#LA wild fire relief efforts

[amberaddict]

Amber Benson to hold a virtual autograph signing via online platform Streamily.

This will take place on Friday, the 17th of January with all proceeds being donated to the Los Angeles wildfire relief efforts.

For more details click the link below. Please share the link as this is for a very important course. ⬇️

[gazelonger]

the volume of the universe

As much as Buck loves his job, some days are better than others. And this one—this one was plain bad.

Call after call, no food in his stomach, a literal drop of coffee that had scorched his tongue and didn’t give him even the slightest burst of energy he had hoped it would—Buck couldn’t wait for it to be over.

Even though Eddie has been unbearably righteous, Buck would have to agree with him; the last call was superbly boring compared to everything else.

And as much of a reprieve it had been, something about it left Buck thinking it was a bad sign. It didn’t help him feel any more settled than he was before—if anything the complete opposite—and he can’t sit still when they all clamber back into the cabin.

The jinx definitely had not gone away.

The universe does not scream, Eddie says, and there is a sudden, raw dryness in Buck’s throat and a deep chill in his bones. He doesn’t have long to think much about it beyond vaguely wondering if he’s developing a cold before the wind blows sparks from the live power pole leaning against the ladder truck, and Buck’s attention is drawn elsewhere.

It isn’t until later, until his eyes are scanning, unseeing, over some page in the book in his lap that his therapist assigned to him, that he’s replaying the conversation in his head and reminded of what Eddie said. Of how his body had reacted to it.

Out of everything that had been said in the cabin, that one bit of it affected Buck more than anything else, even more than the potentiality of almost being electrocuted to death. But it’d been hours since then and Buck can’t shake it.

It makes sense that it would elicit a reaction from him, he supposes.

For as long as Buck could remember, he had been keenly aware of the universe and its workings.

(Keep reading here or on AO3)

His mother’s shrill voice and his father’s misleadingly paternal one had reminded him time and again that the world is an uncertain place. He’d been told since he was young that he needed to look after himself because no other person could do it for him, let alone the universe.

Early on, the warning accompanied some form of coddling as the stern reminder that Buck probably could have stood to listen to. And it did work the trick for a little while; or it certainly used to scare the hell out of him, at least. Used to make him look both ways before crossing empty streets, made him scan people up and down in the halls at school for some imperceptible threat that was never there.

Eventually, though, Buck forced himself to swallow that fear. More than he needed to look after himself, he needed his parents to give him some kind of attention. Some kind of recognition that he existed. He needed it like he needed air to breathe, and all regard for his personal safety could come later.

Maddie was gone and there was no one to talk to, no one to get him out of his head when he got stuck there for too long, no one to even look at him. The house was too quiet without her. It was too empty. It was almost like he could feel himself disappearing.

And his parents were too occupied with themselves to appreciate Buck’s efforts to heed their advice, anyway, so there wasn’t really a point in continuing to do so. ��

Buck missed the attention that getting into trouble would guarantee him, missed the fond exasperation and the headshakes paired with tight-lipped smiles.

And so he started acting out again, and the warning came back as he expected it would. But the resigned expressions of worry and love didn’t. In their place was a convoluted, angry, wild type of hurt directed towards Buck that he could never wrap his head around.

The world is an uncertain place, they would yell. What used to be a reminder that he should be more careful steadily became a furious, desperate plea for Buck to stop putting himself in death’s way.

But Buck didn’t care. Or he pretended not to—it was hard to tell sometimes. Regardless, he continued to tempt the universe.

He was messing with things that were bigger than him, that could have gotten him killed, and he was adamantly reckless about it.

It got to him every once in a while, how dangerous he was being. He was just a kid, after all; and he didn’t like getting hurt, he didn’t like almost dying. It left him rattled each time, left him shaking for hours and hours like he was freezing. Left him wishing he’d listen to his parents because maybe this time they’d be proud of him for it.

Even if he actively sought out the trouble—like the time he couldn’t get over his parents missing another football game and he taunted the biggest looking guy on the opposing team who then tackled Buck so hard that he had to be carried off the field—he would still feel unsettled and frustrated with himself afterwards. And it wasn’t because of the grade two concussion or whatever injuries he’d sustained.

He knew he was on a messy path.

So he tried to be okay with the hand he was dealt, tried to be okay with the fact that there was something about him that must repel his parents—that must have repelled Maddie. He decided to just keep his head low.

But no matter how actively he tried to stop seeking out trouble, it seemed to follow him anyway. Like a shadow.

Buck would be in class taking a test and his eyes would wander for a moment before he would get in trouble for cheating.

Or he would be riding his motorbike and would crash hard into a car that had run a red light—or maybe that he was too angry to see—and end up needing stitches.

Or he would spot a few guys from his lecture hall the money for a couple kegs and get blamed for the whole party.

(Or he would be sitting shotgun in the ladder truck before there was an audible BOOM , and he would come to pinned beneath it.)

Despite the fairly harmless ways he still acted out, even years after he reached adulthood, it was like the universe was finally getting its payback for Buck’s lifelong insolence.

Buck’s parents were only partially correct, he’d figured out. The world was an uncertain place. But it could be a certain place—if you learned to pay attention to it. And at some point, paying attention to the ways of the universe was necessary to survive.

Learning to respect it came naturally.

Even when he wasn’t actively seeking out trouble, when he wasn’t toying with fate, anything that happened to him was just what he had coming to him for almost three decades of unruly, disobedient behavior. Every heart-stopping, bone-crushing blow he faced was inarguably the universe’s way of saying this much is squared away between us, but we are far from even.

So after the day the one-eighteen had had, when they were sitting in the cabin and avoiding electrocution, Buck was practically thrumming with how much attention he was giving to everything the universe was saying to them. To him.

He knew that he tripped while he was booking it up the ladder on the first call because he was the one who had asked the probie the question which had triggered the whole day. It was the same way that, three years ago, the fire suppression system had been triggered on him because he was the one who had said the q-word.

It was, exactly as Hen called it, divine retribution.

The universe had a sense of humor, and Buck wasn’t deaf to it.

Eddie was, though. Much to Buck’s dismay.

Buck couldn’t stand it. It left him frustrated, his hackles raising and his words coming quicker and more clipped each time he spoke. Without realizing it, he was leaning forward in his seat, his hands gesturing as widely as they could without accidentally bumping against the window or the metal of the cabin or Hen sitting pressed next to him.

It was rare that he was the one to take something seriously while Eddie was the one to make a joke out of it, and Buck didn’t like the change of pace. Especially when it came to the universe.

The same universe which had crushed his leg, which had caused his blood to clot, which had put him and Christopher in the middle of a tsunami, was the same one that was not letting up on this day.

Why couldn’t Eddie see that, too?

That was hours ago, and the loft was quiet now as he, Hen, and Chimney read while Bobby tinkered around in the kitchen. But Buck is still thinking about it.

Buck knows that the universe can scream, knows that it is capable of doing far worse than screaming; he knows it like he knows the back of his hand.

But he tries to think about it from Eddie’s perspective.

Buck knows that Eddie is at least a little superstitious. All the remotes in his house still being in a basket on top of the refrigerator are proof enough of that.

But aside from that, Eddie has that medallion on him at all times like it’s a lifeline. And even if it really is just the reminder of Christopher being what comforts Eddie, Buck remembers the frenzied way he had scoured the floor of the locker room that one time it fell out of his pocket and he couldn’t find it right away. Remembers the blind panic in his eyes when he realized it was missing. Remembers the way Eddie’s body had sagged in relief and he brought the medallion to his lips and held it there after he found it underneath his duffle.

Buck also knows that Eddie likes maintaining control over his surroundings. He is proud of the choices he makes, he stands by them—like his choice to move himself and Christopher to LA.

He even claimed today not to worry about those things that he just doesn’t have direct control over.

Those things, Buck knows—even though Eddie didn’t say it—include Shannon’s death. Which, almost two years later, Buck knows Eddie is still struggling to come to terms with. Probably exactly because he had no control over it and couldn’t stop it from happening no matter how much he wishes he could have been able to.

So maybe the idea that some things are out of his reach, that some things are beyond his own will and happen for a reason, is too hard to comprehend.

Maybe, to Eddie, the idea that the universe is an active entity is too overwhelming a thought.

Overwhelming in the same way that it was to Buck when he was ten years old and couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze because he didn’t know what the world would do to him if he tested it.

So maybe Buck could be a little more empathetic.

But it just—it bothers him.

Underestimating the universe never ends well, and there is a tight feeling in Buck’s chest when he thinks that Eddie might be forced to realize that at some point.

The universe does not scream, Eddie had said. He had outright refused to believe that Buck was right.

The dryness in Buck’s throat is back, catching him off guard. A shiver runs down his spine and his fingers twitch against the page he still hasn’t read.

For the second time that day, Buck worries that he might be catching a cold. It was autumn, sure, but Buck just didn’t get colds. Irrationally he thinks it might be the virus, but he knows it’s not that, knows that a sore throat isn’t one of the symptoms and he can breathe just fine and he tested negative yesterday .

(He’ll take another one tomorrow, anyway. Just to be safe.)

Buck doesn’t understand what it is about the statement that leaves him feeling this way, leaves him feeling like he’s caught in the rain—

The rain. Screaming.

Oh.

Buck is stricken with a sudden memory of a cold shift from the year before. Of when they’d almost lost Eddie.

The storm came from nowhere and was gone just as quick. Buck usually liked the rain since it was so rare in LA—he didn’t like how it made his clothes damp and how it made his hair stick to his skin, although there is something different and less bothersome about it while he’s working—but on this day he hated it.

Or, well—no—he didn’t hate the rain, even then. He hated what it did to the earth. It soaked the ground through with water and turned it into thick and gooey mud. It had slipped through his hands like squishable sand, and had become packed deep beneath the surface, closing in on the well that Eddie was suddenly, horrifyingly, utterly trapped in.

The panic Buck felt in that moment nearly swallowed him whole.

And—as awful as it sounds—Buck isn’t a stranger to thinking the people he loves are dying.

He remembers the plane crash from his fifth month on the job. His SEAL training was the only reason he managed to avoid drowning in the unruly waves of the Pacific as he watched the remainder of the plane sink with Bobby still inside of it.

He remembers the silence over the radio when Hen didn’t respond during the earthquake. His jaw had locked into place and he was wobbly on his feet in a way that had nothing to do with the unnatural angle of the building.

He remembers finding Chimney lying on the ground outside of Maddie’s apartment. Chimney’s blood had pooled beneath Buck’s knees, the warmth of it seeping through Buck’s pants and his fingers where he held his hands over Chim’s stomach, staining his skin and his clothes.

He remembers miles of white landscape stretching out in front of him. The snow soaked his clothes and the soles of his shoes as he sprinted, his lungs burning, searching for any sign of Maddie. The sight of her stumbling hundreds of yards away with wet, raggedy hair and dark red all over.

He remembers the dread in his gut at the sound of a loud splash, turning around to see Christopher gone, having fallen into the water when the second wave came. Buck never saw Christopher come above the surface.

This, though. This was different.

Buck might have reacted the same as he did in some of those other situations, his instincts taking hold immediately and controlling everything he did. But he barely remembers the split second where he realized Eddie was trapped. All he knew was that he needed to get to him and then his bare hands were in the mud and someone was screaming.

Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! No! E-Eddie! Eddie, no! Eddie, no!

He didn’t realize it was him at first. Didn’t realize it until Bobby was pulling him back and he fell into his lap and started hyperventilating—sobbing, really—unable to breathe and the screaming had stopped.

(He wouldn’t have been able to stand if Bobby hadn’t grabbed him under his arms and hauled him up, all but dragging him towards the house to get his hands washed to give him something to do.)

But Buck had actually screamed himself hoarse. Woke up the next morning with a sore throat and everything.

Eddie never knew what happened after the well collapsed. Never watched the broadcast of it, not wanting to remember more than he had to. Buck couldn’t blame him; he never filled Eddie in on the details, either. It was too touchy a subject to broach, and, besides, Buck wasn’t too keen on wanting to relive the moment himself.

What happened to Eddie wasn’t fair. It shouldn’t have been him. The universe had no right to take him that day—and thankfully it knew as much, because Eddie had come back and was alive and made it home to Christopher and had spent the whole day today being a softcore bully.

The universe knew it wasn’t Eddie’s time. And while it might have been the one to send that lightning bolt down, triggering everything, it was just as responsible for spitting Eddie out of that lake.

Buck was sure of that.

So while Eddie might argue that the universe does not scream, he wouldn't know that Buck had screamed for it.

It’s at that point that Buck remembers that he is not, in fact, in the freezing rain. That Eddie is not buried thirty feet below him.

He is sitting in the loft in the firehouse. Eddie is in the bunks, probably sound asleep by now.

Buck swallows thickly, his throat still dry as his body recovers from getting lost in the memory. He shifts in the chair he’s sitting in and blinks rapidly, trying to clear the fog that has settled over his brain.

The loft is quiet. The only sounds to be heard are the occasional scrape of paper against skin as Chimney or Hen turn a page in the books they are reading, and the light tapping of metal as Bobby puts some leftovers from a dinner they finally had been given time to eat into tupperware.

It’s familiar, this, and it’s grounding in a way that Buck feels himself being steadily brought back to the present. Tension releases from his shoulders when he rolls them.

“You okay, Buck?” Bobby asks from where he’s busying himself behind the island.

Buck’s eyebrows lift, and he looks over to see Bobby watching him with mild curiosity.

“Yeah,” Buck says. He lifts his book off his lap slightly as if to say I’m just reading, and offers what he hopes looks like a reassuring smile.

Satisfied, Bobby nods, too, and then resumes whatever he was doing.

Buck takes a deep breath. He needs to actually read the book if he doesn’t want to be reprimanded by his therapist—which he doesn’t. He looks down at the page he was on, slightly regretting having zoned out. But he’ll be able to focus now, he figures.

The loft is quiet. Eddie is sleeping downstairs.

It’s almost a jarring juxtaposition from the rest of the day, where the universe hadn’t given any of them a single moment to catch their breaths. But maybe the jinx has worn off now—Buck can admit that he isn’t totally sure how it works.

Either way, something in his chest has been settled now.

The universe can be quiet, too.

[cherry-gemz]

The City by The Bay: Part IV

Summary: Fates push you and a handsome and known stranger into each other's paths. His chivalry and good looks make you take a leap into his world and more.

Catch up HERE

Pairing: Keanu Reeves x Y/N (F!Reader)

Word Count: 4k

Rating: Mature, N*FW, 18+ only please, TW Motorcycle accident

A/N: Was thirsty AF and ended up smutting this fic up 😂. We take a turn that I was not expecting...

A/N2: Excerpts from an interview are in bold, taken from here: https://www.keanu-reeves.net/post/162864242206/abdominal-scar-keanu-reeves-first-big-spill-came

Who might be interested: @whiskeyslullabye ​ @marissat1998 @aestheticallywinchester ​ @fookingbetch

************

It all happened so fast. The rain felt like pellets on your back and the wind sprayed the droplets onto your face, making the strand of your hair stick to your forehead. You had to close your eyes for just a second and that's when Keanu swerved out of the way as a black BMW ran the stop sign ahead. He maneuvered the bike as best as he could. With all his years of training, he was the best probability if ever you were to be in an accident. 

But as he jerked to the right, the slickness of the pavement made the grip of the tires useless and he lost control. 

"Keanu!" You yelled and held tight to his waist and buried your face in his jacket.

"Hold on!" He shouted back and slowed down as best he could. He released his grip and instead grabbed you into a tuck and roll. He grasped you in his possession and shielded you from the fall. 

You felt the impact to the ground instantaneously and prayed that the pain that seared through the impact would be temporary. You heard him grunt loudly as he took the majority of the fall for you. The scrap of metal reverberated in your eardrums and you grimaced at the thought of damaging his beloved motorcycle. The rain pounded harder onto your laying bodies on the street. You could hear cars whizz by and the splash from their tires against the curb. You were frightened, out of your element. But also reassured from his protection. He had given up the bike in efforts to make sure you were safe. You felt a sense of relief that he cared like that, but then also remorse as you were worried about his favorite motorcycle. 

He groaned as he held you tight, "Y/N? Are you okay?"

His voice shaken as you nod and sniff, the helmet heavy on your pounding head. He let out a sigh of relief. 

"What about you?" 

He nods, "Yeah...I'm alright." He groaned again and you could tell he was saving face. 

The two of you lay there for a few seconds and you hear people slowly approaching. 

"Omigosh, are you guys okay?" A stranger asks.

"That guy came out of nowhere!" Another pipes up. Keanu says you are and the tinnitus hits for a second and you're unable to hear what is going on. 

***

The garage door’s rollers rumbled as it closed and you both walked into the house, sheltering yourself from the downpour.

Keanu peels his leather jacket and places it in the foyer as well as his boots. You slip your shoes off and place your purse on a chair and slip off your jacket, laying it next to his. 

"This day is just out of this world," he says and shakes off the excess rain from his hair. He groaned as there's a stiffness to his shoulder blade. He massages it with his hand and tries to loosen the muscle unsuccessfully. 

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital? I'd feel a lot better. They could take a look at your shoulder and check for any internal bleeding…"

He shakes his head no, "It's okay, Y/N. I've been in far worse accidents in my lifetime. I'm just glad you're okay...I don't know what I'd do had you gotten hurt."

You smile slightly at his endearment, but feel guilty still. 

"And the bike, it's not too much damage?"

"Nah, just a little buffering out here and there," he replies as he holds his shoulder with his opposing hand. 

“Let me start a fire and give you some extra clothes. By this time tonight you’ll have gone through my whole wardrobe,” he jokes as you snicker. 

He gazes at you momentarily and you shiver slightly, springing him back to reality. “Be back.”

You nod and peer down the hallway admiring some architecture photographs of the house. 

You’re reminded this isn’t his actual house, that he’s most likely renting it while on his project, but you’re still enamored. You're still in his presence. No one will believe your serendipitous encounter with the movie star. It all feels like a dream anyway. You rub your forearm and try to gain some heat, but your jeans are soaked and it’s difficult to move around.

“Keanu?” you call out down the hall.

“Yeah?” he shouts back.

“Sorry, I’m just freezing…” you cringe and you feel like you’re being a nuisance.

He appears around the corner, changed into black sweats. He's kept his white t-shirt on from earlier and even though he's in a casual form, it's intimate. 

"Here, I found some extra sweats," he says and hands you a pair of grey pants. "Do you need a sweater?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty chilled," you reply as you accept the pants. "I'm just gonna go change, that okay?"

"Sure, by all means. I'll be in the living room with that sweater," he says and you turn around to go change your clothes.

*

A short while later you walk down the hall in his oversized sweats, still wearing his black shirt from before as well and you bite your lip from beyond belief that you're spending the whole day with him. 

You hear the crackle of the fireplace as you enter the open spaced living room. He's sitting on the leather couch facing the fire with a glass of red wine in hand.

He turns his attention to you as you enter, "Hey." He gets up slowly as you can tell he's in a bit of pain and hands you a black ARCH hoodie and a glass of red wine. 

"Thank you," you flirt as you pull the hoodie over your senses and are enlightened with the hint of his cologne: woodsy, warm, and ephemeral. You could die right there and be in bliss.

"Not too early for wine, is it?" He asks genuinely. 

"No, definitely not," you smile and bring the glass to your lips and take a sip. 

"Good, I think we deserve it from what we've been through."

"Thanks for this...and the fire. It's all very inviting."

"Of course. I'd be beside myself if you caught a chill on my account."

You nod and he ushers you to the couch, placing his hand gently on the small of your back.

"My sweatshirt looks good on you," he says and you notice some blood on the back of his shoulder blade. 

"Oh no, Keanu…" you say and place the wine glass on the end table. 

He takes a sip and looks back to you, "Yeah?"

"There's...there's blood on your shirt. You hurt yourself from the fall."

"Really? I didn't feel anything," he peers over and tries to take a look. 

"Do you have a first aid kit?"

"I think there is one in the kitchen…" he slowly gets up and you grab his forearm. 

"No, let me. You have given me enough hospitality to last a lifetime. It's the least I can do. Drink your wine and relax."

He grins and relents as you head to the kitchen. You rummage around and finally find a kit underneath the sink. 

"Alright, now are you going to be a good patient?" You say and cock your brow. 

"No promises," he laughs and shakes his index finger at you. 

You sit next to him on the leather couch, "Alright, let's see the damage."

He peels his shirt off from the collar as all men do, least they are aware of how sexy the act is. You try not to hitch a breath, but your eyes wander as the peep of his ab muscles are exposed and his shoulders are defined and hard. 

You see the cuts from his shoulder and open the kit for an antiseptic. 

"What's the verdict, doc?" He asks as he holds his crumpled shirt in his hand and drinks his wine with the other.

"You'll live," you kid as you grab a cotton ball and apply the antiseptic to it and lightly dab it on his cuts. 

He flinched slightly, but refrained from making any movements. 

"So tell me about your other accidents," you ask as you continue first aid.

"Hmm, well once as I was going through the canyon, I lost control and got this," he points to a thick scar rising vertically up his stomach.

You frown and continue to gently cleanse away the blood from his back. 

"That was in LA?"

"Yeah, I call it a demon ride. That’s when things are going badly. But there’s other times when you go fast, or too fast, out of exhilaration.” 

"Were you speeding? I heard that canyon has insane blind spots," you ask and add an ointment to his cuts.

"Heh, you could say so. The turn I hit was unexpected. I remember saying in my head, ‘I’m going to die.’"

"Shit, Keanu…"

He shakes his head,“I remember calling out for help. And someone answering out of the darkness, and then the flashing lights of an ambulance coming down. This was after a truck ran over my helmet. I took it off because I couldn’t breathe, and a truck came down. I got out of the way, and it ran over my helmet.”

"So why do you still ride?" You laugh. "That would have scared me for life."

"Well, it taught me something. Something not to do, y'know? Something that taught me how to react with what happened today? Today I leaned into the turn when the car came out and released the break. If I hadn't had that experience in the canyon, I wouldn't be the rider I am today."

"Well I'm glad you're okay...from that ride...from any ride you have trouble with."

"Thanks...I'm glad, too. While I probably have some wild rides left in me, I wouldn't ever want to place you in danger."

You both are still and quiet from his words. The fire continued to crackle and you looked through the kit for gauze and tape. 

You cough into your fist and are slightly embarrassed that he would say something so sweet as that to you. You hardly knew each other, but he had a sense of genuine care and kindness towards you. Your feelings for him grew, he obviously was very handsome and kind. But he had a sense of an old soul in him that you wanted to get to know further. You hoped in your heart that this wouldn't be the last time seeing him.

"I find your presence extremely comforting, if I can say so," he turns his head to you.

"Yeah?" 

You ask as you place the gauze over his injury and seal it with surgical tape. Your fingertips lightly graze the outer parts of the tape where it meets his skin and you savor the moment. "All done here."

"Thank you," he smiles and reaches for your hand. 

"I know we just met, but you're so easy to talk to Y/N. I know I have a persona that people see being a celebrity and all, but while that is a side of me, there are also other sides. And I'm not afraid to show them to you."

As he leaned in and turned his torso, it caught your breath. The first aid kit wobbled in your lap as you sat on your knees. 

"What I want to say is that, I like you...I think you're very beautiful and incredibly sexy…"

"Keanu…" you whisper as he continues closer to you. 

"Y/N...I'd like...I'd like to kiss you..." he turned his neck and looked into your eyes and then at your lips. He was so subtle in his movements, a gentleman. You nod, without having the ability to speak at the moment, and close your eyes as he places his lips onto yours. 

There is heat surging through your body; jolts of excitement and wonder encompass your surroundings. He cups your face with his large hand and you instantly melt. He tastes of wine and rain: two of your now favorite things. The unexpected feelings engulf your inner core and you want more. He invites your tongue and opens his mouth slightly, changing the sweet kiss with more intensity. Both of his hands cup your face now and your hand roams down his biceps to his torso. 

"This isn't like a normal thing for me," you say in a heavy breath as your lips separate from his.

"What isn't?"

"Kissing someone I just met…and definitely not this..." you gasp as he kisses the nape of your neck. 

You sit up slightly and the first aid kit tips over and drops to the floor. Unphased, you wrap your legs around him into a straddle on the couch. He's surprised by this move, but doesn't relent and lightly bites your bottom lip. His hands roam from your face down to your neck and you crane it back, giving him ample opportunity to relish the soft, sensitive spot. 

He does so and places his lips on your skin, making you moan his name. 

"I don't normally do this either...but I can't help myself with you," he says. 

His other hand continues down your body and through the thickness of his hoodie, he slinks his way under your clothes and touches your breasts. 

"Uhnnh…" you moan again and he watches your enjoyment from his touch. You quickly peel off his sweater and his shirt, allowing your breasts to be fully exposed to him. Your now slightly dried hair hangs over your shoulder and he brushes it aside, giving it a kiss. You close your eyes and relish the fact that he has his lips on you. Your senses are in overload and you’ve never wanted anyone more. In the moment there is lust and the excitement of pleasure you’re wanting to experience, so you decide you want to move further. 

He trails his kisses and peppers them over your collarbone to your chest, and you hold him right in embrace. You hand lightly grazes the recent bandage and you give it a light kiss. 

"Y/N," he rasps. "Do...do you want me?" He bites your lip and you roll your eyes back for a moment. 

He brings his face back to yours and you reply, "More than you know."

A huge grin escapes his lips and ignites a growl deep within him. 

"Thank God, I want you so badly," he rasps as he holds you tight against his body. 

"Where do you…?" 

He continues to kiss your neck and his hand drifts down to your center. The baggy sweatpants give enough slack as he dives his hand and inserts his fingers. You mew and hold onto him as he tenderly tours your folds. 

"K-Keanu…" 

"You feel so soft…" his ministrations ramp up and he enjoys watching you unfold. His deep, brown eyes locked into yours and you crane your neck back as he hits all the spots and encircles his thumb perfectly over your little nub. 

"Uhhnnn…" 

Your mind starts to spin as you let go any restraint and close your eyes as he pumps his fingers in and out. Things become a blur and a mix of sensation and pleasure intensifies; you grind against his lap and can feel his excitement grow and it only turns you on more.

“I-I’m…” you stutter as you’re close to climax and then he slowly releases his fingers. “Why are you stopping…?”

"Can I taste you?" 

Never in a million years you thought you'd ever hear him say those words. It startles you and you freeze, brushing your hair away from your face to gain composure. He plants more kisses on your chest and cups a breast in his hand. 

"Let me taste you, Y/N. I want to taste you…" he whispers and begs. The heat between you two is almost unbearable. He's ignited something within your core and you want him, you need to give into your desires or you might explode. Wild, breathless kisses are exchanged and provide ample savour.

“Yes, please,” you ask and you unhook your legs as he gently lays you back on the couch. He kisses your taught stomach and runs his large hands over your hips until he finds what he is looking for. He hooks your thigh over his good shoulder and buries his face between your legs. You buck your hips from the intense sensation of his tongue and scream out his name as the rain and thunder roll outside. 

*

After what feels like an outer body experience, you are able to finally breathe and lay on the couch in disbelief. 

He smiles with a cocky grin and gets up to clean his face. You rub your eyes and stretch your toes. It had been awhile, well maybe never to have experienced that sense of euphoria. He was attentive in all the right places and relished at the fact that he loved the taste of you. You discreetly blush and reach for the throw blanket to cover up. 

As you sit up, he returns with the bottle of wine and tops your glass off. 

“Thank you,” you say and make eye contact. “And thank you…”

He chuckles and kisses you tenderly on the lips. 

“I should be thanking you, I very much enjoyed it, too.”

“I can thank you in other ways, you know,” you purr and run your fingers through your hair. 

He waggled his eyebrows, “Is that so? I’d like to see in which ways…”

You take a sip of your wine and return it to the end table. As you stand, you let the throw blanket drop and expose your body to him once again. You’re braver now. What you experienced was an intimate moment together and your walls were down. You felt comfortable, sexy, and beautiful. You grab his hand to pull you closer and passionately seal your lips on his. 

He responds and holds your neck with his hand, while the other hand grabs one of your globes. His kiss is fervent and heeding; his lips are insatiable and the tongue explores your mouth. You open your eyes and as does he, with one swift motion you jump into his arms and straddle his waist. He grasps you by your inner thighs and walks down the hall to his bedroom. 

*

He carries you into his room and his kisses become sloppy and wet, it’s a hunger that you can tell burns within him. 

As he lays you on the bed, he trails his lips to your ear lobes and sucks on it and your eyelids flutter. 

“Keanu…” you breathe heavily as you display your sex on his bed. 

He quickly slips his pants and boxers off and you reach for his hard member and stroke it within your fingertips. He’s soft to touch and large in a way that you anticipate pleasure that will come. He grunts in approval and bites your neck softly. 

“Y/N...I want all of you...you’re so beautiful. What do you want, baby?”

You practically orgasm at the sound of him calling you baby and you moan in approval as he delves two digits into your folds. 

“I want you, too, Ke…”

He smiles, “Ke...I like that. I like you...a lot. I want you to scream my name just like that.”

You nod as he pumps harder and tantalizes your clit, sending waves of intensity all over your body. 

“Oh, yes! Ke!”

“Do we need protection, baby?” He asks earnestly and you shake your head no. 

“IUD,” you state in a breath and he nods in approval. 

He releases his fingers and you whimper softly as he slowly rubs his cock along your wet lips. 

“Uhhh, yes…” you moan and he watches the way your silky entrance throbs for him. He rubs his head in and out and you cannot take the heat that is building up inside you. 

“Baby…” you rasp and writhe as he teases you in the most sexy way. He enjoys unraveling you, the thought that he can make you unfold in his hands is his own viewing pleasure. 

He cascades his hand to your hip and then hooks your leg over his shoulder, giving him full access to his prize. He continues to rub his thumb over your clit and then with a few thrusts, inserts himself in you. Your eyes widen as your walls stretch for him; it takes a few seconds to completely allow him to go deep, but he’s given plenty of foreplay and pleasure that you invite all of him to enter you. You arch your back in agreement with his thrusts and you both moan in pleasure. 

“Ke…” his name rolls off your tongue as he picks up his pace and thrusts harder. He leans over you, still holding your leg on his shoulder and kisses your calf tenderly. It’s a beautiful moment and you love how he caresses your leg, all in while thrusting in and out in a rhythmic game. He holds your ankle and continues his kisses until you pull him to you and plant your lips on his. 

“C’mere,” you coo and rake your fingers through his hair. Besides the few grunts you both make while becoming one, the rain hits the window pane and is seared in your memory. 

“I love your breasts,” he says as he watches them playfully bounce with his set pace of thrusts. 

You cock your brow and cup them in your hand, “Do you?” you ask devilishly and massage them as his mouth widens in a state of complete adoration. 

“That’s not fair, let me…” he responds and replaces your hands with his mouth. His thrusts become faster and harder, each time stretches your walls and the euphoria kicks in. 

"Keanu…!" 

You shout and let go all inhibitions as your toes curl in utter bliss. Your walls tighten further and your body shakes as he rides you through, a tidal wave of pleasure surges your body. 

 He holds the small of your back as you arch yourself on the bed and murmurs praises into your shoulder as he comes and releases himself. He crashes his lips onto yours and stays in you as you both recover. He brushes your hair away from your face and looks deep into your eyes and smiles. 

"That was amazing," he grins and slowly pulls out. He collapses next to you and breathes in heavily. "Are...was everything alright?"

You giggle at his concern, "It was far better than alright. It was perfect."

He rolls to his side and props his head with his bicep. You cuddle yourself next to him and wrap his grey duvet around your body. 

"You're pretty perfect," he replies. 

You blush and he trails his finger up and down the side of your arm.

"I was not expecting my day to be so damn fantastic," he laughs. "Who knew running into you would lead to this?"

"Me, too. I can't believe this all happened."

"But you're glad?"

"Of course," you reply and give him a kiss. He holds you close and doesn't let go. You both listen to the sound of the rain for a moment and relish being in each other's arms. You're enjoying how he is so intimate and appreciates a cuddle afterwards. 

He kisses your forehead, "I'm going to go get the wine. Do you want anything?"

"Hmmm...I'm kind of hungry."

"What? You are? We just ate!" He laughs. 

"Well I mean, you made me work up a sweat!"

"Okay, okay," he says and holds up hands. "Let me see what I can muster up. I think there is some imported cheese in the fridge. Maybe some crackers with the wine?"

"That sounds divine," you reply. "But let me."

"What? No, you're my guest."

"I insist, you have an injury," you say and place your hand on his chest, rubbing it in a circular motion. You point your finger to his face, "Stay right here. I have all day and intend to spend it in this bed, mister."

"Whatever the lady desires," he smiles and watches you saunter out of the bed. "Take that shirt if you want," he points to a battered shirt on the chair.

"Don't want me walking naked around your house?"

"There are a lot of windows," he laughs. You not and reach for the shirt.

"Be right back."

"Sounds good."

You give him a kiss and walk out of the room, knowing quite well his eyes are on you as you leave with just his shirt on. You realize your underwear is still in the living room and head over there before the kitchen. As you slip them on, you grab your glass of wine and sip it in a felicitous manner. 

You daintily skip over to the kitchen as you recall the past hour and you are cheeky and find yourself blushing. As you open the fridge, you spot the cheese and grab the bag and open it up to sneak a little piece. You hear the front door open and the ring that alerts when it does. You quizzically think to yourself why that occurred and you closed the fridge door to see a woman standing in front of you holding a manila folder. 

Your mouth stuffed with cheese you almost choke. She looks you up and down as you are wearing panties and Keanu’s shirt. 

“Um, who are you?” She demands and places her free hand on her hip. 

​

[haveanotherkpopblog]

Exquisite Horror

Part One of the Wild, Wild West

Pairing: Matador!Lee Hyukjae x Best Friend!You

Genre: Angst, Comedy, Fluff, Old West!AU

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Animal Cruelty/Murder, Unwanted Sexual Advances

A/N: Everything about bullfighting is provided by my Spanish class and the movie “The Book of Life”. I also know when Sabor A Mi came out, but I like it too much to care, so if it really, really bothers you, skip over it. :)

The sun beat down against the dusty field of a small town in Mexico. In the middle of the town was a giant arena. Inside the arena sat hundreds of Mexican citizens--gathered to watch the only past time they had in 1832: bullfighting. Men drank and cheered as the matador angered and tested the bull. Women fanned themselves as the sun caused sweat to drip down their foreheads. They watched in growing anticipation for the brave matador. Children ran through the stands, giggling and waiting for the event to be over.

In the middle of the arena stood Eunhyuk el Matador Incredible, one of the country’s up and coming matadors. Already his fanbase was huge, men and women alike cheered for him as he easily dodged the charging bull. He waved the muleta around, doing a dance where one wrong move could cost him his life. He didn’t worry though, he thrived on the adrenaline. His heart was pumping in time to the chants of his name. He smirked, doing a quick turn to wave at his adoring fans.

On the opposite of the arena stood the bull. Multiple banderillas were already lodged in the bull. All he had to do was successfully stick his sword between the bull’s shoulder blades. Taking a deep breath, sweat trickling down his forehead, he called the bull forth towards him. The bull, weak and angry, made one final charge.

Exhaling slowly, he lifted his sword before plunging it into the bull. The bull let out a loud groan before collapsing onto the dust covered ground of the arena. The arena fell silent.

Then Eunhyuk el Matador Incredible turned around, throwing his arms in the air. The arena erupted with cheers. Roses were thrown by young women, hoping to catch his eye. He picked one up, blowing kisses to his adoring fans.  He waved and grinned as he exited the main arena. Once he was away from the eyes of the spectators, he let out a long breath. He took his sleeve and wiped away the sweat from the sun and the adrenaline of the fight.

“That was quite a show you put on.” To his left was his best friend of many years: Y/N. She was leaning against the wall opposite of him, her face half hidden behind her fan. She was a young, beautiful woman. She wore a dress the same color of his brightly colored costume. Her hair is braided with flowers woven into it. She was a real beauty to behold, but to him, she was simply Y/N.

“You were watching?” he asked, although he knew she was. She had been by his side throughout his entire career, attending every bullfight and keeping a close eye on him for his dear mother. With her, he wasn’t Eunhyuk el Matador Incredible. With her, he was Lee Hyukjae, a silly fool who was a literal ray of sunshine in her life.

“Don’t I always?” she said, standing up. He smiled, not the smirk he gave his fans to woo them, but a smile he saved just for her.

Before more could be said, his manager appeared from one of the arena rooms. He was a short, burly man with absolutely no regard for Hyukjae’s health and wellbeing. Y/N didn’t care much for him, especially with his unwanted, much dreaded and disgusting advances. She fanned herself, hiding her disgust behind her fan.

“Eunhyuk! Tu fuiste fantastico! You were perfecto! This is only the start! Soon you’ll be traveling to España! Selling out arenas of thousands!” his manager said. Y/N could see the peso signs in his eyes. It disgusted her, but the look of unbridled joy on Hyukjae’s face forced her to bite her tongue.

“Do you really think so, Julio?” he asked. He stared at his manager with wide eyes. Y/N couldn’t bring herself to crush his dreams.

“Yes, Mijo. You’re a star!” he said. He patted Hyukjae on the back. “Get changed. There’s a big party to celebrate your big success. Don’t worry, drinks are all on you tonight.” He laughed, leaning back as if he told the most hilarious joke. Hyukjae chuckled while Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Aren’t they always?” Y/N chuckled at Hyukjae’s comment, drawing Julio’s attention to her.

“You should come too, Señorita. It could do you some good. You may even find yourself a nice man, no?” Julio checked Y/N out, his intent clear in his dark eyes.

“I’ll go,” she said, willing herself to remain calm. “I’ll go to support Hyukjae. Just as I always have.” She knew Julio wasn’t listening, but she wanted Hyukjae to know that someone would be there to celebrate him.

“Sí, sí, perfecto. I’ll see you soon.” Julio left and Y/N let out a breath of relief. She ushered Hyukjae into one of the rooms before Julio could come back and bother them more.

“Can you believe the size of that crowd?” Hyukjae said, moving to rest on the couch. The cool leather felt amazing against his burning skin. Y/N set her fan down and grabbed a cloth to dip into the bucket of cold water she had prepared before the fight. She wrung the excess water out before taking a seat next to Hyukjae. Cold droplets of water ran down her wrist as she began to gently rub his forehead.

The cloth felt amazing against his skin. Hyukjae let out a content sigh, letting her cool him down. This was how it always went. He knew that he could always count on her to be there to take care of him. Ever since they were kids, she had taken care of him. Their parents used to coo over them, convinced they’d be married one day. But after decades of their friendship, and with his career starting to take off, settling down was the furthest thing from his mind.

“All there to cheer you on as you dance with La Muerte. Me worrying over you is going to be the death of me one of these days,” she said. He smiled. He turned to his side, wrapping his arms around her middle and nestling his face into her lap.

“Mmm, but I’ll always come back safe to you,” he said, his voice muffled by the skirt of her dress. She sighed, running a hand through his incredibly soft hair. How she wished that truly was the case.

“If only it was just to me,” she whispered. He didn’t hear her and proceeded to fall fast asleep.

She woke him up a bit later to get ready for the party. She stood before him, already dressed with her hands on her hips. Her skirt was red with white flowers embroidered along the bottom. Her bodice was white with sleeves that exposed her shoulders. Her shawl was red with the same while flowers embroidered on it. Her hair was pulled back into a bun with red and white flowers artfully placed in it.

“How long was I asleep?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Two hours,” she replied. He let out a low whistle, taking in the amount of concentrated effort she put into her outfit. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, now get up. Unless you want Julio coming in and getting you dressed.” He made a disgusted face, making her giggle. She gestured to the suit she laid out before stepping out of the room to give him privacy. She held her hand to her chest, her cheeks burning. She bit her lip, bringing her hands to her cheeks in a futile attempt to cool them down.

Inside the room, Hyukjae was putting on his suit, thinking how cute it was that his suit complimented Y/N’s. White slacks paired with a red buttoned shirt. Along the seam of the slacks were red flowers that matched the ones on her skirt. She was always doing cute stuff like that and he loved their matching best friends outfits. He stepped out once he was finished getting ready, offering her his arm.

Surprise, surprise when they walked into the bar and everyone greeted them with a loud cheer. The bar had a musty smell to it and chipped tables and countertops. The stools were covered in leather that was cracked. Outside of the musty smell, it also was heavy in the scent of alcohol, making Y/N gag behind her fan.

Julio greeted them by stumbling from the bar, a glass of whiskey in his hand, its content sloshing all over the place. “Eunhyuk! El Matador! Incredible!” he shouted, stumbling in a zigzag line. Hyukjae embraced his manager, patting his back. “You. Are. Amazing! You are fantastico!” He pulled Hyukjae down to his level, singing a tune too old for either Y/N or Hyukjae to know. He pulled him away from Y/N, dragging him into the crowd of people. Y/N watched with a sad look on her face.

Hyukjae stood in the middle of the crowd, waving and smiling as everyone called his name. Glass after glass filled with top shelf whiskey was thrusted into his hand. The burning liquid traveled down his throat and set a fire in his stomach. Gorgeous women surrounded him, their breasts popping out of their corsets as they leaned in close to him, giggling and batting their eyelashes.

Y/N sat at the bar, sipping on a glass of water and keeping a sharp eye on Hyukjae. She watched in disgust and anguish as he flirted with the women who surrounded him, captivated by their voluptuous assets. She let out a sigh, staring into her clear glass and seeing a blurry reflection of herself.

“Why so blue, Señorita?” She had to physically restrain himself from rolling her eyes into the back of her head. “You should be having fun,” Julio said. He sat on the stool next to her, leaning in far too close for her comfort. His breath reeked of alcohol, making vomit rise to the back of her throat.

“Forgive me Señor, but this isn’t exactly my type of fun,” she said. She glanced back over to Hyukjae who was still preoccupied with the dozens of women that surrounded him. She bit her tongue, turning to face the bar.

“No. Of course not. You prefer… more private fun,” he slurred. He placed a hand on her knee, making her jump. “You know, I’m more fun in private too.”

From his seat, Hyukjae noticed the girls around giggling and not hanging onto his every word. “What’s so funny?” he asked, taking a sip from another whiskey that had been handed to him. “Pay attention to Oppa.” They pointed to the bar where Y/N was currently sitting. Julio was next to her, dangerously close. She seemed severely uncomfortable

“The poor thing. Imagine only attracting men when they’re drunk,” the girls laughed. He ignored the girls, keeping a narrowed gaze on them and watching as Julio placed his hand on Y/N’s knee. Standing up, the girls began to whine about where he was going. They grabbed onto his hand, desperate to keep him with them. He brushed them off, making a beeline for Y/N.

He moved into the small space between her stool and Julio’s. He knocked his manager’s hand off her knee, startling both her and Julio. He towered over her protectively, his body incredibly close to hers. She stared up at Hyukjae, thoroughly confused. He ran a hand through his hair, offering her a lopsided grin.

“Wanna get outta here?” he asked. Immediately she smiled, holding out her hand.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the bar and away from a drunk Julio and quite a few peeved women. They ran through the town, laughing all the way. The roads were empty for the night. They didn’t stop until they were in a field far away from the noise of the town. Both of them collapsed onto the soft grass, giggling like a couple of children.

A cool breeze passed through the field. Y/N wrapped her shawl around her tighter, shivering slightly. Hyukjae scooted closer to her, pulling her into his side. They laid in complete silence, staring up at the twinkling stars.

“Tell me a story,” he whispered into her hair. She smelled like the flowers that had fallen out of her hair when they ran. She pointed to the stars above her.

“Do you see the three stars that form a sort of straight line?” she asked. He hummed, pulling her closer to him and snuggling against her.. He was always a cuddly drunk. “Well, that forms the belt of Orion. And the legend behind him starts with his birth.

“He was the son of the god Poseidon and Euryale, daughter of King Minos of Crete. Thanks to his father, Orion had the ability to walk on water, which is how he reached the island of Chios. There, after drinking too much, he made sexual advances to Merope, the daughter of the local king. King Oenopion had him blinded and removed from the island. Blind Orion reached the island of Lemnos, which was the place where god Hephaestus had his forge. Helped by Hephaestus and his servant Cedalion, Orion reached the East where the sun god Helios restored his eyesight.

“However, his lesson was not learned. He ended up falling in love with the fertility goddess Artemis. He challenged her archery skills and even attempted to rape her. For his crimes, she sent a scorpion to kill him. Successful in his feat, he was killed as well. Poseidon placed his son in the sky and Artemis placed the Scorpion on the other side as a reminder to humans to be wary of their arrogance and pride. As the hunter sets in the west, thus rises the scorpion from the east.”

From beside her, she could hear Hyukjae’s soft snores. Giggling softly, she threw her shawl over him as well, staring at the face she could slightly make out in the dark. Carefully she let her hand gently caress his face, outlining the features she saw often in her dreams. Letting out a sigh, she rested her head atop of his, feeling his soft breathing tickle her neck. She closed her eyes, savoring the soft, quiet moment.

The next morning, Hyukjae awoke in his inn room. He didn’t remember how he got there, or much of the night for that matter. The last thing he remembered was being surrounded by a bunch of people at the bar, then everything goes fuzzy. What wasn’t fuzzy was the pounding headache in his skull. He groaned, rubbing his throbbing temples. He noticed a tall glass of water next to his bed along with a note written in what he recognizes as Y/N’s handwriting.

“Good Morning Sunshine,

I hope you slept well. If I’m correct, which I usually am, you should be waking up just before noon. Lunch will be delivered to the room shortly. Eat quickly and come to the ring. You have to practice before your big night tomorrow! I’ll be in town if you need anything, or want to ditch practice. (Don’t. This is your dream. Even if it’s murder.)

Love,

Y/N”

Hyukjae didn’t bother trying to read the scratched out line. If it had been important, she would have rewritten it. And just as she predicted, outside the clock struck noon. There was a soft knock on his door and a young boy entered carrying a tray. He set the tray down and quickly left. Hyukjae couldn’t help but smile. She knew him so well.

He quickly ate his lunch before making his way to the arena. Julio was already there, nursing a hangover. He glanced up, eyes squinted as he stared at Hyukjae. Hyukjae nodded, staring around the arena. It was completely empty, save for him and Julio. He held onto his muleta, pretending the arena was full and there was an angry bull ready to end his life. He chuckled at that thought, Y/N was starting to rub off on him. He began practicing, trying different lunging styles and hypothetical moves he could use.

Time seemed to be suspended around him as he lost himself in his practice. The sun began to set, painting the sky in darker hues of orange and yellow. Perspiration trickled down his face as he continued to practice, perfecting the moves he’d done a thousand times and incorporating his new ones. Only when he stopped for a break did he realize Julio had left.

Y/N had replaced him. She had ditched the traditional dresses she usually wore, opting for loose trousers and a loose shirt. One of his, he noticed. It’s the same type of outfit she wore when they traveled around. Her hair was loose, the wind whipping strands around her face. The setting sun gave her a golden hue.

He smiled, jogging over to her.

“Hola, how was your day?” he asked. She handed him a glass of water, a playful smirk on her face.

“Oh you know, I spent most of it out in a field. Exploring, enjoying the fresh air, seeing the wild animals. I found a free range farm nearby,” she said. “Scared a family and was almost shot.” He shook his head as she grinned. He took a gulp of the water before dumping the rest onto his face and hair. He welcomed the cool water, letting out a satisfied sigh. He used his sleeve to dry his eyes before looking at Y/N with a pointed look.

She stared at him in awe. The water glistened off his skin and hair as he stared at her with concern. Her heart beat widely in her chest, pounding like thunder and causing heat to rise to her cheeks. She turned her head away, trying to steady herself.

He grabbed her chin gently, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes went wide as she stared at him. “You need to be careful,” he said. He gave her a smirk. “You can’t yell at me for almost dying then get yourself killed.” She swatted his hand away, sticking her tongue out.

“Yeah, well, I’m smarter than you,” she said. His jaw dropped. An evil grin took over his face. “I don’t like that look on your face.” She eyed him wearily.

“What look? I don’t have a look,” he responded, slowly moving closer. She watched him take three more steps before she started running. He chased after her, laughing hysterically. She ran around the ring with him chasing her. She used the moves he used during his fights to dodge him. Only, she forgot that he used those moves and knows all the tricks. It wasn’t long before he tackled her. They both fell to the ground, but Hyukjae made sure Y/N fell on him so he wouldn’t accidently crush her. He was laughing uncontrollably.

“You’re the absolute worst,” she groaned. He giggled, lifting his head to stare at her. Their faces were centimeters apart. She stared back at him, her eyes wide and unblinking. He stared back, confused as to why she was so quiet. He sat up further, moving her so their heads wouldn’t hit each other. She coughed awkwardly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“There’s supposed to be another party tonight,” she said, staring at the dirt.

“Jinjjah?” he said, not paying much attention to her weird behavior. She hummed. “What for?”

“To welcome the other Matadors for tomorrow.” He pursed his lips, looking up at the sky. It was now a pinkish/violet shade. “I don’t need to be looking at you to know you’re pouting.” Her comment made him pout harder. She glanced up at him, chuckling. “So, are you going to the party?” He shrugged.

“Probably. I can’t practice anymore today,” he told her. She nodded. “Are you going to go?” She shook her head.

“You know I don’t like parties,” she said. “Besides, I want to be well rested for your big fight tomorrow. So I’m trusting you not to get wasted. Please get back to the Inn at a decent time to get some sleep. If you don’t, an angry bull will be the least of your worries.” He scoffed, shaking his head. He looked over to her smiling. She smiled back, her head resting on her knees.

He walked her back to the Inn, biding her a goodnight before he changed for the party. His outfit was more relaxed than usual. He wasn’t going with Y/N, so there was no need for him to wear anything special, even more so since it was a casual event. He pulled on black slacks and a black button up. He grabbed a jacket and a headband to hold his hair back. Once his boots were laced up, he made his way to the party.

When he arrived, he found a crowd of people standing outside, shuffling around. They spotted him and began to yell hurtful, cruel, and hateful comments at him. They called him a murderer, a disgrace, scum of the Earth. He pushed past them as they continued to yell at him and insult his integrity. Once he was in the safety of the bar, he brushed himself off.

The party felt different, Hyukjae noticed. He couldn’t seem to place why it felt different though. Maybe it was because everything wasn’t loud and outrageous, or maybe it was because of those assholes outside, or maybe, just maybe, it was because Y/N was back at the Inn fast asleep.

Swallowing thickly, he made his way to the bar where multiple matadors he recognized were seated. Trying to keep his wit about him, he took a seat near them. They waved him over, greeting him cheerfully. They engaged in blissful conversation about bullfighting, and Hyukjae felt his previous tension melt away. They gave him a shot of tequila. He promised Y/N he wouldn’t over do it, but he couldn’t very well turn it down.

A pretty young girl shyly approached him at one point, confessing of being a big fan. He smirked, offering her hand a kiss and wishing her a goodnight. She left blushing and giggling. The other matadors laughed, patting his back and making obscene comments. Then another girl approached. Then another. Then another. At this point the other matadors had stopped congratulating. Instead, they glared at him as women clung onto his arm, some as bold as to whisper their secret wishes to him. He amused each and everyone of them with winks and promises of visiting them.

Once his little crowd diminished, he glanced at the other matadors, eager to continue their talk about bullfighting. They were staring at him in disgust, hate very much evident in their eyes. Uncomfortable, he looked around the bar.

That was when he spotted his manager talking with a young guy he’d never seen before. Curious, he made his way over there. He took a seat at a nearby table, his back to his manager. He kept an ear open to hear what they were talking about.

“Are you sure I can be as great as Eunhyuk?” the young guy asked. Hyukjae smirked, taking a sip of his tequila. The kid reminded him of, well, him. He remembered almost saying the exact same thing.

“That guy? He’s a good kid, but he’s cocky. You--you are perfecto. You’re humble. You’re adorable. Women will fall at your feet for a chance to even talk to you. I’m telling you Mijo, you’re gonna be bigger than what’s-his-name. That I can guarantee,” Julio said.

Hyukjae clutched his glass in his hand. Tears pricked his eyes as he glared at the table. He slammed his glass down onto the table, storming out of the bar. He angrily stormed past the protestors, shoving past them. He ignored their yelling, storming out of town as tears fell down his face despite his efforts not to cry. He wiped them away angrily, glaring as he walked somewhere. He didn’t know where he was going, he just knew that he needed to leave that stupid town behind him.

The crisp night air nipped at his skin and dried his salty tears as he wandered the open grasslands that laid just outside the town. Everything out here was so nice and peaceful. He let the wind cool him down as his pace began to slow. He looked up at the stars. He watched as they twinkled above him, and immediately he spotted a row of three. Orion. Killed by a scorpion because of his arrogance and pride. Hyukjae let out a bitter laugh. Arrogance, pride, everything he had. Maybe this was his scorpion. Maybe this was the universe telling him he was arrogant and cocky and everything was going bad because he was bad.

He hadn’t meant to be arrogant. He had only tried to be the best he could. Maybe he deserved this. He left his best friend in a town that was awful and full of crappy people, and now he didn’t know how to get back. He sat on the ground, burying his head in his hands. He wallowed in self-pity in the silent night.

“Tanto tiempo disfrutamos de este amor.

Nuestras almas se acercaron tanto así.

Que yo guardo tu sabor.

Pero tú llevas también.

Sabor a mí.”

He lifted his head up from his hands, looking around the field. He could have sworn he had heard someone singing. He listened closely to try hear where it was coming from.

“Si negaras mi presencia en tu vivir.

Bastaría con abrazarte y conversar.

Tanta vida yo te di.

Que por fuerza tienes ya.

Sabor a mí.”

He stood up, wiping his eyes. He began walking towards where he thought the voice was coming from. He didn’t know who he’d find, but maybe they could lead him back to town.

“No pretendo ser tu dueño.

No soy nada yo no tengo vanidad.

De mi vida doy lo bueno.

Soy tan pobre, qué otra cosa puedo dar.”

Up ahead he spotted a figure surrounded by what seemed to be bulls. The bulls were laying next to the singing voice, a woman he’s deduced. The woman was sitting there, singing to them. He slowed his pace, curious as to what she was doing.

“Pasarán más de mil años, muchos más.

Yo no sé si tenga amor la eternidad.

Pero allá, tal como aquí.

En la boca llevarás.

Sabor a mí.”

He stopped a few meters back, watching her curiously. She was petting the bulls, singing to them as they drifted off to sleep. Her voice was pretty and Hyukjae felt himself beginning to calm down as well.

“No pretendo ser tu dueño.

No soy nada yo no tengo vanidad.

De mi vida doy lo bueno.

Soy tan pobre, qué otra cosa puedo dar.

Pasarán más de mil años, muchos más.

Yo no sé si tenga amor la eternidad.

Pero allá, tal como aquí.

En la boca llevarás.

Sabor a mí.”

She stopped singing but continued to hum, gently stroking the bull’s head. Hyukjae stared at her amazed, how she managed to calm such dangerous creatures was truly amazing. He cleared his throat so as to not startle her, but it was she who startled him. For she wasn’t the stranger he had been expecting to meet.

She was Y/N. She turned to stare at Hyukjae. He was in absolute shock. His best friend, his number one supporter, was sitting alone in the middle of a field, surrounded by bulls--not just surrounded by them, but singing them songs?

“Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said. She didn’t get up, instead, she continued to pet the bulls. One rested its head on her lap, staring up at her with big, dark eyes. She smiled, petting him gently and tenderly. “I thought you were at a party.”

“Yeah, well, the company wasn’t what I thought they’d be,” he said, a sharp edge to his tone. Y/N didn’t say anything. She patted a spot next to her and Hyukjae took a seat. She waited for him to explain at his own pace. He reached over to pet the bull resting in her lap. It let out a huff of breath, making him pull his hand back. She grabbed his hand back, guiding it along the bull’s head. The bull let out another huff, its eyes falling shut. “Julio is a jerk. He doesn’t care about me. All he cares about is how many pesos he can make off me.”

“When’d you figure that out?” she asked. She was agitated with that fool. She knew he’d mess up, she was just glad it hadn't cost Hyukjae his life like she had always feared.

“When he told some newbie kid that I was cocky and arrogant, and that he’d be bigger than me.” Y/N bit her tongue, willing herself not to go find him and cuss him out in every language she knew. “I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I’m such a babo.”

“Stop it.” Hyukjae turned to look at Y/N. She was staring directly at him. The look of distraught on his face broke her heart. “You’re not a babo. If anything, he’s the babo. You’re a smart, caring, passionate guy. You’re not cocky or arrogant. You’re confident, and why shouldn’t you be? You’re Eunhyuk el Matador Incredible. People travel from all over the country to see you.” He stared at her as she told him this. She was telling him he was amazin for killing bulls, as she sang to them.

“Why do you support me?” he asked. She looked at him surprised. Why would he ever ask such a ridiculous question? “You obviously care for these beasts. Why would you support their murder?” She chuckled and shook her head.

“Just like you aren’t a babo, they aren’t beasts. Like you, they’re living, breathing creatures. They have feelings and hearts that beat--just like you. Just because they aren’t human doesn’t make them ‘beasts’. But you’re wrong, I don’t support their slaughter for sport. I hate bullfighting, animals shouldn’t be murdered simply because they can be.

“But it was never about the bulls, it was about you. I support you. This is what you’ve dreamt of your whole life. I couldn’t and didn’t want to take that away from you. That’s why I attend the fights, that’s why I go to the parties, that’s why I followed you. Because you needed someone to support you.”

“You know, you’re kind of amazing,” he told her, a look of complete awe on his face. She let out a snort.

“Only kind of?” she teased. He watched her carefully. She wasn’t looking at him anymore. Instead she was staring up at the stars, watching as they twinkled and finding every constellation she could. She glanced over to him, their eyes meeting in an intense gaze. He felt himself leaning in, eyes gauging her reaction. She didn’t move towards him or away from him. She waited for him to move, watching him as he watched her.

Her eyes fell shut just before their lips met. He lost himself in her touch, her lips soft and delicate against his. After all the years they spent together, how had he never once kissed her? Why did he enjoy it so much? So many questions ran through his head. He grabbed the back of her hair, tangling his finger into her soft locks. She let out a gasp and he jumped back, worried he’d done something wrong.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at him. She didn’t know what to make of the situation. And quite truthfully, neither did he.

“I’m sorry.” He jumped up and ran away from her. Y/N tried to move with him, but the bull’s head in her lap made her struggle. By the time she stood up, he was long gone. She didn’t chase him, knowing it wouldn’t do either of them any good.

Hyukjae ran until he found himself back in town. He went straight to his room at the inn. He laid down on his bed as hundreds of questions ran through his head. Why had he kissed her? Why had she kissed him back? What did it mean? What was she thinking?

He rolled to his side to try and sleep, but sleep didn’t come easy for him. He laid flat on his back, his arm tucked underneath his head as the kiss replayed in his head over and over again. No matter how hard he tried to push his thoughts out of his mind, he simply couldn’t. And when the sun began peaking over the horizon, filtering through his dusty window, he gave up any hope of trying to sleep.

He splashed cold water onto his face, desperately trying to bring some type of life to his face. There was a knock at his door, startling him. He turned to it anxiously, beckoning the person in. There was a slight disappointment when a young boy opened the door, carrying a silver tray with a cup on it. The boy set the tray on the nightstand and left quickly. Hyukjae sighed, grabbing the cup and taking a sip. He stopped, staring down at the cup. It was coffee. Coffee that was made just how his mother used to make it.

On the tray sat a note. On the note was handwriting he knew all too well. He couldn’t bring himself to read the note, and instead set the coffee down. On a nearby chair was his outfit. It was dark blue with gold designs sewn into the suit. It was Y/N’s favorite and he promised to wear it today. Biting back a sigh, he began getting ready for his fight.

The arena was packed. Hundreds of Mexican citizens gathered to watch the bullfight. Hyukjae stood out of their view, but he could hear them screaming and chanting and cheering. He listened as they chanted his name, but it didn’t fill him with excitement like it used to. It didn’t amp him up and get  his adrenaline pumping. Instead it filled him with a sense of dread.

Julio came barreling down the hallway, a bounce in his step as he approached Hyukjae. It took all of Hyukjae’s might not to punch his bastard of a manager square in the face. Julio paid no mind to his rigid stance, instead going over to look out over the crowd.

“This is it Mijo. If you do well in this fight, your next fight could be in Espana!” Julio said. While a couple of days ago, this would have made his heart soar, it now left a bad feeling in the pit of Hyukjae’s stomach. “Come on Mijo! Listen to the crowd! They love you! Now go out there and wow them!” Julio patted his back before he shoved Hyukjae into the arena.

The fans went wild. Men drank and cheered when he began to anger the bull. Women fanned themselves as the sun beat down on them, sweat dripping down their foreheads as they called for him. On the sides were the other matadors, curious to see why his fanbase was so big.

In the middle of the arena stood Eunhyuk el Matador Incredible, one of the country’s best matadors. Everyone was cheering for him as he easily dodged the charging bull. He waved his muleta around, doing a dance where one wrong move could cost him his life. As his fans chanted his name, he found his heart was not in the arena.

He did a quick turn and his breath caught in his throat. In the stand was the only and last person he wanted to see. Y/N sat in the middle, surrounded by random citizens. Her eyes were on Hyukjae, the rest of her face hidden behind her fan. The sun cast a golden halo over her, and Hyukjae wondered if she’d always been this gorgeous. She brought her fan down from her face, offering him a small smile.

He turned back to face the bull. Multiple banderillas were already lodged in the bull. All he had to do was successfully stick his sword between the bull’s shoulder blades and he’d be famous. He’d be in Spain doing the one thing he’s been dreaming of for years. Taking a deep breath, sweat trickling down his forehead, he called the bull forth to him. The bull stared at him with big, brown eyes, and he knew what he had to do.

The bull charged and Hyukjae moved to the side, letting it crash into the side of the arena. It shook its head and went to kneal, resting its head on the floor of the arena. There was a collective gasp from the audience. He threw the muleta down, turning to look at the crowd. They were staring at him in complete shock.

“Killing the bull is wrong!” he shouted. Everyone was silent as Hyukjae scanned the crowd. He found Y/N easily and looked at her. She was ginning at him. She stood and began to cheer loudly, earning a few disgruntled looks.

That was when everyone else started to boo. They threw their drinks at him and yelled curses at him. The other matadors snickered and pointed at him while Julio shook his fist from the side. He hung his head and left the arena. This was no longer a place for him.

He sat outside the arena, his head resting against the building as he watched the clouds above him. There were no thoughts in his head as the clouds slowly moved across the vast blue sky. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to be completely numb and sit here with nothing but the dirt under him.

“That was very brave of you to do.” As always, there was Y/N to comfort him when he needed it most. She’s always been caring and sweet to him, taking care of him when no one else would. A weird feeling bloomed in his chest at that thought. Was this… affection? Adoration? Dare I say, love?

“Yeah, well, now I’m out of a job, and the whole town hates me,” he said, pushing those dangerous thoughts from his mind. She moved to sit next to him, her skirt, the same color as his suit he noticed, spreading out over the ground.

“I don’t hate you,” she told him quietly. He let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his face.

“Y/N--”

“Listen,” she interrupted. She took a deep breath, going over the speech she had practiced a thousand times last night when she couldn’t sleep. “I know that a lot of things can happen while you’re ‘in-the-moment’, and I want you to know, you don’t have to stress about the kiss. We don’t have to talk about it or even acknowledge that it happened.”

Two hearts broke at that. Hyukjae looked down at the ground, flicking the small pebbles of dirt around. Y/N watched him intently, desperately trying to gauge his reaction. After a while he nodded, pushing down his own agony and putting her first.

“Yeah. That sounds like a plan,” he said. Y/N forced a smile, her heart shattering a million times over.

“YOU!” they both jumped at the sudden intrusion. Julio stood there, his fists clenched at his sides. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” He stomped towards them with pure rage in his eyes. He raised his fists, screaming curses as Hyukjae in Spanish. He was quick to get to him, but Y/N was quicker. She stood and landed a punch square across his jaw. He spun in a circle before falling to the ground. He laid there unmoving, and Hyukjae sat there stunned and amazed.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” she said as she shook her hand. She turned to Hyukjae and held out her hand. “Come on. We’re getting out of here.” Hyukjae took her hand, pushing himself up from the ground.

“Where are we going?” he inquired as he stepped over Julio’s, hopefully, unconscious body.

“Anywhere but here. You know, I’ve heard some interesting tales about the American west,” she said. He raised his brows. “A dangerous and wild place, waiting to be tamed.” She grinned at him as she pulled him along.

And that was exactly what they did. They “borrowed” two horses and started their journey up north to America. They traveled through many towns and were welcomed with warm arms. Many had heard of Eunhyuk el Matador Incredible and were excited to meet him. He reveled in the attention, but his heart simply there. For, unbeknownst to her, it laid in the hands of his best friend.

They rode until they came to a small town called Heartsease. It was a small town in the middle of nowhere. Nothing but dirt surrounded the town for miles. The sun sat high in the sky, beating them down with merciless heat. Sweat dripped down their faces and necks as they stopped at a nearby “saloon”.

“Can I help you?” A man with a cowboy hat and a shiny badge approached them, a hand resting on his holster. He paused when his eyes met Y/N’s, eyes glazing over slightly. Hyukjae clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to roll his eyes to the back of his head.

“Hola,” Y/N greeted. “My name is Y/N, and this is my friend, Hyukjae. We’ve been traveling for many days from our home country of Mexico. We were hoping you’d be so generous as to let us rest and refuel for a few days.” The man offered her a sweet smile.

“Of course! Please, make yourselves at home. I’m Sheriff Siwon. We have plenty of refreshments for you and an inn where you’ll be more than comfortable. Hae-won! Come here please! Allow me to introduce my sister,” he said. A young woman came forward. Her dark hair was pulled to the side to sit on her shoulder. She wore a black dress with a black corset tied to give her a desirable body shape.

“I’m Choi Hae-won. It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” she said, offering Y/N and Hyukjae a warm smile. If you have any questions, please don’t be shy in asking. I’ll gladly help in any way I’m able. Welcome to Heartsease, New Mexico.”

Tagged: @lavellanfriendliness​ 

[feuilly-cakes]

Eclipse - 3* Review

Alright, so, this book dragged on. Lots happened, but in my opinion it should have been split up, perhaps pre-graduation and post-graduation. I couldn't tell you what order most things happened, whether half the scenes were necessary, or whether I really enjoyed most of the book, because it was just so long. I can say I didn't hate it, and though I was wishing for it to be over by page 400 I knew certain points that were upcoming that had to happen first, so I used them as little goals to reach. For a first time reader I'm not sure how well the length of this would go down as the plot is a bit repetitive, with Bella running off to La Push, going back home, running off to La Push again, running off home, and arguing with Edward, arguing with Jacob, arguing with Alice, arguing with Charlie, arguing with herself... I'm simplifying of course, but it was really a bit long. Despite all this repetitiveness there was growth. This book was mostly about wrapping up old plot-lines and Bella working through her complicated emotions around being changed into a vampire and giving up her human life. Spoilers from this point on. Bella, in this book, has discovered she's not ready to be a vampire yet. Amongst being targeted by unknown vampire threats and her complicated relationship with Jacob, she feels "unease" at her impending deadline, only a few weeks away, after graduation. Edward, bless him, is really trying to convince her to go to college even for a year to give her time to make up her mind fully, but she's having none of it, while also having very real terror at the realisation that she will be leaving everything and everyone behind after graduation, only a week away at this point, to become someone bloodthirsty and wild. Emmett and Jasper have been taking bets on her body count, the news of crazed newborn vampires on a killing spree in Seattle has reached her ears, and she is Panicked. Adding to this, Edward wants her to marry him before he will personally change her, and later add the condition that he will only sleep with her as a human if they are married first. So she's not ready for marriage, not quite ready for vampirism, and her best friend Jacob is being mean about it all. It takes her nearly 400 pages to work through these feelings, and I greatly appreciated her arc in this book. It's very realistic to have these emotions right before massive life changes like marriage or eternal life as a creature of the night. When she is finally ready, she's ready for everything. Another aspect of Bella's story is her new knowledge of her selfish actions regarding Edward and Jacob and even Charlie. She feels very guilty about keeping Jacob around when she's chosen Edward, for both of their sakes, and also for threatening to move out every time Charlie is unnecessarily antagonistic towards Edward. It's a big step up from the last book, where she was constantly behaving badly, though she never acknowledges that Jessica is against her because of her own actions putting them both in extreme danger. Some Vampire things, including Edward, because he didn't really stand out much. -On Edward: He was pretty much obsessed with the idea of being a soldier when he was human. He said he was "too eager to be a soldier" for love. Edward is once more coded as Demisexual, obviously unintentionally, but I'm sticking by this one. He "wasn't the least bit interested" in Rosalie, when everyone else was, and in Rosalie's words, someone who has known him for 70-ish years: "he never wanted anyone" and "never showed the slightest preference" when meeting the beautiful Denali sisters. I will die on this hill. Edward tells Bella he actually wants her to be a vampire "more than anything" but feels that he's being selfish and so denies that wish, hence his being so against it. - Bella feels relief when Edward touches her, "as if [she'd] been in pain and that pain had suddenly ceased." This is either a Bella thing or a vampire thing, and one is more interesting than the other. - Jasper feels gratitude towards the Volturi for their part in keeping the Southern Vampire Wars in check. Bella doesn't understand how he could see them as the good guys, but there's definitely a middle ground to be seen. - Victoria has a babyish voice, "the kind of voice that went with blonde curls and pink bubble gum" and I still can't compute this information. - On Rosalie: She, like Bella, knew the Cullens as a human. She said she "never liked Dr. Cullen or his wife and her brother" because they were all more beautiful than her. She isn't actually that vain in current day, as after what happened to her she "began to blame the beauty for what happened" and wished she looked normal and not beautiful. As far as victim blaming, this isn't really the best point of view, but she goes on to describe how she murdered her attackers. It's still a harmful mentality to be sharing with a teen audience though. After explaining her history and her full reasoning for her dislike of Bella in the beginning and the reason for not wanting her to become a vampire, she apologises for her behaviour and they share a smile. Bella knows they aren't friends yet but they are on their way to not being against each other. It's a good moment of development that I missed in all my previous times reading. Onto the main differences to the films. - The terms of Bella's grounding are different. She must go home straight after school and work, but Edward is allowed over for a certain amount of time in the evenings. - After the Florida trip, Jacob calls Bella's house to check in on her and see if she would be at school the next day. Bella assumes it's to check she's still human. Jacob was checking to see if Edward would be there to talk to him about the treaty in a public area. Bella never gets on his motorbike. She goes to class and has a bizarre conversation with Edward. Her actual first trip to La Push happens a different day, as a split second decision after losing a shift at work, and she drives herself down quickly to avoid being caught by Alice. - The motorbike scene takes place on another day, with Alice as the vampire instead of Edward. Alice has kidnapped Bella to prevent her going to see Jacob when they made plans. At school he turns up and she bolts with him, then later has a fight with him and rides herself on her own motorbike back to Alice. She does take the bike back, after she makes up with Jacob, Edward buys his own motorbike and Bella realises that's weird, and Edward gives her a helmet and jacket so she can ride back on her own with him following for protection to the treaty line. - Jasper tells Bella his story at the Cullen house, in front of everyone, and explains the history of the Southern Vampire Wars in detail. - After getting back from the fight, Bella gets the story from Charlie's point of view. He heard howling, Billy was acting weird all day long, like he knew Jacob would get hurt, and when he was at Billy's he heard a wolf yowling in pain right outside, only for that to stop when Jacob starts swearing up a storm as he is carried inside. Charlie remains oblivious. There were several instances of creepy/gross behaviour, offensive language, uncomfortable situations, and straight up disgusting behaviour that I noticed. I should just call this Red Flags at this point. Let me count the ways, in chronological order. 1. Edward displays some creepy and controlling behaviour when Bella decides to go see Jacob and gets to her truck only to find Edward there and the truck missing a vital part. He refuses to allow her to go to La Push. Throw the whole man out. 2. One of Bella's school friends calls Jacob "the big Indian". 3. "You're kidnapping me, aren't you?"Edward bribes Alice into kidnapping Bella and guilting her into going along with her plans. 4. The bonfire scene. Stephenie Meyer made up those legends entirely, which begs the question: why not make up a whole new group of people to be werewolves instead of bastardising the belief system of a real group of people? 5. Jacob assaults Bella. He kisses her against her will and acts like he hasn't done wrong even after she punches him and makes it clear he's done something terrible. Trash. 6. In response to this information Charlie, a police officer and Bella's father congratulates Jacob and takes his side. He praises him for assaulting his daughter. ACAB. That's all I can say. 7. If the previous incident isn't enough, Jacob later threatens suicide to make Bella kiss him. For clarity: he threatens to kill himself to manipulate Bella into kissing him, then when he doesn't like the kiss he does it again to get a more enjoyable one. Kill it with fire, you disgusting future r*pist. I hate him here. Considering at the beginning he was defending Bella's right to choose and to know everything that happens that could endanger her, these vile actions are a huge departure from his character, and I don't know how we are supposed to believe the idea that he can go back to being the good, friendly Jacob who would never ever hurt Bella. None of that should have happened, and it was pure laziness that there wasn't a more believable reason to make them kiss instead of an assault and emotional abuse. It makes me so angry because when I hated Edward in New Moon his actions were actually in-character for him and made sense, but these efforts to make us hate Jacob and then forgive him are so out of character that its clear how Stephenie Meyer wanted the story to go, and she did a bad job of it. To end on a less angry note, let me slip in these little tidbits. Sam feels "betrayed" that Bella let the Cullens back into her life after they hurt her, and that information makes me want to know even more what went down at La Push in New Moon. Who was she close too? How close? Did Sam become friends with her or does he really know her through Jacob's memories? Also, Edward's been dropping hints about the Pack not being normal werewolves, so there's a bit of foreshadowing for Breaking Dawn.

[silver-wields-a-pen]

“Frost Bitten & Mistletoe Kissed” A “Guardians of Las” short

“I understand the concept,” Nyima stated, eyeing the tiny sprig of green leaves and red berries, with a cool expression. “What I don't understand is why anyone would bother.” Abaddon, Nyima and the other women were clustered around the table, sharing stories about holiday traditions. The half-bloods and Scyanatha gushed, sighed and melted when the topic turned to a tradition which stated that any two people meeting under a cluster of leaves and inedible fruit had to kiss each other. “Maybe you wouldn't be so disinterested if you happened to meet someone you were attracted to,” suggested Scyanatha. She didn't mention any names, but the Aos Si faery's smile stretched wider, as the blue in Nyima's cheeks deepened in colour. Solstice had come and gone and there was much that changed in the passed three days. The fact that one face came unbidden to Nyima's mind at Scy's subtle prodding was plenty proof of that. Still, the Aetumuh strove to keep her dignity, and pulled her shoulders back. Putting on airs, she stated, “I don't know what you're talking about.” “Pshh,” Vyxen said, laughing. “I'm going to get you a crown, because you're the Queen of Denial.” They were an unusual group of people. Nyima didn't mind the differences, but they were note-worthy. The part-humans, part-faeries, Zercey and Vyxen, were on one end of the spectrum of personalities, while she resided on the other. Scyanatha and Abaddon fell somewhere in between. “I don't think anyone believes you,” Abaddon murmured, leaning over to speak into Nyima's ear. They had positioned themself between the ice elemental and the stove to protect her from the heat. “Not even you do.” Lovely. Even the blind one can see through me. Nyima stood up, determined to hold her ground. “I really don't think it would make a difference,” she informed the rest. “I don't see the point in being kissed under mistletoe.”

They were all remarkably steadfast in who they were; Teysuht – as she sometimes went by – still saw parts of them that were the same as the day they all met in the trainee barracks. Vyxen was still wild and untamed, Zercey was still eager to meet expectations, Abaddon was still quietly contemplative, Scyanatha still the voice of life experience. And then there was her: the indomitable Ice Queen, with a warrior's spirit at her core. “There isn't really a point,” Zercey tried to make things clearer. “It's more an excuse to do it than anything. The idea is that if a person wants to kiss someone they haven't started dating yet, they will put in a little extra effort to make sure that they both end up at the right place at the right time.” “That's a rather spineless way to begin a courtship,” Nyima concluded. “It would be far simpler if they would be direct.” “Simple? Okay, yeah, sure; you're right, it would be,” she replied, rocking her head side to side. “But, it's not nearly as romantic.” “Sometimes,” Scyanatha chimed in with an air of nostalgia in her voice,  “it's when someone shows how weak or nervous they are, that we find them to be the strongest and the most brave.” “Maybe for some, but I wouldn't be so moved,” Nyima stated, her mind made up. Rising from her seat, she announced, “I am on patrol today. I expect that I will see all of you later, at some point.” Her team-mates called their farewells, and the blue-skinned woman made her way out the heavy, wooden door that barricaded the womens’ barracks from the main hallway. She stepped out onto the staircase that led up the spiral tower in the Order of Mana's Headquarters. She did think that some of them would have understood her position, being that the vast majority of them weren't from this world, either. However, it did feel at times they would conveniently forget their time there was supposed to be temporary and that some – her especially – had missions of their own to accomplish. Every passing day was like a bell ringing the death of thousands in her ears. She had to achieve the required victories necessary to win back her freedom before Ifrit, or the world she knew would be reduced to a smoldering ball of fire and ash. How many did she have left to go? In truth, Nyima had forgotten, lost track, so long ago. Each summon was a tick mark on her score card; one summon, one victory. Regardless of how she ended up trapped in this place, with it's own complications to be sure, every battle she took part in here was not going to be a step closer. She was effectively wasting her precious time in Illthdar and there was little she could do about it. It was frustrating. She was more than aware of the choices she had and the costs that came with them, so to throw herself into a weak and feeble romance on a whim, with nothing to gain except heartbreak in the end...

It was sobering, and Nyima found it difficult to let fate take the reigns. “Nyima!”

She froze in her tracks, recognising the deep voice. She braced herself because it was him, and she, with her mind in such turmoil, didn't want to see him at the moment.

“You have a quick stride,” Tundra noted as he reached her side. A fine layer of white frost draped his bare arms from the shoulders down, contrasting the black and blue of his clothing. “I almost had to run to catch up.” “Was there something you needed from me?” She disregarded his statement, face blank as she looked at him. Jingyi, better known as Tundra, was a man with a broad and muscular frame. A martial artist, with chiseled features and a square jawline. He was a cryomancer, a step below her in the ice magic hierarchy, but one with a some skill and distinction. Tundra shook his head slowly to indicate he did not. “But, we are on the same patrol today,” he reminded her.

Nyima kicked herself internally for having forgotten that detail.

“We're taking the south-east route, I see.” He wasn't an unobservant person, taking information in easily and reproducing it as necessary.

Nyima looked around, her feet had indeed led her down the path in the direction he indicated. “I chose at random,” she said. Though, she added, “We can change if you'd prefer a different route. I have no preference.” “Me, neither. We might as well just keep going, it'll take us by the cliff side and the air will be cooler there.” Had she not known of his abilities, his statement might have come off as one of reservation or concern for her, but it seemed he liked the colder weather, too. “It has been excellent weather of late,” she commented, settling on a safe topic.

Tundra chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his throat. “Seth can't stand it.” He shared his amusement. “I've threatened to put him on ice if he keeps complaining. I keep my dislike for the summer to myself, I expect nothing less of him.” “You dislike the heat, too?” She was surprised by the admission, having again assumed it would not have been the case, due to his human lineage. “I put up with it, but my abilities suffer greatly. It takes more effort to produce cold in a hot climate. I get tired more easily.” He confessed to his weaknesses easily and Nyima turned her head to regard him. “I have similar problems,” she admitted. “More so here than where I was from before.” “You must be impressive back on your own world,” he guessed. “You're quite powerful as it is.” How little did he know. Her most powerful attacks she couldn't even muster in this place. She was limited to the most basic of moves; it was like returning to a child state. “Thank you,” was all she could give in reply. The distant crash of the waves below filled the air between them as they reached the cliff-side. They sky was cloudy, with the promise of snow by the afternoon. Most humans had visible breath long before temperatures dropped to that point, but it was only just then where the wind was further cooled by the salty brine that Tundra's became visible.

“You're warm-blooded after all,” Nyima remarked, taking in his countenance. “You're surprised?” Blue eyes locked with hers. “I had begun to question the likelihood,” she confessed and he chuckled. Changing the subject, he said, “This is the coolest place in all of Illthdar during the summer. The shallow waters on the opposite coast get too warm. It's the best place to find relief during the hottest days.” “I'll be sure to remember that.” Nyima responded, wondering if he was trying to share the secret with her out of consideration or if he was just making small-talk. “The view isn't bad either,” he remarked, taking a couple of strides backwards. Holding his arms aloft, he formed a frame with his fingers and thumbs which he then peered through. “It's further improved with you in it.” The compliment was subtle and though it was far from the directness that she would have preferred, Nyima's cheeks blued noticeably in response. “We should keep going,” she stated, gathering her wits and shaking herself out of her stupor. ~*~*~ The patrol was completed in record time thanks in part to Nyima's quickened strides and Tundra's quiet pursuit. At the steps leading up to the doors of their temporary home, Tundra said at last, “I should have invited you to a sparring match.” “Beg pardon?” Nyima blinked at him. “It would have been an excellent learning experience for me,” he reasoned, concluding with a one-armed shrug. “Oh well, another time, then.” “Yes,” she agreed readily, “another time, perhaps.” For once, feeling the cold in her own voice. The bitter sting of realisation. He was interested in her for the sake of experience. The knowledge burned like cold fire in her heart. About to ascend the steps, she was caught off-guard by an additional question. “Might I ask for two more things?” “That was the first one,” she replied, turning to face him, her face blank and unreadable. “Then would it be all right by you if I gave you a kiss?” There was no awkward shifting, nor fidgeting fingers or hands. Tundra stood calm and tall with open arms in silent anticipation of her reply. “Why?” she asked, her eyes instantly drifting to the top of the doorway. No stupid plants hanging anywhere. It still left her with the question. An amused smile spread across his lips. “Because you look kissable.” Oh. “Very well.” He bounded down the steps two at a time to reach her. Sweeping one hand around her waist, he spun them around, his other cupping the curve of her cheek and jaw. Lips first brushing and then locking as they drank each other in.

~*~*~

That evening, in Jasper barracks, Tundra returned to find Inari and the rest of his friends already waiting. “Man, where have you been?” Seth looked at the clock, which said the time was nearing rustern, “Your patrol finished hours ago. What happened?” “Hmm,” Inari said as they paced around Tundra, examining him. “Something serious, I imagine.” “Not particularly,” Tundra  responded, reaching his fingers into his bracer. “Though I was right.” “About what?” challenged Date. “I didn't need this after all.” He produced a sprig of mistletoe hidden there and flicked it onto the table.

Written by @illthdar

[scenes-in-between]

Vienen (2/2)

Could be worse, Doggett thinks as he kicks hard to stay afloat. Could be wearing full combat gear.

Of course, he was also a good 20 years younger the last time he had to do that.

The chopper circles back around after skirting away to avoid the blast from the rig. Between the spray and the spotlight, Doggett can barely see anything, but he's pretty sure Mulder's still keeping his head above water. He hopes so, anyway. The last thing he wants is to have to tell Agent Scully that he lost Mulder in the damned Gulf of Mexico.

He wonders how exactly they’re planning on trying to do this. That’s a charter helicopter up there, same one that brought him out here this morning. Evacuating from the rig itself would have been one thing, but there’s no way it’s equipped for an open water rescue.

The pilot’s saying something over the loudspeaker again, but hell if he can make out what it is. A shadow cuts through the spotlight, and then he feels more than hears the whump of something landing in the water nearby. Looks like a duffel bag, but it’s actually a raft, he realizes. Well, that’ll work. He kicks his way over to it, adrenaline and fatigue and cold making him unsteady as he fumbles for the pull rope to inflate the damned thing. Mulder gets to his side just as he finds it.

“Heads up!” he yells, though his words are swallowed by the noise from the rotors.

In seconds, the raft inflates, and he and Mulder haul themselves aboard. There’s some relief as the chopper pilot ascends a fair bit, keeping his spotlight on them as he circles but not flying so low as to keep buffeting them constantly with wind and spray. For a while, Doggett and Mulder just lie there, catching their breath.

Hell of a day at the office.

It doesn’t take too long for the Coast Guard to arrive. Long enough for Mulder to lose his lunch a couple of times over the side of the raft though, the poor bastard. Not that he can blame the guy; the water’s more than a little choppy. When the rescue basket drops, Mulder tries to tell him to go first, but he shakes his head. No way. Mulder may have been the one to get them both into this mess, but Doggett is the one getting them out, and that means making damn sure there is absolutely zero chance of Mulder getting left behind.

Only once they’re both aboard the chopper, blankets wrapped around them like, he supposes, the trauma survivors they are, does he finally let himself comprehend the full scope of what just happened. He won’t go so far as to say Mulder was right about all of it, but he also can’t deny what he saw. Oil coming out of the foreman’s eyes. What happened to Diego Garza. The way the workers conspired to trap them and destroy the rig.

And oh, Kersh is absolutely going to blow his stack when he finds out about that last part.

If Mulder was right about one thing, it’s that Kersh sent him out here with an agenda. And that agenda was not to simply uncover the truth about what happened to Simon de la Cruz. There’s something decidedly unsavory about the political nature of Kersh’s priorities in this case; not that Doggett doesn’t understand and appreciate the stakes involved here, but his job is to find answers, not protect some oil company’s bottom line. Being given orders, implicitly or not, that run counter to that job is never going to sit right with him.

Of course, that is far from the only thing that’s not sitting right with him about this case.

He saw the black oil. Doesn’t mean he thinks it’s alien, but it sure as hell wasn’t standard crude, either. What happened to the workers was… well, “unnerving” doesn’t even begin to cover it. He honestly has no idea what the implications might be if the stuff ever gets back to shore, if Galpex doesn’t give up on trying to drill that area. Or what might have happened if he’d skipped on this case like he wanted to, if Mulder hadn’t pushed and gone behind his back to get the Bureau involved.

Mulder. Doggett shakes his head. He probably owes the guy an apology for the crack he made about being able to find a conspiracy at a church picnic. Turns out Mulder’s paranoia wasn’t so completely baseless after all. Doesn’t make his behavior any less obnoxious, of course, nor does it mean every claim he made about aliens was the gospel truth, but his instincts were still good. Doggett doesn’t have to agree with all his wild theories to recognize that much.

Then again, Mulder definitely still owes him an apology for going behind his back repeatedly in this investigation, but he’s not going to hold his breath waiting for one. Nah, he can keep his own mouth shut and just call it even. If it weren’t for Scully, he wouldn’t bother trying to get along with Mulder at all. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s an option. Be nice if Mulder could at least try to meet him halfway, though.

It’s a little less than an hour back to the Texas shore, and A.D. Skinner’s there waiting when they land. Better him than Kersh, Doggett supposes. Skinner looks like he can’t decide whether to be pissed or relieved, as they climb down out of the helicopter. (“Damn it, kids, you crashed the family car, but at least you made it home alive.”) Mulder seems all too comfortable in the role of petulant teenager; after they’ve thanked the Coasties for saving their asses, he stalks over to where their boss is waiting.

“I’m betting Kersh didn’t send you down here to throw us a ticker tape parade for saving the day.”

“Actually, I’m here at Agent Scully’s insistence. You don’t need me to tell you, you’ve got almost as much to answer for to her as you do to the Deputy Director.”

“Yeah, well at least she appreciates what was at stake. What’s still at stake if Galpex Petroleum keeps trying to drill that site.”

Skinner’s frown deepens. “All the men on board were infected?”

“All but one,” Doggett answers before Mulder can. He’s not interested in being shouldered out of this conversation altogether. “I promised I’d help him get home, but…” He shakes his head, remembering the sight of Diego Garza’s burns. “I can’t even begin to explain the condition of his body, same as what happened to Simon de la Cruz.”

“I can.”

He just manages to keep from scoffing. Yeah, I’m sure you can, Agent Mulder.

“In any event,” Skinner says pointedly, “I assume based on what I heard over the radio that we're no longer dealing with a quarantine situation.”

“That's correct, sir,” Doggett tells him, while Mulder says, “We'll need to confirm that,” at the same time.

This time he does scoff. “No way did anyone survive that explosion. We only barely made it out alive, ourselves.”

“I'll agree with you that it's unlikely any human could have survived.”

“Oh, come on, you've got to be kid--”

“All right, that's enough,” Skinner cuts him off. “Fire containment efforts will include a search for survivors, as part of routine procedure. I'll make sure the FBI stays in the loop if they find anyone.”

His phone rings, then, and he turns away to answer it.

“They find anyone alive out there, it’s gonna be a miracle,” Doggett mutters.

Mulder glares at him. Really leaning into the petulant teenager thing full-bore, isn’t he? “After everything you saw out there, how can you possibly still be this dismissive?”

“What I saw, Agent Mulder, was men behaving strangely. I saw oil do stuff I’ve never seen it do before. I saw no proof whatsoever of aliens. And even if I had, why would I assume an alien could survive an explosion any better than you or I could?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could trust that if I was right about the oil, then I’m right about this, too. Maybe you could trust that I’ve seen these things. But I guess you’d also have to believe that I’m not crazy, and I suppose that’s just a bridge too far for you.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Doggett says, and he means it. “But you told me yourself that you’ll believe just about anything. That you want to believe. Whether that’s in aliens or ghosts or monsters or what-have-you. And in my experience, if someone wants to believe in something bad enough, they tend to ignore all the evidence that might refute that belief.”

“Yeah, well the same can be said of someone who doesn’t want to believe. Only they’ll ignore all of the supporting evidence, denying even undeniable proof out of sheer bullheadedness.”

Skinner comes back before Doggett can respond, holding his phone out toward Mulder. “Agent Scully wants to talk to you. Make it quick, we’ve got a debrief with the Coast Guard in twenty minutes.”

Mulder takes the phone and walks away, and Skinner watches him go, shaking his head. “I know he sounds nuts, but there’s truth to what he says. I’ve seen enough to take his word on a lot of the things I haven’t seen first-hand.”

“All due respect, sir, I’ve seen some things in this job that I never would’ve believed a year ago. But I’m still not gonna compromise my integrity and objectivity by jumping on the alien bandwagon when there might be some other explanation we’re missing.”

“And that’s fine, just… just be careful not to spend so much time looking for another explanation that you miss the one right in front of you until it’s too late.”

Doggett nods. “I’ll do my best not to, sir.”

Mulder walks back over and hands Skinner back his phone. Skinner takes it with a curt nod. “Right. Let’s get this debrief over with so we can go grab a few hours’ sleep. We’re on the first flight back to Washington in the morning.”

“I might go stand in the shower for a few hours instead, if it’s all the same to you,” Mulder says wryly.

Despite himself, Doggett laughs. “You and I might not agree on much, Agent Mulder, but I think that sounds like a great idea.”

[womenofcolor15]

Companies Like LeBron's iPromise, Starbucks, Target & Facebook Are Putting Their Employees’ Financial Needs First During The Coronavirus Crisis

Thankfully, there are a few companies who are looking for their employees during this Coronavirus crisis. Deets inside…

Millions of Americans are out of a job as the Coronavirus continues to spread like wild fire across the nation. Sadly, some workers will not see a paycheck since almost everything is shut down. However, there are some companies that are looking after their employees financial needs.

  In accordance with social distancing guidance from the CDC and public health authorities, we are temporarily closing stores in some locations, and moving the majority of our company-operated stores to a "to go" model across the U.S. and Canada. https://t.co/U5M01tcwDL pic.twitter.com/9Y9AD50pPw

— Starbucks News (@StarbucksNews) March 15, 2020

  Starbucks has committed to paying all of their employees for the next 30 days whether they work or not. Employees have the option of working or not working. The company has closed all of its U.S. locations with the exception of drive-thru and delivery orders, so money is still coming in. As for the Starbucks workers who aren’t working – they don’t have to worry about not receiving a check for the next month. Woot!

  Thank you to the healthcare workers and first responders working tirelessly to keep our communities safe.

Inspired by the generosity of our partners (employees), we are offering all front-line responders a free tall brewed coffee at participating stores in the US. pic.twitter.com/e7Z8aRCtMt

— Starbucks Coffee (@Starbucks) March 26, 2020

  Also, Starbucks is giving away free coffee to first responders and healthcare workers who are literally putting their lives at risk to fight the pandemic. Through May 3rd, "any customer who identifies as a first responder or frontline worker supporting our healthcare system" will receive a free tall brewed coffee, either hot or iced.

And it doesn’t stop there. The Starbucks Foundation is donating $500,000 for care packages and medical equipment for U.S. frontline responders.

Gotta love a company who looks out for their employees AND customers.

  Target is another major company making sure its employees are good during the crisis.

  Target’s investing more than $300 million, including increased hourly wages, a new paid leave program, bonuses and community assistance for local, national & global organizations responding to the pandemic. More here: https://t.co/bu1y3JjMPC pic.twitter.com/lKc9beRxkU

— Target News (@TargetNews) March 20, 2020

  Target will invest more than $300 million in ADDED wages, a NEW paid leave program, bonus payouts AND relief fund contributions, according to its website. Woot!

Every full-time and par-time hourly employee who work in stores and distribution centers will receive a $2-per-hour increase through May 2nd. U.S. team members who are 65 or older, pregnant team members and members with underlying medical conditions will receive 30 days paid leave.

“With each passing day, it’s clearer how indispensable our team is to communities across the country as our guests cope with the coronavirus,” says Brian Cornell, Target’s CEO. “Increasing their compensation for a job incredibly well done and ensuring continued compensation for those who need to care for themselves and their families is a reflection of our company’s values and simply the right thing to do.”

Also, Target will be giving $10 million to expand relief and assistance to team members who need need extra resources during this challenging time.

The $10 million donation—Target’s largest ever to a single relief effort—will support efforts in four areas:

Team Members – $1 million will go to our Target Team Member Giving Fund to assist team members who are most impacted. On top of that, Target will match up to an additional $1 million in contributions from fellow team members who wish to assist their colleagues in need. The fund was created in 2018 to help our team members weather unexpected financial hardships. Since then, it’s already helped hundreds of team members and their families through life-threatening illnesses, natural disasters and more.

Local Communities – $5 million will be committed to state and local community foundations supporting nonprofit organizations addressing the greatest needs in their area, including vulnerable populations such as underrepresented communities.

National Organizations – $3 million will support national nonprofits such as Feeding America and others, assisting with response and recovery for affected communities.

Global Response – $1 million will support organizations such as UNICEF and others, helping provide critical medical equipment and supplies to regions around the world.

Yep, we’ll gladly continue dropping our coins in Target.

  Small businesses are the heartbeat of our communities. To help during this time of crisis, Facebook is offering $100M in cash grants & ad credits for up to 30k small businesses in over 30 countries where we operate. A note from our COO Sheryl Sandberg: https://t.co/fUVJkVUbZo

— Facebook (@Facebook) March 17, 2020

  Facebook will be giving each of its employees a $1,000 bonus to help during the Coronavirus outbreak. The funds are meant to help employees who are working remotely to set up their home offices or it could be used for things like childcare. The company is also offering $100,000 million in cash grants and ad credits for up to $30,000 for small businesses in over 30 countires.

Here's a note from Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg:

  As the COVID-19 outbreak escalates, our focus has been on keeping people safe and informed by making sure everyone has...

Posted by Sheryl Sandberg on Tuesday, March 17, 2020

  Facebook has about 45,000 employees worldwide. The $1,000 bonuses are only available to full-time employees, not contractors, a source tells CNN.

Earlier this month, Facebook announced they will still continue to pay hourly workers, such as janitors and cafeteria workers, their regular wages despite reduced working hours.

Also....

  Talk about a Taco Tuesday to remember! With the help of Akron Family Restaurant, @LJFamFoundation, our IPS Staff, & @Chase volunteers we treated 343 of our IPS families with a hot taco dinner for 5 delivered right to their doorstep. #GreatAmericanTakeout #WeAreFamily pic.twitter.com/Il0RfyXKgP

— I PROMISE School (@IPROMISESchool) March 25, 2020

  By now you know, LA Lakers baller LeBron James LOVES Taco Tuesdays. So, the NBA baller and the LeBron James Family Foundation linked up with Akron Family Restaurant to feed 340 students - who attend LeBron's I Promise School - and their families some tacos! They were treated to chicken and beef tacos, rice, beans and tortillas with all the fixings to make Taco Tuesday a memorable one. It was a double blessing since the restaurant was affected by the Coronavirus outbreak as well.

USA Today reports:

Akron Family Restaurant co-owner Nick Corpas said he got a call last week and was excited to help. He started making his orders almost immediately and began prepping for the meals on Monday. He and restaurant employees arrived at the restaurant at 6 a.m. ET Tuesday to cook and assemble the meals.

He said they finished around 4 p.m., and LJFF volunteers parked cars outside the restaurant. Adhering to social distancing recommendations, the volunteers remained in their cars while workers and volunteers placed the food in trunks.

Each serving tray provided food for four to five people -- enough for more than 1,300 people to have dinner.

Yasssss! King James is always looking out for his hometown and we love to see it.

BONUS:

  Premiering April 6 on @Quibi! #IPROMISE documents our challenging, emotional, and rollercoaster year one of the @IPROMISESchool... told by our kids from Akron in 15 powerful episodes. You're going to want to see what it takes to create real change. pic.twitter.com/UzhxnadTG0

— LeBron James Family Foundation (@LJFamFoundation) March 25, 2020

  Quibi is gearing up to release the "I Promise" documentary series, which documents the day-to-day trials, triumphs and life-changing impact of the school staff, students and families during the first academic year inside the I Promise School that opened its doors in 2018. It'll show King James’ efforts to close the achievement gap in his hometown of Akron, Ohio through the eyes of the students. It's produced by SpringHill Entertainment (LeBron's production company with his homie/business partner Maverick Carter) in association with Verizon Media’s RYOT and Blowback Productions.

  Why? LeBron was a public school student from 1st – 8th grade. He was a student deemed “at risk.” He was one of our kids. It was because of the people around him, his schools, the Akron community that helped him & his mom through the rough times. pic.twitter.com/3pv4d9B3LL

— I PROMISE School (@IPROMISESchool) March 26, 2020

  Peep the trailer below:

  “The goal of the school is for these kids to feel like they’re superheroes.” ~ @KingJames

See inside our walls and inside our students’ lives for the first time ever. #IPROMISE premieres April 6 on @Quibi. pic.twitter.com/SX0qtUu5Yn

— I PROMISE School (@IPROMISESchool) March 25, 2020

  "I Promise" premieres April 6th on Quibi.

Photo: Papin Lab/Shutterstock.com

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/03/26/companies-like-starbucks-target-facebook-are-putting-their-employees%E2%80%99-financial-needs-fir

[kevindurkiin]

RÜFÜS DU SOL Announce “Live from Joshua Tree” Film

GRAMMY-nominated Australian trio RÜFÜS DU SOL today announced a special audiovisual performance piece, shot in the sprawling desert plains of Joshua Tree. In a 45-minute immersive film traversing the depths of the band’s famed shows and critically acclaimed studio albums SOLACE, BLOOM and ATLAS, “RÜFÜS DU SOL: Live from Joshua Tree” brings their emotive live experience from the global stage to the screen. Featuring never-before-heard material set amongst the allure of the Great American West, the sensory film is an homage to the band’s arrival as a global creative force.

Fans in Los Angeles will have the opportunity to attend the World Premiere taking place at Los Feliz’ historic Vista Theatre on Tuesday, February 18. A limited number of tickets will be available here.

Watch the trailer below.

Following the film’s world premiere at Vista Theatre in Los Feliz, the band will hit the road again, embarking on a US run headlining major festivals like Okeechobee, M3F and CRSSD, as well as premier venues including Masonic Temple in Detroit, Fillmore in Minneapolis, and Germania Insurance Amphitheater in Austin. As the band hails from Australia, they’ve been committed to supporting the bushfire relief efforts in every way they can. Last month they donated $50,000 and online merch profits to Rural Fire Service, and this month they’re hosting a fundraiser in partnership with CRSSD benefitting the RSPCA Bushfire Appeal. Fans can donate via the festival raffle, here.

Purchase tickets to RÜFÜS DU SOL on Tour HERE

RÜFÜS DU SOL World Tour 2020 February 22 – Envision Festival – Uvita, Costa Rica February 26 – The Pavilion – Indianapolis, IN February 27 – The Sylvee – Madison, WI February 28 – The Fillmore – Minneapolis, MI February 29 – The Fillmore – Minneapolis, MI March 3 – The Fillmore – Charlotte, NC March 5 – Okeechobee Music & Arts Festival – Okeechobee, FL March 7 – M3F Festival – Phoenix, AZ March 8 – CRSSD Festival – San Diego, CA March 11 – Orpheum Theater – New Orleans, LA March 13 – Revention Music Center – Houston, TX March 14 – Germania Insurance Amphitheater – Austin, TX March 15 – Art of the Wild – Las Vegas, NV (DJ Set) May 15 – Pepsi Center – Mexico City, Mexico May 16 – Corona Capital – Guadalajara, Mexico May 19 – The Ritz – Raleigh, NC May 21 – Stage AE – Pittsburgh, PA May 22 – Masonic Temple – Detroit, MI May 23 – The Agora – Cleveland, OH May 27 – The Pageant – Saint Louis, MO May 29 – Marathon Music Works – Nashville, TN May 30 – Huntington Bank Pavilion – Chicago, IL June 2 – Express Live! – Columbus, OH June 5 – RBC Echo Beach – Toronto, ON June 6 – Parc Jean-Drapeau – Montréal, QC June 7 – The Governors Ball Music Festival – New York, NY July 1 – Open’er Festival – Gdynia, Poland July 5 – Main Square Festival – Arras, France July 10 – Mad Cool Festival – Madrid, Spain July 14 – Gru Village Festival – Turin, Italy July 17 – Melt Festival – Gräfenhainichen, Germany July 19 – Lollapalooza – Paris, France August 6 – PNE Amphitheatre – Vancouver, BC August 7 – Cuthbert Amphitheater – Eugene, OR August 12 – Red Rocks Amphitheatre – Morrison, CO August 13 – Red Rocks Amphitheatre – Morrison, CO

  Photo courtesy of Coachella

This article was first published on Your EDM. Source: RÜFÜS DU SOL Announce “Live from Joshua Tree” Film

RÜFÜS DU SOL Announce “Live from Joshua Tree” Film published first on https://soundwizreview.tumblr.com/

[bluebuzzmusic]

RÜFÜS DU SOL Announce “Live from Joshua Tree” Film

GRAMMY-nominated Australian trio RÜFÜS DU SOL today announced a special audiovisual performance piece, shot in the sprawling desert plains of Joshua Tree. In a 45-minute immersive film traversing the depths of the band’s famed shows and critically acclaimed studio albums SOLACE, BLOOM and ATLAS, “RÜFÜS DU SOL: Live from Joshua Tree” brings their emotive live experience from the global stage to the screen. Featuring never-before-heard material set amongst the allure of the Great American West, the sensory film is an homage to the band’s arrival as a global creative force.

Fans in Los Angeles will have the opportunity to attend the World Premiere taking place at Los Feliz’ historic Vista Theatre on Tuesday, February 18. A limited number of tickets will be available here.

Watch the trailer below.

Following the film’s world premiere at Vista Theatre in Los Feliz, the band will hit the road again, embarking on a US run headlining major festivals like Okeechobee, M3F and CRSSD, as well as premier venues including Masonic Temple in Detroit, Fillmore in Minneapolis, and Germania Insurance Amphitheater in Austin. As the band hails from Australia, they’ve been committed to supporting the bushfire relief efforts in every way they can. Last month they donated $50,000 and online merch profits to Rural Fire Service, and this month they’re hosting a fundraiser in partnership with CRSSD benefitting the RSPCA Bushfire Appeal. Fans can donate via the festival raffle, here.

Purchase tickets to RÜFÜS DU SOL on Tour HERE

RÜFÜS DU SOL World Tour 2020 February 22 – Envision Festival – Uvita, Costa Rica February 26 – The Pavilion – Indianapolis, IN February 27 – The Sylvee – Madison, WI February 28 – The Fillmore – Minneapolis, MI February 29 – The Fillmore – Minneapolis, MI March 3 – The Fillmore – Charlotte, NC March 5 – Okeechobee Music & Arts Festival – Okeechobee, FL March 7 – M3F Festival – Phoenix, AZ March 8 – CRSSD Festival – San Diego, CA March 11 – Orpheum Theater – New Orleans, LA March 13 – Revention Music Center – Houston, TX March 14 – Germania Insurance Amphitheater – Austin, TX March 15 – Art of the Wild – Las Vegas, NV (DJ Set) May 15 – Pepsi Center – Mexico City, Mexico May 16 – Corona Capital – Guadalajara, Mexico May 19 – The Ritz – Raleigh, NC May 21 – Stage AE – Pittsburgh, PA May 22 – Masonic Temple – Detroit, MI May 23 – The Agora – Cleveland, OH May 27 – The Pageant – Saint Louis, MO May 29 – Marathon Music Works – Nashville, TN May 30 – Huntington Bank Pavilion – Chicago, IL June 2 – Express Live! – Columbus, OH June 5 – RBC Echo Beach – Toronto, ON June 6 – Parc Jean-Drapeau – Montréal, QC June 7 – The Governors Ball Music Festival – New York, NY July 1 – Open’er Festival – Gdynia, Poland July 5 – Main Square Festival – Arras, France July 10 – Mad Cool Festival – Madrid, Spain July 14 – Gru Village Festival – Turin, Italy July 17 – Melt Festival – Gräfenhainichen, Germany July 19 – Lollapalooza – Paris, France August 6 – PNE Amphitheatre – Vancouver, BC August 7 – Cuthbert Amphitheater – Eugene, OR August 12 – Red Rocks Amphitheatre – Morrison, CO August 13 – Red Rocks Amphitheatre – Morrison, CO

  Photo courtesy of Coachella

This article was first published on Your EDM. Source: RÜFÜS DU SOL Announce “Live from Joshua Tree” Film

source https://www.youredm.com/2020/02/11/rufus-du-sol-announce-live-from-joshua-tree-film/

[savetopnow]

2018-03-22 12 CELEBRITY now

CELEBRITY

E!

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Hollywood Life

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Media Take Out

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[jaakuna-warai]

The One Where They Don’t Win

This was originally going to be a full story loosely based on an old fanfic I had started when I was in middle school. Somehow it mutated into this…

Gunfire peppered the air in a staccato rhythm, accented by the deep bass voices of mortar shells and the tenor grenades. The swansongs of dying men and women wove together in a haunting melody, countered by the frantic orders of her commanding officers. Like a metronome, Wren’s heart pounded to the pulse of the hymn of the battlefield.

She had never hated a song so much in her life.

It was not her first battle. No, the past seven years of civil war had made combat a familiar score with guns as her instrument of choice, but this was not her part. She was a sniper— like a piano in an orchestra, she was not in every ensemble, yet vitally important to those who used her; physically separated, but with a sound that blended with and supported everyone else’s.

She was a sniper, not a foot soldier; yet here she was, in the middle of the battlefield, holding unfamiliar weapons in her hands.

Bitter hatred burned in her gut. Her commanding officers had no idea what they were doing. Colonel Wolff was fine— great, even— but he was always with her squadron, training with them, bonding with them, fighting with them as they raided enemy camps. He knew his squadron, knew each member’s strengths and weaknesses, but the other officers refused to give such effort. Her division had been fighting on the frontlines for nearly six months now, and she had only seen the higher-ups give orders and drink themselves stupid. Maybe they were the reason the army was losing the war so badly.

A mortar shell exploded against the ground nearby, showering her with dirt and bringing her back to the morbid reality before her.

Her back was pressed up against the stone remains of a wall— when had she gotten there? She couldn’t remember— with her gun clutched to her chest. In front of her lay the ruins of a small river town. To the right was the wooded base of Mt. Fuerte.

Her heart lurched. There on a seemingly distant cliff lay the silhouette of a village: Pueblo de las Nubes— her home.

How long had it been since she had left? Seven years? Had it really been that long since she’d been a young girl, running all over the mountainside with a song always on her lips? Since she’d been first touched by the war and got the wild idea to enlist? Since she’d left her mother and sister and—

Focus, Wren! You can’t go home if you’re dead!

The song of warfare roared back to a fortissimo.

She turned and peered over the wall. It was a risky move that begged for a bullet to the face, but necessary before she could pull out her own weapons. Though friendly fire was simply a casualty of war at this point, they couldn’t afford such a loss, and if anyone in her own squadron were to die because of her, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

As she peeked over the crumbling wall, the black uniforms of the enemy greeted her.

Her fingers fumbled with her vest, scrambling to open a pocket. She grabbed the first thing she touched— a highly experimental, untested hand grenade, courtesy of Owens. With a pull of the pin and a well-aimed throw, she dove to the ground, helmet toward the stone to guard against the blast. Half a second later, an explosion rocked the earth, decimating what little remained of the wall. She didn’t bother to check if the enemy soldiers were dead. As soon as she could stand, she sprinted away.

A trill of gunfire followed after.

A few bullets clipped and stung her, but only one dug itself into her arm. Though she stumbled, her pace was not slowed.

A horn sounded in the distance from the direction of the woods. Four times it called, each one more urgent than the last.

No one used horns anymore. They were relics from a past where it was acceptable to retreat. Those who still held onto that cowardly time were scorned, if not completely ostracized.

When Wolff had first shown his to them, he was very nearly both. He had smiled, returning each jeer with a jest of his own, but there was a gravity in his eyes as he explained exactly why he had it and what to do if they were to ever hear it.

Strangely, relief welled in her chest. Her body ached, her arm was bleeding, and her field equipment weighed down on her shoulders, but she barely noticed. The horn’s call was a proclamation of freedom, saving her from the dissonant symphony around her.

She veered to the right into the woods, dodging around trees, stumbling through fallen leaves. The horn sounded again, now frantic and ugly, crescendoing as she neared.

There!

Through the trees, she could see flashes of army grey uniforms. Each, she knew, was adorned with the arachnidan patch that denoted a member of the XIIIth Regiment. As she neared a small clearing, writhing black shadows formed into tangible figures overwhelming her squadron.

It was six against fifty, it seemed— or rather, five against fifty. Despite his silent protests, Vivas had been pushed to the back lines in an effort to protect the medic. Around him flit Owens, hurling explosives into the swarm of rebels as if she were having the time of her life. Near and Pegram raced through the enemy lines, with Near taking men down and Pegram dealing the final blow. Colonel Wolff had stuck close to Vivas, acting as both a sharpshooter and Vivas’s guardian. Moreno was nowhere to be found, his presence known only by the trail of bodies left in his wake.

Without hesitation, Wren dove into the fray. Darkness closed in around her, but she paid it no mind. Closer, closer she pushed toward Wolff, taking down as many men as she could on her way.

Almost there. Just a few more feet. Please, please, please…

A grey uniform spun into view. Green eyes met Wren’s, widened, and looked up. Her eyes followed. In the air flew a highly experimental, untested hand grenade, courtesy of Owens. She dove to the ground for cover— too late.

The deep tenor voice of the grenade joined her scream as it came to meet her.

[albertobelanger018-blog]

Super 8 BBQ techniques for 2018

Another New Year already?! It seems like just yesterday I was writing my blog on BBQ Trends for 2017.  It’s time to dust off my crystal ball for the trends that will shape barbecue in 2018. But first, a quick review of my 2017 predictions. Some came to pass and some didn’t.

Consider Trend #1: How (or more precisely HHOW) our food is raised matters as much as how we grill it. (The acronym, by the way, stands for Heritage, Heirloom, Organic, and Wild.) This one certainly shaped the way we shopped, barbecued, and grilled in 2017 and it will continue to do so this year.

Likewise, we certainly saw a lot of new steak cuts (trend #7) this year, from spinelis to Vegas strip steaks. And we certainly “cavemanned everything” (Trend #5) in 2017, grilling not just steak, but lobster, corn, even pineapple directly on the embers. Of course there were a few trends I misread. Middle Eastern grilling (Trend #3) didn’t go mainstream quite the way I predicted (be patient—it may still), and almond wood (Trend #10) never left California as the must-have new grilling fuel.

Traeger Junior Elite Review http://www.bbqdelish.com/traeger-junior-elite-review-versatile-pellet-grill-smoker-at-its-finest

Well, a new year is upon us and with it a new set of predictions. So in no particular order:

Fusion ’que: Call it globalization’s upside. Call it melting pot extreme. It’s what happens when traditional American barbecue meets authentic ethnic cuisine and it’s happening more and more across the country. Case in point: the brisket ramen (Japanese noodle soup) served at Kemuri Tatsuya in Austin, Texas. Or the brisket tacos dished up at The Pit Room in Houston. (Like many of the new wave barbecue joints, they make their tortillas from scratch here, using—what else?—brisket drippings.) Look for more East-West mash-ups in the coming year, and be sure to let us know via Facebook or Barbecue Board what cuisines are fusing in your region.

Philanthro-’que (food philanthropy): When Hurricane Harvey devastated Houston, Stan Hays and his Operation BBQ Relief roared in to provide hot meals to the thousands of people left homeless (and kitchen-less) by the storm. Since founding Operation BBQ Relief in 2011, the CNN Hero and his army of volunteers have served more than 1.7 million meals in 24 states to more than 40 communities that have suffered from devastating natural disasters. In a similar vein, the Spanish born super-chef, Jose Andres (whose restaurants include the amazing live fire chop house Bazaar Meat in Las Vegas) boarded one of the first planes to Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria devastated the island. To date he’s served nearly 2 million people—dwarfing the efforts of FEMA. So what can you do? For starters, donate your time, barbecue rig, or cash to Operation BBQ, learn more here.

Veal is back: Remember veal? That mild, sweet meat so spectacular grilled in the form of a veal chop? After decades of pariah status (and chef boycotts) on account of the cruel confinement conditions under which factory farms raised calves, veal is finally returning to restaurant menus and meat markets. But this time you can eat it with a clean conscience thanks to a new generation of ranchers that are raising calves in herds on pasture grass outdoors. Lori Dunn of Strauss Meats (the veal purveyor I use) reports that veal sales soared more than 10 percent last year. So how do you know you’re getting humanely raised veal? Look for the words “pastured” or “group raised” on the label. For ideas on how to grill this terrific meat, click here.

Thin chops and steaks:  For decades, when it came to meat, bigger has always meant better: bible-thick steaks; baseball-dwarfing filet mignons; porterhouses that bury the plate. So imagine my surprise to find “thin cut” pork chops (with spicy mustard and grapes) on the menu and hot off the wood-burning grill at the trendy El Che Bar in Chicago. Or a whole article praising thin steaks and chops in a popular food magazine. The fact is that thicker doesn’t always mean better, and thin steaks and chops offer many advantages. They marinate and cook faster, offering a higher ratio of spice and smoke to meat. They expose more of the meat to the searing heat of the fire, resulting in a crustier, more savory exterior. Of course, Korean and Japanese grill masters have understood the virtues of thin steaks for decades. A 2-inch thick porterhouse is a steak of splendor, but so can be a half-inch-thick rib-eye. One final advantage: thin cuts often cost less per serving than thick ones.

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Planchas get smoky: The Spanish call it a plancha; Argentineans, a champa; and you even find it in Italy, where it goes by the name of piastra. I speak, of course, of a thick steel griddle you place on the grill for cooking small foods, like shrimp, fragile foods like fish and tofu, and foods you wouldn’t normally grill, like sunny-side up eggs. If you’ve read my blog, you know my fondness for plancha grilling. What’s new is using a plancha for smoking. Here’s how it works: Set up a charcoal grill for direct grilling. Heat and oil the plancha. The moment before you put on the food, add a couple handfuls of unsoaked hardwood chips to the fire. Then add the food, cover the grill, and use the plancha’s searing heat to crust the exterior. Meanwhile, the trapped wood smoke will flavor the food, producing chops, shellfish, and fish fillets with extraordinary texture and flavor.

The rise of the pork steak: If you come from anywhere on Planet Barbecue, you know the virtues of a pork shoulder.   Cut that shoulder crosswise into 1/2- to 3/4-inch-thick steaks on a meat saw, and you wind up with one of the best kept secrets in the world of grilling: the pork shoulder steak. Thanks to its generous marbling and intrinsically tender meat, the pork steak is moister than a pork chop or loin chop and every bit as tender (if not more so). It also costs considerably less. Pork steaks readily absorb the flavors of rubs, marinades, mops, dips, and smoke and fire—a virtue well known to people in St. Louis (who grill and simmer them with a local barbecue sauce called Maul’s), and folks from Monroe County, Kentucky, who grill pork steaks, then dip them in a fiery mixture of hot sauce, melted butter, and lemon juice. Pork steaks can be hard to find in some regions, but if you make friends with your butcher, he/she should be able to cut them for you to order.

Hasselback potatoes: OK, so there’s nothing new about hasselback potatoes, those crisp, buttery-cheesy, accordion-cut roasted potatoes invented at the Hasselbacken restaurant in Sweden (in business since the 1700s) and still served there today. What is new is how we cook them—on the grill—adding hardwood chips to the fire to generate wood smoke. Potatoes + butter + plus parmesan makes an unforgettable vegetable, and that’s before you perfume it with wood smoke. What’s also new is a nifty hasselback potato cutter to facilitate the delicate task of making razor thin parallel incisions in the potatoes to cause them to fan open, producing the effect of potato chips on the bone.

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Salt slab desserts: These thick slabs of pink Himalayan salt have become hot sellers at grill and cookware shops.   You’ve probably used them like cedar planks to roast fish; like bricks, to grill chicken; and even as salt-seasoned serving platters. What you might not realize is how great salt slabs are for grilling and smoke-roasting desserts. Preheat the salt slab slowly (this prevents cracking) and arrange brown sugar and butter-stuffed pears, honey- and coconut-basted bananas, or even marshmallow-topped brownies on the slab. Indirect grill or smoke as you would on a cedar plank. The slab delivers a mild even heat, while the salt seems to counterpoint and accentuate the dessert’s sweetness.

[flauntpage]

By the Skin of Their Teeth: Thoughts After Flyers 4, Rangers 3

Excuse the Flyers if they weren’t too celebratory about their win over the New York Rangers last night.

Yes, it was a big win. Yes, it was probably the win that in a couple weeks we will look back on and say was the one that ultimately secured them a playoff berth.

With another mini-stretch of tough games on the horizon, and the teams behind them making up most of their games in hand in the next week, it was a win of absolute necessity.

But it wasn’t pretty.

It took a strong effort from goalie Alex Lyon to keep them from losing a second straight game to a non-playoff team. It took some more next-level speed and agility from their budding star winger Travis Konecny to spark the offense – despite the fact that he was curiously missing from the ice for most of the third period. It took another three-point night from the captain, Claude Giroux, who might well be the most important player to his team in the entire NHL this season.

Beyond that, though, you pretty much held your nose to avoid the odor and also to hold your breath that an unwanted, in-game collapse wouldn’t take place.

OK, Ok… the second line was decent on the whole – Jake Voracek scored a goal on a great individual effort and Oskar Lindblom did register his second NHL goal cleaning up the rebound of a good shot by Nolan Patrick, but really, on the whole, the Flyers were out-skated by the Rangers. They were out out-worked by the Rangers. And the Rangers have nothing to play for while the Flyers definitely do.

It’s hard to be critical after a win. The Flyers did what they had to do and earned two very big points in the standings. They gave themselves a comfortable cushion again, and reduce their magic number over New Jersey to 13 points (either earned by the Flyers or lost by the Devils) and 14 points over Florida.

That may seem like a lot, with seven games to go, but it could be reduced to nine and 12 respectively by the time the Flyers take the ice again in Pittsburgh on Sunday – and they only need to finish ahead of one of those teams to make the playoffs.

Not only that, the Flyers have again climbed within a point of second place Pittsburgh and could well head north in the standings if they can get their act together.

It’s as if they’re fighting a war on two fronts. They are simultaneously in a battle with Pittsburgh and Columbus for second place in the Metropolitan Division as they are with New Jersey and Florida for the two Eastern Conference Wild Card spots, with one team going to end up on the outside looking in (my forecast has New Jersey missing the playoffs at this point).

And yet, despite all of this, the focus after the game wasn’t really on the positive (except for Lyon, who continues to be a solid relief pitcher of sorts for the Flyers, playing his best games when he has to put out fires).

No, instead, everyone talked about how uneven the team played. How there are still too many mistakes happening. How they still need to play better.

And, of course, there was always the questioning of the coach’s rationale for the in-game decisions he makes – although this time he gave a very direct and fair answer to questions about his in-game choices – even if I still don’t agree with it.

It’s a lot to tackle, so let’s do it one at a time.

1. Lyon-hearted

Let’s get this out of the way right off the bat – Alex Lyon is not ready to be a go-to goalie. He’s not a guy who you can honestly expect to be able to carry you in a seven-game series. He has weaknesses that teams will exploit playing against him consistently every night.

But, he is still young. He will get better. And right now, he wins on guile, competitiveness, and a drive to never quit on a play.

It’s more than the other guy was giving you and sometimes, that’s enough.

Lyon was given the Ric Flair robe by his teammates as the star of the game. He made 33 saves. Some were easily of the 10-bell variety.

Like this:

A diving, shoulder save and a pad save by Lyon keeps the Flyers up! pic.twitter.com/4vSJ6S0DzO

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 23, 2018

Again, I don’t think Lyon is ready for a heavy workload – or to be a guy you can count on against Pittsburgh, or Washington, or Tampa, or Toronto – gifted offensive teams very well could feast off him.

It’s why with the exception of his start in Boston (which he played well, but the Flyers lost agonizingly in regulation) Lyon is starting against fringe or non-playoff teams – New Jersey, Montreal, Carolina, and the Rangers last night.

Lyon, who is a downright pleasure to talk to and gives you an honest assessment to everything you ask without much in the way of the trained cliche answers these players are instructed to give the media, even admitted to some of his shortcomings last night – in a game he won and was voted player of the game by his teammates.

“If I’m being totally honest, I don’t feel really good about that save (in the video above),” he said. “I’d like to make it a little more cleanly. I was already down and I just had a clear vision of the puck and got my shoulder on it. I felt like there were other saves that I was much happier with, just because you always want to make the save the right way.

“That was one of those games where it didn’t feel like I was quite as crisp as I wanted to be. I was still seeing it well, some days you just have to adjust and keep the puck out of the net.”

He’s posted a solid 2.49 goals against average so far and a .914 save percentage and is 4-2-1 in 10 appearances.

And while he may not be a go-to guy, Lyon is at least proving he’ll give you all he’s got and as a result, he won’t embarrass you if you put him in there.

It’s the best the Flyers could hope for right now.

2. Claude for Hart

I’ve mentioned this before and I’ll mention it again and I’ll keep mentioning it until it doesn’t happen (which it probably won’t), but Claude Giroux should be a Hart Trophy finalist this season.

It’s a plausible argument that he has been more valuable to the Flyers this season than any other player in the league has been to their team.

He added three more assists last night and now has 90 points for just the second time in his career. He needs four more points to set a career high. He has an outside shot at becoming the Flyers’ first 100-point scorer in a generation.

He currently ranks fifth in the NHL in points and first in assists.

And if you look around him among scoring leaders, no one – I repeat NO ONE – has a greater impact on his team’s success.

Among the Top 10 scorers in the league:

Take Nikita Kucherov off Tampa Bay – and it would hurt, but they’re still a pretty darn good team. Plus, Tampa has Steven Stamkos – who is probably more valuable than Kucherov (and also among the top 10 scorers. Tampa missed the playoffs last season, missing Stamkos for a huge chunk of the season. But these two are a tandem and neither individually carries as much weight as Giroux does for the Flyers).

Nathan McKinnon is having a phenomenal year for Colorado, and should be in the conversation with Giroux. However, if the Avs miss the playoffs (they are in a Wild Card spot right now with a three-point cushion over St. Louis, but the Blues have a game in hand) it’s tough to consider him for MVP.

It’s for that reason that Connor McDavid, who is having another outstanding season for Edmonton, and South Jersey’s Johnny Gaudreau, who is having his best season in Calgary, aren’t real contenders for the Hart this season despite being among the league’s best scorers.

Anze Kopitar is in the same boat as McKinnon. He is carrying the Kings right now. But if LA misses the playoffs (they’re only one point better than Colorado) he has to come out of the conversation too. But if the Kings do make the playoffs, I’d put Kopitar in the mix with Giroux and McKinnon for sure. The Kings wouldn’t be sniffing the playoffs without him. However, he’s likely your Selke Trophy front-runner (I believe the three finalists will be Kopitar, Patrice Bergeron in Boston and Sean Couturier), which will keep him out of the Hart conversation.

That leaves Evgeni Malkin and Phil Kessel in Pittsburgh. Both are in the top 10, but like the Kucherov/Stamkos situation, the Penguins would still be a good team even without one of them (Not to mention a guy named Sidney Crosby lurks just outside the Top 10 in scoring).

Blake Wheeler in Winnipeg is the last candidate, and he has been a spark plug for the upstart Jets, who may have the best team Winnipeg’s ever seen this year. But, it is because of that – they are a strong team all the way through their lineup – that as good as Wheeler is, he’s not more valuable to them than Giroux is to the Flyers.

Seriously. Take Giroux out of the lineup and where are the Flyers? Even give us last year’s version of Giroux this year, and are the Flyers even a topic of conversation? No. They’d be dead in the water and floating near the bottom of the standings.

Quite simply, Giroux means more to his team than anyone else this season. It’s why he needs to be a Hart Trophy finalist in my mind. You can argue that one or two guys are more deserving of the award, but you can’t find three. So, fellow writers, do the right thing – and vote for Claude.

3. The Curious Case of Travis Konecny

I might end up writing all day about this situation.

Because even though Dave Hakstol doesn’t think so, and even though Konecny himself doesn’t think so (at least not outwardly to those of us asking him questions), the way he is treated for his play is a travesty.

Last night was an incredible microcosm of this point.

Let’s do this chronologically shall we:

Konecny controls the puck in traffic, takes the shot, and scores! pic.twitter.com/GCNxXJ5DSz

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 22, 2018

That’s Konecny scoring his 21st goal of the season in the first period, giving the Flyers a 1-0 lead.

It was a nifty little move and Konecny said he was originally considering passing the puck before shooting at the last possible second.

Then in the second period:

Teek-tac-toe! pic.twitter.com/73aREHbYNk

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 23, 2018

For a shifty little guy, he’s fearless and has no problem getting to the “dirty areas” of the ice where most goals are scored. It’s a great deflection for his 22nd goal of the season – and his third two-goal game of the season.

And then there was the third period:

That’s right. TK wasn’t around for much of the third period. No, he didn’t get hurt. No, he wasn’t serving some sort of misconduct penalty.

Nope. He was rooted to the bench right in front of Hakstol for most of the period.

He was credited with four shifts totaling 2:28 in the third period.  He saw the ice for 30 seconds in the final 13 minutes of the game.

So a guy who has been an offensive catalyst for the first 40 minutes of a must-win game suddenly can’t get on the ice in the third period?

And it’s not like the Flyers were offensive dynamos in the third period. No. They were having the game taken to them.

“We got it done,” Giroux said. “We’re happy about it, but at the same time I think we can play a little bit better… At the end we sat back a little too much, but we got it done.”

Even Hakstol admitted the third period was not to his liking.

“We were just sporadic today,” He said. “The first 3-4 minutes of the game we weren’t sharp and crisp and then we finished the first period, the last 15-16 minutes, really well. And then from there we were sporadic through the next 20-25 minutes and honestly we got back on our heels in the last part of the third period. Obviously there’s things that we have to clean up and do a little bit better, but the bottom line is the two points at the end of the night and we move on.”

Which begs the question, why isn’t Konecny on the ice? He’s never back on his heels. His mistakes are often mistakes of being up on his toes too much – since we’re going with feet-based metaphors here.

In other words, if TK is making a mistake, it’s from trying to make a play or being too aggressive on a puck. Not from sitting back.

But Hakstol still feels the need to use TK as a whipping boy for accountability, something no other player has to deal with so punitively.

Hakstol admitted to benching Konecny in the third period:

“He wasn’t taking care of the puck very well,” Hakstol said. “Defensively, some of the things in the D-zone. Individuals got to be better at this time of the year and how we manage the puck and how we take care of it and the mentality that we’re gonna do things with.”

It was a pretty direct response from Hakstol. One that I, for one, appreciate. I don’t agree with the punishment – especially when a guy like Voracek is known to be a similar type of player as Konecny, an offensive dynamo but not the best player in the defensive zone – and he is often double shifted in the third period and was even on the ice with two minutes to play and the team protecting a one-goal lead.

So much for the good for the goose, good for the gander thing….

But Hakstol’s comments sent off a wave of questions (including one from yours truly) that Hakstol had to answer – after a win no less:

Was that play, where he tried to pick off that pass, was that one of the plays?

“No, that’s actually, that’s not one of them. He was trying to make a play there.  I want players to try to make plays. He was trying to make a play so that wasn’t one of them for me.”

(Here’s that play for your viewing displeasure):

Zibanejad takes the puck from Konecny's reach, speeds around Gudas, and beats Lyon. pic.twitter.com/il7qWbV7jd

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 22, 2018

Prior to that his energy, you said you guys were sporadic in the first. He scores that goal, cutting through the slot, and he gets to the net whether that goal sticks with him or it’s Gudas’s goal or whatever. The fact that he is able to do those things and inject some life on the offensive side of it, is that just the maturation of him as a player?

“There is never a lack of that and we love that. I love that about TK. On most nights, he’s working hard to do the right things on both sides of the puck. There’s been very few nights where he hasn’t given us that injection of energy and that punch offensively. He’s been a real consistent player on that side of things.”

There’s scorers the NHL, there’s fast guys in the NHL, there’s guys who love to get dirty and bang around. That’s not a usual collection of a skill set like he’s got.

“He did it tonight, right? He got one from the outside and he got one from that net front. You love those things about him. There’s certain nights where, a night like tonight, where with the puck and for this time of the year depending on the situation and time of the game, you need him to do a better job and he knows that. But that’s part of the growing process here and he’s done a hell of a job for our team. Again tonight, he was an impact player and on a night like tonight where some of the decisions aren’t what we want them to be, we’ve got guys that can go in there at the right time of game and do the job.”

Do you tell him that or do you just show him that with less time and things like that?

“Those are little things you talk about during the game on the bench and wherever. Absolutely, we have to address those things during the game.”

How difficult is it to make that decision though, Dave, when he gives you that offense he gives you in the first two periods?

“It’s a balance. It’s not difficult, it’s a balance. You take the information that’s there and make the decision.”

But the balance you are looking for, you don’t get. Because when you take TK off the ice in favor of Matt Read, who is certainly a more reliable defensive player, you take your foot off the gas pedal.

You force your team to sit back and play a more defensive style.

Your very decision is WHY the team is caught back on their heels.

And it wasn’t just TK. Jori Lehtera was getting ice time in place of Jordan Weal in the third period as well as Hakstol shortened his bench.

Weal isn’t as much of a game-changer as Konecny, so that one gets glossed over, but Hakstol is making decisions that, for most of a period, are stunting the offense. I’m not sure that’s the best way to go.

It worked last night, so it’s difficult to argue, but the Flyers really were just hanging on last night rather than continuing to dictate the tempo of the game themselves. Sometimes the team just plays badly and there’s nothing a coach can do about it.

But when you take the game’s best player over the first 40 minutes and basically take him out of the lineup in favor of a defense-first forward (Read ended up playing more minutes than Konecny in the game last night) you are definitely changing the tenor of the game yourself. Period.

To his credit, Konecny said in the media scrum that he’s comfortable with the decision because it’s good  for the team:

“It’s all about getting the two points,” Konecny said. “Defensively we are going to make sure we are taking care of pucks and little things like that. It’s all about doing what’s right for the team. I have no problem with it because it’s all about getting the two points. If that’s the way we have to win, I’ll do it every time.”

After the scrum was over, I furthered the conversation with Konecny one-on-one:

Do you think your teammates notice you aren’t out there and as such figure they have to focus on defense-first hockey now because they don’t want to be too aggressive and end up in the same spot on the bench?

“I don’t think so. I don’t know what everyone else is thinking, but I know the way we play and we’re not trying to sit back like that. Look, it was a coaching decision at the end of the game. I want to take this with some pride and make sure I’m a little bit better toward the end of games and hopefully one day be able to stay out there, but right now this is part of it – since we’re winning games.”

But you can see why I’m asking you this right? It’s hard not to sit upstairs and watch and see how well you are playing offensively and wonder – why you would want to stop having that threat on the ice?

“Yeah, but I did make some mistakes tonight. It’s all good.”

But hockey’s a game of mistakes, right?

“Yeah, I know.”

I mean, if it’s at the very end of the game, or a key defensive zone draw that’s one thing. But when it’s almost the whole period, that’s another thing, right? And that’s me saying it, not you saying it, but I’m not wrong with this.

“I hear you. I’m just… We got the win. That’s all that matters.”

He’s right. It is all that matters ultimately. But what happens when this is the strategy and the Flyers don’t win? Is there a right time and a wrong time for teaching lessons? I argue there is. And I would say when your team is scratching and clawing and fighting for every point necessary in the final eight games of the season as you are trying to make the playoffs is not the right time.

4. Other stuff

I knew I’d go on too long with that one. Sorry. It just burns me up when these things happen. The whole “we know better than you” mentality. Look, more often than not, coaches and general managers do know better than the rest of us. But, we aren’t always wrong to question those decisions either.

Hakstol goes all Andy Reid on us sometimes and it eats away at me.

OK, moving on…

I’ve probably written enough today but there are some final bullet points I want to touch on:

Voracek’s goal was a thing of beauty:

Jake the Snake slithering his way into the goal column. pic.twitter.com/jTXbHovl7s

— Sons of Penn (@SonsofPenn) March 23, 2018

He really went 1-on-3 and came away victorious. It was a hell of an effort goal. Jake decided not to talk about it after the game. Some of the members of the media were bothered by this – apparently this is the third time this season Voracek has declined to speak to the media after a game (yes, there are bean counters for that sort of thing, sad, I know).

I don’t get the complaint. I think Jake talks plenty. He always has something good to say. He’s a good quote and a good dude with the writers. If the guy wants a night off (or three) from our stupid questions over the course of seven months, fine. It’s not like there was something he absolutely had to answer for from this game. He wasn’t ducking anything. He’s just mentally tired. Give him a break. I, for one, have no problem with it Jake.

I have a little concern for Ivan Provorov. He has had a few below bar games in a row now. (Admittedly his bar is far higher than everyone else on the defensive side of things.) He looks exhausted to be honest. He’s missing that extra life in his legs that we have grown so accustomed to seeing. Hakstol is smartly giving the Flyers a day off today. They need the rest, and no one more than Provorov. The Flyers are going to need him at his best if they want to make any postseason noise at all.

Brandon Manning was back in the lineup last night… and while he didn’t make any egregious mistakes that cost the Flyers, there was still a lot of “Oh, Brandon” moments. Whether it was being caught out of position, colliding with teammates behind the net, or stumbling to the ice on his own, Manning continues to be what he is – a No. 7 defenseman. I don’t buy that he’s a better matchup for specific teams than Robert Hagg at the moment, as Hakstol indicated. Instead, I can tell you there is a very real belief that Hagg is still injured, and that despite trying to play through it in recent games, Hagg isn’t quite 100 percent – which is why Manning was back in the lineup against New York.

  By the Skin of Their Teeth: Thoughts After Flyers 4, Rangers 3 published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[weloveallanimals]

Man Risks His Own Life In The Blaze To Save Wild Rabbit From California Wildfires

While Californians suffer the devastation caused by wildfires that have burned through more than 100,000 acres, one man braved the flames to save a wild rabbit and instantly became a hero.

An orange-and-black singed sky fills the can be seen on the video of the daring rescue shows a Ventura County highway near La Conchita engulfed in smoke and flames.

When a wild rabbit darts across traffic and into the burning brush, a man, stopped on the road and wearing just shorts and a hoodie, raced after him. The rabbit is both out of reach and in danger.

Panic sets in as the man clutches his head, jumps up and down, and paces anxiously, agonizingly trying to figure out how to rescue the creature from its burning habitat.

In a last-ditch effort, he walks into the brush and tries to coax the rabbit out from the fire.

After pleading, the rabbit runs out of the flames and, into the motorist’s arms who carries him to safety along Highway 1.

The moment was a welcome relief from the damage and destruction the fires have caused.

One Twitter user said the video would serve to restore faith in humanity.

If you need your faith in humanity restored just watch this video of a man saving a wild bunny from the #LAFires pic.twitter.com/Ke4hr59Lwk

— Robby Starbuck (@robbystarbuck) December 7, 2017

Another called him a hero.

He saved a wild baby bunny!! There are heroes amongst us saving lives ❤️👏🏻❤️🐇❤️ #ryefire #lafires #socalstrong #venturafire #thomasfire #creekfire #skirballfire pic.twitter.com/ETotPB2Oij

— ❤️bunnymother❤️ (@bunnymother) December 7, 2017

We don’t know who this man is, but it doesn’t matter. Whoever he is, he has been added to the ranks of heroes who have risen from tragedy with their small acts of compassion.

If you know someone who might like this, please click “Share!”

[wolfisakionwheels]

Day 43 | Random hotel - I have no idea  | Anaheim CA

And no, this wasn’t a planned stop along Tour Wolfisaki, less than an hour away from my best girl’s house, where I ought to be right now, sitting cross-legged on her couch, our second glass of wine perched on our knees, quietly laughing so hard that we shake because it’s late and we’re trying not to wake up our kids. 

Not holed up in some two-bit hotel across the street from Disneyland, with zero plans of actually going to Disneyland, I know, I know, NO DISNEYLAND?  

The littlest Wolfisaki is using the hotel bedspread as a landing zone for his turkey sandwich in between taking bites and conducting his important toddler business - currently pulling all of the towels off the bathroom racks and throwing them on the floor.

And the six year old is on unlimited, unsupervised screen time because he knows how to take advantage of a powerless situation. 

And husband is texting me tipsy anecdotes from the hotel bar because he needed to let off some steam.

I mean, we all knew there was never going to be a way through this where something didn’t go terribly wrong, right? 

See when you have A.D.D. and sustain a bit of an anxiety disorder because of it, and you have a sweet, loving, extremely laid-back husband who doesn’t have a linear thought to save his life, and, together, you make the decision to pull your kid out of school, rent your little Portland bungalow on Airbnb to all sorts of strangers for an undisclosed amount of time, trade in your trusty Portland-issued Subaru for an old van and a tent trailer that you are entirely unfamiliar with, and then pack up your family and leave with very little planning, and no real researching, and you’ve only strung together a vague idea of how you assume things will go, well, you might have this constant lurking thought stuck in all the creases and corners of your brain: What Will Be The Thing That Goes Terribly Wrong?

And then, finally, when that terrible thing does, in fact, go wrong, it almost comes with a sense of relief, like, oh phew… Now I can finally stop worrying about the impending doom. 

A few months shy of her 87th birthday, my Meema had been lying in bed at her in-home care facility for a few days, in and out of consciousness, the room filled to capacity with her family, before she passed away peacefully in her sleep with the afternoon sun pouring in through her bedroom window on an otherwise perfect June afternoon. I was sitting at her right side at the time, holding her soft, small hand, and a few moments after she took her final rattled breath there came with it a sudden unexpected lightness in the air of the room. 

Later, we all sat together in the living room just outside her door waiting for the coroner to arrive. The Terrible Thing had happened, and after years of watching her slowly fade while dreading this very day, we settled into a quiet state of peace within the melancholy of it all. Now our Meema was free, and now we were free to grieve the great loss of her. 

Maybe we were getting cocky in thinking we were this close to making it back home unscathed, after all, it’s been a month and a half of living within four canvas walls and using the wild west as our backyard. And then, dun dun dunnnn, within an eagle eye view of our next stop, when we couldn’t take the racket in the backseat by the two travel weary little boys anymore, we made a fateful detour to the nearest playground to blow off some steam. 

Had we not pulled over to let the boys out to play, there’s no telling how it would’ve all turned out, but we’ve since been told it certainly would have involved fire spewing from our vehicle, and the wheels exploding from the Bacon Hut directly into LA traffic, and we likely would not have come out of it unscathed.

As soon as we pulled into the playground parking lot and I opened the passenger door, the smell of electrical smoke stopped me dead in my tracks. Oh crap, that doesn’t smell right, I thought, before immediately passing the buck on over to my denial-in-waiting... Always waiting... Sucks for whoever that smell belongs to, then, noticing the thick toxic plume and black gooey substance bubbling out of our wheel wells it occurred to me in that moment that this might have something to do with why everyone was honking and waving their arms furiously at us while passing by. We’d flashed them an oblivious peace sign, or rested our temples on our fingertips in our best nondescript efforts to ignore them, casually assuming California drivers just being California drivers, no harm no foul. 

Six and a half years ago I was in the hospital, over 21 hours into labor with my first baby and only half a centimeter dilated. The doctor on call walked in and checked me and told me very matter of factly that it’s apparent I have the same condition which caused women to die in childbirth a hundred years ago. Before he even had to say the words, I was already mentally putting myself through an emergency C-section. Thanks to countless episodes of TLC’s A Baby Story, I could paint the scene perfectly; the sterile surgical room with rows of bright lights hanging above us, sweaty strands of hair escaping my medical bonnet, trying to stay strong for P-noch with his quivering hands clutching onto mine which are strapped down to a board at my sides. 

Sometimes when I look up to catch sight of the boys after a distracted moment at the park and for a single brief zip in time I can’t see them, my heart begins to race, my mouth tenses and goes white around the edges, my eyes bulging and unblinking as I frantically start power-walking through the playground where I will then spot them in two more long and terrifying seconds. Yet in that lapse of time my mind will have already painted me into this horrific post-abduction future, a scene where I’m weeping in agony and dizzy on psychosis meds, struggling to make sense of our new nightmarish life minus one of our children. 

I think, maybe, perhaps, my personal brand of crisis mode is to imagine the worst possible outcome and begin working backwards from there. A foolhardy attempt to one-up an unnerving situation by trying to control it, no doubt. Which is probably why my first item of business was to instantly pick a fight with P-noch about whose fault this is. Second then discovering that nobody will come out and collect a smoking, oozing Bacon Hut to tow it to a mechanic. Thirdly, leaving us no choice but to put our babies back in the vehicle that is towing the vehicle about ready to catch on fire. I googled the nearest mechanic, a four minute drive. Maybe we won’t blow up and die in the next four minutes? It’s anyone’s best guess.

When we thankfully reach the mechanic in one piece, It’s 10 minutes till 5:00 and, with trigger fingers fixed on the time clock, they quickly inform us the bearings are shot and we need to get them repacked before we travel any further, but they’re closing up for the day and, oh, also they don’t work on tent trailers, and, hm, no, they couldn’t tell us who does - as they leer judgingly at us in all of our blind stupidity.

As far as Terrible Things go, this one was dramatic and expensive, but we are all okay, still in one piece, holed up in a two-bit hotel across the street from Disneyland (with no plans of going to Disneyland, seriously.) also in close proximity to a Camping World. Somehow by the grace of God we made it here safely, where we’re waiting for our 1:00 appointment for new bearings tomorrow and hopefully, several hours later, I’ll be sitting on my best girl’s couch, a glass of wine perched on my knee, quietly laughing so hard that I start to shake.

10.23.2017