#I was going to draw Shadow being all cool for the Year of Fearless Shadow

[munchkinworks]

[wall-of-history]

BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui is Still as Beloved as Fans Remember: A Response to Comic Book Resource and Matthew Attanasio

Hey everyone! I’m James, the guy behind Wall of History. I know I rarely drop the facade of my brand on official Wall of History accounts, but today, I’d like to make a more casual, opinionated post on something that’s been getting a lot of attention from the BIONICLE community on Twitter.

Last night, Comic Book Resources posted an article titled “BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui is Still as Pointless as Fans Remember,” and if you have even a surface-level familiarity with the BIONICLE community, I’m sure you can guess the reaction we had — CBR’s tweet was pretty quickly ratioed by fans, drawing comments like, “Comic book resource [sic] once again proving you do not require a brain to type,” and, “We think that the Vahki would like to have a word with you guys." BIONICLE fans generally agree that Legends of Metru Nui is the best film in the franchise, so claims that we universally “remember” it in such a negative light are completely baseless — I’d like to move past the inflammatory title, however, and analyze the actual contents of the article.

LEGO's decision to focus on prequel material was received as a slap in the face. While fans were ready to see the story press forward, it instead fell backwards to tell stories that held little significance to the ‘present day’ plot of the franchise.

To say that the story of Metru Nui held “little significance” to the plot of the franchise is ridiculous. For three years, fans had been given only vague legends about the origins of the Matoran and their struggle with the Makuta, and after Makuta’s defeat, “pressing forward” meant returning to the world they had left behind following the Great Cataclysm. To introduce us to that world and show us how the Matoran came to be in their present situation was an obvious next step for the story.

That's not to say the various comics and novels didn't deliver interesting stories; they did.

That’s true, they did! However, the rest of this article gives me reason to believe you didn’t actually read them (or, at the very least, didn’t pay attention when you did).

They just weren't what fans craved at the time. Legends of Metru Nui failed to bring anything valuable to the table in this regard, with a sloppy story, terrible pacing and forgettable characters.

There are numerous claims and implications throughout this article (we’ve already glossed over one) that BIONICLE fans generally felt certain ways about this film, as well as this story arc as a whole, but none of these claims are backed up. To blatantly misrepresent the feelings of the community like this is rather poor journalism.

Regarding your claim that Legends of Metru Nui failed to bring anything valuable to the table, I’ll reiterate my point from above — the ending of Mask of Light saw the Matoran take the first steps toward reclaiming their home, a home that had been hidden from us, the fans, since the inception of the franchise. Showing us why and how this home was lost in the first place proved to be a vital step in expanding the scope of the BIONICLE legend. Makuta’s actions in Legends of Metru Nui ended up being the inciting incident for the rest of the story, a story that was largely set in the Matoran Universe introduced by this arc.

Your claim that the film has forgettable characters is, like your claim that fans generally remember this film negatively, demonstrably false. Vakama is widely regarded as one of the best characters, if not the best character, in the franchise (the last post on this very blog is evidence of this), and Nidhiki proved to be so popular that his origin story was later relayed to us twice, in the short story “Birth of a Dark Hunter” and the novel BIONICLE Legends #4: Legacy of Evil.

These new heroes are Vakama, Nokama, Matau, Onewa, Whenua and Nuju, Toa of Fire, Water, Air, Stone, Earth and Ice, respectively. Whereas Mask of Light's Toa Nuva were already fan-favorites, the Toa Metru were a mixed bag, and this film did nothing to help their image. In truth, all three of the main Bionicle films failed to highlight how awesome the Toa could be, which is a shame.

BIONICLE is not the story of the Toa. It’s the story of the Matoran.

In the behind the scenes featurette on the Legends of Metru Nui DVD, the narrator makes the odd claim that both Mask of Light and Legends of Metru Nui are “all about the Toa.” This claim is odd not just because Mask of Light literally isn’t about the Toa (it’s mostly about two Matoran), but also because the Matoran have always been the heart of the franchise — a fact that Legends of Metru Nui comments on.

Many fans feel that Mata Nui: The Online Game is the best BIONICLE media, and it’s a story that largely focuses on the Matoran. You play as a Matoran, you primarily interact with Matoran, you solve Matoran problems… and until the very end, the Toa are mostly off doing their own thing. This makes for a really compelling story, precisely because the Matoran aren’t “awesome” like the Toa. It’s cool when the Toa unite their elemental powers to make the Makuta explode into a pile of scrap metal, but it’s compelling when the Matoran armies, whose leaders previously seemed preoccupied with their own problems, unite to save the ragtag Chronicler’s Company from what would have been a deadly Rahi attack.

The Matoran have always been the emotional heart of the BIONICLE legend (the Toa’s stories do focus on saving them, after all), and Legends of Metru Nui understands this. When Lhikan tells Vakama to “save the heart of Metru Nui,” the Toa Metru immediately assume he’s talking about himself… and that kind of makes sense! Lhikan is, after all, the last Toa, a fearless, noble hero, and the last bastion of light in a city being consumed by shadows. Of course he’s the heart of Metru Nui! The Toa Metru spend most of the film searching for Lhikan, but when they find him, he’s not the hero he used to be anymore — he’s a small, frail Turaga now, and he berates Vakama for seeking out him instead of saving the true heart of Metru Nui, the Matoran. This is a great twist, not only because it finally delivers on some of the spooky foreshadowing from earlier in the film, but also because it sends a clear message to the audience that the Matoran are the heart of this legend.

The plot revolves around Vakama's (voiced by Alessandro Juliani) inner struggle to realize who he is. If that sounds familiar, it's because that was basically the plot of the first Bionicle film, which handled these themes in a much stronger way.

While it’s true that Takua and Vakama both struggle to accept their destinies as Toa, I feel Vakama’s struggle is the stronger of the two, as his is based in the very relatable anxiety of impostor syndrome.

That's largely because Vakama, along with just about every other character in the film, is incredibly boring.

This is one of the comments I mentioned above that makes it hard for me to believe you actually read the comics and novels that tell the rest of the Metru Nui story. Vakama’s character arc is undoubtedly the most complex in the franchise, based in relatable anxieties, and actually has a clear beginning, middle, and end (contrast this with the more repetitive character arcs of the Toa Nuva, who have to learn about the importance of unity several times over before they finally internalize it).

Despite being the protagonist, Vakama has an incredibly erratic and unfocused arc, while Whenua (voiced by Paul Dobson) and Nuju (voiced by Trevor Devall) receive next to no development at all.

This latter statement regarding Whenua and Nuju is true, but I don’t think it works as a criticism of the film, which is clearly meant to focus on Vakama, Lhikan, the Matoran, and the Makuta. Rarely does a film with an ensemble cast give a complete arc to every single character, and if it keeps the film more focused, that’s a good thing.

And whereas the antagonistic Makuta had a consistent, threatening presence in Mask of Light, he's an absolute joke here.

He eats people in this movie!

However, much like Mask of Light, Legends of Metru Nui maintains the problem of poor editing to the point of being laughably bad. There are transitions and cuts that make absolutely no sense. The movie struggles to let scenes settle and develop, with many in the middle lasting no longer than a minute, which is extremely jarring to watch.

Alright, I’ll give you this one — the editing could stand to be a bit more polished. It’s a film that’s trying to juggle quite a few plot threads, though, so I think its ambition makes its editing shortcomings forgivable.

For example, in the comics, writer Greg Farshtey explains why Vakama experiences visions of the future. But in the film, there's no explanation for this at all, making it seem like Vakama has clairvoyant powers out of nowhere (not that his vision [sic] do anything substantial in the film).

This is an extremely odd comment, because it’s just not true on either count. Vakama’s visions are never explained in the comics, but they are explained in the film, barely fifteen minutes in: “Visions can be a sign of madness, yes, or messages from the Great Spirit.”

The claim that Vakama’s visions contribute nothing substantial to the film is also objectively false, since his visions are what compels the team to go after the Great Disks, from which Vakama crafts the Mask of Time.

There are plenty of other small lines and instances that ignore the continuity, like Whenua commenting on how he went from being a Matoran archivist to a Toa fugitive in a day. That's obviously not how it works -- the disk hunt alone takes a while in both the comics and the film, so Whenua's statement makes no sense.

Whenua’s line is, “When I woke up, all I worried about was cataloging.” He does not explicitly claim to have been a Matoran when he woke up. All this line does is show that Whenua thought he’d be able to return to his life as an archivist now that the Morbuzakh and Krahka had both been defeated.

Of course, nowadays, many Bionicle lore scribes have properly allotted the film in the larger Bionicle timeline. But at the time of release, it felt like Legends of Metru Nui was blatantly going against everything that was already happening in the canon, which was upsetting and/or painful to watch.

Do you have a source confirming that fans felt this way at the time? As I briefly discussed earlier, this article is filled with implications that BIONICLE fans in general feel the same way about Legends of Metru Nui that you do (this is even made explicit in the title), but none of these implications are backed up, and this is simply not the case.

For the true fans out there, revisit this film if you want. Just don't expect anything special.

I watched it just the other day and had a great time! And the last time I hosted a stream of it, we all had a great time! And this brings me back to the core issue with this article: the baseless claim, in both the title and contents, that BIONICLE fans generally dislike Legends of Metru Nui. Perhaps it’s odd to write a response like this for what’s probably a pretty harmless article. Perhaps it’s an overreaction. But to see a huge site like CBR publish an article like this, that's not just full of factual inaccuracies, but also misrepresents the feelings of most of this community, is upsetting. To ascribe this kind of negativity to a generally friendly community, a community that so genuinely loves what we love, flaws and all, for some clickbait ad revenue… is upsetting.

[marshmallow-phd]

Fighting Instinct

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Summary: He went out of his way to ignore you. You saw his kindness towards everyone else, but he showed you only irritation. And you couldn’t blame him, considering your first meeting. However, little do you know that he’s hiding a dark world, one that you’re pulled into against your will....

Warning: none

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I Final

**

“From the Navajo to the Ancient Greeks, shapeshifters have been a staple in folklore from all over the world for several thousand years.”

Professor Kim pressed a button on his handy little stick, switching the picture shining out of the projector onto the whiteboard behind him from a regular wolf in high definition to a strange hybrid drawing on animal skin. The man in the drawing was hunched over, his back covered in fur and his fingers coming to sharp, clawed points. A few seats down from you, a girl sighed, leaning in deeper with her chin in her palm, as the teacher pushed up on his rolled up sleeve for the millionth time this period. You could have sworn you even saw her eyelashes flutter.

Professor Kim was not bad on the eyes. He had a pointed chin coupled with a strong jawline, deep brown eyes, and was in very good shape that was shown off by the tight-fitting button down he was wearing tucked into tailored slacks. But it was also hard for you to call him “professor” as he was only a few years older than you. Considering his credentials were over-the-top impressive, you still respected him. The word “professor” to you was just ingrained with middle-aged guys with thick glasses and receding hairlines in tweed jackets. However, you weren’t sure if the female-majority classmates around you felt the same way.

The World Folklore class wasn’t actually considered a credit-worthy elective for most of the majors at the college, but the class was always full anyway. Girls (and boys who swung that way) clamored to get a spot in the hundred-seat lecture hall to be able to stare at Professor Kim for an uninterrupted hour and a half. You were lucky that, as a world history student who needed this class to get full credit, you were able to get priority over someone else who was just going to throw away the money. You couldn’t entirely blame the student population for being enthusiastic for the class. The subject matter was fascinating. Starting off with mermaids and sirens, the lessons only grew in excitement, especially the three weeks spent on dragons.

Legends like that always fascinated you; the things frightened minds can come up with to explain the random bump in the night. But what captivated you more was how universal the legends could be. Different cultures that never met or crossed paths could have similar stories about creatures that could shift into humans or vise versa.

“The one thing that the legends can never agree on however,” Professor Kim rounded his desk so he was now standing in front of it, leaning back on the edge, “is if these types of creatures are just a strange natural occurrence or if there’s magic involved.”

A few students snickered at the mention of magic, the current generation used to Harry Potter and flying brooms.

“(y/n).”

Your pencil froze in the middle of your notes. Without even looking up, you could already feel all heads turning to stare at you, wondering what you did to gain the professor’s attention all of a sudden.

“Yes, sir?” you asked, clearing your throat and sitting up straighter.

Professor Kim gave you a kind smile. “Your papers are always fascinating. Please, tell us what your take is on why so many cultures have made up stories about people turning into animals.”

Great. You were not the kind of person who participated in class discussions. The fear and anxiety of being completely wrong or made fun of for your opinion was overwhelming and it kept you quiet. That’s why you sat in the middle level, just off to the right side. It was an inconspicuous spot; not too far up front where eye contact could be made, but not in the back either, where avoidance was obvious. You liked writing papers, however. It gave you time to think, to go over your words carefully as you constructed your argument. In that medium, you could be intelligent and fearless. This was horrifying.

“Um, well–” you cringed internally. Way to be articulate. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, stealing from the research paper you had already started that wasn’t due until the end of the semester. “Most people would argue that something man is most afraid of is the monster within themselves. Something that is uncontrollable. And these legends are a manifestation of that fear. That while there are scary things out in the world, the most frightening is the one hidden inside.

“However, another argument could be made if you focus on the animal itself. While humans consider ourselves the top of the food chain, that’s based mostly on our level of intelligence rather than our physical traits. How we hold ourselves doesn't stop a starved tiger from mauling you. So, you could say that the fear that created these stories might have actually come from a worry that maybe someday our only true weapon we have against the animals – our brains – could be lurking within them. So, instead of it being about the beast inside the man, it could be about the man inside the beast.”

During your little speech, Professor Kim had crossed his arms, still leaning against his desk, and stared at you with furrowed eyebrows.

“That,” he smiled, “is the kind of thinking I’ve been waiting for in this classroom.” He pushed off the wooden edge, walking around the open area near the front row. “The thing about worldwide folklore is you have to think outside the box. You can’t just create one argument for all these different civilizations who have their own stories to tell.”

To your relief, all the attention was back to the front. Sinking down in your seat, you tried to focus on your breathing, getting your system back down to calm mode. As you did that, your eyes wandered around, perhaps searching for anyone who might still be staring at you. And there was one.

A student several rows down and to your right was staring at you openly, his face blank of any emotion. When your eyes met, he slowly turned back to the front, not ashamed that he was caught, as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

You shook off the strange encounter, trying to not dwell on it.

Professor Kim dismissed the class ten minutes later, ending it early. Some girls pouted while others shrugged it off. Ending class early was nothing new. Slowly and neatly, you placed your notebook and other papers into your messenger bag, careful to not jam them into your laptop.

“(y/n)! Can I talk to you for a second?”

You groaned quietly enough so no one could hear you. You’d had side conversations with the professor before. Outside of the classroom, occasionally bumping into him on your way to another class or just roaming around, killing time. He was always nice to you, interested in whatever conversation he decided to start up with you. This, however, was different.

Instead of up the steps and out the doors to the nice cool autumn day with the rest of the students, you fought the tide to get to the bottom where Professor Kim was waiting for you. He’d put on a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses, adding to his charm.

“Yes, Professor?”

He looked down at you sympathetically. “I know I put you on the spot today, but I wanted to let you know that it’s because I know how smart you are and you need to not be afraid to contribute to the discussion.”

Pulling on your bag strap, you shifted uncomfortably. “I appreciate that, Professor, but I live my life in the shadows. It’s where I prefer to be.”

That made him frown. It was almost angry. “The shadows is not a wonderful place to preside.” He turned off the projector, sighing. “(y/n), what exactly is it you plan on doing with your degree once you graduate?”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you hesitated, looking away. You hated that question. You hated it because you didn’t really know. You didn’t want to be a teacher like everyone assumed. Too much attention. A thought that had been brewing in your mind since you started taking this class was researching different legends around the world and compiling them into an academic book. It was a bit of a fantasy you played in your head, locked away in a cabin far from the city, in the middle of the woods near the mountains, where you could breathe fresh air and feel the open space. But that wasn’t exactly a career that could pay the bills.

In the end, you simply shrugged, keeping that information to yourself. “I don’t really know, to be honest. History was just the only thing I was really interested in during high school so it seemed logical to further my studies there.”

Great. You sounded like a cover page for a resume.

“Well, why don’t I recommend you for a teaching assistant that’ll be open with me next semester?” Professor Kim suggested. Your jaw nearly dropped. “It’ll be a paid position – minimum wage, of course – you’ll earn credit towards your degree, and you might even gain some insight to what it is you want to do.”

“Oh, um, well….” It wasn’t exactly an offer you could say no to. Teaching assistant positions were rare and fought over like the Hunger Games. You scratched behind your ear near your hairline, a nervous tick of yours.

“You won’t be teaching any classes,” he promised. “Research assistant might be a more appropriate title for the position. And the occasional test grading.”

Now that sounded much more intriguing. But you still needed to mull it over. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course. Just let me know of your decision when you turn in your term paper.”

You nodded, nearly incoherent now. He was giving you nearly two months to make a decision. What the heck?

“Have a good day, (y/n).” He dismissed you and you took the opportunity to get out, perplexed about what just happened.

Eun Na was waiting for you in the student center at your usual table. She already had her laptop out and was bobbing her head along to whatever weird psychedelic music was pouring out from her headphones.

While you had a few other friends at the university, Eun Na was stuck to you like glue. Your freshman year had been a total nightmare. Evenings and weekends were spent alone as your dorm mates were never in and you couldn’t bring yourself to ask if you could tag along. Making friends was hard to do with mild social anxiety and your friends from high school had gone off to different colleges leaving you on your own.

It was harder to make friends here. In high school, you saw the same people day in and day out so you naturally gravitated towards certain people. But in college, you had to put more effort into it. You had to actually approach people and start conversations. Group projects were your worst nightmares.

But the first semester of your sophomore year was considerably brighter. In your European History 201 class, Eun Na had sat down next to you and introduced herself. And it didn’t stop there. She constantly asked you questions about the homework and the material. Soon, the questions turned personal and you didn’t even realize you were giving her answers that you’d normally withhold. Before you knew it, the two of you were hanging out outside of class and have since became inseparable. She helped introduce you to other people who made college life seem not so lonely anymore.

When you sat down across from her, sliding into the booth while trying to not let your exposed skin from your shorts stick to the vinyl, she pulled out her earbuds and frowned.

“About time you showed up,” she pouted.

You just chuckled. “Sorry. Professor Kim held me back to offer me a teaching assistant position for next semester.”

Eun Na pursed her lips, obviously bothered by your news. “Well, that’s…. random.”

You shrugged. “Not entirely. I mean, sure I don’t really talk during class, but he likes my papers.”

Professor Kim really liked your papers.

You nearly had a panic attack when you got the first one back. There were red marks and little notes all over every single page. You were to the point of tears until you actually read what they said. There was nothing but praise in them. And it happened with each of your papers. With today’s events, you began to suspect that you were possibly his favorite.

“I’m not sure if you should do it,” Eun Na said suddenly.

You knit your eyebrows together, confused. “Really? Teaching Assistant positions aren’t exactly just handed out like that.”

“Exactly,” she countered. “You don’t think it’s a little odd that he just randomly offered it to you? No strings attached?”

You nearly gagged at her implication. “Seriously, Eun Na? He’s not a perve. Besides, if he really wanted to, there’s plenty of female students who would gladly be in that position.”

Eun Na rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She closed her laptop with an ear-stinging slam and threw it in her bag, making you flinch. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“He’s giving me plenty of time to think about it.”

She gave you one more pointed look. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll see you in psych.”

You shook your head, unable to believe what had just transpired. Eun Na was usually the most supportive person you knew. She’d never shut you down like this before.

Tapping a pencil against the table, you gave up. You decided that you would think over the offer another time, by yourself, weighing the pros and cons. Until then, it would be on the back burner. After checking the time, you decided it was time to pack up as well. Just before you could zip up your bag, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

Turning to look, you found a very handsome guy leaning towards you from one table over. His tan skin glowed under the harsh lighting and his sharp jaw rivaled Professor Kim’s. Odd, as you usually went ignored by his type.

“You really should pick new friends,” he said in a tone that was completely serious. You didn’t know this guy at all and he had not a flicker of amusement or teasing in his eyes. Who was he to be telling you how to live your life?

“Excuse me?” you said with a scoff.

His face didn’t falter for a second. “You should hang out with other people. You’re going to get hurt.”

Rolling your eyes your stood up and started to walk away. Eun Na came running back up, clearly out of breath. After swiping up her headphones that you never noticed had fallen to the floor, she tilted her head at you.

“What’s up?” she asked, studying your irritated expression. “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you replied, looking over your shoulder to the nosy stranger. He’d gotten up and was walking past the two of you, not even glancing in your direction as your eyes followed him. “Some people just need to learn to mind their own business.”

Eun Na followed your gaze and a fire lit in her eyes. Her jaw clenched with a sharp noise as her teeth clashed together and she grabbed your arm, pulling you towards the exit. “Come on. We should get you to class.”

[lgbt-teenager-support]

Warning: Long post!!

@mercialachesis said:

Hey I was wondering if you could recommend some books or films with an agender character either main or side? Thank you !!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello! I'm sorry I couldn't answer your ask straight up, this post includes a lot of links.

I couldn't find very many books that describe the character as specifically agender, but there are a lot that use the words "gender fluid" "gender flux" "gender queer" and the like if you're ok with that! Summaries taken from Goodreads

Mask of Shadows - by Linsey Miller

"Sallot Leon is a thief, and a good one at that. But gender fluid Sal wants nothing more than to escape the drudgery of life as a highway robber and get closer to the upper-class and the nobles who destroyed their home. When Sal Leon steals a poster announcing open auditions for the Left Hand, a powerful collection of the Queen's personal assassins named for the rings she wears -- Ruby, Emerald, Amethyst, and Opal -- their world changes. They know it's a chance for a new life. Except the audition is a fight to the death filled with clever circus acrobats, lethal apothecaries, and vicious ex-soldiers. A childhood as a common criminal hardly prepared Sal for the trials. But Sal must survive to put their real reason for auditioning into play: revenge."

Symptoms of Being Human - by Jeff Garvin

"The first thing you’re going to want to know about me is: Am I a boy, or am I a girl? Riley Cavanaugh is many things: Punk rock. Snarky. Rebellious. And gender fluid. Some days Riley identifies as a boy, and others as a girl. The thing is…Riley isn’t exactly out yet. And between starting a new school and having a congressman father running for reelection in uber-conservative Orange County, the pressure—media and otherwise—is building up in Riley’s so-called “normal” life. On the advice of a therapist, Riley starts an anonymous blog to vent those pent-up feelings and tell the truth of what it’s REALLY like to be a gender fluid teenager. But just as Riley’s starting to settle in at school—even developing feelings for a mysterious outcast—the blog goes viral, and an unnamed commenter discovers Riley’s real identity, threatening exposure. Riley must make a choice: walk away from what the blog has created—a lifeline, new friends, a cause to believe in—or stand up, come out, and risk everything."

What We Left Behind - by Robin Talley

"Toni and Gretchen are the couple everyone envied in high school. They've been together forever. They never fight. They’re deeply, hopelessly in love. When they separate for their first year at college—Toni to Harvard and Gretchen to NYU—they’re sure they’ll be fine. Where other long-distance relationships have fallen apart, theirs is bound to stay rock-solid. The reality of being apart, though, is very different than they expected. Toni, who identifies as genderqueer, meets a group of transgender upperclassmen and immediately finds a sense of belonging that has always been missing, but Gretchen struggles to remember who she is outside their relationship. While Toni worries that Gretchen won’t understand Toni’s new world, Gretchen begins to wonder where she fits in Toni's life. As distance and Toni’s shifting gender identity begins to wear on their relationship, the couple must decide—have they grown apart for good, or is love enough to keep them together?"

The Tiger's Watch - by Julia Ember

"Sixteen-year-old Tashi has spent their life training as a inhabitor, a soldier who spies and kills using a bonded animal. When the capital falls after a brutal siege, Tashi flees to a remote monastery to hide. But the invading army turns the monastery into a hospital, and Tashi catches the eye of Xian, the regiment’s fearless young commander. Tashi spies on Xian’s every move. In front of his men, Xian seems dangerous, even sadistic, but Tashi discovers a more vulnerable side of the enemy commander—a side that draws them to Xian. When their spying unveils that everything they’ve been taught is a lie, Tashi faces an impossible choice: save their country or the boy they’re growing to love. Though Tashi grapples with their decision, their volatile bonded tiger doesn't question her allegiances. Katala slaughters Xian’s soldiers, leading the enemy to hunt her. But an inhabitor’s bond to their animal is for life—if Katala dies, so will Tashi."

Love Spell - by Mia Kerick

"Strutting his stuff on the catwalk in black patent leather pumps and a snug orange tuxedo as this year’s Miss (ter) Harvest Moon feels so very right to Chance César, and yet he knows it should feel so very wrong. As far back as he can remember, Chance has been “caught between genders.” (It’s quite a touchy subject; so don’t ask him about it.) However, he does not question his sexual orientation. Chance has no doubt about his gayness—he is very much out of the closet at his rural New Hampshire high school, where the other students avoid the kid they refer to as “girl-boy.” But at the local Harvest Moon Festival, when Chance, the Pumpkin Pageant Queen, meets Jasper Donahue, the Pumpkin Carving King, sparks fly. So Chance sets out, with the help of his BFF, Emily, to make “Jazz” Donahue his man. An article in an online women’s magazine, Ten Scientifically Proven Ways to Make a Man Fall in Love with You (with a bonus love spell thrown in for good measure), becomes the basis of their strategy to capture Jazz’s heart. Quirky, comical, definitely flamboyant, and with an inner core of poignancy, Love Spell celebrates the diversity of a gender-fluid teen."

Chameleon Moon - by RoAnna Sylver

"The city of Parole is burning. Like Venice slips into the sea, Parole crumbles into fire. The entire population inside has been quarantined, cut off from the rest of the world, and left to die - directly over the open flame. Eye in the Sky, a deadly and merciless police force ensures no one escapes. Ever. All that’s keeping Parole alive is faith in the midst of horrors and death, trust in the face of desperation… and their fantastic, terrifying, and beautiful superhuman abilities. Regan, stealth and reconnaissance expert with a lizard's scales and snake's eyes, is haunted by ten years of anxiety, trauma and terror, and he’s finally reached his limit. His ability to disappear into thin air isn’t enough: he needs an escape, and he’ll do anything for a chance. Unluckily for him, Hans, a ghostly boy with a chilling smile, knows just the thing to get one. It starts with a little murder. But instead of ending a man’s life, Regan starts a new one of his own. He turns away from that twisted path, and runs into Evelyn, fearless force on stage and sonic-superheroic revolutionary on the streets. Now Regan has a choice - and a chance to not only escape from Parole, but unravel the mystery deep in its burning heart. And most of all, discover the truth about their own entwining pasts. They join forces with Evelyn’s family: the virtuosic but volatile Danae, who breathes life into machines, and her wife Rose, whose compassionate nature and power over healing vines and defensive thorns will both be vital to survive this nightmare. Then there’s Zilch, a cool and level-headed person made of other dead people, and Finn, one of Parole’s few remaining taxi drivers, who causes explosions whenever he feels anything but happy. Separately they’d never survive, much less uncover the secret of Parole’s eternally-burning fire. Together, they have a chance. Unfortunately, Hans isn’t above playing dirty, lying, cheating, manipulating… and holding Regan’s memories hostage until he gets his way. Parole’s a rough place to live. But they’re not dead yet. If they can survive the imminent cataclysmic disaster, they might just stay that way…"

Black Sunrise - by Christina Engela

"When a single Ruminarii Hammerhead arrived to invade the small backwater Terran colony of Deanna, the people of Atro City went to meet them at the space port with open arms. (Perhaps ‘exposed’ is a better word?) Life as a private investigator, slash bounty hunter isn’t all Gary Beck wanted it to be. There weren’t any big mansions on a palm beach owned by an affluent writer generous enough to let him live rent-free and use his spare Ferrari. But then, you have to ask yourself, what could you expect living on a planet like Deanna? As a third rate colony in the Terran Empire, Deanna had more than its fair share of dull moments. It orbited a star called Ramalama. If you think that’s funny, Deanna’s two moons were called Ding and Dong, respectively. (This is a local joke.) Cindy Mei Winter hoped to put her violent and somehow depressing past behind her, but now it seemed her new beginning (and her holiday) were going to have to wait."

If Found Return To Astropop - by Lucas Hargis

"Unaware of one another’s gender or appearance, a poor, aspiring architect and a spoiled, free-spirited astronomy fanatic find themselves mutually smitten by reading each other’s journals. Genderfluid, sixteen-year-old Robin “Astropop” Chicory lost a journal three months ago. When a stranger (known only as Pippopotamus) secretly returns it, Astro discovers that Pip read their innermost thoughts and meticulously traced Astro’s past movements. Without meeting, Pip believes s/he is smitten with Astropop. Astro knows this because Pip wrote a heartfelt journal in response. Astro reads both journals side-by-side, amazed at how simple words on paper can exert a mutual gravity between complete strangers. As their tandem confessions and intimate stories tangle with the drama in Astro’s everyday life, Astro ends up hopelessly smitten with Pip, too. But because of distance, timing, and interference from the universe, it’s impossible for them to ever meet. When Astro flips to Pip’s last precious page, a supernova of hope explodes—a precise time and place where shy Pip will be waiting. Astro can finally meet the intriguing Pip, but fears their deep, inexplicable connection will be broken. And there’s the world-shattering chance the revelations of who they each truly are will eclipse their imagined versions of one another."

And here's the entire Goodreads list in case any books I didn't include speak to you! Hope this helped! For the life of me I couldn't find any agender movie characters :( If anyone knows of other books in this vein feel free to add!

-Mod Gaby

[goodlucktai]

If the Creek Don’t Rise (3/3)

‘verse: Mostly IDW, some elements of 2k12

Pairings: Rasey, Woody/Mikey, Ramona (past)—and a few more may be implied down the road, we’ll see brief mentions of Leosagi.

Summary: In which Raphael and Michelangelo are UCLA students and bring some friends home to South Dakota for Thanksgiving, where Donatello plays matchmaker, Casey becomes a horticulture enthusiast, Woody has great taste in art, and Raphael fakes an engagement.

Notes: This is an AU I started writing for @tmntflashfic’s first theme ‘beginnings.’ It’s very loosely based off the old Pauly Shore movie “Son in Law,” and I’ll thank y'all not to judge me for that. <3 This AU is not to be taken seriously, so please don’t take it too seriously. It got longer than I anticipated, so I cut it into three parts.

Titled after something my nana always says, “If the lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise,” which just means that as long as nothing unexpected happens, everything will go to plan.

THE FINAL PART IS FINALLY HERE

(Story tag)

Raphael was one-hundred and fifty percent certain his life was over.

His brothers kept throwing him bewildered looks, staring between him and Casey as though trying to form a connection that wasn't there. Going over what they knew in a new light, and drawing lines between every interaction they had seen so far and the bombshell Casey dropped on essentially the entire town, and wrapping their minds around the idea of Raph and Casey actually being Raph And Casey.

“I need some air,” Raph said abruptly over Leo's fourth attempt to draw him into conversation, standing up so sharply that he bashed his knee into the tabletop and rattled the glassware. “Shi – shoot. Sorry. Jones, you wanna come with me? For some air?”

“Dude, the food’ll be here soon.”

Raph's murderous intent probably showed on his face, because Mikey stood up a second later. “I'll go with you guys.”

“Oh, god, please don't leave me here,” Woody said very quietly, scrambling out of his chair to follow them.

Which is how Raph found himself pacing the parking in the warm country night air, hands folded into tight fists at his side. Woody and Mikey were sharing a cement parking block, sitting with their knees folded up by their chins and watching Raph's back-and-forth march with solemn eyes. Casey was leaned against the wall without a care in the world, and it made Raph want to grab him by the shirt and shake him.

“That was your move?” he bit out. “Faking an engagement? Jesus Christ, Jones!”

“Hey, I didn't see any of you comin' up with any brilliant ideas,” he shot back with a scowl. “And it ain't like I had days to think it over!”

“C'mon, Raphie, it's not Casey's fault,” Mikey interjected before Raph could give voice to any one of numerous scathing retorts. He looked pale and worried for him, face a wash of tired yellow from the buzzing streetlight overhead. “We were all pretty much put on the spot back there. At least the thing with Lisa is taken care of.”

“Okay, but this is – ”

“A lot better,” Woody said calmly. When Raph cut a glance at him, he added, “You're in complete control of the situation now. When we get back to your place, we'll explain the whole thing. Just play it cool through dinner, alright?”

“Yeah!” Mikey piped up, looking exhaustively relieved. He tilted a shining look Woody's way. “There's nothing to worry about, bro, we'll sort this out first thing once we're home.”

Except that the first thing that happened once they got home was Leo, successfully cornering Raph alone on the back porch. Woody shot him a sympathetic glance over Leo's shoulder but ultimately abandoned him to his older brother's mercies in favor of following Mikey around like a second shadow. Goddammit.

“Dude,” Raph headed him off, “it's been a night, okay, just – ”

“Look, I know you don't want to talk about it,” Leo said with a firm hand on Raph's arm, curtailing his attempts to get the hell out of dodge. But it was less that and more the earnest look in his wide almond eyes that kept Raph's feet rooted reluctantly to the floor. “I know that you probably had planned to tell us the news while we were together for the holidays, and I'm really sorry Elizaveta made it necessary for you to announce your engagement the way you did.”

Raph wanted to sink through the floor and disappear for maybe the rest of his life. Hoarsely, he said, “Leo, that's not – ”

“Just hear me out,” his big brother insisted, and somehow his expression only got more sincere. “I've – been texting you a lot recently about a guy I met on campus. Usagi. Remember?”

Raphael hazarded a nod, and shifted so that Leo's grip on his wrist was less of a grab and more of a hold. Leo nodded back, as though he needed the encouragement, and took a deep breath.

“I like him,” he blurted, cheeks coloring. “I like him a lot.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh,” Raph said, eyes huge in his face. Leo was still nodding, looking equal parts panicked to have said it out loud and relieved to part with the confession. He was staring at Raph like Raph had all the power to destroy him with a single word or harsh look, and Raph found he didn't care for that shit at all. “Look, man, that's – whatever, you know? You didn't really think we'd care, did you?”

“I don't know,” Leo said quietly, letting go of Raph's arm. “I mean – I told myself I was being stupid, but – ”

Raph could feel himself start to frown thunderously at the idea that Leo could tote around the ridiculous concept that his family's love for him was  conditional. And maybe it was a little hypocritical, since the same quiet worries had circled Raph's head, too, back when he was first irreparably charmed by the most obnoxious roommate in the history of UCLA – but at the same time, it was different. It was Leo.

“Hell yeah, you were being stupid. Look, as long as he's a good guy, as long as he doesn't – ” He thought of Bradford and the end of Mikey's sophomore year and abruptly saw red. Thought of the man Leo had his eye on doing anything similar, and his fists clenched so hard it hurt. “ – hurt you, y'know, in whatever way, then it don't matter. Not a lick. And our brothers and dad and Uncle L will all tell you the same thing. You know they will.”

There was a sheen to Leo's eyes that looked like it might be tears, but he chuckled warmly. Rubbed his face with the sleeve of his shirt and hitched up a smile so wide it probably could have left a permanent impression.

“Well – that's why I wanted to talk to you,” he said. “To say thanks.”

Something close to dread pooled in the pit of Raph's stomach. “Thanks?”

“Yeah. I was scared, but you made it less scary. You've always been so much braver than me.”

Fearless Leo's eyes shone for a split second before he moved forward a swift step and tugged Raph into a solid hug. They were about the same height, Raph realized dimly, and wondered when that had happened. It was autopilot to put his arms around Leo in turn, and he only got squeezed tighter for his troubles.

“I’m going to talk to father before I go back to school. Thanks, Raph, really.”

Raph closed his eyes, and allowed himself an inward and heartfelt, Fuck.

"There is no fucking way we can call it off now,” Raph said, waving his hands wildly. “No fucking way.”

He had called an Immediate Emergency Meeting, which was why they were all clustered in the back shed, AKA Mikey’s childhood art studio. The overhead light was still swinging from the fifth time Casey had smashed his head into it, and subsequently Casey was rubbing his forehead and cussing under his breath.

Similarly, Woody was only half-listening; eyes roving the room like he was trying to commit ever inch of the dust-covered space to memory, lingering on old painted canvases and listing sculptures like there was treasure to be found among them.

Raph had Mikey’s full attention at least. His little brother was perched on the workbench, watching him with wide, worried hazel eyes.

“Well,” he said slowly, “it’s still okay. We’ll just ride this thing out, y’know? I mean, we’re only gonna be here for the rest of the week, right? And then when we go back to school everything will go back to normal, you can call and say the two of you broke it off or something. Right?”

“I -- yeah, I mean.” Raph ran an agitated hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Mikey beamed at him, tension easing out of his shoulders. Raph was unspeakably grateful, for the millionth time in his life, that he could always count on having Mikey on his team. Things never seemed as bad with him around.

“So you and Case just gotta act couple-y until then! No problem!”

Casey snorted, and Woody whipped around with a delighted expression. “’No problem’? Mikester.”

“What? What’d I say?”

Raph prayed that the shitty lighting in Mikey’s shed would be enough to hide the way his face turned red. From the coy look on his little brother’s face, and the amused look on Woody’s, he knew that was probably a fool’s hope.

Casey was still rubbing his forehead but he was watching Raph closely now, with something measured and thoughtful in his eyes.

Later, in the relentless quiet of Raph’s bedroom, the scattered feet between his bed and Casey’s cot seemed to stretch into miles. It was nothing like their first night there -- nothing like every night for the past few months in their dorm room at school -- when they could stay up and talk about anything, cradled safely in the dark as they learned to navigate each other’s pitfalls.

It was uncomfortable. The learned familiarity was gone. Raph was grasping for it at the corners.

Casey’s cot creaked as he rolled over, and his voice drifted through the space between them cautiously.

“Raph? You awake?”

With the blanket pulled up around his ears, Raphael pretended not to be.

Raph went slinking out of the house early the next morning. He waved to Uncle L when he passed him in the kitchen, put together a quick breakfast of leftovers out of the fridge, and crept out the side door into the yard while the sky was still more dark than light.

Father would have started the chores already. Raph wouldn’t see him until lunch. He wanted to talk -- it’s obvious he wanted to talk -- but he had always given his kids the whole of his faith, and probably trusted Raph to come and find him on his own when he was ready.

Fat chance of that.

Hiding in the horse barn, Raphael leaned against the wall and put his head in his hands and tried very hard not to lose his collective shit.

If the thing with Lisa wasn’t bad enough, now he’s fake dating a guy he wants to actually date, and it’s fake going really well, apparently, because they’re fake planning to get married.

He suckered himself into this situation in the first place, inviting Casey along for the visit home, but the kicker is he can’t even really bring himself to regret it. Not when the alternative would have been Casey on his own back in California.

He’s had a good time, Raph thought, and didn’t want to take a moment of it back.

“Yo,” Casey said abruptly, drawing Raph’s head up sharply. His sleep-touseled friend was in the wide doorway of the barn, looking distinctly unimpressed with him and the world and wakefulness in general. “Are you seriously avoiding me? Weak as hell, man.”

Raph could only stare at him, trying to find his footing in this conversation he was desperately unprepared for. Casey took pity on him after a moment and gestured over his shoulder.

“My buddy showed me where you were. I named her Chompy by the way, on account of the hole she chewed into my shirt the other day.”

Raph followed his hand to the fence opposite the barn, where the newest addition to the family sheep was gazing dolefully at them through the gap in the wooden posts. He blinked, and looked back at Casey, and said, “You can’t name Mikey’s sheep Chompy. That’s a stupid name.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re all named after like, artists and shit. Okay, fine in keeping with family tradition, she can be Chompy Picasso.”

“No. Just -- no. I’m gonna. Hold on.”

He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Mikey; who was probably still up at ass o’clock in the morning after having not gone to bed in the first place in favor of a sci-fi movie marathon with Don and Woody.

Sure enough, Raph got a reply almost immediately.

To: Mike case is tryin to name ur lamb chompy picasso

From: Mike !!!! thats the best name EVER tell him thx omfg

“Okay, well, it’s official,” he said, pocketing his phone again. “I don’t know any of you. You’re all total strangers. Get out of my house.”

“Pfft. That makes this engagement a little weird, don’t it?”

Raph didn’t flinch, but it was a close call, and he jerked his eyes away to stare at the wall, and then the ground. He didn’t want to talk about, didn’t know why he thought he could avoid it, wanted for there to be a way to go back and face Lisa from the beginning the way he should’ve -- the way she deserved -- instead of hiding from the situation like a coward.

He should have --

“Raph,” Casey barked, “stop freaking out, Jesus Christ!” His tone was sharp, but mostly without anger, and the steps forward he took were hurried. “I’ll slap you in the face to snap you out of it like in every bad Lifetime movie you’ve ever seen, don’t even try me.”

“You don’t watch Lifetime movies.”

“Fuck you, you don’t know what I watch.” Casey punched him in the shoulder, just hard enough to leave a residual ache there after his fist fell away. “And I don’t know what bullshit is running through your head right now, but we’re fine. This whole thing was my fault, and I’ll deal with it. So quit acting like the world’s comin’ to an end, you moron.”

Raph risked a glance up at him, disbelieving. Casey looked ready to throw another punch, agitated in a restless way that spoke more of worry than anything else.

And Raph felt like a moron.

“Fuck. Case, look -- “

But they were both interrupted by the dark head of a dapple grey stallion as it leaned over the door of its stall to see what all the commotion was about. It flicked an ear and shook out its mane before craning a long neck over to inspect Casey curiously.

“Holy shit,” Casey said, completely side-tracked as he stared at the approaching horse with wide eyes. “There’s a monster in your barn.”

“This is Spike.” Raph patted him fondly. “He’s nosy.”

“Yeah, I’ll say.” Casey put out his hands cautiously, and Spike leaned his nose into the cradle of his palms, snuffling wetly around for treats. “Ew,” Casey added, delighted.

Raph watched them for a minute, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So,” he ventured, “we’re good?”

“Yeah, man. We’re good. Unless you keep acting like an idiot, goddamn.”

Spike lipped at the hem of Casey's shirt affectionately. Casey squawked, and Raph's heart did a complicated flip in his chest.

Raph's brothers, and his father, and his uncle all approved of Jones, whether the knew the full truth about the situation or not—but it was something else, something important, that his horse approved of him, too.

Fake dating, he reminded himself viciously, knowing already that the reminder wouldn’t stick.

The day before Thanksgiving, there was a big dance hosted at the rec center for the young adult crowd. The six of them took Uncle L’s truck, tired of being cooped up at the farm, and if the drinks provided weren’t spiked Raph would spike them his damn self.

“You see Lisa anywhere?” he asked, leaning against the wall next to Casey with a cup of warm punch.

“Am I s’posed to be lookin’ for her?”

“I owe her an explanation."

“You don’t owe anybody shit, bro, but I’ll keep an eye out.”

On Raph’s other side, Donnie straightened so abruptly that it got Casey, Raph and Leo’s -- from the other side of the refreshments table -- attention all at once. And before any of them had a chance to so much as open their mouths, he was pushing off the wall and striding through the crowd with vicious intent, looking ready to steamroll any number of people out of his way.

“What the heck,” Leo said, frowning. He was searching the room for the source of Donnie’s sudden beeline, and found it moments before Raph did.

Something ice-cold and toothed reared its ugly head in the pit of Raph’s chest at the sight of Bradford dragging his little brother out the back door. With a bitter taste in the back of his throat, he dropped his cup and shoved his way across the dance floor after Leo.

The back was for deliveries, with a wide gravel drive and a small storage shed. It was much quieter and darker out there, where the lights and the music and the dull roar of conversation from the party they had left behind were distant and muted.

Donnie was boxed in the doorway, frozen, with a hand over his mouth. Leo all but picked him up and moved him out of the way, face dark with furious fear, but after a second to take in the scene, he was motionless, too.

“What the fuck,” Raph blustered, shoving past, “move, don’t just -- “

“Holy shit,” Casey said from behind him. 

Bradford was crumpled on the ground, a bloody hand trembling over his broken nose. His lettermen’s jacket was stained with it, his cronies standing well back, and Woody was lowering his hands as Raph put the pieces of the scene together into a cohesive picture. 

Holy shit was right. 

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Woody said mildly, eyes cold as he looked Bradford over. “I really don’t want to have to tell you again.”

He looked like he really wanted to have to tell him again.

Reaching out without looking away from Bradford for a second, Woody gathered Mikey up under his arm, curling the smaller blond in tight against his side. Mikey’s eyes were wide but it was wonder in his face, and the beginnings of delight, and any shadow of that awful misery from moments earlier was burned completely away.

“Dude,” he whispered adoringly, “You’re a ninja.”

Woody’s icy expression gentled for him, almost absurdly, and if Raph looked to his left he’d see Donnie looking smug as shit at having been right about something no one else could have guessed from the very beginning, again. “Something like that. My aunt’s an MMA fighter. She taught me a lot. I took lessons for a few years, too.”

“Holy cats! Woody! That’s, like, maximum rad!” 

Grinning down at him, Woody said, “Anyway, weren’t we about to go dance?”

With a gasp, Mikey snatched up his hand and tugged him back toward the door. He looked surprised to see his brothers there, but he greeted them with a smile that didn’t shake, and Donnie touched Woody’s arm for a moment of exhaustive, wordless thanks. 

Woody shook his head with a stubborn glint in his eye, squeezing Mikey’s hand tighter. 

“Message received,” Leo said with a grin, and Raph watched Donnie take a mean delight in locking the back door behind them when they returned to the party. Not that he was worried about Bradford showing his ugly face anywhere near Mikey again anytime soon. He owed Woody a drink or ten for that. 

“Dude,” Casey said, “what the hell is up with that guy? Why’s he got it in for Mike?”

There was a wet floor sign and a disgruntled janitor cleaning up the spilled drinks Raph and his brothers left behind earlier. Raph went in search of a new spot to stand in.

“You know the movie Carrie?”

“Sure.”

“Same deal. Except instead of pig blood there at the end, Bradford got him up on stage in the middle of the homecoming dance and outed him in front of god and everybody.”

“Jesus fuck.”

“I got suspended that night for two weeks for beating the shit out of Bradford, but dad gave the principal so much hell she brought it down to one.” Glancing sidelong at Casey, Raph added, “Mikey got bullied after that, bad. Not for long, I mean, he doesn’t have three big brothers for nothing. But it left a mark on him, y’know, it really did some damage.”

“You think Woody knew?”

“I dunno. I didn’t tell him. And Mikey doesn’t talk about it. Anyway, I don’t think it matters. Anyone who looks at Mikey cross-eyed is gonna have fuckin’ Bruce Lee to deal with, and I’m more than fine with that.”

It wasn’t hard to find them on the dance floor, swinging each other around wildly and laughing louder than the band could play. The Mikey of two years ago wouldn’t recognize himself if he could see it, Raph thought. Dancing close with another boy in front of their whole small-minded town like there wasn’t a single goddamn thing to be ashamed of.

That night, warm with the alcohol they picked up on the way home and groggy, Raph fell into bed with his clothes on. Barely a minute later, hands were shoving at his chest and shoulder, and Casey was muttering, “Scoot over, dude, I’m not sleeping on that fucking thing anymore.” 

At three a.m. it made sense, and Raph rolled over to make room for him.

A rooster call woke him up scant hours later, and he blinked painfully through a hangover into the weak sunlight beginning to poke its fingers through the windows of his bedroom. 

His arm was slung over Casey’s waist. Casey was drooling on his shoulder. His head hurt too much to process either of those things.

“Yer thinkin’ too loud,” Casey muttered softly, the words wincing and whispered. “Too hungover for that shit.”

“Case -- “

“I swear to god -- “ 

“No, listen,” Raph was saying stupidly. “I don’t want to fake date you. It’s driving me insane, I don’t want to do it anymore. So that’s why we should -- “

With a soft cuss, Casey jerked upright. Raph had exactly one second to worry before his roommate was clambering on top of him, straddling his waist with a twisted comforter between them and leaning down with tangled hair and blurry eyes to kiss Raph quiet. 

It worked like a charm -- Raph shut right up. Casey kissed him for a lot longer anyway. Relentless, like there was something to make up for. Whatever it was, Raph was happy to give it, digging his fingers into his grip on Casey’s arms, keeping him as close as he could until the last possible moment.

To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX sorry abt dinner the other night. sorry about a lot of stuff.

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX Forgiven. 

To: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX next time i visit ill make it up to you. promise

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX You will do no such thing. Next time, I will make it up to /you/. I owe you that much. 

From: X-XXX-XXX-XXXX And I hope you’ll introduce me to your fiance. I would like to meet him. 

Contact saved as “Mona Lisa.”

“What are you smilin’ about?” Casey mumbled without lifting his head, word salad all but lost against Raph’s collarbone. 

“How do you know I’m smiling, you creep?”

“C’n just tell. What’s up?” 

Raph set his phone aside, and pushed a hand through Casey’s hair. 

“Wanna come home with me again for Christmas?”

“Pretty sure I have a standing invitation from your entire family to crash all your holiday get-togethers, loser.” He slung an arm across Raph’s waist and yawned. “Welcome to the married life. No getting rid of me now.”

“We aren’t married, dumbass.” 

“Fuck you, go back to sleep.”

The two of them in one bed was a tight fit, but the cot was all the way across the room, they were still existing on the tender plane of the very barely not hungover anymore, and it seemed like a waste to sleep so far apart anyway.

On Thanksgiving Day, three things happen:

Mikey fucking outdoes himself, to literally no one’s surprise, and the food is fantastic. He and Woody hold hands through most of the meal, and Raph and Donnie share a wry look when father surreptitiously passes Leatherhead, who has better lighting from his side of the table, the digital camera. 

Leo comes out to the rest of the family, and it goes more or less exactly the way Raph thought it would. Leo's face is a pleased pink as he swipes through his phone at Mikey’s tireless demands for pictures of Usagi.

Raph clears his throat halfway through dessert and manages to meet his father’s eyes when he says, “There’s something I need to tell all of you. About the, uh. Engagement. See, we were -- Case and I, we were never really -- “

“ -- sure about the wedding date,” Casey cuts in smoothly, claiming a third slice of pumpkin pie. “We figured we’d put things on hold, you know, till we’re done with school, at least. No sense rushing in, right?”

Mikey and Woody are grinning across the table at him. Casey is grinning around a mouthful of pie. Raph throws his last vestiges of caution to the wind and grins right back. 

[nehasy]

Wolf in the Moonlight

Escaflowne Week 2017 day 3 -Two-

I figured I’d go with my two favourite characters getting to know each other in the pre-series.  Its Dilandau/Miguel though nothing naughty actually happens.

               Moonlight bathed the Vione, rendering its normally cold and foreboding black surface in silver gilt as it soared silently over the midnight draped world below.  The wind was cold as ice, cutting through the thin leathers of his uniform like a knife and causing him to shiver slightly.  A sharply indrawn breath chilled his lungs, making them ache pleasantly. It was invigorating, reminding him of home as it helped chase away the heavy weight of fatigue which had been pressing down on him for the past hour of his watch, rendering everything back into sharp focus.

It was far too cold to be outside on the flight deck or catwalks but the pale figure sitting on the far edge of the massive levistone didn’t seem to feel the chill any more than he noticed the yawning void beneath his feet.  

He was a creature sculpted of the softest moonlight, the shining silver of the stars captured in his hair.  Glowing in the darkness, he was so motionless that at first it didn’t even appear that he was alive.  It was far easier to believe that this beautiful shining figure was some fanciful alabaster gargoyle protecting their fortress, or perhaps a guardian spirit summoned up by the gods of frost and snow.  Only the soft puffs of air wafting up in small foggy clouds gave any evidence of life or warmth.

Miguel shivered and once again wished for another layer of clothing to drape over his uniform, wondering as always how his captain managed to look perfectly comfortable sitting there wearing little more than his leather pants and undershirt.  His uniform jacket rested on the black rocks beside him, visible only by the gold chasings which caught the light spilling from the doorway.

               “It’s after curfew sir.”  Miguel said softly, loathing having to break the tranquil tableaux before him. Shifting slightly, he watched as his shadow stretched out across the rugged stone beyond the door, reaching out towards his captain as if drawn to him.  Framed in the cold blue glow of the interior lights, it seemed to almost be an affront to the monochromatic world beyond the leviship’s interior.  

“And this is out of bounds.”  He added in an even softer voice, sounding almost apologetic over his words.  There was no need to see his captain’s face to know that he was likely smirking at that statement, amused that anyone would dare to think the rules actually applied to the great Dilandau Albatou.  The Dragonslayer knew well enough that the only rules which applied to them were the ones their captain himself imposed.  Still, the idea of his beloved leader falling to his death on icy stone didn’t sit well with him and he desperately wished he knew of a way to convince the pale youth to come back inside.

If Dilandau actually heard him, he gave no sign. Instead, the slender albino continued to stare out into the night sky, drinking in the starlight and the chill as if they were ambrosia.  It was clear that there was only one option left for Miguel and he grit his teeth silently, biting back a groan of displeasure.  Any sound of weakness would be quickly punished by his leader, and he’d rather dive off of the Vione than disappoint the pale youth.

Taking the silence as an invitation of sorts, Miguel forced himself to leave the dubious warmth of the doorway and edge out into the night.  One foot in front of the other, he carefully made his way towards that glowing figure like a moth to flame.  His hearth hammered in his chest as he did his best to pretend that a single misstep wouldn’t result in a rather spectacular and fatal dive.  

His breath fogged in the air, creating small clouds which caught in the wind and drifted away with spectral grace as he finally reached his goal and carefully sat down next to his captain.  No words were said and no acknowledgment given as to his intrusion though he knew damn well that Dilandau was aware of his presence.   The pale youths sword rested on his lap, one ghostly white hand lightly placed on the handle, ready to draw it in an instant should his Slayers intentions prove to be anything but honourable.

Always wary, always expecting an attack, that was their captain and it tugged at something in Miguel’s heart to wonder what sort of life he’d lived to demand such constant vigilance even among allies. For all that the captain appeared to be relaxed, the dragonslayer knew that violence still lurked just below the surface and it made him glad that he’d spoken before daring to approach.

“Sir?”  He asked tentatively, still unsure of what sort of reception his intrusion would bring. “Don’t you have an early meeting with Strategos Folken?”  It was far more evasive than simply demanding to know why he was hanging around dangerous areas of the ship rather than in his bed like everyone else.

“I’m aware of my schedule Lieutenant.”  The reply was cool and impersonal enough that lesser men would simply back away and leave the vicious youth to his own devices. Miguel had seen enough soldiers violently reprimanded for bothering the captain to know a warning when he heard it. Still, he found himself reluctant to leave despite the risk that a simple slap could very well send him to his death.

Instead of pursuing the issue, Miguel simply leaned back, bracing his arms behind him and took a moment to admire the view.  It really was spectacular from up here.  The moon was full and the Mystic Moon loomed behind it almost ominously, both celestial bodies glowing silver and blue respectively.  Their light bathed the land, creating patches of liquid light interspersed with black forests and silver mountains.  It was a glowing map of Gaea spread out beneath them, a beautiful tapestry which few living beings outside of the Zaibach Empire had ever witnessed.

“Do you think that we’ll ever see peace?”  He found himself asking, staring down at a scattering of dark grids too uniform in position to be anything other than villages. Lights twinkled at regular intervals in the darkness, lighting the way for late night travellers and standing as defiance against the night, proving the might of Zaibach against even the darkness itself.  Rather than a reply, he heard a soft grunt from his companion and that shining silver head lowered slightly.  Crimson eyes quickly located the village which had caught Miguel’s attention and pondered it thoughtfully.

“No.”  He said after his silent deliberation, those strange eyes casually studying the locations of the villages, analyzing their tactical positions in regards to each other and their surrounding country sides.  Finding them to be adequate, he allowed his gaze to wander once again.

Miguel watched him for a long moment before realizing that there wasn’t going to be any follow up to that statement and for some reason that irked him.  There wasn’t the sense of annoyance from the captain, warning him that the pale youth was in no mood to talk.  Instead, it seemed that he felt that an appropriate answer had been given, leaving little need to elaborate.

As always, it was the little things like this that set their leader apart from them.  He was the most incredible warrior any of them had ever seen.  Fearless, brutal and cunning, he could disarm even the best of them with ease and even veteran soldiers hastened to get out of the pale teenagers way.  It was only when you tried to speak to him in a more social setting that you realized that there was something fundamentally wrong with the beautiful youth.  

There was something missing in his eyes, in his tone of voice and it kept the team on edge.  Miguel always recalled in those moments, the time he’d been walking across the frozen wastes of his home village one fall and come across a large wolf. It had fed recently and had little interest in the scrawny boy, but it had stood there less than ten feet away, watching him with those predatory eyes, weighing his every movement, his every breath.  

Even though he’d been carrying a sword at the time, Miguel couldn’t ever remember feeling so helpless and yet utterly in awe of the savage power standing in front of him… at least until now.  

Lord Dilandau had those same eyes, that same aura about him of ferocity barely held in check.  It was almost inhuman and lent credence to the rumours aboard the ship that the albino captain was some sort of demon spirit.

“Why do you say that sir?”  He found himself asking, hoping to draw their strange captain out of his shell.  Just asking the question made Miguel feel reckless and daring, as if he’d extended his hand to that wolf all those years ago, risking its savage teeth for the slight chance to feel it’s beautiful fur.

Those strange eyes flicked towards him, their flat gaze suddenly piercing and suspicious, though beneath that, there was curiosity.  It made Miguel wonder if anyone had ever actually bothered to ask the other boy that simple question rather than just taking what he said at face value and retreating.

“Emperor Dornkirk believes that only Zaibach has the power to bring everlasting peace to Gaea and he’s never wrong.”  The brunette continued, keeping his tone of voice low and gentle, noting how his captain stiffened slightly at those words.  Something dangerous glittered in the ruby depths of those eyes and for a moment, Miguel worried that his words might have been construed as a challenge.

“It’s not in our nature to seek peace.” Dilandau said softly, the bright pink tip of his tongue licking at his lips, making them shine silver for a moment in the moonlight.  “Everyone speaks of peace as if it was some great prize to be taken, but the taking is a violent act, negating the prize in its claiming.”

The eloquence was shocking to say the least and Miguel couldn’t help but look at the strange beautiful youth sitting next to him, drawn by the endless puzzle he seemed to represent.  Lord Dilandau seemed to be a living, breathing contradiction and it fascinated him to no end.

“So… you don’t believe that Emperor Dornkirk is right?”  It was a huge risk to ask this, he might as well have asked if his captain was carrying treason in his heart.  All it would take was one little push and Miguel would vanish from the world, forgotten before he’d even had a chance to add to the glorious destiny of the Empire.

Instead of attacking, Dilandau chuckled softly to himself.  The sound was rough and clearly not familiar to the captain’s throat.  Those strange eyes shifted to look back out at the land passing by beneath them, glittering with feral glee before returning his curious gaze once more.

“Zaibach will bring peace to Gaea.  Anyone who doubts that is a fool.”  He replied confidently.  “Emperor Dornkirk is never wrong.”  The familiar fanatical faith so common with his countrymen was soothing to Miguel’s ears and he found himself smiling slightly even as deep in his mind something warned him that the two of them might have vastly different concepts of “peace”.  

“We’ll be at the forefront of it all.”  Dilandau continued.  His tone soft but there was the knife edge feel of steel beneath his words. “One can’t ignore the power of Destiny. We are both its messengers and enforcers.”

Again, Miguel had that feeling of the wolf watching him, weighing him against the worth of his life, those cold hard eyes stripping his sense of self away layer by layer, searching for the core of his being.

It was in this moment that Miguel realized deep in his soul that this strange slender youth, this beautiful alien creature would be the one to bring about the change Gaea so desperately needed. This captain wouldn’t ever surrender, wouldn’t ever compromise in the pursuit of his goals and that he’d tear down any opposition with single minded ruthlessness.  This soldier was the wolf made manifest and for some reason, he’d chosen Miguel to join his fate, to share in his glorious destiny.

Strangely, he found himself smiling as he stared into those ruby eyes, the only source of colour amidst the chill monochromatic night and he knew that he’d found his destiny.

“Thank you for choosing me sir.”  He murmured softly, stunned at the depth of emotion in the words.  They’d all thanked him profusely of course when they’d first been called to serve in the elite new unit, but Miguel was sure that none of them truly understood the enormity of what they were to do until now.  It was overwhelming, and he knew it would only become more so as they moved from team training to actual battle, but he knew deep in his heart that so long as they followed this fierce youth, nothing would stop them.

“I’ll die before I allow myself to disappoint you.”

“No, you won’t.”  The captain replied softly, rising to his feet with a casual ease which belied the deadly drop below them.  “I won’t let you die.”  Those eyes locked on his and Miguel felt his heart skip a beat as he became lost in their sudden depths, feeling the heat within them tear through his body, driving away the chill of the night, leaving only beautiful flames in its wake.

A pale hand extended towards him, the skin warm against his glove.  He imagined that he could actually feel the captain’s pulse beating strongly through the layer of leather separating them and it made something deep inside his soul shiver.

They were going to go inside, Miguel back to his rounds while Lord Dilandau returned to his quarters to sleep and prepare for his early meeting.  For a moment, the brunette hesitated, not willing to lose this strange surreal moment in time.  Once they were bathed in the artificial light of the Vione, he knew that the captain would once again become the cold and unreadable leader, bristling with ready violence and a quick temper.  

He wasn’t ready to lose the wolf yet.  On impulse, he quickly flashed the albino youth a discreet hand sign, blushing hotly as he did so.  It would be so easy for the other teenager to pretend not to see it, allowing them to return to the normalcy of their routine.  This was the first time he’d ever done something like this, and to attempt it with his superior officer was mindboggling.  What was he thinking?

Crimson eyes narrowed slightly as they saw the gesture, a silvery white brow rose up, turning the usually cool and aloof expression into one which radiated smug amusement.

“Bold of you.”  Lord Dilandau stated, releasing Miguel’s hand in order to pick up his discarded jacket.  He quickly slipped it on, fastened the clasps to close it and buckled on his sword, all with crisp economical movements, giving no hint as to his intentions towards his subordinate’s proposal.

Without a word, he then turned and began to walk back towards the impersonal blue light of the doorway, his shadow stretching out behind him, brushing across Miguel’s legs almost playfully.  Only when he reached the door did he turn around to look at the brunette.  

The wolf watched him, weighing him with the casual intensity of a confident predator, peeling away the layers which surrounded the core of his being.  Miguel met the gaze unflinchingly, drinking in the dread and elation at being so utterly overwhelmed.  He felt a connection with this beautiful yet deadly creature, something which couldn’t be denied even if he wanted to…and he most certainly didn’t.

Those crimson eyes seemed to peel away that last layer to his soul and found his core.  Ruthlessly, they studied the essence of Miguel, seeking to understand all that he was and ever would be.  

A smile tugged at those pale silken lips as the flames once again ignited in that uncompromising gaze.

“Coming?”  Lord Dilandau asked, his voice heavy with expectation.  Miguel felt his heart leap back into action as he practically leapt forward, barely managing to keep his feet beneath him on the slick stone.

“Yes sir!  At once sir!”

The wolf turned away, accepting the kindred spirit it had found even as its human counterpart welcomed their shared destiny.

[ismael37olson]

Jon ALi Presents: The Top 50 Albums Of 2018!

My beautiful music lovers: We have (almost) reached the end of 2018!

This year proved once again to be a true test to the human psychique with the mess that is our current Presidential reality – but, luckily, in the midst of life’s many expected ups and downs this year, there was (thankfully) a ton of great music to help distract, heal and lift us up.

First up, I’m counting down my Top 50 Albums of the 2018! As per usual, this list was the quickest to make because I find it easier to rank my love for an album based on if I can get through the whole thing from start to finish without banging my head against a wall (repeatedly). WITH THAT SAID: That doesn’t necessarily mean I find album #19 any more or less tolerable than the ones before or after it so please save your trolling for someone who actually cares. The list reflects my personal taste, you know the person the blog is named after. I love music. You love music. We love music!

K, without further ado, here’s the list:

50. Fischerspooner – Sir 49. Hayley Kiyoko – Expectations 48. Teyana Taylor – K.T.S.E. 47. Ella Mai – Ella Mai 46. Rita Ora – Phoenix 45. Shawn Mendes – Shawn Mendes 44. Little Mix – LM5 43. Rae Morris – Someone Out There 42. Paloma Faith – The Architect 41. Travis Scott – Astroworld 40. Sofi Tukker – Treehouse 39. J Balvin – Vibras 38. Empress Of – Us 37. Blood Orange – Negro Swan 36. CHVRCHES – Love is Dead 35. Nicki Minaj – Queen 34. Jess Glynne – Always In Between 33. The Aces – When My Heart Felt Volcanic 32. The 1975 – A Brief Inquiry into Online Relationships 31. Twin Shadow – Caer 30. Toni Braxton – Sex & Cigarettes 29. Florence and the Machine – High as Hope 28. Lily Allen – No Shame 27. The Carters – Everything Is Love 26. Tinashe – Joyride 25. MNEK – Language 24. Khalid – Suncity 23. Christina Aguilera – Liberation 22. Camila Cabello – Camila 21. Black Panther: The Album 20. Goldilox – Very Best 19. Kali Uchis – Isolation 18. Ariana Grande – Sweetener 17. Cardi B – Invasion of Privacy 16. SOPHIE – Oil of Every Pearl’s Un-Insides 15. Kylie Minogue – Golden 14. NAO – Saturn 13. MØ – Forever Neverland 12. Rosalía – El Mal Querer 11. Jorja Smith – Lost & Found

10. Janelle Monáe – Dirty Computer

2013’s The Electric Lady – Janelle‘s sophomore effort – saw this multi-talented diva hone in on the sound she displayed on her debut The ArchAndroid, showcasing a playful-yet-wise mix of pop, funk and soul that rocked our world. Dirty Computer is a more versatile and ambitious move: an addictive master class in futurist freedom and pride, packed with a whole lot of substance, enlightenment and soul. Here Janelle continues to paint and play with all the different colors in her wonderful artistry. The triumphs outweigh her constraints of not wanting to miss out on another chance to enlighten. She’s not afraid of being herself, and the fact that she only continues to refine within that is what makes Janelle such a necessary presence in today’s musical landscape. Highlights: “Take A Byte,” “Screwed (feat. Zoë Kravitz),” “Django Jane,” “Pynk (feat. Grimes),” “Make Me Feel” and “I Like That.”

9. Years & Years – Palo Santo

On the follow-up to their fantastic 2015 debut, Years & Years – comprised of lead singer Olly Alexander, bassist Mikey Goldsworthy and synth player Emre Turkmen – returns badder, more unfiltered and more confident than ever before. Olly and crew are bleeding into each and every one of these songs, at times menacing, confessional and aggressive like on “Sanctify” and “All For You,” where they break free from a broken relationship with edge and a liberated attitude. Palo Santo pushes Years & Years to new and mature heights while refining their brand of pop excellence and increasing its production value. Highlights: “Sanctify,” “All For You,” “Karma,” “Hypnotised,” “If You’re Over Me” and “Palo Santo.”

8. Mariah Carey – Caution

From start to finish, Mariah‘s fifteenth studio album, Caution, creates a great “Portrait” of where the legacy of Mimi‘s career has been and where it is now. There’s a certain maturity in her tight vision that we haven’t seen in recent efforts like Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel and The Elusive Chanteuse; thematically, Caution feels like a return to form. What really keeps the record feeling cohesive and modern is the lyrical content and sleek production – and all it took was 10 tracks. It’s the perfect example of quality over quantity. Caution is undeniably one of Mariah’s finest moments – her tightest, strongest and most cohesive effort since The Emancipation of Mimi. Highlights: “GTFO,” “Caution,” “A No No,” “The Distance,” “Giving Me Life,” “8th Grade” and “Portrait.”

7. Tove Styrke – Sway

I first noticed Swedish songstress Tove Styrke nearly four years ago when she released her dynamic, well-received sophomore album Kiddo. It’s no surprise to see how she has developed into a major international force since those early days. Her third studio LP Sway is a sure sign of her development as an artist: a restrained, sophisticated and fresh body of work showcasing her gorgeous angelic voice across an array of simple electronic arrangements, acoustic layers, heavenly harmonies and huge pop choruses. She may not have made the biggest noise this year, but she certainly has proven herself to be a more than worthy addition to the Swedish elite we have all come to revere. Highlights: “Say My Name,” “Mistakes,” “On the Low,” “Changed My Mind” and “On A Level.”

6. Christine and the Queens – Chris

The sophomore slump can sometimes be nearly impossible to avoid, but with Chris, Héloïse Letissier managed to deliver a more than worthy follow-up to her critically acclaimed debut, Chaleur Humaine – which introduced her as a heartfelt, articulate queer artist and earned her a thriving following of listeners who felt she was singing directly to — and for — them. This time around, the French diva took on a bigger and dare I say “more accessible” approach, all while building upon her many strengths. The LP is a record brimming with ’80’s-esque grooves, intimate electronica, and a whole lot of soul baring. Christine is more confident than ever here, challenging both herself and her audience. An effortlessly eloquent, cool and intelligent listen from start to finish. She is the chameleon-like artist we deserve today! Highlights: “Girlfriend (feat. Dâm-Funk),” “Doesn’t matter,” “5 dollars,” “Damn (what must do a woman do)” and “Feel so good.”

5. Robyn – Honey

While it may not have been what everyone hoped it would be, Robyn‘s first solo album in eight years proved to be yet another masterpiece from the Swedish Queen – a subtle, more restrained serve from a woman who has always thrived by rejecting pop music standards throughout her career. Honey is a cohesive collection of sophisticated and deeply emotional dance songs that come packed with slick melodies and intelligently written lyricism, bridging her previous work and with the rest of Honey‘s flowing numbers, which draw on the things that gave her the strength to recover during grief: her longtime friend and collaborator, producer Christian Falk, died from pancreatic cancer in 2014, and she separated from her partner, photographer Max Vitali (they have reunited since). Robyn continues to make the trends instead of following them, and with Honey, she enters the next phase in her legacy with some of her most emotionally satisfying and musically innovative music yet. Highlights: “Missing U,” “Human Being (feat. Zhala),” “Because It’s in the Music,” “Honey” and “Between the Lines.”

4. Lady Gaga & Bradley Cooper – A Star Is Born: The Soundtrack

If you’d told me I’d be completely obsessing over a soundtrack a year ago, I’d probably laugh in your face. But lo and behold, Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper‘s spectacular A Star Is Born, a film filled with full-fledged SONGS, all of which serve the story. Strip out the unnecessary dialogue interludes and the plot of A Star Is Born is still evident, as the music moves from the grungy Americana of Bradley‘s character, through his classic-feeling duets with Gaga, toward her cookie-cutter “Ally” pop, and then culminating with “I’ll Never Love Again,” the beautifully heartbreaking song where the two estranged lovers reunite. Each of these phases is expertly executed, particularly on the now staple-ballad “Shallow” where their sensibilities and chemistry are fused powerfully – I’m still not over it. All the songs just make sense to the narrative and on their own, and as a result, hold together well and amount to the soundtrack of the year. It’s a true gift to us all. Highlights: “Shallow,” “Music to My Eyes,” “Always Remember Us This Way,” “Heal Me,” “I Don’t Know What Love Is,” and “I’ll Never Love Again.”

3. Lykke Li – so sad so sexy

In today’s current state of high-gloss pop-stars, who are all about taking things to the next level, there is something about hearing someone like Swedish talent Lykke Li going slightly left with her sound that is very refreshing. This time around, she took on a more ambitious sound, enlisting husband Jeff Bhasker, T-Minus, DJ Dahi, Illangelo, Emile Haynie, Jonny Coffer, Kid Harpoon and Rostam Batmanglij, among others to complement her strengths. The LP is a record brimming with dark trap grooves, intimate electronica, and an unusual blend of pop and R&B. But, don’t get it twisted: No matter how new the sound may be for her, the Lykke Li heard on so sad so sexy is still a fearless and powerful one. In fact, she’s reached a whole new level of self-awareness and the lyrical craftsmanship, yeah, it’s better than it’s ever been. Are you really surprised though? Highlights: “hard rain,” “deep end,” “last piece,” “sex money feelings die” and “bad woman.”

2. Troye Sivan – Bloom

On the follow-up to his fantastic 2015 debut, Troye Sivan returns liberated, more unfiltered and more self-assured than ever before. As displayed on the cover art and promotional images for the LP – where Troye is seen flaunting his queerness front and center – his guards are completely down and his insecurities are completely visible for anyone willing to look and listen beyond the sexuality. Bloom is a gorgeous, intimate, soft, tender, sensual and supremely crafted listen from start to finish. An album for steamy, unfiltered romping. The shift is evident, Troye is here to stay. Bloom is it. The End. Highlights: “Seventeen,” “My My My!,” “The Good Side,” “Bloom,” “Dance to This (feat. Ariana Grande)” and “Lucky Strike.”

1. Kacey Musgraves – Golden Hour

I’ll be the first to admit that I’ve totally been sleeping on Kacey Musgraves all these years. Thankfully, I’ve woken the fuck up and realized what I was missing all this time. Like most of Kacey‘s back catalog, her fourth major label LP Golden Hour revolves around some expected lyrical themes: boys, love, family, independence and varying levels of self-assurance, sadness, isolation and lust. But Golden Hour strives as a much bigger deal than anything she’s ever done before, it’s her “official” transition into a genuine mainstream pop player. It’s a honest, slow-burning and an extremely therapeutic body of work, in which Kacey‘s delivery is quietly confident throughout, blooming at its own leisurely strut, swaying between casual confessionals and songs about love. The very sound of Golden Hour is warm and enveloping, kind of like a setting sun – but the album sticks with you because the songs are so smart, clever and sweetly blissful. There are no mistakes on this album. Everything works and everything is perfection. Kacey Musgraves has knocked it out of the park with this effort and has perhaps cured my anxiety forever (or at very least, provided the perfect antidote). Highlights: “Slow Burn,” “Butterflies,” “Oh, What a World,” “Love Is a Wild Thing,” “Happy & Sad,” “High Horse” and “Rainbow.”

Honorable Mentions: Zayn – Icarus Falls, Rhye – Blood, Emily Warren – Quiet Your Mind, leuan – Over the Graden Wall, Lauv – I met you when I was 18, Ralph – A Good Girl, Bebe Rexha – Expectations, Clean Bandit – What Is Love?, Sabrina Carpenter – Singular Act I

from Jon ALi's Blog http://jonalisblog.com/2018/12/27/jon-ali-presents-the-top-50-albums-of-2018/

[realmonstersrp]

❛ each time i tell you those three words, i mean them more and more… we dem boys.

INTRODUCING JUNG HARIM, OUR NEWEST STUDENT WITH THE POWER OF ELECTROKINESIS.

WELCOME TO GUMI INTERNATIONAL SCHOOL FOR THE POWERED.

WHO ARE THEY?

PERSONALITY

(+) unreserved, fearless, nonjudgmental (–) blunt, reckless, headstrong

BACKGROUND

SIN

on colder days, his mother will draw him close, flames licking the worn-out ashes of newspaper clippings gathered in a make-shift fireplace.

she will say:

this is who you were meant to be—

a stupid, reckless, lion-hearted boy, feet stumbling over each other in the overeager pursuit of something greater. the sky will tail after him, the wind whistling in laughter as he chases—unknowing—and finds serenity in uncertainty. when the sun droops closer, curiosity dripping from the tendrils of its prominence, he will sate his curiosity by weathering the burn. the world may be a puzzle; he won’t try to solve it.

she will say, quieter now, expression tight as her palm hovers over his shoulder, recoiling when the faintest curl of static nips at her fingertips:

here is how you became another—

april showers tease dreary souls yearning for a reminder of the sun’s warmth. a dingy hospital groans when its halls are filled with a sob mixed with a scream. a boy is born. his father’s hands are clasped in prayer. please, the man whispers to a god that has turned away from them, have mercy on him.

she will say, hand folding into a fist, fist falling to her lap, gaze dropping from the curious tilt of his head to the chipped vinyl flooring:

god has not forgiven us yet. you, alone, are evidence.

REFLECTION

his parents remind him daily that he is an impurity.

the way lightning crackles from beneath his flesh in time with his pulse—it’s unnatural. and he believes them in spite of the way his sisters dart their gazes from looming crosses hammered into the brittle walls of their home to one another.

he is an impurity, an anomaly, just like his sisters. they are proof that god has found fault in their family and they are proof that the pearl-adorned gates of heaven are unyielding still.

in the quiet of his room, he bites back the untamed sting of electricity coursing through his veins, spends too many nights, eyes clamped shut, sweat a second skin as he digs his nails into the palms of his hands and prays to a god that has spurned him, begging for the pain to leave him.

“we’re not impure,” his eldest sister tells him one night, knees hugged to her chest as she reaches out, hand clasping his, gingerly squeezing the imprints his fingernails have left behind. his body’s trembling, a collapsing prison, and he wonders why striving to be holy breaks him from the inside-out, as though his skeleton was never meant to stomach sanctitude.

he’s hardly ten. his days are spent in cramped classrooms, idle hours wasted away by the strip of ocean forgotten by passersby—the only place that seems to take the jolts in his blood without asking for anything more.

sometimes, he wonders if he’d be any different had he been born in a different family, with a different name, with a different sin to call his own.

“we’re not impure,” his sister says again, slower. “the lightning storms you feel every night, the way water seems to fear you—you’re not impure.”

time passes excruciatingly slowly but the tremors beneath his flesh calm to stillness.

“we’re monsters. our only sin is challenging god.”

REPENTANCE

at some point, the prayers his mother and father hurl his way turn to gibberish, and this is the first time that peace comes to him with the intention of staying.

(i.)

"we’re kind of cool, aren’t we?” his best friend says, outstretching his hand to block the harsh sunlight falling in waves from above them. “not everyone has powers, you know? we’re the world’s exceptions.”

“huh,” harim replies, the bright pink bubble he blows a second after deflating almost immediately. “i guess. hey, you done with your wrapper? this gum tastes like rubber.”

(ii.)

when he comes from school, he heads straight to his room and slams the door shut before his mother has the chance to lift her head. there are times when she sits outside, murmuring broken apologies that crawl to him with weak insistence.

i love you, she says. i’m sorry, she chokes out. we’re just afraid.

(of who?)

we’re just afraid of you.

(iii.)

this is how it happens: the soccer ball flies into the goal. the people around him erupt into cheers. his heart nearly explodes from the adrenaline rush. a laugh tears itself from his throat. he turns to gauge the reaction of his best friend and sees, instead, the grimace on his friend’s face before he collapses to the ground.

this is how he tries to fix it: the ambulance is on its way, but he doesn’t know if time is on his side (it never is). the crackles of electricity emanating from the palms of his hands are promising, but the doubt at the very core of his heart swallows him like a shadow. even so, he stumbles closer, hands hovering over the slow rise-and-fall of a heart that ought not stop beating.

this is how he fails: THE PROGNOSIS OF HIS RECOVERY IS GRIM… HE’S CONSCIOUS AGAIN, BUT THE CHANCES OF PERMANENT PARALYSIS DUE TO IMPRECISE DEFIBRILLATION ARE HIGH…

(iv.)

if he is repenting, he is repenting not to god, but to the depraved force that brought him here.

(PENANCE)

there are nights when electricity pushes his body to the brink of paralysis. where there once was fear and bitterness, heartless prayer, there is newfound determination.

“i’m going to get better,” he announces one morning, the entire family gathered around the dining table for the first time in a long time. his parents gaze at him wearily, his sisters uninterested for the most part until he continues. “i’m going to gumi. if i can’t get rid of this fucking—”

“language,” one of his sisters warns.

“—if i can’t get rid of this impurity,” he continues, “then i’m going to tame it. i’m going to learn to live with it.”

his father parts his lips to protest but harim can see the way his mother’s eyes fall from his face to the scarred flesh of his arms, testaments to trials of endurance he’s throttled himself through over the years.

“okay,” she says before anything else. her fingers curl around the silver cross necklace dangling from her neck. “then we’ll learn to live with it too.”

APOSTASY

to become the version of himself that he most wants to be, he knows that there are paths that demand to be walked. and he’s an uncomplicated boy, a reckless sort that chases after dreams that haven’t quite become his. sometimes the wind whistles insistently after him, as though it’s chastising him, reminding him to reel himself back to rationality. the sky always falls behind him and he never thinks to look back.

he doesn’t want to climb to the top to look down at the world beneath him. he wants to climb to the top so that one day, when the sun droops closer, flame-lit coils thrashing about, he can swallow it whole and become the sun itself.

the world is a puzzle and he hates complicated things. so, he’ll solve it just to shatter it so questions of sanctity and existence never trouble him again.

WHAT CAN THEY DO?

ELECTROKINESIS, otherwise known as electricity manipulation, is defined broadly as the ability to create, shape, or manipulate electricity, which is a form of energy produced by the movement of charged particles. users of this power are capable of manipulating the properties of electricity, thus resulting in a wide range of applications, such as utilizing electricity offensively and defensively either through projectile bursts/streams or through the formation of constructs, absorption, generation, and negation. as a result of his power, being in motion not only produces kinetic energy, but electrical energy as well. electricity is quite literally inside of harim—and as a result, there are more times than not that he’ll accidentally shock someone if they touch him without prompting. his power source is in himself and any electricity he utilizes for applications of his power, if it is not readily available in the environment around him, comes directly from him. not to be confused with electromagnetism manipulation, harim’s power pertains exclusively to electrical sources within his vicinity or the tangible electrical energy within him.

OFFENSIVELY, he tends to use electricity in seemingly shapeless projectiles. it’s out of preference, but long-range combat suits him best and making constructs out of electricity (such as electrical swords, and other weaponry) are too close for comfort and also require more concentration to maintain.

DEFENSIVELY, he can utilize electricity to make a small, short-term force-field of sorts to deflect minimal attacks.

PASSIVELY, he is capable of absorbing electricity both from his environment and from physical objects or people near him. as a byproduct of this application, he is also capable of negating electrical characteristics of the source from which he is absorbing electricity.  

WEAKNESSES

GENERAL — (1) as a result of one of the primary sources of electricity being from within himself, harim is not immune to the aftershock of his power. he frequently experiences passing moments of a paralysis as a result of an over-accumulation of electricity inside of his body. this paralysis comes after an excruciating pain akin to being struck by small bolts of lightning all throughout his body. (2) once he’s out of energy, he’s out of energy. unless he’s capable of recharging from a physical source, the organic formation of electricity via his body’s motion is less effective after he’s depleted his energy due to the decreased physical condition of his body. he’s human and he needs to recuperate. 

TIME LIMIT — presently, his ability can be used continuously, without any breaks, for about thirty minutes offensively before he needs to recharge. defensively, he can manage about fifteen minutes of a steady electrical shield before it begins to crack. 

PHYSICAL FLAWS — exceedingly windy environments can not only negatively impact the accuracy of harim’s offensive attacks, but they can prevent him from maintaining any form of electricity for long due to the insulation that non-conducive matter such as air/wind (and rubber, silicate, etc.) create.

RANGE — electrical projectiles can be seen as being hurled, so in spite of the considerable range they might achieve, there’s an increasing lack of accuracy the further the projectiles are thrown. well-controlled offensive attacks can reach a distance of about twenty-five feet before becoming susceptible to mis-aim. 

DID YOU KNOW?

three of his teeth are ceramic crowns because he once got into a fist fight with a dude twice his size for making fun of his sister and got two-and-a-half teeth knocked out. he doesn’t like talking about it because it’s embarrassing, but if goaded, he will tell you that the other guy lost teeth and broke his nose. 

[realmonstersrp]

INTRODUCING JUNG HARIM, OUR NEWEST STUDENT WITH THE POWER OF ELECTROKINESIS

WELCOME TO GUMI INTERNATIONAL SCHOOL FOR THE POWERED.

WHO ARE THEY?

PERSONALITY

(+) Unreserved, fearless, nonjudgmental (–) Blunt, reckless, headstrong

BACKGROUND

SIN

on colder days, his mother will draw him close, flames licking the worn-out ashes of newspaper clippings gathered in a make-shift fireplace.

she will say:

this is who you were meant to be—

a stupid, reckless, lion-hearted boy, feet stumbling over each other in the overeager pursuit of something greater. the sky will tail after him, the wind whistling in laughter as he chases—unknowing—and finds serenity in uncertainty. when the sun droops closer, curiosity dripping from the tendrils of its prominence, he will sate his curiosity by weathering the burn. the world may be a puzzle; he won’t try to solve it.

she will say, quieter now, expression tight as her palm hovers over his shoulder, recoiling when the faintest curl of static nips at her fingertips:

here is how you became another—

april showers tease dreary souls yearning for a reminder of the sun’s warmth. a dingy hospital groans when its halls are filled with a sob mixed with a scream. a boy is born. his father’s hands are clasped in prayer. please, the man whispers to a god that has turned away from them, have mercy on him.

she will say, hand folding into a fist, fist falling to her lap, gaze dropping from the curious tilt of his head to the chipped vinyl flooring:

god has not forgiven us yet. you, alone, are evidence.

REFLECTION

his parents remind him daily that he is an impurity.

the way lightning crackles from beneath his flesh in time with his pulse—it’s unnatural. and he believes them in spite of the way his sisters dart their gazes from looming crosses hammered into the brittle walls of their home to one another.

he is an impurity, an anomaly, just like his sisters. they are proof that god has found fault in their family and they are proof that the pearl-adorned gates of heaven are unyielding still.

in the quiet of his room, he bites back the untamed sting of electricity coursing through his veins, spends too many nights, eyes clamped shut, sweat a second skin as he digs his nails into the palms of his hands and prays to a god that has spurned him, begging for the pain to leave him.

“we’re not impure,” his eldest sister tells him one night, knees hugged to her chest as she reaches out, hand clasping his, gingerly squeezing the imprints his fingernails have left behind. his body’s trembling, a collapsing prison, and he wonders why striving to be holy breaks him from the inside-out, as though his skeleton was never meant to stomach sanctitude.

he’s hardly ten. his days are spent in cramped classrooms, idle hours wasted away by the strip of ocean forgotten by passersby—the only place that seems to take the jolts in his blood without asking for anything more.

sometimes, he wonders if he’d be any different had he been born in a different family, with a different name, with a different sin to call his own.

“we’re not impure,” his sister says again, slower. “the lightning storms you feel every night, the way water seems to fear you—you’re not impure.”

time passes excruciatingly slowly but the tremors beneath his flesh calm to stillness.

“we’re monsters. our only sin is challenging god.”

REPENTANCE

at some point, the prayers his mother and father hurl his way turn to gibberish, and this is the first time that peace comes to him with the intention of staying.

(i.)

"we’re kind of cool, aren’t we?” his best friend says, outstretching his hand to block the harsh sunlight falling in waves from above them. “not everyone has powers, you know? we’re the world’s exceptions.”

“huh,” harim replies, the bright pink bubble he blows a second after deflating almost immediately. “i guess. hey, you done with your wrapper? this gum tastes like rubber.”

(ii.)

when he comes from school, he heads straight to his room and slams the door shut before his mother has the chance to lift her head. there are times when she sits outside, murmuring broken apologies that crawl to him with weak insistence.

i love you, she says. i’m sorry, she chokes out. we’re just afraid.

(of who?)

we’re just afraid of you.

(iii.)

this is how it happens: the soccer ball flies into the goal. the people around him erupt into cheers. his heart nearly explodes from the adrenaline rush. a laugh tears itself from his throat. he turns to gauge the reaction of his best friend and sees, instead, the grimace on his friend’s face before he collapses to the ground.

this is how he tries to fix it: the ambulance is on its way, but he doesn’t know if time is on his side (it never is). the crackles of electricity emanating from the palms of his hands are promising, but the doubt at the very core of his heart swallows him like a shadow. even so, he stumbles closer, hands hovering over the slow rise-and-fall of a heart that ought not stop beating.

this is how he fails: THE PROGNOSIS OF HIS RECOVERY IS GRIM… HE’S CONSCIOUS AGAIN, BUT THE CHANCES OF PERMANENT PARALYSIS DUE TO IMPRECISE DEFIBRILLATION ARE HIGH…

(iv.)

if he is repenting, he is repenting not to god, but to the depraved force that brought him here.

(PENANCE)

there are nights when electricity pushes his body to the brink of paralysis. where there once was fear and bitterness, heartless prayer, there is newfound determination.

“i’m going to get better,” he announces one morning, the entire family gathered around the dining table for the first time in a long time. his parents gaze at him wearily, his sisters uninterested for the most part until he continues. “i’m going to gumi. if i can’t get rid of this fucking—”

“language,” one of his sisters warns.

“—if i can’t get rid of this impurity,” he continues, “then i’m going to tame it. i’m going to learn to live with it.”

his father parts his lips to protest but harim can see the way his mother’s eyes fall from his face to the scarred flesh of his arms, testaments to trials of endurance he’s throttled himself through over the years.

“okay,” she says before anything else. her fingers curl around the silver cross necklace dangling from her neck. “then we’ll learn to live with it too.”

APOSTASY

to become the version of himself that he most wants to be, he knows that there are paths that demand to be walked. and he’s an uncomplicated boy, a reckless sort that chases after dreams that haven’t quite become his. sometimes the wind whistles insistently after him, as though it’s chastising him, reminding him to reel himself back to rationality. the sky always falls behind him and he never thinks to look back.

he doesn’t want to climb to the top to look down at the world beneath him. he wants to climb to the top so that one day, when the sun droops closer, flame-lit coils thrashing about, he can swallow it whole and become the sun itself.

the world is a puzzle and he hates complicated things. so, he’ll solve it just to shatter it so questions of sanctity and existence never trouble him again.

WHAT CAN THEY DO?

DEFINITION

ELECTROKINESIS, otherwise known as electricity manipulation, is defined broadly as the ability to create, shape, or manipulate electricity, which is a form of energy produced by the movement of charged particles. users of this power are capable of manipulating the properties of electricity, thus resulting in a wide range of applications, such as utilizing electricity offensively and defensively either through projectile bursts/streams or through the formation of constructs, absorption, generation, and negation. as a result of his power, being in motion not only produces kinetic energy, but electrical energy as well. electricity is quite literally inside of harim—and as a result, there are more times than not that he’ll accidentally shock someone if they touch him without prompting. his power source is in himself and any electricity he utilizes for applications of his power, if it is not readily available in the environment around him, comes directly from him. not to be confused with electromagnetism manipulation, harim’s power pertains exclusively to electrical sources within his vicinity or the tangible electrical energy within him.

OFFENSIVELY, he tends to use electricity in seemingly shapeless projectiles. it’s out of preference, but long-range combat suits him best and making constructs out of electricity (such as electrical swords, and other weaponry) are too close for comfort and also require more concentration to maintain.

DEFENSIVELY, he can utilize electricity to make a small, short-term force-field of sorts to deflect minimal attacks.

PASSIVELY, he is capable of absorbing electricity both from his environment and from physical objects or people near him. as a byproduct of this application, he is also capable of negating electrical characteristics of the source from which he is absorbing electricity.  

WEAKNESSES

GENERAL — (1) as a result of one of the primary sources of electricity being from within himself, harim is not immune to the aftershock of his power. he frequently experiences passing moments of a paralysis as a result of an over-accumulation of electricity inside of his body. this paralysis comes after an excruciating pain akin to being struck by small bolts of lightning all throughout his body. (2) once he’s out of energy, he’s out of energy. unless he’s capable of recharging from a physical source, the organic formation of electricity via his body’s motion is less effective after he’s depleted his energy due to the decreased physical condition of his body. he’s human and he needs to recuperate.

TIME LIMIT — presently,his ability can be used continuously, without any breaks, for about thirty minutes offensively before he needs to recharge. defensively, he can manage about fifteen minutes of a steady electrical shield before it begins to crack.

PHYSICAL FLAWS — exceedingly windy environments can not only negatively impact the accuracy of harim’s offensive attacks, but they can prevent him from maintaining any form of electricity for long due to the insulation that non-conducive matter such as air/wind (and rubber, silicate, etc.) create.

RANGE — electrical projectiles can be seen as being hurled, so in spite of the considerable range they might achieve, there’s an increasing lack of accuracy the further the projectiles are thrown. well-controlled offensive attacks can reach a distance of about twenty-five feet before becoming susceptible to mis-aim.

DID YOU KNOW?

three of his teeth are ceramic crowns because he once got into a fist fight with a dude twice his size for making fun of his sister and got two-and-a-half teeth knocked out. he doesn’t like talking about it because it’s embarrassing, but if goaded, he will tell you that the other guy lost teeth and broke his nose.