise in matters regarding attitudes toward skin color. I’m just one guy who has been watching, thinking about these things for a very long time. I probably won’t be around to see America become a majority-minority country. I only hope that when it inevitably happens that all people of all skin colors will do a better job of negotiating those invisible barriers on that two-way street I spoke of earlier.

[chasingthedream460]

Weather Blog: 10/19 Oxford, MS

°Spooky season has officially made a comeback with temps back as to what they should be for us this year. I know down here in the south, we have seriously been struggling to feel comfortable outside since spooky season began, but if you take a look at North Dakota on the other hand,,,they may want all these cold fronts to stop. The high temp for them the other day was only 17°F and I felt real bad because it is TOO EARLY for that kind of negativity in anyone’s lives, right?I digress. Anyway, the games this weekend for both State and Ole Miss are big games, so this question becomes very pertinent throughout today and tomorrow as people start setting up their tailgating equipment, “How is the weather going to be this weekend?” Let’s dive in and find out.

So first thing I want to get into that explains everything temperature wise this weekend is this convergence aloft occurring Friday afternoon into the evening hours. The convergence aloft is leading to divergence at the surface, which is a sign of increasing amounts of sinking air and we will definitely begin to see that effect begin to settle in on your Sunday as well as another approaching cold front (yes!).. (Also, GFS was a tad more aggressive on the convergence, but agreed with NAM on the placement/timing of said convergence as well as the fact that it existed). This can be seen on the NAM MOS with us reaching around 62°F around 18z Saturday and only reaching 58° on Sunday. Rain chances during tailgating and halfway through the game are a possibility with a 15% chance between 12z and 18z on Saturday..However, most of our rain chances stem from tonight and super early Saturday morning so good news is most of the rain will be pushed out by tailgating time, but you can never rule out a rogue shower or two. 

Overcast conditions will aid in feeling chillier outside than it actually is, and the chance we may not meet our max high for the day. For the people planning on going Groving, I’d recommend bringing a light jacket as temps will be in the low-to-mid 50s as you arrive as well as limited sunlight chances and light winds will be transitioning to be more out of the WNW. Also, I would highly recommend on wearing booties/boots as the ground will more than likely be soggy from the night before.Overall, conditions for the Grove/game in a sentence? Chilly, cloudy, and wet (mainly ground wise). I also went ahead and double checked raw models on those high temperatures and they were pretty spot on, so spooky weather might be here to stay finally! :)

Unfortunately for Mississippi State, Death Valley has a much higher chance for rain during their tailgating session. Both NAM and GFS have QPF totals around an inch between 15 and 21z on Saturday and since the game starts at 7 pm, there is a decent chance there will be at least one heavy shower in that time frame. Even though high temps will be in the lower 70s for much of the day, light winds will be coming from the north along with mostly cloudy skies will cause those temps to feel a little cooler than anticipated. Also, rain chances will fall off just in time for the game! A light jacket might be needed for afterwards as temps will drop into the upper 50s. All in all, light jackets should not be out of the question for either of the teams fans while they tailgate on this cool Game Day Saturday.

Now onto the beginning of next week. Chilly conditions push through even into your Monday and Tuesday as morning lows top out in the upper 30s-lower 40s and slowly warm up to lower 60s that afternoon. Winds will be out of the ESE as cloud cover will be mainly partly cloudy for the majority of the day, transitioning into mostly cloudy by evening time as winds will shift from ESE to NNE overnight and into Tuesday. Tuesday can expect to be warmer with highs in the mid-60s with mostly cloudy conditions and winds out of the NNE will keep us on the lower side of our high temp.Regardless of these cloudy conditions, there are no rain chances for the first half of the week, which means the lows will feel a little colder than anticipated so if you’re planning on venturing out either early Sunday morning/evening or early Monday morning/evening, be prepared for fall to make its appearance as it should be this time of year.

All in all, I’m getting excited for this weather over the next few days. This will more than likely be the last day that areas in northern Mississippi could see the low 80s. Looking at ensembles, this cold trend doesn’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon either, as they have been showing for the past week a very significant trough system moving through the Southeast towards the end of the month-right. So we will have to keep an eye on that as we get closer to that time. Main takeaways from this forecast blog? Bring a light jacket with you if you’re out and about this weekend and into the first half of the week as we head for a cool down, Rain chances fall off after Saturday, so enjoy the sunshine on Sunday because clouds are going to build right back in starting Monday and into midweek next week.

-Meteorologist Ashley Lennard

[daltondeaton-blog]

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[tuseriesdetv]

Guía de series: Estrenos y regresos de junio 2017

Leyenda:

Verde: series nuevas.

Rojo: series de las que haremos reviews semanales.

Negro: regresos de otras series.

Naranja: miniseries.

Amarillo: telefilmes, especiales o pilotos.

Morado: season finales.

Morado claro: midseason finales.

*

Calendario de series

1 de junio: 

El Ministerio del Tiempo (3T) en La 1

Nashville (5bT) en CMT

2 de junio: 

Date My Dad (1T) en UP

Flaked (2T) en Netflix

4 de junio: 

I'm Dying Up Here (1T) en Showtime

Fear The Walking Dead (3T) en AMC

The White Princess en Starz

The Leftovers (series finale) en HBO

5 de junio: 

Daytime Divas (1T) en VH1

Shadowhunters (2bT) y Stitchers (3T) en Freeform

Gotham (3T finale) en FOX

6 de junio: Outcast (2T finale) en Cinemax

7 de junio: 

Ackley Bridge (1T) en Channel 4

Nightcap (2T) en Pop

8 de junio: 

Queen of the South (2T) en USA Network

Paula en BBC Two

9 de junio: 

Orange Is the New Black (5T completa) y Shimmer Lake en Netflix

Dark Matter (3T) y Wynonna Earp (2T) en Syfy

10 de junio: 

Orphan Black (5T y última) en BBC America

Menendez: Blood Brothers en Lifetime

The Son (1T finale) en AMC

11 de junio: 

Claws (1T) en TNT

The Loch (1T) en ITV

Poldark (3T) en BBC One

Tony Awards en CBS

Bob's Burgers (7T finale) en FOX

12 de junio: 

Fearless (1T) en ITV

Gotham (3T finale) en FOX

Angie Tribeca (3T finale) en TBS

13 de junio: Famous in Love (1T finale) en Freeform

14 de junio: 

Blood Drive (1T) en Syfy

The Handmaid's Tale (1T finale) en Hulu

15 de junio: Riviera (1T completa) en Sky Atlantic

16 de junio: 

The Ranch (2T) y CounterPunch en Netflix

Truth and Lies: Watergate en ABC

Reign (series finale) en The CW 

17 de junio: Turn (4T y última) en AMC

18 de junio: American Gods (1T finale) en Starz

19 de junio: 

Better Call Saul (3T finale) en AMC

Year Million en National Geographic

20 de junio: 

Queen Sugar (2T) en OWN

Wrecked (2T) en TBS

21 de junio:

Fargo (3T finale) en FX

Nobodies (1T finale) y Lopez (2T finale) en TV Land

22 de junio: 

The Mist (1T) en Spike

The Night Shift (4T) en NBC

23 de junio: 

Top of the Lake: China Girl (2T) en BBC Two

G.L.O.W. (1T completa) en Netflix

Playing House (3T) en USA Network

The Originals (4T finale) en The CW

25 de junio: 

Power (4T) en Starz

Preacher (2T) en AMC

Veep (6T finale) y Silicon Valley (4T finale) en HBO 

26 de junio: Preacher (cambio de día) en AMC

27 de junio: 

iZombie (3T finale) en The CW

Pretty Little Liars (series finale) en Freeform

Genius: Einstein (1T finale) en National Geographic

28 de junio: 

Younger (4T) en TV Land

Cleverman (2T) en SundanceTV

Okja en Netflix

29 de junio: Zoo (3T) en CBS

30 de junio: 

Gypsy (1T) en Netflix 

Killjoys (3T) en Syfy

*

Estrenos de series

Date My Dad (UP)

Ya es hora de que Rick (Barry Watson; 7th Heaven, Samantha Who?), un padre que enviudó hace tres años, siga adelante con su vida; o eso creen sus tres hijas menores, que quieren venderle como un padrazo para encontrarle pareja. Raquel Welch será recurrente como Rosa, la suegra. Diez episodios. Estreno: 2 de junio

A favor: Si buscas una comedia familiar con la que llorar de vez en cuando, la de junio es ésta.

En contra: Barry Watson como padre del año.

I'm Dying Up Here (Showtime)

Comedia negra basada en el libro de William Knoedelseder sobre los comediantes que aspiran a actuar en Goldie's, un club de Los Ángeles en los años setenta, y lo darán todo con la esperanza de arrancar una carcajada. Con Melissa Leo (Treme, Wayward Pines), Richard Kind (Spin City, Gotham), RJ Cyler (Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, Vice Principals), Ari Graynor (Fringe, Bad Teacher), Clark Duke (Greek, The Office), Michael Angarano (The Knick), Al Madrigal (About a Boy), Stephen Guarino (Dr. Ken, Happy Endings), Erik Griffin (Workaholics, Blunt Talk), Sarah Stiles (Superior Donuts), Jake Lacy (Girls, The Office), Sarah Hay (Flesh and Bone), W. Earl Brown (Deadwood, American Crime) o Andrew Santino (Mixology, Sin City Saints). Escrita y producida por David Flebotte (Desperate Housewives, Masters of Sex). Produce también Jim Carrey. Diez episodios. Estreno: 4 de junio

A favor: En absoluto. Os adelantamos que esta serie es un despropósito. 

En contra: Basta ya. No más presuntas comedias sobre monologuistas, mucho menos sobre varios de ellos.

Daytime Divas (VH1)

Antes conocida como Satan's Sisters, es la adaptación de la novela de Star Jones (The View) sobre el mundo tras las cámaras de un talk show inspirado en el que ella misma presentaba. Las presentadoras de 'The Lunch Hour' son Vanessa Williams (Desperate Housewives, Ugly Betty), Tichina Arnold (Everybody Hates Chris, Survivor's Remorse), Chloe Bridges (The Carrie Diaries, Pretty Little Liars), Camille Guaty (Prison Break, Scorpion) y Fiona Gubelmann (One Day at a Time, Wilfred) serán las presentadoras. Completan el reparto Niko Pepaj (Awkward, Bunheads), McKinley Freeman (Hit the Floor), Kristen Johnston (3rd Rock from the Sun, The Exes), Patti LaBelle (American Horror Story), La La Anthony (Power, Unforgettable), Debby Ryan (Jessie, The Suite Life on Deck) y Norm Lewis (Scandal). Star Jones produce junto a Amy y Wendy Engelberg (Drop Dead Diva, Fuller House), que han adaptado el libro para televisión. Diez episodios. Estreno: 5 de mayo

A favor: Saber cómo se llevan de verdad Sonia Ferrer e Isabel San Sebastián.

En contra: ¿Demasiado loco para tomarlo en serio? Quién sabe.

Ackley Bridge (Channel 4)

Antes conocida como The ABC, nos muestra el sistema de educativo de un pueblo de Yorkshire. Allí conviven dos comunidades, blanca y asiática, cuyas vidas y culturas colisionarán al unirse sus dos institutos segregados formando la academia Ackley Bridge College. Creada por Ayub Khan Din (East is East), Kevin Erlis y Malcolm Campbell (Shameless) y dirigida por Penny Woolcock (Tina Goes Shopping, Mischief Night). Protagonizan Jo Joyner (Marley's Ghosts, EastEnders), Paul Nicholls (The Trench, EastEnders), Arsher Ali (Line of Duty, The Missing), Liz White (The Halcyon, Life on Mars), Sunetra Sarker (Broadchurch, Casualty), Adil Ray (Citizen Khan), Poppy Lee Friar (Eve, Mr. Selfridge) y Amy-Leigh Hickman (Strike Back). Seis episodios. Estreno: 7 de junio

A favor: Asomarse a vidas reales.

En contra: Recuerda a otras series de adolescentes con mucho más gancho.

Claws (TNT)

Niecy Nash (Scream Queens), Carrie Preston (True Blood, The Good Wife), Judy Reyes (Scrubs, Devious Maids), Harold Perrineau (Lost, Oz) y Dean Norris (Breaking Bad, Under the Dome) encabezan esta dramedia sobre cinco manicuras muy distintas que trabajan en un salón del sur de Florida por el que a diario pasean delincuentes y gangsters. Completan el reparto Jenn Lyon (Justified, Saint George), Jack Kesy (The Strain), Karrueche Tran (The Bay), Kevin Rankin (Breaking Bad, Friday Night Lights) y Jason Antoon (Famous in Love, No Ordinary Family). Producida por Rashida Jones (A to Z, Angie Tribeca). Diez episodios. Estreno: 11 de junio

A favor: Niecy Nash conseguirá que la empecemos.

En contra: No depende de ella que nos la quedemos.

The Loch (ITV)

Antes conocido como Loch Ness y ambientado en Escocia, es un drama escrito por Stephen Brady (Vera, Fortitude) sobre la detective Annie Redford (Laura Fraser; The Missing, Breaking Bad) en su primer caso de asesinato. El cuerpo de un lugareño ha sido hallado al pie de la montaña Càrn Mòr y la marea ha traído un corazón humano a la costa del lago. La criminóloga forense Blake Albrighton (Siobhan Finneran; Happy Valley, Downton Abbey) aportará su visión, ya que los cuatro casos anteriores, que ayudó a resolver con su particular forma de trabajar, parecen estar relacionados. En esta comunidad llena de mitos y naturaleza salvaje, el propio lago parece sospechoso durante la búsqueda de un asesino en serie. También participan Don Gilet (Holby City, Brief Encounters), John Sessions (Denial, Florence Foster Jenkins), Gray O'Brien (Casualty, Coronation Street) y William Ash (The Tunnel, Death in Paradise). Seis episodios. Estreno: 11 de junio

A favor: Aportar un toque místico a la que podría parecer una más de las series que abundan.

En contra: Es de esperar una resolución mundana que le robe toda la originalidad.

Fearless (ITV)

Emma Banville (Helen McCrory; Peaky Blinders, Penny Dreadful) es una abogada, conocida por defender causas perdidas, que investiga el asesinato de una joven en el este de Inglaterra e intenta excarcelar a Kevin Russell (Sam Swainsbury, Mum), el hombre que cree inocente del crimen. Indagando, comienza a sentir que varias fuerzas policiales y de inteligencia, tanto de su tierra como del extranjero, tratan de evitar que descubra la verdad. Thriller de Patrick Harbinson (Homeland). Completan el cast Michael Gambon (Harry Potter), Jamie Bamber (Marcella, Battlestar Galactica), Wunmi Mosaku (In the Flesh, Our Loved Boy), Robin Weigert (Jessica Jones), Jonathan Forbes (Catastrophe), Christine Bottomley (In the Club), Rebecca Callard (Ordinary Lies), Emma Hamilton (The Tudors), Kika Markham (Mr. Selfridge), Jack Shepherd (The Golden Compass) y Rick Warden (Happy Valley). Seis episodios. Estreno: 12 de junio

A favor: La creciente sensación de que estas conspiraciones son totalmente reales.

En contra: ¿Episodios demasiado largos y resolución decepcionante? Ya conocemos el peligro.

Blood Drive (Syfy)

Drama gore y futurista creado por James Roland, ayudante de producción de Mad Men o Weeds, que recibió luz verde directa. En un futuro cercano en Los Ángeles, cuando el calor ahoga, el agua escasea y los coches funcionan con sangre humana, el último agente de policía con principios (Alan Ritchson, Smallville) es forzado a participar en una carrera a muerte por todo el país dirigida por un frívolo maestro de ceremonias (Colin Cunningham; Falling Skies, Klondike). Christina Ochoa (Animal Kingdom, Matador) interpretará a otra de los participantes. Trece episodios. Estreno: 14 de junio

A favor: Sexo, sangre e idas de olla. Grindhouse.

En contra: No puede ser tan maravillosa como parece. Simplemente no es posible.

Riviera (Sky Atlantic)

Thriller creado por Neil Jordan (The Borgias) y el novelista John Banville ('The Sea') y dirigido por Philipp Kadelbach (SS-GB) sobre Georgina Clios (Julia Stiles; The Bourne Identity, 10 Things I Hate About You), marchante de arte americana y nueva esposa de un multimillonario francés (Anthony LaPaglia, Without a Trace). La confusión y el duelo se adueñan de la vida de Georgina cuando Constantine muere en la explosión de su yate y pronto decide salir a buscar respuestas adentrándose en un mundo criminal y descubriendo los secretos de su marido. Completan el reparto Iwan Rheon (Game of Thrones, Misfits), Lena Olin (Alias), Adrian Lester (Hustle) y Phil Davis (Poldark). Diez episodios. Estreno: 15 de junio

A favor: Repartazo. Stiles y Olin yendo de aliadas o enemigas según convenga.

En contra: La élite y sus lujos.

The Mist (Spike)

Spike pasará a llamarse Paramount Network a partir de enero, pero antes nos trae una adaptación de la novela de Stephen King protagonizada por Frances Conroy (Six Feet Under, American Horror Story), Alyssa Sutherland (Vikings), Isiah Whitlock Jr. (Veep, The Wire), Bill Carr o Holly Deveaux (Hemlock Grove, Spun Out). Diez episodios.

Estreno: 22 de junio

A favor: Aquí llega la dosis mensual de terror. Confiamos en Frances.

En contra: Los efectos especiales.

GLOW (Netflix)

Inspirada en el programa de lucha libre femenina de los ochenta G.L.O.W. -acrónimo de 'Georgeous Ladies of Wrestling'-, nos presenta a Ruth Wilder (Alison Brie; Community, Mad Men), una actriz en busca de empleo en Los Ángeles a la que se le presenta su última oportunidad. Trabajará bajo las órdenes de un director de películas de segunda (Marc Maron, Maron) junto a doce inadaptadas de Hollywood y una antigua estrella de culebrones (Betty Gilpin; Masters of Sex, Nurse Jackie) en un programa de televisión lleno de licra y purpurina. Producida por Jenji Kohan (Orange Is the New Black, Weeds), ha sido creada por Liz Flahive (Homeland, Nurse Jackie) y Carly Mensch (Nurse Jackie, Weeds). Otros participantes son Chris Lowell (Veronica Mars, Private Practice), Ellen Wong (The Carrie Diaries, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World), Jackie Tohn (The Good Place), Britney Young (Those Who Can't), Gayle Rankin, Brittany Uomoleale, Alex Rich y Sydelle Noel. Diez episodios. Estreno: 23 de junio

A favor: Nos dará lo que ya no nos da Orange Is the New Black.

En contra: Nos lo dará durante dos o tres temporadas.

Gypsy (Netflix)

Thriller psicológico sobre una terapeuta (Naomi Watts; 21 Grams, The Ring) que se relaciona íntimamente con gente cercana a sus pacientes. Billy Crudup (Spotlight), Melanie Liburd (Dark Matter, Game of Thrones), Poorna Jagannathan (The Night Of), Brooke Bloom (BrainDead, Alpha House), Brenda Vaccaro (Midnight Cowboy), Lucy Boynton (Sing Street, Ballet Shoes) y Kimberly Quinn (Twisted) acompañan a Watts. Escrita por Lisa Rubin y dirigida por Sam Taylor Johnson (Fifty Shades of Grey). Diez episodios.

Estreno: 30 de junio

A favor: Poder disfrutar en televisión de otra estrella que vuelve a sus orígenes.

En contra: Es importante saber continuar la historia después de una premisa atractiva. Veremos.