#Allen Stone Building Balance

[spring2024golf-trevorhislop]

Michael Litke, Interview, Writing for the Media:

Michael Litke, an 18-year-old golfer from from Glastonbury, Connecticut, possesses remarkable golf senses for his age, excelling on the junior golf circuit. He understanding of the game and his own golfing skills are truly one of a kind. In our recent conversation, Michael shared insights into his thought process before, during, and after a round.

Providing context to my friendship with Michael, we became friends during my junior year of high school, and we shared our passion for golf by practicing, living, and working together.

In the world of golf, where precision meets practice, let me tell you the story of 18-year-old Michael Litke from Glastonbury, Connecticut, who’s golf career has unfolded with an impressive swing. Beyond his years, Litke excels on the junior golf circuit shows young talent destined for greatness.

A high-performer on and off the golf course, Litke's journey is more than just a tale of birdies and bogeys; it's a narrative of discipline, resilience, and passion for the game. It started with his transition to Ethan Allen Prep in Ridgefield Connecticut in where he went for his first 3 years of high school. This was a hour drive from his home. My recent conversation with Litke, a friend I connected with during my junior year in high school, rooming with him offered a glimpse into the mindset of Michael and his golf game.

Navigating the balance between academics and competitive golf was something that was taught at Ethan Allen Prep, the school is focused on building the golfer, athlete and student. The school's approach stands out. They work one on one with you and help you organize and personally put together a workout plan, meal plan and academic plan. His commitment to both realms showcases a maturity beyond his years as he landed himself a 4.0 GPA. Our shared passion led to countless hours of practice, shared living spaces, and collaborative work, forming a bond that goes beyond the course.

During our interview, Litke shared insights into his pre-game rituals, emphasizing the importance of finding a calm and focused mindset on the first tee. His thought processes during both successful and challenging rounds shed light on the mental toughness required in the world of golf.

Litke's highlight is his exceptional performance at the 2023 Connecticut PGA Junior Championship, where he achieved his best tournament score of 76,74. The secret to his composure during the crucial moments? Staying focused on the process and trusting his abilities.

As Litke prepares to transition to collegiate golf at Endicott College, he is not only refining his technical skills but also honing his mental game at the Golf Performance Center. The interview explores his dedication to elevating his short game and building mental toughness in preparation for the competitive collegiate environment.

Beyond the course, Litke shares valuable advice for young aspiring golfers at the Golf Performance Center, advocating for a balanced approach, disciplined work ethic, and a positive mindset. His journey is a testament to the opportunities that arise from setbacks, turning them into stepping stones for future success.

As Michael Litke’s journey continues, a young golfer whose passion and dedication are propelling him towards a promising future in both academics and athletics.

[thousandisthemaximum]

Dopo che hai finito con FKA ci sono altri 18 album da ascoltare

http://bit.ly/2PVZXqu

[mikeysbride]

Usually, at this time of year, I post a collage photo of artists whose concerts I've seen during the year. But since this was 2020, there was only one show. Glad it was a really good one. I got to see Allen Stone w/Andy Suzuki and the Method and Samm Henshaw as his opening acts right before they had to leave the road due to COVID-19 shutting everything down. If I was going to get to see only one show this year, I'm not mad that this was it. Here's hoping next year will be filled with more shows and that my end-of-2021 collage will be as full as past years!

[iamdevonelise]

Been humming this all morning... I love Allen Stone’s music 🤎

[piasgermany]

[Album] Allen Stone kündigt neues Album “Building Balance” an

Der amerikanische Musiker Allen Stone hat sein neues Album “Building Balance” für den 8. November auf ATO Records angekündigt und gleichzeitig den Clip zum neuen Song “Sunny Days” veröffentlicht. 

Sei neues Album ist das Ergebnis einer Reise zu der eigenen Balance. Allen Stone hat sein Gleichgewicht aus Arbeit und Familie, Vergangenheit und Gegenwart, den guten und den schlechten Erfahrungen gefunden und diese Ausgeglichenheit war schlussendlich namensgebend für “Building Balance”. Produziert wurde es von gleich drei verschiedenen Produzenten: dem britischen Musiker Jamie Lidell, dem mit dem Grammy ausgezeichneten Künstler Nasri und von Jeremy Most (Emily King). Gemeinsam haben sie eine unwiderstehliche Mischung aus R’n’B und Soul zusammengemischt. Einflüsse aus ‘70s Funk, der melodischen Stärke eines Stevie Wonder und einer modernen Produktion à la Mark Ronson geben dem Album eine mitreißende Wirkung, wie bereits veröffentliche Stücke wie “Taste Of You” und “Brown Eyed Lover” beweisen.

Allen Stone erklärt: “The balance through the turmoil of strife and struggle is the best balance you can build because you're growing, you're strengthening, you're utilizing muscles [...]. If it was a cake walk then you're not gonna fortify those tendons or that will power.”

Die neue Single “Sunny Days” zeigt außerdem, dass Allen Stone auch für Rap-Verse zu haben ist und präsentiert einen Song voller einnehmender Grooves. Die gute Laune, die der Song ab der ersten Sekunde versprüht, ist für Allen Kern des Stückes: “[It’s] is a feel good, throwback song about being confident in the love you have for another. Like a refreshing breeze on a hot summer day the melody cools and comforts. There is no feeling more beautiful than trusting in love.“

Tracklist “Building Balance”:

1. Brown Eyed Lover 2, Sunny Days 3. Consider Me 4. Hold It Down 5. Sweaters 6. Miscommunicate 7. Lay It Down 8. Back To The Swing 9. I'm Alright 10. Taste Of You (feat. Jamie Lidell) 11. Give You Blue 12. Look Outside 13. Chippin' Away 14. Warriors

Presse: meetz@pias.com Radio: mitja.bruch@pias.com (+Online) | soeren.heuer@pias.com

Facebook Website

[swt-nostalgia]

tagged by @kazuaru :)

Rules: Use this website to generate a wall with your favorite musical albums.

1. HARRY STYLES // FINE LINE 2.  RAVEENA // LUCID  3. H.E.R. // H.E.R. VOL1+2 4. BRUNO MARS // 24K MAGIC 5. ALLEN STONE // BUILDING BALANCE 6. MAC MILLER // CIRCLES 7. BERHANA // HAN

i tag @beaute-sims @machimoira @veinsinneon @wolfavens @solunasimmer 

[all-black-might]

oh, she's got everything you want,

lets me pick the restaurants...

i've got a brown eyed lover,

on the other side of town...

[youngjusticeslut]

Nineteen

Fandom: Young Justice Links: AO3 // FF.net Characters: Victor Stone, Forager, Cassie Sandsmark, Jaime Reyes, Bart Allen, Eduardo Dorado Jr.  Ships: Some light Bartuardo Summary: Victor Stone is a year older, and yet, he doesn't know how to feel about it. Rating: T Word Count: 1,463 words Disclaimer: I don’t own any of these characters

Congrats to @batsisshadow for winning third prize in my Tumblr giveaway! She requested this piece in honor of Zeno Robinson’s birthday today, and I was more than happy to oblige. Happy birthday Zeno, and I hope everyone enjoys this cute little fluff!

Vic had known about the party for weeks.  

How could he not have? Both the Team and the Outsiders seemed to have forgotten that Vic could read their electronic communications. It’s not like he wanted to read them. At first, he’d tried to stop it, but the messages came up in his vision anyway. When he got bored, he read them for fun. One secret Facebook event, three Whatsapp groups and a plethora of random texts made for plenty of entertainment.

Violet had originally offered to make a cake (with Lian’s help), but Cassie gently shut that down by reminding her of the eggshell incident. Vic appreciated the sentiment, but he knew he would appreciate an eggshell free, store-bought cake even more. Bart, Jaime and Ed were all over decorations, having visited several stores all over the country to find exactly what they needed. Cassie was bringing balloons, and Forager was tasked with distracting him even more than he usually did. Oddly enough, it wasn’t as annoying as Vic had thought it would be; he had a soft spot for the bug.

He perused the final messages upon waking on his nineteenth birthday. Everything was a go; Tara was buying the cake, decorating was well underway on the floor below his bedroom, and Forager would be arriving at precisely 10:56 to engage in the ‘delightful new Earthling habit’ known as brunch. Despite the smile on his face, Vic couldn’t help the dread from seeping into his stomach.

This was his nineteenth birthday. A year ago, Vic had been on the fast-track to a football scholarship. If the accident hadn't happened, he’d probably be in college right now, waking up in a far-too-small dorm room. The longing, the regret were all too familiar to him, and no matter how many therapy sessions he had with Dinah, or Miss M., he couldn’t get rid of them entirely.

Groaning, Vic covered his eyes and vainly tried to press the images out of his brain with calloused fingers. This was supposed to be a good day. He didn’t want the negative thoughts to intrude today, not on his birthday.

Lucky for him, a distraction arrived by way of a phone call. Vic leaned to the side, grabbing his phone from the bedside table and fighting back the instinct to groan; old habits were hard to get rid of.

“Hey, Dad."

“Happy Birthday, Son.” From the whirring and constant clicking on the other end, Vic could tell his father was deep in his work. Still, he’d called, so that was something.

“Thanks. It’s the big one-nine, so that’s… special, right?”

“I suppose.” Frantic clicking followed, and though Vic appreciated the gesture of the phone call, it was obvious that his father was very much distracted. “I took the evening off. Do you want to have dinner together?”

Well, color him surprised. Vic crossed his legs beneath him as he nodded. “There’s that Korean place not too far from the house. Maybe we could go there?” While he very much enjoyed the company of his new friends, a surprising number of them were not adventurous eaters. Forager would eat anything, but there was only so much time he could spend with him. It would be nice to go back home for a few hours, catch up with his dad.  

“Alright. Do your friends have anything planned for you today?”

“They’re throwing me a surprise party.”

Vic fought hard to keep from smiling when he heard a chuckle on the other line. “Son, at some point today, please take some time to look up the meaning of the word ‘surprise’.”

“Will do. See you tonight?"

“Seven PM. I’ll be waiting at home.”

--

“Dude, I said the balloons go on the other side,” Jaime growled, holding his hands out to the correct location for emphasis.

Bart’s eyes followed his hands, nodded a couple of times in thought, and ultimately continued placing the balloons where he saw fit. “Noted, Amigo. But, given that you have no sense of design, I have chosen to ignore you.” Before Jaime could even think of another response, Bart sped through the rest of the balloon setup, admiring his handiwork with his hands resting on his hips.

“Perfect.”

“I’ll say,” Ed balked, returning to the room with an armful of colorful streamer rolls. “You hardly left anything to do.” The pout he wore melted as soon as Bart’s arms were around him and vanished completely when he kissed his cheek.

Out of respect, Jaime averted his eyes, but he couldn’t deny that the two were cute. “We should have put Bart on another task. He’s such a decorating hog.”

“At least he has vision,” Ed said with a shrug, prompting a shit-eating grin from his boyfriend and a groan from Jaime. “Here,” he tossed the streamers to Jaime with a wink. “Go loco.”

“Are you kidding? He’ll totally mess up the balance of the room,” Bart scoffed, glaring at Ed. “The streamers should go around the ceiling in alternating patterns, twisted and not just thrown around all nuts. This is so not crash,” he continued as Ed took his arm and tugged him out of the room, passing both Cassie and Tara who came with the remainder of the supplies.

“Need help?”

“Only if you promise not to criticize. Am I really that bad?”

“Don’t take it personally. Bart is just… passionate,” Cassie waved off, taking a roll of streamers from Jaime and flying up to the ceiling to tape it up.

“Too passionate. It’s just a party. We have parties all the time, for the dumbest reasons.” He wasn’t wrong. Both the Outsiders and the Team really enjoyed celebrating. Any occasion or accomplishment was reason enough to break out the helium tank and order a mountain of pizzas.

Cassie hummed, continuing to put up the streamers. “Yeah… but this is an important occasion. I think we all just want to make sure Vic likes it, you know?”

She had a point. Jaime nodded, tossing her another roll when she extended her hand. “I know. I’m sure he’ll like it, though. Did you see the cake Gar brought?”

“Not yet. Is it in the fridge?”

“Oh yeah. Remember the picture we took of Vic after the mission at the cupcake store?” The mission in question had been a simple one, just stopping a quiet heist, and yet all of them had ended up covered in frosting.

Cassie chuckled. “Don’t tell me. He got it printed on the cake?”

“Hell yeah,” Gar chimed from the kitchen, poking out his head to glance at the decorations. “Nice setup. Bart?”

“Naturally.”

“So crash.”

--

“Forager did not think that he could like pancakes any more than Forager did, but the banana pancakes with caramel and that white powder--”

“Powdered sugar. Not white powder,” Vic sighed. The last thing he needed was Forager going around and telling people he ingested things covered in white powder.

Forager grumbled, clicking his usual noises before nodding in agreement. “Powdered sugar is most excellent.”

“The pancakes were pretty good.” Vic stuck his hands in his pocket as they walked back to the premiere building. He knew everyone would be gathered in the hub, just waiting to surprise him. Would he be bale to act surprised? The last thing he wanted to do was spoil the fun.

“Victor Stone--” Forager paused before correcting himself. “Vic has been quiet. Quieter than Vic usually is. Is something wrong?”

Right. Of course the bug would be able to sense something was up. “No, not really,” Vic sighed, stretching his hands behind his head and waiting until he heard a satisfying ‘pop’ before continuing. “It’s just… my first birthday since becoming this, you know?”

Forager clicked again, making a few thoughtful sounding noises. “Is Vic not happy?”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Vic was happy. Granted, this wasn’t the ideal situation. Some days he still wished that he had his old life back. He missed playing football with his friends, going out on the town without everyone staring at him. Some days, he even missed going to High School. Yet… he wasn’t unhappy. He had new friends now. A team, a cause to fight for. Really cool abilities. All in all, it wasn’t so bad.

“Forager does not understand.”

“To tell you the truth, sometimes Victor doesn’t either,” Vic chuckled, shooting the bug a grin. They paused by the entry to the Premiere building, nodding to the doorman as Vic pulled out his keys. The elevator ride was always long, but today he didn’t mind it. He had a room full of friends waiting for him.

When the elevator opened, he no longer felt frustrated, or annoyed with himself. Instead, he tried his best to muster up the feelings of surprise.

[sleepydave01]

Bart meets Ed on a stormy day when the wind blows his umbrella away right into Eds face and embarrassed sparks fly

Hey, sorry for taking so long! This probably turned out bad, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Read on ao3 or after the break:

“Of course it had to rain that day…”

Bart Allen looked through the window outside of his classroom. A new school year had just started and the rainy weather outside seemed to be a glum premonition of what was yet to come. Not that Bart cared, his career was basically set in stone.

“Well, at least I should be thankful for grandma to make me bring an umbrella,” Bart thought to himself, as he walked through the main corridor, opening his umbrella outside of the building. Under different circumstances he would have simply super-sped across town, but … having super-powers wasn’t anything desirable in this time period, he was told. He did not quite get why, but he has made efforts to blend in a bit more with his surroundings.

Though sitting still in a chair for six hours a day was the hardest yet and not a day of school passed by where someone didn’t give him an evil eye for his restless legs.

He walked down the stairs in front of the main entrance in a quick pace, the driblets of rain on his umbrella calming him down.

And then it happened.

A strong gust of wind made its way through the school grounds, ripping the umbrella from Bart’s right hand.

“Shit,” he exclaimed, stumbling after it, trying to catch it, keeping in mind not to use his powers in front of others. In those following moments though he wished, he hadn’t given a shit about the rules.

The umbrella scooted across the campus directly to a hooded figure that leaned against a tree.

“Watch out!” Bart shouted only to immediately regret it.

The boy in the hoodie turned around and the flying umbrella hit him square in the face. The boy started glowing and disappeared into particles of light.

“Shit!”

The breeze calmed down and Bart caught the umbrella.

“Shit, shit, shit, did I just kill him?!” He started panicking looking around hoping to find the boy, only to find a few blood stains coloring the grass beneath the tree, slowly being washed away by the rain.

“Oh no.” Bart went pale the moment he made his discovery and almost proceeded to run around uncontrollably, when dripping onto his umbrella from above.

It was more blood.

First Bart let out an extraordinarily high-pitched scream only to look up into the tree and find the source of the blood.

The boy was sitting on the lowest branch of the tree, holding onto the trunk with one hand, and covering his bleeding nose with the other. He was clearly blushing, but Bart didn’t notice, as the rain clouds made it to dark for him to see.

Bart fell down onto his knees letting out a relieved squeak from somewhere deep with.

“Ohhoho, you’re alive, thank goodness.” He stood up and asked: “Dude, how did you get up here? Did you like make a super jump, or did you teleport?”

“… Teleport,” the other mumbled still covering his nose.

“Dude, for real? That’s so cool! Are you a meta?” Bart asked to which the other simply nodded, sheepishly avoiding his gaze.

It just took one blink, and suddenly Bart disappeared from under the tree, and appeared next to the boy on the branch.

“Hi I’m Bart nice to meet you do you need a tissue for the blood or an umbrella maybe?”

“Whoa!”

This made the other boy jump, loosing his balance and falling of the tree backwards.

The prospect of making a new friend accidentally made Bart switch into hyperactivity mode.

Bart could not hear an impact, instead there was a flash of light next to him and the boy reappeared.

“I’m- I’m Eduardo- Ed,” he answered as if nothing had happened. Bart noticed a similar accent to that of his friend Jaime, so he figured Ed must be Latinx as well.

“Nice to meet you,” Bart said, handing Ed a tissue that he pulled out of his bag in super-speed (Thank you, Grandma!) and holding the umbrella over both of their heads.

“Thanks,” Ed accepted the tissue and covered his bleeding nose.

“How come, you’re so open with being a meta?” Bart asked him curiously. “I mean, you didn’t even try to hide it.”

“It took a long time for me to accept it, and it was really painful. So I decided that maybe being open about it could help other people come to terms with who they are. What about you?”

“I’ve really never had a problem with my powers. But my grand- aunt! (Phew, that was a close one.) My aunt doesn’t like the idea of me going around announcing to the world, who or what I am, so I’m rather cautious.”

“Yeah, our world at the moment is not the safest place to be. Honestly, sometimes I think my dad is right and maybe I should just stop.

The rain slowly died down and the tapping on the umbrella slowly grew more quiet until it was only the occasional drop from a leaf that dared to make a noise.

Bart closed the umbrella and let it loosely hang off his arm.

“Well, you know what they say. If you’re chasing rainbows, you always need to wait for the rain first.” He let himself slide off the branch. “And as long as there will be rainbows it will always be worth trying to find one.”

Ed took the tissue from his nose and tensed the muscles in an attempt not to smile like crazy. He didn’t notice the faint blush, that would give away his feelings anyway.

“But for now, I gotta scoot. People to go, places to see, you know?” Bart said, grinning up to his new friend who was still sitting on the branch and laughing about how he messed that sentence up.

“I guess we’ll see each other?” Ed said, trying not to sound to hopeful.

“You can count on that.”

And with that Bart started walking, started jogging, started running, started speeding, not caring what other people might think about him.

[mikeysbride]

Allen Stone has quickly become one of my favorite artists - a phenomenal songwriter, vocalist, and performer on every level. Even his openers (Samm Henshaw and Andy Suzuki & the Method) were incredible. I'm so happy Orlando showed up and SOLD OUT this show for them last night!

[lokilickedme]

Part 2 of Read By Loki Laufeyson - High Rise

By request

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own in 2016 (no longer available there) 

Rating:  Mature

Archive Warning:  No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:  F/M

Fandom:  Loki - Fandom, High-Rise (2015), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom

Relationship:  Loki/His Book

Character:  Loki (narrator), Robert Laing, Richard Wilder

Additional Tags:  Explicit Language, Loki Has Issues, Spoilers, Loki Does What He Wants, stick to the damn book Loki, lewd passages quoted from the book, references to bestiality and incest (thanks a lot for that, Ballard. You’re a dick)

Series:  Part 2 of Read by Loki Laufeyson

Stats:  Published: 2016-02-21   Words: 1220 (original version)

Part One: Loki Reads Chapter 9 of The Night Manager

  High Rise, Read by Loki Laufeyson 

by lokilickedme 

Summary:  Loki narrates another audiobook.  Apologies to JG Ballard, though not very sincere ones.  In fact I take it back, I’m mad that I ever had to read this.

Notes:  See the end of the work for notes 

  Later, as he sat on his balcony eating the dog... 

Well shit, lets just not waste any time at all getting to the good stuff, shall we?  When a book has the unmitigated balls to start off with a barbequed canine for the first course, you know you're in for an entertaining evening chock full of questionable culinary choices written in dirty grey prose, which we all know is just a gateway to every sort of perversion familiar to man and a handful or two heretofore known only to the Aesir - and I’ll tell you right now they get up to some kinky shit that’d make you want to tie your ballsack to a goat.  That’s not a metaphor, they’re known for literally tying their ballsacks to goats.  Okay, one of them is known for it.  Okay, I’m known for it.  It was me.  So once one has committed to snacking on the family pets, what comes after the appetizer, sex with a budgie?  What sort of sauce is the fellow using?  Did he sautee the dog or is that fucker deep fried?  Or am I missing a particularly rude innuendo here and he's actually giving the beast a blow job?  If that's the case then this might end up being a worthwhile read after all, and I can’t think of a much more romantic place than the balcony if you’re actually going to commit to pleasuring the wife’s poodle.

 ...Dr. Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.  Now that everything had returned to normal - 

Hold up.  NOW everything's returned to normal?  You're eating a fucking dog, sir, either that or you're fellating it.  In what twisted realm is either of those scenarios considered normal?  We’re not counting Asgard, by the way.  And I'd rather like to know which part of the beast we're talking about here, I mean if it's the drumstick or the tenderloin then I hope you basted it with some herbs and a bit of olive oil before you slapped it on the hibachi.  If you're committing cunnilingus, then I'm presuming you know which part you're dealing with and I'll leave you to it, though the olive oil could serve dual purpose here.  But it does beg the question - is the beast male or female?  Not making a judgement, just getting the visual.

While we're pondering that, I'm going to do us all a colossal favor and skip ahead a bit.  This book really is difficult, and by difficult I mean I've had torture sessions on asteroids that were less annoying.  The story itself is good, heaven knows I enjoy chaos and mayhem and bestiality as much as the next power mad despot, but word for word this tale reads a bit like Lewis Carroll and Roald Dahl having the slowest orgasm in history during a mutual masturbation session while smoking Edgar Allen Poe’s gym shorts.  I actually think I might be having the slowest orgasm in history.

 'Come whenever you want to.'  Laing put his arm around her shoulders, steadying her in case she lost her balance.  In the past he had always felt physically distanced from Alice by her close resemblance to their mother, but for reasons not entirely sexual this resemblance now aroused him.  He wanted to touch her hips, place his hand over her breast.  As if aware of this, she leaned passively against him. 

And there it is my friends.  All good stories need an element of the forbidden, and it looks like sister-diddling wins the perversion jackpot for this evening.  This Laing fellow has the whoo hoos for big sis.  And you people give me shit over my "alleged" deviant relationship with my brother?  Last I recall adopted siblings were free to black hole it all they want, yet here we have a pair working out a tag-up without the benefit of notarized adoption papers.  Since we seem to be condoning this, lets all remember our hypocrisy the next time I'm catching grief for banging Thor, shall we?  And while we're at it, are we all just ignoring the Oedipus train wreck this man just owned up to driving straight into the wall?  'Big sis you look like mummy, here let me drug you and keep you as a sex slave while this whole place goes to hell around us.'  I may or may not be skipping ahead but I'll save you a little time and drudgery - it goes there, people.

 He pulled the drawers on to the floor, heaved the mattresses off the beds, and urinated into the bath. 

Ah, Wilder.  I do love a good silly mustache-twirling villain with self aggrandizing dreams of conquering worlds several floors above his own social status.  Because in the end we all want more than what we’ve got, don’t we?  Thrones, love, respect, use of the penthouse, a herd of stoned females.  At least he didn't piss on the mattress.  Nobody likes a bedwetter, even in hell.

 His burly figure, trousers open to expose his heavy genitalia, glared at him from the mirrors in the bedroom.  He was about to break the glass, but the sight of his penis calmed him, a white club hanging in the darkness. 

Yes my good man, welcome to the fellowship of the knob, our universal handshake is to sit on the sofa with one hand down the front of our pants.  Our penises calm us all.

 He would have liked to dress it in some way, perhaps with a hair-ribbon tied in a floral bow. 

Huh.  Just when I rather think I like this Wilder fellow and his obvious off kilter mental status, he shows us his wiener.  Which was more than enough in itself, thanks so very much for that.  Elegant move there, dipshit - whip it out and slap a bow on it, for times when you really want to class things up.  I for one can't think of anything more entertaining or intellectually fulfilling on a Friday night than tying a pretty ribbon on my schlong and running about with it hanging out of my trousers while I harass and terrorize feral women in derelict apartment buildings.  Sometimes I like to really mix things up by borrowing a pair of mother's clip-on earrings and dangling them from my testicles.  It makes me feel so fucking manly.  You know, for those times when you really want to bang your sister who looks like your mom and you know you stand a better chance of scoring if you really put in some effort with the self decor.  Or you could go all out impressing the masses by tying your ballsack to a goat, but granted, it’s not for everyone.

 This ultimate role had helped him on one occasion, when a marauding band of women led by Mrs Wilder had entered the apartment.  Seeing Laing being abused, and assuming him to be Eleanor's and Alice's prisoner, they had left.  On the other hand, perhaps they understood all too well what was really taking place. 

Yes, what was really taking place was this fellow Laing got himself a couple of kinky babes who were willing to tie him to a chair and beat him with the hind leg of an Alsatian.  I mean, who doesn't get off on that?  I tip my cap to you, Sir.  Never go fifty shades with one woman when you can go full-on Marquis de Sade with two.  And seeing as this merry band of female visigoths was led by that Wilder chap's wife, one can only assume he pilfered her pretty hair bows one time too many and the poor woman felt compelled to start tucking the ginsu’s into her gingham apron and go on raiding parties with her Wednesday night book club group.  Or perhaps it was the 'heavy genitalia' on display out of the front of his pants that drove her over the edge.  I understand leaving one's trousers open while traversing rapidly declining self-contained bastions of reverse civilization is valid grounds for divorce in some states.

 First she would try to kill him, but failing that give him food and her body, breast-feed him back to a state of childishness and even, perhaps feel affection for him.  Then, the moment he was asleep, cut his throat.  The synopsis of the ideal marriage. 

What - all marriages aren't like that? 

I’m going to stop right here so we can all go take a break, order in some Alsation, chase our sisters and next door neighbors around the room with gardening implements and figure out where we hid our morphine stash - which sounds disconcertingly like a typical Saturday evening in Valhalla to me, quite honestly - and summarize the rest of the book, which goes a little something like this:  Madness, mayhem, perversion, murder, violence, death, and why the fuck don’t these people just walk out of the damn building?  Yes I know, it’s an allegory on class warfare and societal prejudices and the shitty tendency humanity has to turn on each other and finally itself when faced with a breakdown in the decency and polite behavior that tentatively holds people at arm’s length until the shit hits the fan and everyone starts coming at each other with golf clubs.  Humans have a disturbing desire to go all Lord of The Flies the moment order breaks down, and this book casts a bloodshot eye on the fucked up results.  I’m telling you though, it’s nothing a good tug’o war match with a goat couldn’t have fixed.

All in all I would say this book is a challenging read, but worth it in the end if for nothing other than the visual of that guy with the bow on his schnitzel.  Best read while mainlining household cleaners directly into your lungs blindfolded and waterboarding yourself while listening to Raul Julia sing the Ave Maria on 45 rpms.  Trust me, you'll understand once you get to the part where the old ladies in cocktail gowns are brawling over use of the elevator. 

 End Notes 

Passages in italics are the property of J.G. Ballard from the novel HIGH RISE, copyright 1975.  I don’t own them, I didn’t write them, and dear god please don’t ask me about the dog.

[veridian-nougat]

day four of zutara week

with exactly nine minutes to spare, i have the first chapter of my fourth fic for zutara week, with the prompt “turtleduck” by @zutaraweek​. 

this is going to be a multi-chapter fic, as i’m really intrigued by the idea and don’t wanna make it just a one-shot. the first chapter is up for day 4 of zutara week, and i’ll post new chapters every weekend until it’s done. this chapter kinda mentions turtleducks, but the entire fic will be more zutara-centric. rated t for language.

read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15533478/chapters/36058761

Zuko moves into his dorm room junior year two weeks early.

He had to pull a helluva lot of strings to make it happen, and of course pay an extra seventy bucks per day, but he thought it was worth it; anything to escape his batshit crazy family for a bit longer.

He was the first male in his family for four generations to not pursue a law degree at Harvard; instead, he decided to go halfway across the country from their law firm and home in New York to major in English and Political Science in Illinois, at a public university at that. The University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign may not have been the best school for his majors, but had a good reputation nonetheless, and was the perfect slap in the face to his father.

Arriving at school a good fourteen days before official move-in day guaranteed Zuko a while to settle in before his annoying roommate would come in, or so he thought. Zuko didn’t like that he wasn’t at PAR this year; he had been at Saunders and Babcock his past two years, but he found Allen to be adequate all the same. A lot of Zuko’s friends his age lived in apartments by then, but university housing was less stuff to deal with; no need to buy furniture and stuff. He also thought it odd that his only choice was in a building specifically coed by room, but maybe that was the only available space. He had made his decision pretty late after all. Zuko only hoped that his male roommate preference was accommodated.

****

Katara moves into her dorm room junior year two weeks early.

She was informed by her RA, a lovely but often stoned guy named Ethan, that her roommate was also moving in early. Of course, she had to find seventy dollars to pay each day she was early; that would be a struggle. But, it sort of equated to money she would’ve had to pay for transportation in late August; plane tickets were almost four hundred dollars cheaper a couple of weeks early. Going to school in the states was hard when your family all lived in India. Her father barely even let her go, but Katara’s uncle who had gone to grad school at UW Madison assured her very worried and overprotective dad that it was worth it to have a four-year degree from an American university, and that he would pop in on her often from his home an hour or so away.

It was her third time leaving home for school, and she didn’t make any false promises about visiting during the year like she did the last two times. Holiday flights were expensive, and she wasn’t planning to waste her hard-earned money on two weeks back home. Sure, it would be nice to see her dad and grandmother, but she didn’t have much other family there, and she would rather spend her time with her brother in Minnesota anyway.

Getting to school two weeks before everyone else was relaxing; she wouldn’t have to deal with antsy freshmen and their anxious families. Most of Katara’s friends lived off-campus, but there was no way she could buy everything she needed to from India and get it to her apartment on time if she wanted to. School dorms were a lot less hassle.

Katara was kinda dumb this time around. She got held up during their family “vacation” to Chennai for her cousin’s wedding, and was busy with her duties being the only girl cousin in their generation, and got randomly placed as she missed the deadlines for housing registration. Hopefully she wouldn’t get paired with someone annoying, or worse, a boy! Her father would never allow it, and she’d be back home before she could say another word.

****

Katara and Zuko arrive in front of their room at the same time, with identical expressions of shock and confusion etched on their faces. It takes a second for each of them to give the other a once-over; Katara carefully eyeing a tall, vaguely Asian guy, and Zuko staring blankly into the wide brown eyes of an average height Indian girl who was dressed too Illinois-y to be fresh off the boat.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Zuko finally huffs out a breath and says “I guess Ethan said I was coming early too?”

It’s less of a question, since the answer’s obvious, but Katara gives a slight nod regardless. Her congenital hospitality and politeness kick in, and she carefully balances her suitcase before sticking out her right hand and smiling gently.

“Hi, I’m Katara,” she introduces herself. Zuko notes her slight accent, filing it away for later. He precariously sets down the duffle he was holding and returns the handshake professionally, as he was taught at the ripe age of seven. He states his name as well, also noticing her firm and steady grip, and is intrigued.

“Guess we’re roommates, then.” Zuko states the obvious in hopes of making conversation with the girl he’s going to live with for the next eight months, but she just makes a noncommittal noise.

“Sorry,” she adds as an afterthought. “Jet lag is absolute hell, and I’ve just been on an eighteen hour long flight. I’ll be pretty grouchy for the next week.” Zuko simply nods, pulls the key out of his pocket, unlocks the door, and gestures for her to go in.

“Ladies first,” he mutters under his breath, but all annoyance vanishes in a moment when she looks up to smile gratefully at him. God, that smile. Zuko was going to be in for a rough year.

****

Katara walks in the room she’s sharing with Zuko (a boy!), and hauls her one and only suitcase into the center of the room. Zuko steps in a moment later, but he has a few more possessions, with a large suitcase, smaller hand luggage, and duffle bag.

“Which bed?” she asks, and he shrugs.

“Would it be okay if I took the one closer to the A/C?” Zuko is used to very cold winters, and loves sleeping with blasts of cold air under warm blankets. She nods, and struggles to get her luggage up onto the raised bed.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Zuko offers, always the gentleman, and grabs the suitcase and easily lifts it onto the bed. The help, she was expecting. Zuko seemed like a nice enough guy from the two second interaction they’d had, and she could see the muscles he had along his biceps and forearms. What she’d most definitely not expected, though, was the bottom inch or so of a tattoo on his lower back as his shirt rode up. That looked far too similar to the tattoo she had on her right shoulder blade. It wasn’t a common tattoo at all, or so she thought, because turtleducks were a pretty uncommon imaginary creature. The only reason she’d gotten one was in honor of her mother, who loved to read, and one of Katara’s most cherished books as a child was the one her mom read to her about turtleducks. She decided on the spot that further investigation was needed. Even being awake for nearly thirty-six hours, spending eighteen of them sitting squashed between a mother and her baby and an old, corpulent man, Katara knew how to make a plan.