#also we’re going to talk about a Bronx tale

[the-physicality]

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[madscarypod]

Using Generative AI to come up with a Podcast Name

In a previous post, I talked about how we used Generative AI tools to create a logo we liked. All that remained to get our podcast started was a good name and spooky theme music.

For ideas, we turned to OpenAI’s ChatGPT, which has accumulated over 100 million users* in the past few months and has a free-to-use version. I also tried out WriteSonic, which gives you 10,000 free “words” to use with their ChatSonic bot. ChatSonic also claims to be powered by Google Search and can generate real-time content, where this version of ChatGPT was trained only on data up to the year 2021.

I’ll start with ChatSonic. At first, I fed it a simpler prompt just to see how it would respond:

As we mentioned on the intro episode of the pod, we didn’t think “Ghoulfriends” was that bad! But there was a problem: we didn’t prompt it to output names of podcasts that don’t already exist. So, it didn’t tell us that there were already a number of podcasts with some variation of “Ghoulfriends” in their names. It also made a bunch of assumptions, for example - that we’re looking to come off as “lighthearted and fun.” Did it associate these descriptions with “women” or “millennials”? There might be data from its training that suggests that these groups want to be perceived this way. Or did it assume that these traits would be beneficial for any podcast, like “appealing to a wide audience”? This seemed to ignore part of the prompt that we did give it, that this was a podcast about horror movies, which implies a niche audience.

As for “Terror & Tequila” I have no idea where it was going. First of all, it sounds like a podcast about cocktail pairings for scary movies. Also, “…represent the opposing viewpoints of the hosts” suggests that if you hate horror movies, you must love… fun? Is comedy the opposite of horror? It’s clear that ChatSonic has never seen a horror movie. The last part is bizarro too: “the name suggests a party atmosphere.” Like, why?? Millennial women looooooove to party and do tequila shots. I gave it some generic feedback:

Not great output, and the explanations were shorter as my prompts got shorter. Also, sarcastic apology? It was all like “soooooo sorry my answers weren't cool enough for you” and called me a bitch, pretty much. Whatever! And “Nightmare Avenue” basically only considered the “horror” aspect and ignored all of the other details of each prompt. Lazy! I pointed this out:

Less passive-aggressive apology, at least! Alot of millennial pop-culture “girly” tropes here, like calling each other “queen” and being in a “girl gang.” I’m least offended by “Horror Honeys” because maybe it thinks we’re sweet. “Blood Babes” sounds like it's probably some kind of sex kink or fetish. It sure loves alliteration too. We really fucked up by not going with “Blood Babe Final Gore Girl Gang of NYC,” honestly.

Ok, so, with ChatGPT I input longer, more detailed prompts for the most part:

Ah yes, that’s what “Sex and the City” was missing! I’m glad it concluded that “horror movies are all about screams” - now we can stop our research and write a script where everyone screams at each other and then goes out for cosmos. As the kids say, it’s giving “humorous and sarcastic tone”. Maybe it needs more info? Let’s throw chaos into the mix and see what it thinks “sassy” means:

There you have it - they both came up with the same name. ChatSonic arrived at it from “cool or edgy”, ChatGPT from “sassy and sarcastic,” but they both got to "Scream Queens of NYC." I thought it was interesting that ChatGPT hallucinated that we went to high school in Queens - it responded so matter-of-factly! “Horror High: Bronx Tales” has a “catchy ring to it”?? Maybe we can use it for when we tell our inevitable “funny or ironic stories” on the pod. 

I tried a few iterations where I gave it specific words to work with. For example, include "slice" in the name. But it was becoming increasingly evident that the pun aspect was the issue. Finally, I gave it this prompt for kicks:

Umm, yes - I will now refer to men in NYC as “Gotham Ghouls”. “Midnight Massacre” might be a good name for, like, a metal band - adding that one to my Notes app. It's interesting how there's a gender association with that phrase, though, it seems neutral to me. Probably because men be massacre-ing IRL, I guess. “Horror in the City” sounds like a dating podcast, amirite.

Anyway, overall, I preferred using ChatGPT. It provided more relevant answers after refining prompts, better ”understood” descriptive words, and the free version seems pretty robust. ChatSonic seemed to have limited access to data (or different types of data), gave lazy answers at times, and isn't free to use for further experimentation.

Although we didn’t go with any of their suggestions, both were good brainstorming and ideation tools. From this exercise, we realized that most horror puns were mad corny. We also realized that the complexities of our POV and the overall vibe we were aiming for were challenging to articulate, and certainly too tough for either program to predict since it doesn’t already exist in their training data. This inspired us to get down to the bare bones (ha!) of what we’re trying to achieve with our podcast: figure out if something is mad scary or not. And voila - we had our name.

Also, again, a takeaway here is to be as specific as possible with prompting, or try giving it examples to get closer to what you’re looking for. Or, go completely opposite and try a prompt out-of-left-field to see if the results are interesting. I found it great for spitballing and getting our creative juices flowing. Just remember that it can’t generate anything entirely “new”, has no taste, and hasn’t gone through all the necessary childhood and lifetime trauma to be actually funny. 

*HBR IdeaCast podcast: "How Generative AI Changes Productivity"

[edenprime]

LGBT+ books by authors of color

For those of us tired of LGBT+ romance always being featured between white characters, or from the perspective of white characters, here’s a list of LGBT+ novels by authors of color centered on characters of color.

Thank you so much @percyannabcth​ for your recs! ♡

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz: a beautiful mlm coming of age story between two brown latino boys. Personally, one of my favorite books (young adult).

We Set the Dark on Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia: first of a series set in fantasy Latin America with a main couple compromised of brown wlw (young adult).

This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: enemies-to-lovers time travel fantasy novel featuring wlwoc (adult).

Girls of Paper and Fire by Natasha Ngan: I’ll admit, this one wasn’t my cup of tea, but I’m more the exception to the rule. Fantasy with main asian wlw. Heavy rape and abuse tw (young adult).

It’s Not Like It’s a Secret by Misa Sugiura: contemporary novel with a japanese protagonist that falls in love with a latina girl (young adult). 

When the Moon Was Ours by Anna-Marie Mclemore: not a mlm or wlw story, but one with a latina protagonist and a love interest that’s a Pakistani trans boy (young adult).

More Happy Than Not by Adam Silvera: borrowing elements from both sci-fi and contemporary, this is a story about the hardships a Puerto Rican boy from the Bronx has with coming on his own. Suicide and homophobia tw (young adult)

On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong: beautiful novel that tackles a lot of themes, including coming to terms with being LGBT+, from the point of view of an Asian man (adult). 

Tell Me Again How A Crush Should Feel by Sara Farizan: coming of age contemporary novel about a persian girl that falls in love with one of her friends (young adult).

Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender: contemporary novel in a high-school setting about a black trans boy learning to navigate the dificulties that are put in his path due to his identity. Transphobia tw (young adult).

Hurricane Child by Kacen Callender and Kheryn Callender: a tale of magical realism about a girl whose luck was sealed when she was born on the dreaded day of a hurricane (middle grade).

Juliet Takes a Breath by Gabby Rivera: Juliet, a Puerto Rican lesbian, moves out of her family’s home and leaves to explore what her identity means both for herself and for those around her (new adult).

Ash by Malinda Lo: a wlw retelling of Cinderella with a girl of color as a protagonist and a very quick, entertaining read (young adult).

A Line in the Dark by Malinda Lo: a contemporary novel where the main character, an asian girl called Jess Wong, used to being on the sidelines, becomes the protagonist of her own story as she falls in love with her best friend (young adult). 

Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann: Alice, an asexual black girl, learns to navigate her sexuality and how the perception of others affects her (or not) after a break up with her girlfriend and the start of adult life (adult).

Seven Tears at High Tide by C. B. Lee: Kevin Luong, an asian-american guy, asks the ocean for one summer where he can find love - and a selkie boy hears his pleading and seeks him out, willing to give him exactly that (young adult).

Not Your Sidekick by C. B. Lee: an intern girl with no powers at a superhero school starts getting notes from a mysterious person that goes by “M”. Bisexual main character, and the sequel includes a trans boy on the main cast, both people of color (young adult).

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum: prepare for your heart to be torn out by this not-quite psychological thriller about two boys in a codependent relationship that must learn to cope with their less-than-ideal circumstances, and their also less-than-ideal dynamic. Read the book’s description for potential trigger warnings (young adult).

Girl, Woman, Other by Bernardine Evaristo: a series of short tales that tells the stories of british black women through different years, including the those of lgbt+ women (adult).

You Should See Me in a Crown by Leah Johnson: when a girl’s attempt to get a scolarship to the college of her dreams falls through, her only choice if she wants her life to keep going on the path she’s set for herself is to become prom queen. It’s just too bad that the competition is so cute (young adult).

Final Draft by Riley Redgate: an 18 year old writer, who happens to be a plus-size pansexual ecuatorian girl, learns the perils of adulthood and gains life experience in this extremely relatable contemporary novel (young adult).

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera: a heart-wrenching novel about two boys that meet up to live the entirety of their life in a day - a day which happens to be their last. (death tw) (young adult).

Adaptation by Malinda Lo: when strange events turn the American government into a paranoid mess, Reese wakes up with a month of her life gone from her memories. This time, as our main character finds herself pulled in two directions, the love triangle is bisexual (young adult).

The Weight of the Stars by K. Ancrum: a slow-burn, slow-paced romance between two women that will leave the reader bewildered and feeling like they have a new understanding of life, with a touch of sci-fi (young adult).

She of the Mountains by Vivek Shraya: an illustrated novel that touches on gender, sexuality and a re-imagining of Hindu mythology (adult).

The Fifth Season by N. K. Jemisin: fantasy novel set in an apocalyptic world, with a cast made up mainly of black characters, that includes polyamory in the first book and wlw relationships on the latter ones (adult). Be wary of possible trigger warnings.

Note: all the links redirect to The Storygraph, a Black-owned site currently on Beta! Consider checking it out and giving it your support - it lets you import all of your books and shelves from Goodreads, but unlike Goodreads, it’s not owned and ran by Amazon.

[aion-rsa]

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17 Review: Uncut Femmes

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17

The Simpsons Season 32, episode 17, ” Uncut Femmes,” is a caper comedy, and criminals Sarah Wiggum (Megan Mullally) and Fat Tony (Joe Mantegna) steal every scene they are in. Over the course of the jewel heist parody at the center of the installment, we learn Chief Wiggum’s wife has a shady past, and the neighborhood mob boss has a paternal presence. They don’t have any scenes together, but they make crime pay off, and prove two or so wrongs can make a right.

“Oh, my hallway-walking God,” the episode opens, as a workplace atrocity leads to a nondisclosure agreement which results in two front-row seats at a Bob Seger concert. The rock star plays himself, but goes against the wind. Yes, this is the Silver edition of his Bullet Band, but when he learns both Homer and Chief Wiggum dumped an overnight field trip with the kids on their wives to make the show, he feels obliged to remind them: a wife, like rock and roll, never forgets. Who knew a Detroit belter like Seger could throw such guilt?

The trip is to a World War II battleship, retrofitted to look like it did back in May 1943. That was the last time it was scrubbed, and the kids and wives get keelhauled into breaking up everything but the barnacles. They swab the decks and are told they’re killing Oxees, which sounds enough like Nazis for Springfield Elementary. Nick Offerman voices Captain Bowditch, who Sarah Wiggum calls Captain Dingdong before robbing his liquor cabinet and sharing a bottle with Marge.  

The police chief’s wife also shares some unexpectedly relatable problems, like the pressures of being married to “a man with a dangerous job he’s just not good at” But her best comic line is about her husband’s health, and how every slice of cheese could be his last. The bonding scene is very effective, warm and witty. Both women give up so much because they are mothers.

Sarah Wiggum gave up a glitzy and glamorous life of crime, like the Ocean’s 8 masterminds. She was the getaway driver on the famed “Hourglass Diamond” heist. Her story is broken down in a flashback sequence with subtitles like “The Grab,” “The Camaraderie,” and “The Double Cross.” To give historical perspective, one of the items which the young thieves steal, while listening to Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl,” are MP3 players which held over 300 songs. 

In the segment entitled “The Honey Pot,” Sarah explains her own role in the robbery. “The Chump” denotes when she met Clancy Wiggum, then a mere security guard, working his way through one of his many attempts at passing the police academy. “I love a man in a rented uniform,” she says. 

Marge had to miss the one event she gets to share with her sisters’ friends, which includes the crumbs of the crème de la crème of Springfield’s LGBTQ community: Watching the annual Gen Gala on TV and making scathing remarks. Marge is jonesing for snark. She’s got an itch to throw good shade. This would be a blast to hear from Marge, who is “still working up the courage to call a man the B word.” This year’s Gala is themed, “The Audacity.” The prior year was called “The Nerve.  Marge breaks her usual reserve to tell Rihanna she listens “to the clean versions of all your songs.”

Marge is so consistently Marge-like, so clearly defined within the vantage point the series has set up for her. Marge’s first words, when trying to start a conversation with Sarah, are “the top 10 ways of starting a conversation.” When she is kidnapped, she observes whoever had the bag over their face before her was a smoker. Julie Kavner also pulls off amazing physical comedy in this episode, even though it’s vocal acrobatics. When Marge is bound by Sarah’s old gang, she hops away – chair, pole and all – to allow them to scheme. She points to their scheme-board with her high mound of hair, which she later uses to blur surveillance cameras. Kavner’s inquisitive or insistent moans fuel every blue follicle.

To distract the mark, Lindsey Naegle, Marge makes small talk about common household chores the VIP would never do herself, like paying attention to whether you switch delicates to extra warm when you’re doing laundry. “You’re not famous, so you don’t exist,” Lindsey, who pocketed the diamond for herself to buy a celebrity lifestyle, snorts at Marge. Her husband, Springfield’s beloved Rainier Luftwaffe Wolfcastle, takes this gag to an absurd conclusion. Wolfcastle has no idea what the two were talking about when he enters the scene, but he is more blinded by his celebrity. He asks his wife why she’s talking to an empty chair. It’s all a punchline which lands on “somebody stop those nobodies,” a masterful twist of social restraint.

Ultimately, one of the snarkiest lines turns out to be a comment on Marge, when she makes a very surprising appearance at the Gala. But only because “she looks like dirt” walking a red carpet designed for 20 plus-size gladiators to carry Beyoncé. The snide aside comes across as exactly what Marge would’ve wanted.

The episode has plenty of successful throwaway sight gags. Homer closes shop at his post at the nuclear plant with the same kind of cage storefronts lock up with after hours. We’re not sure if this means the workers on the other side are locked in the workspace without emergency supervision for the whole weekend, though.

The kidnapping is first reported by Chief Wiggum’s son, Ralph, who was watch commander on deck. Fat Tony will come to be simpatico with Ralph in hysterically edgy ways later in the episode. They both “know nothing about nothing.” Until he met Ralph, Fat Tony thought putting crumbled Oreos on ice cream would be redundant, but now finds it transcendent. It is like a grooming process; the police chief’s son even begins wearing a matching fur coat. And when a kid behind an ice cream counter tells Ralph not to grab at the Gummy Bears, Fat Tony says “if the boy wants this the boy wants to smooch, the boy will spook smooch.” He could be telling The Bronx Tale. Ralph’s rejoinder, “I love you, scary daddy,” is so in keeping with his character of cluelessly deranged innocence.

When Homer and Wiggum first learn their wives are missing, the police chief immediately blames Fat Tony. The reputed, reported, alleged and convicted crime boss is plainly being honest when he says he would never even consider such a crime. First of all, how would he finish the sentence “it would be a shame if something were to happen to?” 

Wiggum is very important to crime in the town. This episode points out how it flourishes under his lazy watchful eye. Fat Tony loves “Chief Bungles” because he’s a horrible cop. Even Sarah admits her husband is “better at planting evidence than finding it.” But, more importantly to Fat Tony, the chief loves the top cop because he is a selfish man. He’s on the take from Burns, Fat Tony, and we know from past episodes he’s in on schemes with Mayor Quimby. But some things, even a cartoon mob boss cannot forget.

Fat Tony is surprisingly woke in his off hours. It’s the espresso. His men only yell respectful innuendoes at attractive women. The boss not only tutors Homer and Clancy on ways to respect their wives, but takes care of Ralphie while he lets the men fix their marriages. The male gaze is all over this episode, and it gets poked in the eye repeatedly. From WWII books to gender-trading action movie remakes. The real Silver bullet is the truth. Seger’s concert T-shirt is actually a list of things he has to get done to keep his marriage happy, including getting a C-PAP for his snoring.

For Homer, this change is as sweet as a donut, the ordeal makes him notice what Marge looks like when she’s happy. Clancy realizes, for the first time in his long career, that there is a museum in town. At their heart, Homer and the Chief are really only paying attention to their wives for themselves. Oh, and for Bob Seger, they did promise him that. The lesson they learn when confronted with their selfish ways is: “it’s all about us.”

The final part of the scheme earns its subtitle as the exact kind of surprise double revenge twist we have come to expect from this genre. The only difference is what kind of spin the parody will take. Things have a special way of falling on The Simpsons. In a classic early episode, Homer took a memorable tumble down the rocky edges of a cliff in a failed daredevil stunt. So, he knows to get out of the way when Lindsey comes tumbling down the stairs at the Gala. She tumbles long enough for Wolfcastle to find a newer, younger, more trophy of a wife. In real life the fall would have killed her, and Marge would feel terrible. Thank god for animation. Kids, don’t try this at home.

“This isn’t about the cash, it’s about righting a wrong and looking damn good doing it,” Sarah convincingly explains when she lays out the premise of the heist. By the end, Marge declares it “best field trip of my freaking life,” which is what the episode seems to be going for. It’s fun, more fun than most school trips, and it teaches a lesson.

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“Uncut Femmes” is a fun and playful movie satire. It captures the suspense, romance, glamour and pace of a heist film, but puts The Simpsons touch on it. Marge shines in the unexpected, manages to clean house at the same time, and brings Homer into an understanding. The crooks get away with it, and nothing will change. Like so many crimes in Springfield, it’s got Chief Wiggum on the case, and that’s like having no one at all.

The post The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 17 Review: Uncut Femmes appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[santoteez]

A Manhattan Tale - Seonghwa (10- Finale + Epilogue)

Parts: 10 of 10

Masterlist HERE

Genre: Chef!Seonghwa, FormerDrugdealer!Seonghwa, FormerKingpin!Hongjoong, Bad boy/ Good Girl kinda??

Warnings: MC is a Black Female, Mentions of funerals, pretty fluff tbh, hospital setting

Requested: yes

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU. All family members are FICTIONAL.

Seonghwa groaned, as the hospital TV, which was stuck on the news, repeated his name for the umpteenth time.

“25-year old city renowned chef Seonghwa Park was found with a gunshot wound in his shoulder in the backroom of a yacht on the pier of the East River in Flushing Meadows. Chef Park is the owner of The Majestic Dragon, with locations in Manhattan, The Bronx, and Brooklyn, with several on the way. Park was recently accused of being part of a gang, running a prominent drug ring and the murder of Raymond Carter Sr. by an anonymous tip to the city hotline. The accuser also claimed Park used leftover drug money to purchase his locales, making the purchases questionable by law. It is said his accomplice in the drug ring was 25-year old college student Hongjoong Kim, known in the public eye as underground music producer Kilo. Kim was also critically injured with a gunshot wound to the back. He is also accused of using dirty money to acquire his condo, college payments and the tuition for his sister’s private school and the Santana’s Threads Manhattan location. We’ll keep you all posted as more information is available, and we await Mr. Park and Mr. Kim’s statements once they are released from the hospital.”

“Nurse!” Seonghwa said, desperate.

A fair-skinned woman with a neat bun of chestnut brown hair waltzed in. “You called, Mr. Pa-”

“The TV. Turn it off.”

“What? But you just told me to turn it on-” She froze as Seonghwa’s picture flashed on the screen once again. “I see.” She said, clicking the device off. “There. Enough of that. Is that all? Anything else I can get you?”

“I wanna see my family.”

“Dr. Park isn’t in yet.”

“You know who I’m referring to.”

She sighed. “Mr. Park, we’ve been through this. Immediate family only while in the ICU. Your girlfriend and everyone else can come in once you’ve been transferred or discharged.”

“But they can go see Hongjoong?”

“Mr. Kim is a different case. Biologically, his immediate family are his siblings, but Ms. Davis is the mother of his child and under common law, they can be considered married. You and Ms. Carter have not been together long enough to be bestowed the same privileges.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, looking out the window. He wanted to see Zelie more than anything. His sister had been the only one he saw since he was admitted. His parents, after watching the news, wanted even less to do with him, although his mother did call once behind his father’s back. Seonghwa didn’t care. He wasn’t interested in getting back into his family’s good graces, he lost that hope years ago. He just wanted to see the people he truly considered him family. His sister Minseo was now on maternity leave, her baby due any day now. She canceled her baby shower when she realized Seonghwa was hospitalized but decided to celebrate after the baby was born. Seonghwa appreciated her being there, confirming that he would attend as long as he was in good health.

The nurse sighed. “Don’t get your hopes up, but I’ll see what I can do about visitors. In the meantime, are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m fine.”

“You didn’t eat your breakfast earlier. Maintenance told me.”

He shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “Hospital waffles aren’t really appetizing. Neither is hospital meatloaf or whatever you’re gonna bring me.”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky I like you, Mr. Park.” She said, closing the door.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong were in surgery for hours, the bullets in highly critical areas. Seonghwa’s was in his shoulder, dangerously close to his neck, while Hongjoong’s was in his back, just centimeters from his spine. Doctors were afraid that one wrong move could permanently leave Hongjoong paralyzed. Thankfully, the bullets were removed and the pair were recovering nicely. Zelie had tried multiple times to see Seonghwa but was rejected every time by his doctor. She called him almost every hour, but Seonghwa was dying to see her. He had not seen her since that night. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous that HJ could see Santana as much as he pleased. She went home with Orion and Minjoon a couple days ago but came almost every day to see Hongjoong.

“Well, Mr. Park, looks like you owe me some Lo Mein when the restaurant opens back up.” The nurse said, opening the door. “I spoke with the doctor, and he said as long as the immediate family confirmed they would not be visiting you, the rights could be transferred off. So I called your parents, and sure enough, I was able to make magic happen!”

In walked Zelie, Minjoon, Soojin, and Santana carrying Orion. Hongjoong, who was advised to stay off his feet for the few weeks after surgery, wheeled into the room on the wheelchair the hospital provided.

“Thanks, Nurse Jackie. I appreciate it.” Seonghwa said, hugging Zelie.

“Like I said, when I get that Lo Mein, I want extra shrimp and soy sauce.” She said, smiling. “I’ll leave you to catch up with your family.” She winked, closing the door.

“I like her. Give her two Lo Meins.” Zelie said, cozying up in Seonghwa’s arms.

“Well, honorary big brother, how you feeling?” Minjoon asked, approaching the bed.

“I’ve been better, but I wouldn’t be here without you. I don’t remember much after getting shot, but I do remember you pressing your shirt into my shoulder to stop the bleeding. Thank you.”

“if I had to, I’d do it a thousand times again.”  Minjoon smiled.

“Where is my godchild? Bring him to me.” Seonghwa said, extending his arms out.

Santana placed Orion in his arms, who stared up at Seonghwa with wide, brown eyes.

“Hey, little guy,” Seonghwa whispered, smiling when Orion seemed to smile at his words.

“Looks like he likes you, Hwa.” Santana said.

“He better. I already furnished his room.” Seonghwa replied, making everyone laugh.

“I’m so excited to have a little brother!” Soojin said.

“Soojin, sweetie, Orion is your nephew. He’s your brother’s son.” Seonghwa explained.

“But…he’s little and I’m little. Doesn’t that make him my brother?” Soojin asked, confused.

Hongjoong laughed. “She’ll get it eventually. How are you feeling, though? Really?”

“Like I want out of this damn bed. How’s everything with the court case?” Seonghwa asked Zelie.

Given that Zelie was the last to interact with her brother before his death, she was a prime suspect. However, with the large number of workers in the room at the time of the death, those who survived the bloodbath agreed to testify in her favor in exchange for a lighter sentence. Everyone agreed that Zelie never meant for it to happen, but she wrestled him in self-defense and as a last resort and wasn’t even the one who pulled the trigger. The trial was far from over, but Zelie was optimistic.

“It’s been lengthy, but it’s going well. It’s not like I wanted him to die. I just couldn’t stand back and watch him kill you. Boyfriend or not, he’d be taking an innocent life all because of a vendetta.”

“Thank you. I mean that.” Seonghwa said, pulling her closer.

“One thing’s for sure, like father like son. It’s sad they had to go the same way.” Santana said.

“Somethings just can’t be avoided,” Hongjoong said. “I spoke to an attorney the other day; I invited him to my room. The city investigated the money we used for our initial purchases and while it was indeed money that had not been in circulation for years, given the circumstances, the court has agreed to grant us clemency. All we have to do is pay a fine. It’s hefty but at this point anything that keeps me out of jail.”

“Seriously? Babe that’s amazing!” Santana exclaimed.

He nodded. “They said we had already suffered enough, and the purchases happened years ago. The statute of limitations is almost up, and all of our recent purchases have been by the books. Everything worked out in our favor. You should be able to reopen the restaurants whenever you’re ready.”

Seonghwa nodded. “We came out the other side unscathed once again. I’m starting to think we’re indestructible.”

“Let’s not find out.” Hongjoong rolled his eyes, making everyone laugh. “I’m actually glad we’re all here, though. There’s something I’ve been meaning to do. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and with everything that’s happened, I think sooner is better than later.”

“Babe, what are you talking about?” Santana asked, confused.

Hongjoong turned to Minjoon. “Did you bring it?” He asked, and Minjoon nodded, fishing a small velour box from his pocket.

“Oh my God,” Santana said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Santana, baby. I initially planned this to be happening at a place way different, but I know you were never one for fancy scenery as long as it came from the heart, so that’s what I’m doing. I met you almost 5 years ago. I was young and a knucklehead. I didn’t know the first thing about treating a woman right or being grown. But when I met you, I realized I would have to man up quick or you’d be gone. I couldn’t have that. You’ve been with me through thick and thin, even when I was doing shit you knew would get me in trouble. You never ditched me, not when the police barged into my apartment, not when I was sitting up in Sing Sing, not when I was released, not when I started taking music seriously, and not when I was almost paralyzed. You were by my side through it all. Now that we have our beautiful son, I want to do the same. Be by your side no matter what. Never leave you ever again, and never have you worried I’m not coming home.” He opened the tiny box, revealing a beautifully adorned gold band with a large, square-cut rock at the center. “Santana Jarelle Davis, I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with any other woman besides the one in front of me. I’d be honored if you gave me the chance. Will you marry me?”

Santana nodded frantically, the entire room looking like a mosaic through her tears. “A million times, yes. I love you so much.” She said, kissing Hongjoong as he placed the ring on her finger.

“ACTUALLY,” Soojin interrupted, “I was on your lap, so that makes me the person in front of you.” She said, folding her arms.

“Nice try. I said, WOMAN. Not booger-eating little girl.” Hongjoong said, tickling her.

“That was ONE time!” Soojin said, laughing.

Just then, the doctor walked in.

“I was wondering where you had wandered off to, Mr. Kim.” He said, entering the room. “Looks like you’re getting around just fine without being hooked to the IV. How’s your back?”

“It hurts from time to time, but nothing excruciating.”

Nodding, the doctor turned to Seonghwa. “And you, Mr. Park? How’s your shoulder?”

“Better. I can move my neck freely now.”

“I can see that. Well, you men seem to have healed remarkably fast. It’s like you’re not human. If you’re truly feeling better, and nothing comes up in this morning’s x-rays, I’ll process your discharge papers and you’ll be free to go.”

“Thank GOD,” Seonghwa shouted, making everyone laugh.

“Careful, Mr. Park. Don’t want us to magically find something to keep you here. A rectal exam, perhaps?” The doctor asked.

Seonghwa laughed nervously. “You don’t mean that, right doc? DOC?” He shouted when the doctor didn’t answer. He turned to Zelie.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE.”

-

-

-

-

*2 years later*

“Alright Mitch, I’m heading home for the day,” Seonghwa called out, walking through the back kitchen of the restaurant.

“Alright, boss. Be safe.” Mitch answered, getting started on another Bibimbap. “Tell the Missus I said hello and we miss her here at work.”

“I will. Oh, and before I forget. The woman with the brown hair and scrubs on is getting two House Special Lo Meins, on the house.”

“Got it!”

Seonghwa walked out to the dining area, where Nurse Jackie was standing. “Took you long enough to come redeem your food.”

She shrugged. “What’s the rush? You owed me no matter what. Didn’t feel like cooking, so here I am.”

Seonghwa laughed, his voice booming against the walls. “Well, should you not want to cook again, this location is much closer to the hospital. That’s why I chose it.”

She put a hand over her heart. “My hero. Go ahead, I know you’re heading home. Don’t wanna keep you too long. Good night, Chef Park.”

“Good Night, Nurse Jackie,” Seonghwa said, making his way out of the crowded restaurant. Despite the controversy, die-hard fans of the restaurant couldn’t wait to go back, and others who had yet to try the food were even more inclined, causing lots of traffic, especially on a Friday like today. Seonghwa hopped into his car and made his way home.

The clemency went through, and the fine was half of their monthly earnings for the next year. The boys were more than willing to cough up the cash if it meant they could resume their normal lives. The Coca Twins skipped town when they realized they failed again and the boys weren’t going to jail. So, they changed their names and were never heard from again. Despite everything, Zelie paid for RayRay’s burial, figuring he deserved a peaceful resting place at the very least. One-Eye was laid to rest but some of his men, his death being real this time. Lil Mike quit drug dealing once he saw what being involved in the game did to HJ and Hwa. He brought his mom home from the hospital and went back to school. To everyone’s surprise, he had a knack for baking and decided to open his own bakery. To show his gratitude, he made Hongjoong and Santana’s wedding cake free of charge.

Hongjoong and Santana’s wedding was held the summer after the shooting, and luckily the boys were fully healed by then. It was a small ceremony, with Seonghwa, Zelie, Soojin, Minjoon and a few of Santana’s employees and family. The girl Minjoon went on that date with ended up becoming his girlfriend, so she was invited to. Soojin had a little guy friend from her soccer team she begged to let come, so he and his family were invited as well. To Hongjoong’s surprise, Seonghwa was able to schedule a video chat with Chungho, who congratulated the young couple and was able to see his grandchild and Soojin, who he had not seen for years. Everyone at the reception was in awe at the fact that Zelie effortlessly caught the bouquet, with Hongjoong teasing Seonghwa, stating that it was fate. Seonghwa didn’t think much of it until he proposed just a year later. Granted, it was during their lunch break at work, but Zelie accepted nonetheless.

“Lucy I’m home!” Seonghwa shouted, walking into the plush, luxury condominium. When he was discharged from the hospital, Seonghwa realized that if he planned to be with Zelie for the long run, his tiny studio wouldn’t do. So, he packed up all his things (sans the leather couch, to Zelie’s satisfaction) and bought a condo, not too far from Hongjoong’s building.

“Ricky, darling!” Zelie shouted, running to the door, kissing Seonghwa tenderly on the lips.

“Do you two have to greet each other like that every night?” Minseo asked, laughing. Her son, Minhyuk, right behind her. After being released, Seonghwa kept his word to attend Minseo’s celebration once the baby was born. She chose Minhyuk since it was similar to Minjoon. She said had it not been for Minjoon, she’d never have run into Seonghwa that day. Their relationship was far from perfect, but they’d been patching things up pretty well. His father had yet to speak to him, although his mother sent him a housewarming gift when she heard from Minseo that he was moving. Seonghwa learned to live with his father’s blatant disapproval and was grateful his mother was warming up to him again on her own accord, although he doubted they’d ever cross paths again. Ever since their reunion, Minseo spent most weekends with Seonghwa and Zelie.

“We don’t HAVE to, but where’s the fun in that?” Seonghwa asked, smiling. “Hey, sis.” He hugged Minseo. “And you! How you doin, big man?” He picked up Minhyuk, throwing him up in the air and causing him to laugh.

Cries were heard from the living room.

“Uh oh, someone’s jealous.” Zelie laughed.

“Now why would my princess get jealous? She knows she’s the apple of my eye!” Seonghwa said, reaching into the baby swing, picking up the month-old baby girl. “You know that, right Zelig?” He said, the curly-haired, caramel-skinned baby halting her cries immediately.

When they officially got engaged, Seonghwa and Zelie…couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, to say the least. The next thing they knew, Zelie was late. Seonghwa was ecstatic…once he regained consciousness after Zelie told him.

“It’s crazy how you had a kid with a head full of hair. Minhyuk was bald for MONTHS.” Minseo said, running a hand through the curly locks.

“Yeah, that heartburn was a bitch,” Zelie said, immediately turning to Minhyuk. “Don’t repeat that.” She said, causing the siblings to laugh.

Seonghwa kissed Zelie’s cheek. “I guess it’s true what you said.”

“What’s that?” Zelie asked.

“I was just a work in progress.” He said, thinking about his friends, business, sister, and the kids, even one of his own. And of course, his beautiful fiancée. “And for the first time in my life, I feel complete.”

Stephie Here! Thank you SO much for reading and sticking with me through this fic as well as ‘In The Bronx’! I’ve been going through some life changes which delayed this finale but only because I wanted it to be perfect for you guys and tie up any loose ends from the Hongjoong fic as well as previous chapters of this fic. Please keep an eye out for my one-shots and AUs as I will make an effort to upload routinely for you all!! As always, thanks for reading!

[zoeykaytesmom]

What is Life (Chapter 13)

@tropes-and-tales @jramirezblogs @esparza-army @sweetsummertime99 @lyssa1385 @lostintech0011001 @xemopeachx @thatesparzacrush @barbafan69 @eclecticdeersuit

“Thought I’d find you here,” Rafael said when he found his girlfriend at the cemetery in the Bronx one snowy afternoon at the start of his Christmas break.

During his Thanksgiving break, Stella and Anthony had told him she was there almost every day, especially once the raindrop shaped headstone had been placed. He had stayed with her that week but she wouldn’t let him touch her.

She had seemed like a shell of herself since the birth and subsequent death of their daughter. Rafael stayed buried in his coursework, applying for law school.

“Hey,” she replied without turning to him.

“It looks good.”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged.

“It’s cold. Why don’t we go to Abuelita’s and get something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You look like you haven’t eaten since the last time I saw you.”

“Why do you care?”

“What? What is that supposed to mean?”

“You just leave me here alone to deal with this? Go back to your life at Harvard two days after we stood here and watched that tiny white casket holding our baby girl being lowered into the ground.”

“You made me go back to school! Remember? You’re the one that has been pushing me away since this happened! I don’t feel like I even know you anymore! I stopped coming in on the weekends because you haven’t acted like you’ve wanted me around. Look, we’re not going to stand here in front of our daughter’s grave and argue.”

“You’re right. I’m leaving,” she said as she started walking off.

“No, no, no,” he said as he went after her, standing in front of her.

“Get out of my way, Rafael.”

“No. I’m not moving.”

“Fine.” Every time she moved, so did he. “I said get out of my way.”

“Make me.”

She started to push him but he wouldn’t budge surprisingly. Her pushes turned into small punches until she just broke down and slid to the cold ground. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Shh. I’ve got you,” he told her as he went down with her and held her there while she cried.

“I’m sorry.”

He pushed her hair away from her face and just sort of rocked her. She finally stopped crying and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

“It’s okay. I could tell you didn’t mean it.”

“What do you mean?”

“You hit harder than any guy I know. I doubt you left a mark on me,” he kind of laughed, making her do the same. “There wasn’t rage behind those. Come on, let’s get you up.”

He got her off the ground and they began to walk away.

“Wait. I forgot something,” he said as he walked back to the gravesite, picking up the single pink rose he had dropped and laid it above their daughter. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

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

“Every day, still?” Rafael asked as he and Anthony sat at the kitchen table, having a cup of coffee the next morning while Izzy slept and Stella had gone to the store.

“She deferred another semester of college, too. You know that’s not like her.”

“Damn. I wish…I’m sorry I’m not here.”

“Don’t be sorry, son.”

“She feels like I abandoned her when I went back to school.”

“I’ve never seen her like this. How are you doing? You’re so worried about her, what about you, Rafael?”

“School was keeping me busy. I got my acceptance and scholarship to law school.”

“That’s good. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. I also, uh, I started seeing someone on campus to help me deal with everything.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. When I got back…I mean I couldn’t stop thinking about that day, the days after. I mean, damn, our birthday’s had just passed and then…”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. That was traumatic what you two had to go through. Maybe you should talk to Izzy and see if you can talk her into doing the same thing.”

“You think it would work?”

“Stella and I both have tried to talk to her. So, has Tony. Maybe if she knows you’ve been seeing someone, it might help convince her to do the same.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he shrugged. “I’m gonna go upstairs and check on her.”

“Okay.”

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

“I’m not crazy.”

“No one is saying you are, mi amor. But you’re not dealing with this well at all.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I do. I’ve been here one day. I found you at the cemetery where you broke down in my arms, mind you, which I’m assuming is the first time you’ve done that since the funeral.”

“So, I’m just supposed to go to someone and tell them I’m sad?”

“You tell them whatever’s on your mind. How you feel about Charli, me, yourself, school, the future. Get it out of you before it eats you alive.”

She just sat on her bed. “It’s helping you?”

“It is,” he admitted. “Every time I would close my eyes, I’d see those eyes looking at me before she took her last breath. I couldn’t take it. I can’t even imagine the pain you’re going through. If I can admit that I needed help…”

“I know. You’re right.”

“I know this has been hard on you, especially with me gone to school.”

“How do I do this?”

“Well, I’m able to talk to one of the psych professor’s who actually counsels after hours. Maybe go to your doctor and see if they can refer you to someone?”

“Okay. Oh, I got this the other day.”

“What is it?” He asked as he opened the small pink box.

“I had a sort of scrapbook made for Charli.”

He took the little pink book out and started looking at the pages. Her first ultrasound picture was there, a few pictures that Stella had taken when Izzy started showing. One was very sweet actually. She was in a pink top, Rafael had his arms wrapped around her from behind, his hands on her belly while he kissed her cheek.

There were pictures from the hospital when Izzy was in labor. Some of the pictures were sweet, some were cute, and some were sad. Including the last one. It was the last picture before Charlotte took her last breath. Even though the picture was in black and white, the tears on Rafael’s cheeks were evident.

The last page was her obituary and her “In Memory” card from her funeral.

“That was beautiful.”

“I thought it might help give us some closure. I know it’s not the best Christmas present.”

“I love it,” he smiled at her. “I really want you to see someone, though. This isn’t going to be enough for you to move past this.”

“I know.”

“I just worry about you. I kind of like you, ya know?”

“Yeah. I kind of like you,” she told him as she laid her head on his shoulder.

It had been a long time since they had been physical in anyway but he leaned down and kissed her. A small moan escaped from her as he gently ran his hand up her thigh under her robe.

“Raf?”

“Hmm?”

“My Dad’s downstairs.”

“You’re right. Sorry. Hey, why don’t you get dressed and we go do something?”

“Like what?”

“Go to a movie or something. Let’s just get you out of the house.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

[dotsonabrahamsen63-blog]

Remembering Stan Lee: The Amazing Origin Story Of The Marvel Comics Scribe

Remembering Stan Lee: The Amazing Origin Story Of The Marvel Comics Scribe

Strangely enough, Lee said he would cast himself as the opposite of all that in his own imagination, drawing a comparison to the cynical, Stan Lee Thank You For The Memories Shirt uncompromising newspaper editor J. Jonah Jameson. “I’m very frustrated that by the time they made the movie I was too old to play the role,” Lee said. “I modeled him after me. He was dumb and loudmouthed and opinionated. Of all the characters he helped create, Peter Parker remained his favorite. “In a way Spider-Man is more special than the others,” he said. What made him Lee’s favorite? “Nothing ever goes right for Peter. I think for most people in the world, nothing ever goes right. He hates people he’s never seen — people he’s never known — with equal intensity — with equal venom. “Now, we’re not trying to say it’s unreasonable for one human being to bug another. But, although anyone has the right to dislike another individual, it’s totally irrational, patently insane to condemn an entire race — to despise an entire nation — to vilify an entire religion. Sooner or later, we must learn to judge each other on our own merits. Sooner or later, if man is ever to be worthy of his destiny, we must fill our hearts with tolerance. For then, and only then, will we be truly worthy of the concept that man was created in the image of God ― a God who calls us ALL ― His children. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Oscorp Search & Destroy Pack - In The Amazing Spider-Manvideo game, Spider-Man has his own smartphone to help navigate around Manhattan, locate missions and challenges and fight crime. With this pack, Spider-Man's smartphone will feature two mini-games inspired by classic arcade fun. 2.99. Available in North America and Europe. Lizard Rampage Pack - The notorious Lizard is on the loose again in Manhattan! Take on the role of Dr. Connors' terrifying alter ego in a race against time. Go berserk through the streets using his devastating stomp attack and tail swipe to defeat Oscorp guards and earn mega points.

Lee knew his work was different, proudly noting that stories were drawn out over several issues not to make money but to better develop characters, situations and themes. He didn’t neglect his villains, either. One, the Moleman, went bad when he was ostracized because of his appearance, Lee wrote, adding it was “almost unheard of in a comic book” to explain why a character was what he was. Lee’s direct influence faded in the 1970s as he gave up some of his editorial duties at Marvel. But with his trademark white mustache and tinted sunglasses, he was the industry’s most recognizable figure. The Amazing Spider-Man is getting a whole bunch of DLC today, including a few different packs that will have you playing as people other than the titular wall-crawler. The Lizard Rampage pack will open up a level where you play as the Lizard, along with a new Spidey suit to wear. 49.99 on Steam, including complete integration with Steam achievements. A Nintendo 3DS demo is also now available in the Nintendo eShop. Rhino Challenge Pack - Take control of the massive, genetically engineered villain Rhino and rampage around Manhattan in an exclusive gameplay challenge of pure destruction! As Rhino, players will be able to unleash his formidable powers to destroy anything and everything in his path in a timed event full of speed, combo streaks, and of course, a ton of things to break! The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. Lee considered the comic-book medium an art form and he was prolific: By some accounts, he came up with a new comic book every day for 10 years. He hit his stride in the 1960s when he brought the Fantastic Four, the Hulk, Spider-Man, Iron Man and numerous others to life. His heroes, meanwhile, were a far cry from virtuous do-gooders such as rival DC Comics' Superman. The Fantastic Four fought with each other. Spider-Man was goaded into superhero work by his alter ego, Peter Parker, who suffered from unrequited crushes, money problems and dandruff.

XXX in the world of comic books were awesome. I happen to think they’re not exactly what a lot of people think but I don’t doubt their size and endurance. I knew him since 1970, worked for him a few times, talked with him at length and fielded an awful lot of phone calls from him asking me questions about comic books he worked on. He really did have a bad memory, if not when he first started telling people he had a bad memory, then certainly later on as he turned more and more into the Stan Lee character he’d created for himself. That’s all I’m going to write now. That’s where it begins and ends with me. To those of us who have been so deeply affected by the humanity of his imagination, the understanding of reaching beyond our potential and the necessity of tapping into our immeasurable imaginations, we thank you and are forever indebted. Rest In Peace Dear Stan. You made our time here a better one. What a man. What a life. When I first broke into Hollywood, he welcomed me with open arms and some very sage advice I’ll forever take to heart. A true icon who impacted generations around the world. Rest in love, my friend. I have to say I am deeply touched by the passing of Stan Lee… I always looked forward to seeing his cameo parts in all his great movies. 1 - Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there is a spiritual quality in all the Stan Lee movies… always the good guys win. Eventually, not always right away, but eventually. And his movies most of the time ended on an upbeat thought… that allowed us to ponder our existence. 2 - Stan Lee was also a man who could have been a musician but he was not good at music at all.

Legendary Marvel Comics co-creator Stan Lee — famous for giving the world beloved superheroes including Spider-Man, Iron Man and the Incredible Hulk — died Monday. According to TMZ, Lee suffered a number of illnesses over the last year, including pneumonia. His daughter J.C. told the site, “My father loved all of his fans. Lee was born Stanley Martin Lieber to Romanian-born Jewish immigrants in New York City, spending much of his early life in Washington Heights. He returned to Timely Comics in 1945 and married wife Joan two years later. In 1950, Timely Comics publisher Martin Goodman tasked Lee with creating a new superhero team to rival DC Comics’ Justice League. “Let’s lay it right on the line. Bigotry and racism are among the deadliest social ills plaguing the world today. But, unlike a team of costumed super-villains, they can’t be halted with a punch in the snoot, or a zap from a ray gun. The only way to destroy them is to expose them — to reveal them for the insidious evils they really are. The bigot is an unreasoning hater — one who hates blindly, fanatically, indiscriminately. If his hang-up is black men, he hates ALL black men. If a redhead once offended him, he hates ALL redheads. If some foreigner beat him to a job, he’s down on ALL foreigners. Stan Lee, the comic book mastermind who changed the landscape of the superhero genre, has died at age 95. Lee revolutionized the comic world by creating Marvel Comics superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk. An attorney for Lee's daughter, J.C. Lee, said the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic world by introducing human frailties in superheroes such as Spider-Man, The Fantastic Four and The Incredible Hulk, was declared dead Monday at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. In a statement to Fox News Shane Duffy, CEO of Stan Lee’s POW! I think everybody loves things that are bigger than life. I think of them as fairy tales for grown-ups," he told The Associated Press in a 2006 interview. "We all grew up with giants and ogres and witches. Well, you get a little bit older and you're too old to read fairy tales.

How long would this superhero movie thing last? He didn’t know. He was glad to be along for the ride. Happy to see the old characters he helped create being brought to life onscreen. We began talking about the origin of Spider-Man, born in 1962 after a string of other successes had made Stan Lee a powerhouse scribe at Marvel Comics. He had started working there when he was 17. Back then, Marvel Comics was known as Timely Comics, and he was known as Stanley Lieber, son of Jewish Romanian immigrants from the Bronx. His dream was to become a writer. But before any of that could happen, he earned cash by working a series of small jobs. As a theater usher, his first claim to fame was tripping and falling while showing Eleanor Roosevelt to her seat. “Are you all right, young man? Remember, this was six years before Iron Man and the launch of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The films were not yet interconnected, not that there were many to string together. Stan Lee cameos were not yet a phenomenon. He had played a beachside hotdog vendor in the X-Men film. That was it. (“You missed me?” he teased. “I was like the lead of the movie! ] idea was, I was selling sunglasses in Times Square and I was talking to this little girl, showing her a pair of glasses as Peter Parker walks by,” Lee recounted in his gruff, nasally voice. Think about the incredible characters that derived from the mind of this man. Iron Man, the X-Men, Thor, Daredevil and Dr. Strange. These are characters everyone knows and loves. Look at this list of Stan Lee's creations and think about which ones have gone onto success in other media as well as had very successful runs in comics. Every single one of them almost. Granted, a lot of that success is due to the efforts and contributions of those writers and artists who developed the characters through the years. But Stan Lee's fingerprint is on each and every one of them and will always be seen and felt. Can you name one single creator in comics that has contributed as much in terms of longevity, creativity and uniqueness? You can't because there are none. There are plenty of creators that have made great contributions and have written or drawn amazing characters and stories. But none can say they changed the face of the industry quite like Stan Lee can. No matter what happens from this day forward; no matter what superstar creators land at the Big Two. Stan Lee, Marvel Comics' own living legend, stands head and shoulders above the rest. LOS ANGELES (AP) — Stan Lee, the creative dynamo who revolutionized the comic book and helped make billions for Hollywood by introducing human frailties in Marvel superheroes such as Spider-Man, the Fantastic Four and the Incredible Hulk, died Monday. Lee was declared dead at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, according to Kirk Schenck, an attorney for Lee’s daughter, J.C. As the top writer at Marvel Comics and later as its publisher, Lee was widely considered the architect of the contemporary comic book. He revived the industry in the 1960s by offering the costumes and action craved by younger readers while insisting on sophisticated plots, college-level dialogue, satire, science fiction, even philosophy.

[the-firebird69]

We're going to head in and grabbing tons of bunkers huge ones to all of the world and we're using the encapsulation system that we devised and we're working on it he just came along and said try to send my dishes and then epoxy what's the magician's should mix with the poop in the concrete and epoxy oblock both out I was a good idea and it is cuz Th cementitioys is also waterproof. There was a huge gaggle of human from below it's not very organized anymore but you're still cloning and we're taking all that and we have her monsters you up and after the done eating you up the gather up all the poop and we make bombs out of it or blowing the living s*** out of your stuff that's nearby and everybody that's in the building is completely dead from the explosion from your own poop you know how to do it and you don't it's at Corky's poop recently and he's been eating people who are here so you should be alerted that he's doing that and we have been watching him do it and we're putting his poop and other evidence on TV and within the courts like we did when he was Dahmer and you got really beating up after that then put some exorbitant cases in there cuz I can't stand him and don't want him here and he said you're going to present evidence to get your killed of course that's talk to you soon as bich and so she starts talking smack so we're going to get rid of them walk them out keep getting rid of them I'm going to rip out all the climbing here he says anything it's not contaminated we should take over today that's the idiots then we will get forced to take over the other stuff.

And you're pissing us off for the writing you have any idea what we do to you no, well it's too late and you're too stupid to know. We do a lot to you and you're not responding ever means that you're too stupid to know and you're too stupid to respond correctly and you keep threatening me and say you're going to do stuff to me so I'm going to keep hammering on you until you're dust you're frustrating piece of s*** that's killing yourself so I have to do it faster though I appreciate it caaa says I agree that guy has a big a******* just sit there saying all the stupid stuff pissing us off and we come in there and wipe them out it starts all over the next day after he goes out just a whole bunch of cream puffs for taking all his money and we're freezing his accounts and actually we're taking all the lawsuit money to that's quite a bit of it and put it into his account now make sure he knows about it so you can get rid of them quicker and sons your money is ours by the way BJ what you do just keep taking it cuz all you doing is asking for it.

We're going to pull that mental hospital I'm going to stick you in a few idiots and this bjA guy and his idiots make sure you know that you're in it and show you that your mental patients

For real.

The chasms in the North or going full-bore tons you trying to going up to the Iceland and Greenland or getting you and you're doing it on the European continent there's a whole bunch of chasms and you're fully opened and you're not going anywhere but down and to feed her cage you what you're going to use against you and New York City is embroiled in today is the day for the Bronx tale and Daniel be checking out permanently we appreciate your help and getting to you yesterday you're a piece of s*** pushed you in Provo to show that you're ready to harm him so it's time for you to die other side to you're just a big huge woman about everything no offense but and we're going to polish off the rest of you idiots in Massachusetts the chasms are at full bore shovel might be empty today and you mind out everything from Lowell the whole city is going to collapse in so we have to remove it and it's going to start off the removal process for all of New England this left actually and he says we need to assessment from Thor who is actually me it'll give me my assessment and it says we have hours or days so he said shut it out and get my kids together and the other construction team people and hire more because we need tons more to do the city stuff I'd rather have them do the city stuff and have my kids beat the crap out of the sickness now he will graduate into the army probably starting to do that and take some while but we're doing that now. Huge huge caravans are coming this way trying to figure out why he's allowed to say this and they're going after you idiots who are supposedly protecting him and you're not interested when you trash trying to get stuff they'll figure it out pretty quickly. The firebomb you today I can't stand you can sit here for you and yeah your areas up in New York and New England are devastated by your mouth you idiots here in your mouth. After the Bronx tale because you hit a Big Mac boss recharge her out then we'll have to face Mac without You retards around but before you go you started f****** everything up of theirs and yours you got a taste of the starkiller if you want it and stuff. Right now Dan is getting his game together going there to the bar does he has to be in there before noon because the CIA would not drink before noon

Thor Freya

[butcanyoujustimagine]

You Don’t Belong Here Pt. 1

Sumary: Tom Holland goes undercover at Bronx School of Science to prepare for the role of Spider-Man/Peter Parker in the MCU and gets outed by a Native Hawaiian along the way. 

Raiting: PG-13 (swearing) 

“PELE WAI’ALE’ALE-HO’OKELE!” She heard. “GET YOUR ASS UP! YOU’LL MISS YOUR TRAIN!” It was her foster-mother Amanda. Pele looked at the Alarm Clock in her room. It was 5.30, she would miss train to Bronx if she didn’t get up. Pele reluctantly got up, brushed her teeth, got dressed, and put her curly black hair in its usual ponytail and rushed out the door, not even bothering to say goodbye to Amanda, her husband Paul, or their three bratty kids. 

The streets of NYC were much more crowded than what she was used to. Having spent all her life on the Hawai’ian Island of O’ahu, it wasn’t until this year that she had left the state for the first time to go Bronx School of Science and Technology on a scholarship and having spent all her life in the Islands, she was desperate to see what else the world had to offer than the beauty of the Islands her family had called home for thousands of years. 

She hopped the train and put in her ear buds and looked out the window and watched the skyscrapers of go by. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like just to swing from them just like Spider-Man did. When she was living at the Orphanage in Hawai’i, she was going through the attic and found some of the original comics in pristine condition and she couldn’t help but read them. She was only five at the time and she got hooked. 

She arrived at the gloom Bronx School of Science. She swiped in with her Student ID, got her free breakfast and checked her phone. She had gotten a text from her foster brother Akea Afa, stating that the Orphanage where they were living was barely managing to stay afloat. Pele responded back by stating that she’d send some more money to him. She already had to work over time anyway because she didn’t wanna be in her foster home more than she had to. She had already suffered enough under Paul and Amanda’s hands.  

When she arrived in Homeroom, she took her seat and started playing on her phone, waiting for announcements to come on and first period Maths. Soon, she noticed a new kid walk in. 

“Um, hi, I’m Ben Perkins. I’m new here and I this is my homeroom.” He said. He had brown hair that could almost be considered red, brown eyes, pale skin, and nice smile. Pele felt her heart speed up in her chest, her hands get sweaty and she was having trouble concentrating...at least more than normal. “Take a seat next to Pele. Raise your hand.” The teacher stated. 

Pele nodded her head and raised her hand. The new kid walked over to her. There was an exam that you had to pass to get in and that took awhile and this was a private school. You couldn’t just transfer in the middle of the year. Your parents had to be rich to afford the tuition or you could have really good grades and get in here on a scholarship like Pele, but that was really hard. The school didn’t hand-out scholarships to anybody. 

“So, what’s your deal, Perkins?” Pele asked, trying to break the ice. She knew something was up. There was an exam that you had to pass to get in and that took awhile and this was a private school. You couldn’t just transfer in the middle of the year. Your parents had to be rich to afford the tuition or you could have really good grades and get in here on a scholarship like Pele, but that was really hard. The school didn’t hand-out scholarships to anybody. Pele was lucky to even land one, they only gave out two a year. 

“What do you mean?” He asked me. His voice dropped and he sounded British and from London. Pele worked as a bartender in Hawai’i and in New York, she heard accents from everywhere. “I’m here for school.” His voice switched back into an American accent. 

“I mean, this is a private school, you can’t just transfer in here the middle of the year and you have to take an exam and that’s really hard to pass. Nobody came here in the middle of the year. What’s your story? Something’s gotta be up, so spill.” 

“Nothing’s up.” He laughed. He started sweating. It was a tell-tale sign that he was hiding something from the Polynesian girl. She knew he was hiding something, but she needed to find out what and she would find out what.   “What’s your first period?” asked Pele. “I have Calculus with Mrs Comer.” “I have Calc too.” He smiled. He handed her his schedule. 

“Okay, we have all our classes together except computer sciences. Hey, you’re taking astrophysics too!” She laughed.

“Yeah, I guess I am.” He smiled. Tom knew he was way out of his element. Why did he even come up with the idea of going back to High School? 

“I’ll show you around. Who’re you staying with?” Pele asked. 

“I’m staying with Arun Minhaj. I’m his cousin.” Ben stated. 

Pele gave him a questioning look but decided to drop it. He was a terrible liar, something she had learned to get good at to survive in foster care and escape abuse. The bell rang and everybody went on their way to their first-period class. Ben Perkins shadowed her around and he didn’t leave her sight until the end of the day. When she’d take the train to Manhattan so she could get to work and him wherever he was going but all her train ride, she couldn’t get the Ben Perkins kid out of her mind. His smile, his laugh, the way he switched accents when he got nervous when she was grilling him. He was cute, to say the least. When she got off the train, she made her way to work and started the long night of people spilling her guts out to her and when she got back to her foster home, she went to her calendar and crossed off another day. Another day till graduation and another day till she could go home and see her family, and another day till her 18th birthday. 

                                                          ➰

BEN PERKINS, AKA TOM HOLLAND WAS NERVOUS. He had almost blown his cover at school and he was shadowing around the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Pele Wai’ale’ale-Ho’okele. Her first name was pronounced ‘Pay-Lay’ not ‘Peel’, she had to correct a substitute teacher with the pronunciation. Tom couldn’t get Pele out of his mind. Her smile, her laugh, the way she constantly brushed aside bang out of her face so she could see, her broken glasses - only be held together by a piece of scotch tape, her curly black hair. Many other girls at school were trying to get his attention, but to Tom, Pele was the only girl who actually stood out from them, even when she wasn’t trying to blend in. Tom had also heard a few girls talking behind her back. He recalled the conversation in his mind. 

“I mean, she’s from Hawaii? Why would she ever leave?” One asked. 

“She’s here on a scholarship! Ew! If our parents had to pay the tuition, so should hers.” Another girl said. 

“Pele doesn’t have any.” A third girl added. “She’s spent her entire life in foster care.” 

“And the thing is, she’s gonna graduate as valedictorian. The school should honestly pick someone who’s much more accomplished.” 

“I mean, she had 100’s in every single one of her classes.” A fourth girl said. “And her home life sucks. She was abused in her other foster homes, at least, that’s what I heard and she’s sending money back to her foster brothers so that they can stay afloat. I mean, she’s probably under so much stress. I kinda feel bad.” 

“Why do you feel bad about a no good street rat. She’s probably gonna land her ass in jail anyway.” The first girl sighed. “C’mon, let’s go. I wanna go to Starbucks.” 

“I could use some caffeine about now.” The second girl said. They all walked off. 

Tom was suddenly pulled back into reality when his best friend/ assistant Harrison Osterfield called his name. “So, Ben, how was school.” “Some girl knew I didn’t belong! She just knew with one look. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. We have all our classes together.” Tom cried. He was freaking out. 

“Well, she’s not wrong,” Harrison responded. 

“I know that. I have no fucking clue what the hell the teachers are even talking about for the majority of the time.” Tom complained. 

“Just think, in a few days it’ll be over and you never have to see her again.” Harrison encouraged. 

“Well, I kinda have a crush on her.” He admitted. “Her name’s Pele Wai’ale’ale Ho’okele, she turnd eighteen on Christmas Day and she has the most vibrant blue eyes, black curly hair, but she also has a haunted look in her eyes.”

  “C’mon, let’s go out. Let’s try to get your mind off her.” Harrison said.

“Nothing’s gonna work, Haz.” Tom sighed. “I’m totally in love with her.” 

Harrison groaned. “Oh, good God. We’re fucked.” 

“No, shit!” Tom responded. The two men sat down on the couch and sighed. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do, Man.” 

“Neither do I.” Harrison responded. Tom turned on the TV and stared off into the distance. It was raining anyway. 

                                                           ➰

PELE WAS WALKING HOME FROM THE PUB, THINKING ABOUT THE NEW KID BEN PERKINS. She knew he didn’t belong there. She knew he was hiding something. He was a terrible liar, but he was a good job faking an American accent. And Pele would find out what he was hiding, he just didn't seem to belong there. It was a science school and the Perkins didn't seem to know anything.

Pele decided to cut through Central Park before she caught the 23:00 train back to Harlem. She laid down on a bench and looked up at the sky. She couldn't see any stars, just the light from the buildings that towered over the resident. 

Besides the beach, the air, and her foster brothers that lived at the Orphanage with her, another thing that Pele missed about Hawai’i was that she was able to get a clear view on the night sky and imagine what it must've been like for her ancestors when they sailed on the ocean to Colonise much of the Pacific Islands. 

“Seriously, Harrison, why are we out this late? I have school tomorrow. Oh, god, I’m almost 20 years old and I’m in high school.” A guy groaned. Pele got up from the bench when she heard the voice. She turned in the direction. It was Ben. He was British! She got up from the bench, closed her jacket, and followed ‘Ben’ and the guy named Harrison. 

“Because, Tom, it's fun,” Harrison responded. “And besides, two more days and you’ll be off to film.” 

What Pele knew about him was his first name, it had to be Thomas, but he went by Tom and he was British. That wasn't much information to go on. “I knew you didn't belong here.” Pele blurted. “I knew it!” 

Tom and Harrison turned around. “Oh, fuck,” Tom muttered. “This is not good.” “Okay, you have a minute or I'm calling the cops because there should be no reason a 20-year-old should be in High School and I have it all recorded and I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying, so tell the fucking truth!.” Pele snapped. “Time starts now.” 

“I'm an actor named Tom Holland doing research for a role and I’m actually 19, not 20.” Tom blurted, he felt his heart rate race, his palms get sweaty, he couldn’t concentrate on anything really. 

Pele’s blue eyes seemed to gouge straight into his brown ones. Tom couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by her, but he was still taken with the teen. “What’s the role?” She asked. 

“Spider-Man/Peter Parker.” Tom muttered.

The little kid in Pele wanted to squeal with delight. She was meeting Spider-Man. Her favourite superhero. He’s smart, he’s cool and he was a teen! On the other hand, the somewhat rational part of her told her that the guy was out of his mind and she needed to flee from the place as soon as possible. She gave him a questioning look, furrowing her brows so they were scrunched, Tom found it quite cute the way her nose would also scrunch up. “Part of me says you’re fucking with me, the other part says you’re not lying.” She stated. “But the part I’m gonna go with is that you’re not lying. So, I won’t call the cops, this won’t get out.” 

“You promise?” Tom asked, a bit worried. 

“I might do a lot of things, but breaking’ my promises aren’t one of ‘em.” She said, putting her hands on her hips. 

“Anyone want a smoke?” asked Harrison, a bit nervous.

  “Sure.” Pele sighed, pushing some hair out of her face so she could get a better look at Tom. “Thank you and I’m sorry if I came out a bit harsh, I thought you were a pedophile.” 

“It’s okay.” Tom laughed. “See you at school, Pele.”

  “See you at school, Tom.” She sighed. “Or should I say, Ben?” She laughed. The three of them parted ways and Pele felt her heart skip a few beats in her chest. She ignored it and continued on her way to the Train Station. She had school in a few hours and she wasn’t excited for her test in Astrophysics the following day. 

[rilenerocks]

Hi Michael. It’s that time of year again. That time you always hated when I was so, so very hot and sweaty and thus, always had the air conditioning turned down, the overhead fan turned to high and the small floor fan churning away all night long. Like living in a wind tunnel, you’d say. I’m sure you wouldn’t be the least bit surprised to learn that nothing’s changed. I climb into our bed, each night, still on my side, yours untouched, with the dull roar of all my cooling machines as my companions. The thin sheet quivers in the breeze. You’d hate it. I’m physically comfortable and I lie there, thinking. Look at this headline from an article I read this evening.

Scientists Have ‘Woken Up’ Microbes Trapped Under The Seafloor For 100 Million Years

I mean, really? While I was trying to wrap my mind around the impossibility of those numbers and the subsequent life options they revealed, I suddenly hoped that meant we had a chance of reuniting somewhere in this mystifying universe. Certainly our collective and relatively young microbes have just as good a chance at survival as those ancient ones. I’m positive that your microbes are all over our house, our garden and in the few personal items of yours which I’ve stashed away. There might be a few hairs in your brush. I wouldn’t care which version of us we’d be, young or old. Ish.

So then I was thinking about all the tiny details of life I’d normally tell you every day when you were still here in the flesh. I mean, I like your constant cosmic presence, but I usually turn to that with just the most important stuff. I’ve been dying to share with you all these strange little nothing thoughts that cross my mind. Mostly, no one has ever been able to put up with the endless stream of seemingly random, disconnected thoughts that pour out of me. My sister, Cheryl is probably the next best listener after you. As my younger sibling, she was well trained in the absorption of my peculiar brain workings. I’m lucky she’s still here. But there’s just nothing like you for that bottomless reservoir of acceptance which  you provided for me. Isn’t it ironic that we both know you’d be appalled by me releasing all this private information into the faceless universe? I mean, I know some people who read my blog but mostly, they’re strangers. Honestly, except for a few private spaces in myself that defy language, most of the rest is just irrelevant in the long run. What impact do our little quirky selves have? I know you’d disagree but I need to survive now, in my own way. So here are a few random thoughts that beset me as I lie in our bedroom, my favorite space, while my mind wanders in the wee hours after I’m done reading, wishing I could talk to you above the whir of the fan blades spinning around me.

You’re the only person who knew that while I was listening to WLS radio during my pubescent and teen years in Chicago, I wasn’t just a rock and roll/rhythm and blues kid. I also liked gospel, jazz and classical music. I still remember that when you were working at the Record Service, you kept track of my favorites and made sure I always those albums in my stash. And then, you updated them to CD’s so I didn’t have to wear out my vinyl. I’m still listening to lots of different genres every day. I don’t think I could’ve gotten through this bizarre pandemic time without it.

Here’s another weird thing I’ve noticed lately. I don’t watch much television during the day. I turn it on for a few minutes when I get up in the morning, mostly a defensive move to make sure nothing impossibly earth-shattering happened overnight. That’s how things are right now – every day seems to bring a story that’s incomprehensible. Today the story was that after the worst economic quarter ever reported since they started measuring these things, Trump suggested that perhaps we shouldn’t hold an election this fall. This guy will sling any idea that he thinks will get him a second term. As an historian, you just wouldn’t believe how this country has devolved since you’ve been gone. Anyway. When evening rolls around, I’m tired from being outside most of the day. After dinner, I watch the news and then scroll through the tv guide, looking for anything that might distract me, amuse me or otherwise edify me in some way. Lately, I’ve realized that virtually every day, The Godfather, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or Gladiator is playing. Often they’re on at the same time, while other times, they’re staggered. It’s so peculiar. Usually I watch bits of all of them. By the end of the week I’ve seen them in their entirety, albeit out of order. I’ll also pause for Sense and Sensibility, The Princess Bride, Pride and Prejudice or any Errol Flynn movie. Makes me laugh. If you were here, you’d be doing the same thing with The American President, To Have and to Have Not, You’ve Got Mail or The Maltese Falcon. Also Goodfellas, A Bronx Tale, or Stand by Me. I’m working my way through a decent number of tv series that I missed when we were too busy to watch them. But recently, I’m needing revolution. I’ve got “Z” and Battle of Algiers on my DVR. I probably don’t need to get more cranked up than I am these days, but I guess that’s too bad. Watching them anyway. I wonder how any new shows will be made for the fall? Better not go down that rabbit hole. They’re probably not going to happen.  

I want you to know that in your honor, I have loyally kept up with a smaller version of your food garden. Not just the perennial herbs that still marvelously appear and make me feel that it’s you who’s emerging through our rich dirt. That’s kind of absurd because your ashes are sitting in a beautiful box in the house waiting to some day being mingled with mine. Then we can be in the garden together. That aside, I’ve also been diligently planting and nurturing the annual herbs and vegetables, although at the moment, I’m losing the vegetable battle with the squirrels and rabbits. I’ve managed to get about two dozen cherry tomatoes off the vines while I try to ignore the smushed ones on the ground with one bite mark taken before abandonment. All the low-hanging large tomatoes have been filched along with the green peppers. I’m holding out hope for ones that are a little higher on the vines.

I’m really missing your cooking, though. Yesterday, I started ferreting around your recipe folders and dug out the one for pesto which, by the way,  wasn’t labeled. I’m going to make it. I don’t have as much basil as you would plant so I don’t expect to be spooning the mixture into ice cube trays that we could pop out of the freezer for pastas and pizzas. But I’m going to get it done. You really spoiled me. The good news is that I knew it and let you know. So there’s that.

Meanwhile, I’m being really mindful about enjoying every bloom in my flower world. I wait impatiently to make sure that my perennials return and get so happy when they show up. Then I try not to get sad because soon they’ll be gone. That’s something I have to work on – if I’ve learned anything, I know I need to stay in the present. So I’m out there a lot, with the butterflies and the birds, chasing them around with my phone to get good photos that I hope will be comforting in what I expect will be a socially distanced winter.  

Regarding the birds. So far, since spring, there’ve been 50 species in the yard. I don’t know if you’d recall that I started drawing them and filing them in a binder called The Yardbirds. I know you’d get the music reference. Anyway, my renderings are improving. If I practice, I’ll get better. Here are a couple of my recent ones.

I’m really happy that I’ve created a great bird habitat in the yard. I’m learning a lot about their behavior. I love watching the hummingbirds and the house wrens. Tiny, but mighty. I’ve grown fond of catbirds which are showing up regularly at the feeders. They’re perky and curious and pretty brave.

I’ve done something pretty dumb, as getting attached to wild animals doesn’t bode well for a happy emotional outcome. But I’m very fond of the cardinal pair that lives here year-round. After a rousing rescue of one of their fledglings last week, I felt so familial with them that I decided to name the strikingly beautiful female who comes for here daily for a dip in the birdbath. I’m calling her Pumpkin. Now, how absurd is that? I like her boyfriend too.

Another thing I did after a good deal of thought was sell your beloved bike. That was hard for me. I know it was just a thing but you loved it so much. I heard your voice in my head saying, “don’t be ridiculous – it’s just sitting there being wasted. Get yourself some extra cash.” So I did. But I took photos first. All these things I have to do. When I lie in bed in the night, I think about how much easier it is to share the loads of life. I miss that a lot although I’m glad I have what it takes to manage on my own. I think back to my mom after my dad died. By the time she was my age, she’d been dependent on me for almost 5 years. Makes me shudder.

How could I not tell you this most important thing? Our daughter, who went from working remotely to having to appear in person in a closed courtroom, found out the other day that a court clerk had tested positive for Covid19. She was asked to leave her office, get tested and do another 14 day quarantine. Then the judge in charge pf hearing her cases tested positive as well. Ugh. That meant that all the rest of our little family bubble had to be tested too. So far, she and our son got negative results. Our son-in-law, both grandsons and I await our results. I hope we’re all negative and can resume our little intimate enclave. The months ahead look daunting to me. The virus is traversing the country at will with no definitive treatments or vaccines. I dread flu season adding to the complexity of everything. Feels positively medieval.

  In other news, I got an email from the park district informing us that the indoor pool was reopening immediately. The list of precautions and requirements is very long and detailed. I read it carefully while keenly aware of my longing to get back to swimming. In the end, I’ve decided against it. I just don’t think being in an indoor facility shared with high school students can be safe enough for someone like me, a member of what I call the “death group.” So I’ll just have to know that a block and a half from our house, people will be paddling away while I won’t. This adult decision-making of risk vs. reward is overrated.

In other news, I actually wish I was more like my mom in her widowhood. She used to talk a lot about how all she wished she could do was hold my dad’s hand one more time. Lucky her. I remain deeply interested in resuming our intimate life for another 30 years or so. I hope if this reaches you, you’ll be glad to know that some of our best things are strong enough to survive death.

So that’s all for tonight. By the way, I thought you should know that I just restlessly flipped on the television. There is Gladiator in the midst of the re-creation of the battle of Carthage. Round and round it goes, my dearest boy. Until next time.

A Message from the Wind Tunnel Hi Michael. It’s that time of year again. That time you always hated when I was so, so very hot and sweaty and thus, always had the air conditioning turned down, the overhead fan turned to high and the small floor fan churning away all night long.

[blueanddeepblue]

10/6

I've seen my dad once in the last seven years. We haven't spoken in the past year and a half. We're not even Facebook friends. When I came home from college one semester with a Rolling Stones CD with the song Bitch on it, he told me either the CD had to go, or I did. Before that, when I left for college, he told me I was throwing away a god-given gift by not playing college basketball. He may have been right about that one. ----- Right now A and I are sitting in the car in the middle of the Sturgeon River National Wilderness in Michigan's Upper Peninsula escaping the weather. Our tent is holding fast; it is both dry and secure, but I've spent too much of the past 24 hours losing to A at gin rummy to want to be trapped in there any longer. Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 15 is playing on the car radio, and we've reached the climax. Earlier, we ate dinner underneath a tarp in the cold and rain. Dinner was absolutely stellar. There were moments before the rain, as I got the fire going and A prepped our dinner, where the sun came out for a rare appearance, shooting light up towards the gold and red of oaks and birches and maples beginning their fall display. Our camp is along a bend in the river five miles down a dirt road, and we're the only campers here for the second night running. The solitude of the forest is immense after the din of tourists at several of our previous Michigan stops. Today when I went to rinse a dish in the river, a Bald Eagle flushed from his perch and A yelled "Up, up, up!" until I heard her above the babble of the rapids and looked to see him rise over the pines and out of sight. ----- I think some small portion of my love for birding is due to my dad. He would always point out hawks as he was driving, ducking his head so he could get a clearer vantage point beneath the windshield. I'm not sure he took much interest in birds in general, but he showed the excitement of a child whenever a hawk made a highway appearance. When he drove, he always had a toothpick to chew on, a holdover from his smoking days, which I never realized was the case until I quit smoking two and a half years ago. On the dashboard, he'd also keep a comb with all the rounded bristles knocked off so to better scratch his head as he drove. I don't remember him ever getting a traffic ticket. And one of his claims to fame was that he was never in a car accident, not even a fender bender. It's hard not to write about him in the past-tense. Sometimes I feel like the part of my life that had him in it was eons ago, and I was a different person. Now, when the family gets together for christmas, it feels whole and healthy, it doesn't feel like there's a missing piece; it feels like a weight has been lifted. But of course, there's this hole that exists, somewhere, even though I know it's better this way. This past week, talking with my uncle, I noticed, how he too, referred to his brother in the past-tense. ----- One of my favorite parts about traveling is the people you encounter. The relationships that A and I have fostered along this trip are of a certain mettle only tempered through the road. In Virginia we see my friend, Ava, and her and Mike's new baby, Onyx. They live on a farm on the bend in a creek near the Appalachian Trail with chickens and a garden and a self-built sauna and diesel powered hot-tub. They are the type of people who inspire you to do. To find ways to improve your life by your own means. To build a treehouse or learn to fly a plane. To live according to your own rules and not be bound by cultural norms. Ava and I met in undergrad, on a study abroad trip in Mexico. I've kept several friends from that study abroad trip, maybe because forging a friendship in a place outside your comfort zone helps you know that miles-between don't really matter. I remember joining Ava and her family one time at a Gary P Nunn concert in Luckenbach, Texas. I remember eating BBQ and dancing and having too many drinks and laughing at it all, every one of us crammed into the same small hotel room afterwards. I remember being struck by how her parents could still talk amicably after divorce. How they could even laugh a little at each other. How experiences could be shared because they were family. Seeing Ava and her own family is beautiful. We eat french toast and drink too much coffee. Mike is already out on the tractor, discussing methods of hauling brush with a neighbor. We leave feeling torn, lingering longer than intended, wishing we could stay to help the small community that's gathered to help cut down trees and make space for Onyx's outdoor play area. In D.C., we meet up with A's friend, Rhonda. We crash on her couch and wander the town, being tourists and visitors. Rhonda shows us the nearby farmer's market, and spoils us with drinks and stories and delicious meals. Years ago, A used to nanny Rhonda's boys, who are 16 and 14 now, all grown up with deep voices and polite manners, as driven and intent as their mother. Rhonda is a burst of constant energy, a whirlwind of goodness.The kind of person who radiates action and fortitude. As most everyone in D.C. does, Rhonda works in government, balancing home life and the nearly impossible demands of her job. In the garden, she found a caterpillar capable of devouring an entire tomato plant in one night. According to the internet, the appropriate remedy for such a pest is to cut it in half with a knife. Rhonda opts to leave him out on the sidewalk in hopes the birds will find him a tasty morsel. On a nearby leaf, a similar caterpillar is discovered, immobile, and riddled with white wasp larvae devouring it from the inside out. The best practice for a caterpillar being devoured from the inside out is to leave it alone, let nature to do its bidding. There is a theme brewing, a pattern; here, too, a father (but not a husband) stays involved with his kids, cajoles them about their homework, takes them rock climbing. ----- Later, in Pennsylvania, we stay two nights with my best friends' mom, Ann, and her husband Rocky. They live on a farm in the hills surrounded by cornfields and little villages with picturesque churches down winding country roads. When the wind blows, the corn rustles like the rattling of hollow bones, like a million wind chimes made of old newspaper. We have dinner on the patio overlooking the garden and the 100 year old barn and the next-door church and cemetery. We eat mussels and caprese and Rocky's own Golumpki recipe. Rocky and Ann regale us with stories of sailing adventures and hiking trips, tales of family and old friends, and opinions on politics and philosophy and life. I tend to wax poetic. Rocky tells good jokes. Evening on the patio turns into night and new bottles of wine keep appearing. It feels like home away from home. The next day we kayak on a nearby lake and lunch by a waterfall. The trip is also beginning to revolve around waterfalls. When we paddle back, there is a kingfisher and a little green heron and I can imagine the lake when the leaves fall. How it turns into a liquid carpet of gold and orange and red that the boat cuts through like a knife. In New York, we eat pho and gawk at passerby. Chinatown flows by, and we're mesmerized once again by the energy and the pace. New York is a city of no limits, no boundaries. In many ways, you are invisible. Always, everywhere, there is someone louder, more stylish, crazier, more artistic, or more outlandish than you. We stop to see A's friend who's opening a gallery. Later, we stay in the Bronx with my friend Jill, whose wife, Jess, is out of the country helping with hurricane relief. We share a dinner and beers and conversation, the three pillars of almost every good interaction. I fall asleep astounded at the goodness of people, at the way my life is surrounded by amazing people, humbled by the hospitality we're shown stop after stop. ----- My dad was 31 when I came along. In pictures from this era he appears rugged and handsome. He wears cut-off jean shorts and waterskis, barefoot, on some Texas lake, maybe even Canyon Lake, where I grew up. His hair is dark and wavy, and his eyes flicker a mystery, belying the thrill of speed, the roar of a powerboat, the splash of the wake against a barreled chest, strong arms. The pictures themselves have the golden tint of years past, the nostalgic glow of easy living. In one set of pictures, he sports a thick mustache and throws a football to friends. He drinks beer from the types of cans that advertisers have brought back into vogue now that enough time has lapsed, now that the trends have come full circle and they can again benefit from the aesthetics of collective memory. I did not know this version of my father. The one who lived easily among friends. The one who drank beer and waterskied and rode motorcycles and found ways to live fast and large. Or maybe I should say I did not often know this version of my father. Maybe these pictures of him are really card tricks, fanciful sleight-of-hand maneuvers that the mind plays on perception. Maybe the amber-tinged version of my dad is a mythology I've constructed, a story I've built up over the years to protect myself, to help explain why he's faded into the background of my life. Instead, I knew the version of my dad who couldn't handle it when the toothpaste wasn't rolled up from the bottom or the laundry didn't make it into the correct bin. The version who pulled us from sunday school because the message wasn't strong enough. Who changed the channel when beer commercials came on. Who had few friends that seemed to last. Who felt slighted and wronged by the world. Whose eyes shot sideways and clouded over with righteousness when he was begging to lose control. This too, is an illusion, a shifting myth tinged by the murkiness of memory. He also laughed at himself, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He took us fishing and played basketball with us, even though he grew up near Detroit, Michigan, where hockey is the sport of nobility, the sport his Texan kids would never quite comprehend. He wrestled on the floor with us or made himself into a launchpad at the pool, hurling us up and out across the water until we imagined ourselves to be birds, spaceships, shooting stars. ----- Here is a partial list of birds that A and I have seen thus far: Black-Throated Green Warbler Yellow Billed Cuckoo White Breasted Nuthatch Pileated Woodpecker Downy Woodpecker Black Buzzard Eastern Wood Peewee American Goldfinch Hooded Warbler Dark Eyed Junco Golden Crowned Kinglet Red Breasted Nuthatch Canada Goose House Sparrow Raven Grey Jay Green Heron Cedar Waxwing Blue Jay Belted Kingfisher Pine Warbler Northern Flicker Red Tailed Hawk Red Bellied Woodpecker Hairy Woodpecker American Robin Wild Turkey Crow Eastern European Starling Great Blue Heron Tufted Titmouse Brewers Blackbird Yellow Rumped Warbler Black Capped Chickadee Brown Thrasher Bald Eagle Wood Duck American Redstart Turkey Vulture White Throated Sparrow Least Flycatcher Ruby Crowned Kinglet Common Loon Hermit Thrush Northern Mockingbird Some of these are new birds, like the Hermit Thrush and American Redstart, birds that flash new color and make us hold our breath, or others that require we lean in to see the subtlety, those that mystify through the mundane. Some are as familiar as friends - a Kinglet among the underbrush. Other times, we jump to our binoculars at the flash of movement among the trees, against the sky, only to be disappointed by another mangy robin, another buzzard riding the thermals along the cliffs. We camp along every single one of the Great Lakes, marveling at the oceans of fresh water, at the gentle pulse of the waves lapping the shore or at the rainbow of color among the rounded stones. We stand underneath the falls at Niagara and on the boat that takes us in closer to where the mist shoots like needles into our eyes, where the sound is deafening as eternal thunder. Along the shores of Lake Michigan, we haul our camp chairs to the beach and look at the Milky Way among the night sky. We drink box wine and watch the fog roll in. Later, we swim in Superior, clear as glass all the way down to our toes. We emerge fresh and alive, reborn. We also run away from the biting flies, layer up to avoid the gnats, the mosquitos. Nature churns on according to its own whims. We're merely visitors here. ----- So much has gone by that I can't cram into this post. So many thoughts and feelings slipped through the cracks. Elusive. Flitted away. Things I glimpsed but that I could not identify. Ways to cinch the threads on this loose narrative. I am sitting in my sister's home in downtown Minneapolis. My niece is building blocks on the living room floor in front of me. I am aware that she is where the secret exists. That the most important person should always be the one right in front of me. That these memories I revisit and these things I chronicle are also fleeting. My sister and her husband have a wonderful family. The nieces share and play together wonderfully. Their home is wonderful and the meals we share around the table are wonderful. It's grey and rainy on the streets right now, but the warmth inside this home seems to stem from something deeper than an efficient central air system. My brothers camped with us in New York. We swam in the lake and fed spiders to the fish below the dock, watching them emerge from the depths like in the best Attenborough documentaries. We hiked around the lake. We watched a sunset explode over the hills behind us. We shared a fire and ate s'mores. We drank beers and swapped stories as the fog rolled in. I'm proud of my little brothers, who are bigger than me and have been for quite some time. I'm proud of their decisions and the people they've become - solid, thoughtful, caring, and articulate. I'm proud of their ability to grow up. Proud of their tenacity and perseverance. Proud of the kindness that seems innate. I'm proud of them. I'm proud of them all. My sister and brother back in Texas who aren't as much a part of this story merely because this trip and their paths have not yet intersected. I'm proud of the family we've become. The people we are. ----- There are no tidy endings here. No clean conclusions. Narratives seek a wrap-up, a way of putting all the pieces back together, but this is real life; it is neither as messy, nor as poetic as I make it seem in this account. I know that Dad is a part of the family we've become. I know that he, too, has much to be proud of. That he, too, should look at his grown children and see their success as part of his own. But I also know that he is broken. As all people share in brokenness. And that his brokenness keeps him from sharing in our success. Keeps him from calling, or writing, or staying meaningfully involved in any of our lives. In Michigan, we met up with Dad's brother and his wife. We kayaked down the Au Sable river and stayed at their home along the shores of Lake Huron. We slept with windows open to the sound of a lapping lake and woke to sunrises made of gold and fire. I wasn't planning on writing any of this. Not really. But somewhere along the dirt roads of the Upper Peninsula, or while passing a ski boat towed by an eager truck, or while walking on a sandy beach of Huron (all of these places of Dad's own childhood, fragments of the stories I remember him telling), or maybe even before all that, maybe before the trip began, I noticed a thread. Somewhere in all this space and beauty, somewhere in the rush of a waterfall, in the purple of a flower, somewhere between hiking-strides or in the sweep of a vista, I noticed a memory that hasn't quite yet finished playing itself out. A memory that is stranger still because it holds no finality, because there is still a chance at redemption, at a happy ending. So I'll put this here, mostly for my own benefit, like a soup simmering on low, to come back to at a later time. When I'm ready. And I'll walk with the realization that life isn't passed on, it's shared. That beauty is right in front of you, inviting you to get down and share with someone, inviting you to pick up the pieces and build something.

[santoteez]

A Manhattan Tale - Seonghwa (5)

Parts: 5 of ?

Masterlist HERE

Genre: Chef!Seonghwa, FormerDrugdealer!Seonghwa, FormerKingpin!Hongjoong, Bad boy/ Good Girl kinda??

Warnings: Love interest is a Black Female, mentions of sexual intercourse, swearing, eventual smut, mentions of betrayal, Angst, Mentions of drugs

Requested: yes

NOTE: This fic does NOT, in any way, shape, or form, portray the way I view any member of Ateez nor does it depict their true personalities or actions. This AU is just that. An AU. All family members are FICTIONAL.

Seonghwa stormed into Lincoln Hospital, Zelie right on his tail.

“I’m looking for Minjoon Kim.” He told the front desk.

“Are you family?” The woman asked.

“Yes.”

“Name?”

“Seonghwa Park.”

“Are you sure you’re family?”

“Are you sure that DIY wig is actually up to par?” Seonghwa narrowed his eyes.

“The woman cleared her throat, looking back at her screen. “Room 201. Take the elevator on your right one flight up, walk to the end of the hall and take a left. Third door on your right.” She fished out a bright yellow pass from a folder and placed it on the counter. “Take this. Once your visit is over, just bring it back.” She said, refusing to meet Seonghwa’s gaze.

He smiled sweetly. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Thank you!” He gestured for Zelie to follow him.

“Do you have to be mean to everyone?” Zelie rolled her eyes.

“I’ve said worse things. I did her a favor. Did you see her frontal?”

Zelie shook her head. “How do you even know these things?”

“Santana talks a lot.” Seonghwa pressed the elevator button, and they both got on. They walked down the hall, Seonghwa’s footsteps quickening the closer they got. He broke into a light jog as they turned the corner.

They made it to room 201, where Hongjoong and Santana were already sitting, and Soojin was in Minjoon’s arms on the bed. Minjoon was badly bruised. Red, black, and purple stained his skin, and his eye was swollen. He had on an oxygen mask and was connected to an IV. Despite all of that, he still looked strong.

Seonghwa approached the bed, placing his hand on Minjoon’s head. “What happened to you, kid?” He asked, and for the first time in years, he teared up. Minjoon looked up at him, turning away when his eyes started to water. The interaction caused Soojin to burst into tears, hiding her face in Minjoon’s chest.

“I’ll take her to go get some ice cream,” Santana said, pulling Minjoon off the bed.

“NO! I want to stay with Minjoon! He can’t be alone again!”

“We’re not going home, baby. We’re just gonna go get some ice cream and come back. Why don’t you bring him some? He’ll get better faster.” Santana said.

Soojin turned to look at Minjoon, who nodded and gave her a weak smile. “Okay, let’s go.” She said, holding Santana’s hand.

Once they were out of hearing range, Hongjoong spoke up. “EMT said it was physical assault. He was on his date, and someone came up behind him and attacked him with a bat. He tried to fight the guy off but he froze due to a panic attack. The guy had on a hood, he didn’t get a good look. His date is traumatized. She’s the one that called 911. She just left.”

Seonghwa ran a hand down his face. “These fuckers are getting bold. In broad daylight?”

Hongjoong shrugged. “Still don’t know who the fuck is doing this. Lil-” He stopped abruptly, turning to look at Zelie.

“She knows,” Seonghwa said.

“Everything?”

“I spared her the details, but yeah.”

“You’re still here?” Hongjoong asked.

Zelie shrugged. “I feel that dealing doesn’t make you a terrible person, especially when you have a reason for doing so and you at least try to redeem yourself. That goes for you too, HJ. Neither of you are bad people.”

“Looks like you hit the jackpot,” He smirked at Seonghwa, who rolled his eyes. “I appreciate that, Zelie. As I was saying, everything Lil Mike has found out points to One Eye, but he can’t find solid proof if it’s really him or just a copycat. Once we have damning evidence, we can make calculated moves.”

“Minjoon, you said you fought back before your panic attack?” Seonghwa asked.

Minjoon nodded.

“Did you scratch the person?”

He nodded again.

“I see where you’re going with this. Please don’t tell me you’re going to see who I think you are.” Hongjoong said, exasperated.

“We need the help, don’t we?” Seonghwa asked, taking a look at Minjoon’s fingernails. “Looks like there are some skin cells under there. Whoever it is, you got them good. If the test brings up a match, the person should also have some marks that line up.” He walked around the room, searching for cotton swabs.

“I don’t get it. Who’s he going to see?” Zelie asked.

“Looks like Loverboy left that part of his life out of the briefing he gave you. His last girlfriend cheated on him with a doctor way older than her. They were in high school. She went to college for forensic examining. She works at the precinct across town.”

“You’re going to see your ex?” Zelie asked, trying her best not to seem bothered.

“You two sound like I’m taking her on a date. I could care less about her musty ass. I’m trying to figure this shit out. I want this shit to stop.” He used cotton swabs to carefully clean Minjoon’s fingernails. “They can fuck with me, but Minjoon? Entirely too far. Zelie and I are gonna head to the precinct now to see if Breana is there.”

“Me? Why am I going?”

“Well, the obvious answer is because since your house was vandalized and you still have a gunshot wound, I’m kind of your bodyguard. But, since everyone is so skeptical about me seeking Breana’s help, you can be my witness that there are no feelings on my part whatsoever. And plus, I know you see me as your boyfriend that isn’t really your boyfriend. My sister said that shit all the time about every guy growing up.” He placed the swabs in a glove, tying it tightly.

“I knew I recognized that voice.”

Everyone turned to see a raven-haired woman with a large baby bump in a white lab coat.

Seonghwa looked like he’d seen a ghost. “HJ, I’ll call you if anything. Minjoon, anything you need, text me. I’ll be here. Zelie, we should get going.”

“Hwa, it’s me. Minseo, your si-”

“I know who you are. I was just leaving. No need to kick me out of the hospital too.”

“Hwa, I’m sorry!”

“My name’s Seonghwa. And you should be sorry. Sorry that you grew up to be a heartless bitch. Zelie, we’re leaving.”

Minseo turned to Zelie. “You must be the girlfriend! You’re so beautiful-”

Seonghwa grabbed her hand, pulling her close. “Don’t talk to her.”

“Seonghwa, there’s actually something I came to ask you. I’ve tried tracking you down, but you didn’t exactly have a number or address last time I saw you. I’m pregnant.”

“I can tell. Congratulations.”

“I wanted to know if you’d like to come to the baby shower? This isn’t me asking you for anything monetary. You don’t even have to bring anything. I just would like to see you there.”

“After embarrassing me at your practice, you think I want to be at your house? I don’t even want to be in the same room as you. Tracking me down wouldn’t have been such a problem if you took the stick out your ass and took a trip back to The Bronx every once in a while. But you’re too good, right? Let’s go, Zelie.” He walked out of the room, holding Zelie tightly by his side.

They made it down to the front desk, where Seonghwa slammed the visitors pass down before speeding out of the place.

They get in the car and make it onto the highway in silence before Zelie spoke.

“Are you okay?”

Seonghwa sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry for losing my cool back there. I just took one look at her and memories came flooding back. The look of disgust from her and her patients. The last shred of hope I had left being torn from me as she kicked me out. The loss of dignity. She made me feel so small that day. She wasn’t always like that. It wasn’t until she started dating that rich kid husband of hers. Suddenly she couldn’t do Pizza Fridays or Sloppy Joe Wednesdays with me anymore. She was all ‘that’s a lot of carbs, Hwa.’ Started eating kale and going out with his family for sushi night. I was forgotten. And now she decides to remember she has a brother? Why? So she can look good at her bullshit baby shower? Tough luck.”

Zelie spoke up cautiously. “What if I went with you?”

“You’re seriously expecting me to go? Whose side are you on?”

“If I have to pick, I’d say the baby’s. What your sister did is despicable and you had every right to lash out at her today, but think about the baby for a sec. This baby is being born into your family. They have no idea what went on before they were born. The baby deserves a chance to know you. What happens when you have kids of your own and Minseo’s kid grows up not knowing they have cousins and an uncle? That’s going to be a deep void in the baby’s life. A void only you can fill. Maybe just forget about the baby shower. But I’d say at least tolerate your sister for the baby, even if you never fully forgive her.”

Seonghwa stayed quiet, not knowing how to respond. He turned up the radio in hopes to fill the awkward silence. 15 minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot.

“C’mon. We’re here.”

They walk into the precinct, filled with people being handcuffed and policemen going over reports. Seonghwa walked up to the rotunda.

“I’m here to see Dr. Rossi.”

“Under what circumstances?” The cop asked.

“Tell her it’s Park. That she still owes me a favor.”

The cop sighed, picking up the phone and reciting what Seonghwa said to the person on the other line. After a few seconds, he hung up.

“She said you can head on in. Only one of you.”

Seonghwa wrapped his arm around Zelie’s waist. “The lady’s with me. I’m not leaving her here.”

They walked down the hall into an open office. At the desk sat a fair-skinned woman with natural blond hair and piercing green eyes.

“Seonghwa, to what do I owe this visit?” She smiled smugly.

“I need that favor, Breana.”

“Depends on what it is.”

“No, it doesn’t. I did you the favor last time, and you said you’d owe me. Whatever it takes. So, unless you want your colleagues to know New York’s biggest coke fiend is right down the hall, you better get your ass out of that seat.”

Breana was taken aback. “You’re showing off because your little friend is here. How cute.”

“Now I know this trick didn’t just call me a ‘little friend’.” Zelie said under her breath.

Seonghwa threw the glove on the desk. “Inside are several cotton swabs. I need you to test the skin cells and see if anything pops up.”

She looked at the glove in disgust. “I can’t even get a plastic bag?”

“It’s a hospital. Not a deli. They don’t exactly have Ziploc bags lying around. Gotta preserve the evidence somehow, right?”

“Not to mention, it sounds to me like you have more than enough plastic baggies already,” Zelie said, sniffing in an exaggerated manner.

Breana chuckled humorlessly. “Nobody asked you.”

“I speak when I feel like it. Who gon pop me?”

“Looks like you found someone as rude as you are,” Breana said. “Too bad it’s only a matter of time before he gets bored of you.”

“You don’t know me, honey. I got that thang that keeps him coming back. I don’t have to go fuck an old man to be told I’m the best of the best.”

“Listen, bitch. I know how to keep my man.”

“Must be easy. With that big ass age difference, he can’t be very fast.”

Breana scowled. “You sure know how to pick em, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa smiled. “Isn’t she just an angel? So, do we have a deal?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll run the tests. I’ll message you once the results come back and see if it matches anyone in our database. Until then, get the fuck out of my office. Next time, come alone.”

“Alone or not, he gon be thinking bout alllll this.” Zelie ran her hands up and down her body. “Bye, Powder Nose.”  She waved.

They walked out of the precinct and back into the car.

“What now?” Zelie asked.

“I’m pretty hungry, wanna head to Applebee’s?”

“Yeah, sure. Sounds good.” Zelie nodded. “We still have time to kill until work.”

“Actually, I’m thinking of closing the restaurant for a little. I can’t guarantee it’s safety until the situation’s boiled over. I liked the way you stood your ground against Breana just now. I know she can be an asshole.”

Zelie rolled her eyes. “Ugh. Don’t say that name. She really tried it.”

“I can’t lie. Seeing you that upset was so fucking sexy.” He turned to look at her.

Zelie looked back in shock. “Boy, you better drive before we never make it to Applebee’s.” She said turning to look out the window.

“Maybe I’m in the mood to eat something else.” He said, his hand gently squeezing her thigh.

Zelie swatted him away. “Men are just DEVIOUS. I said DRIVE.” She said, making Seonghwa laugh.

Stephie here! So we finally got some type of lead on the suspects. Because this fic is moving so slow (It’s my fault, I always have too much going on) It’ll probably be a longer AU than Hongjoong’s. Not by a lot, buuuut yeah lol

[dont-sneeze]

One of the Great Ones-a Javid fic

[biofunmy]

In ‘City on a Hill,’ a Crime-Ridden Boston Before the ‘Miracle’

In Showtime’s new crime drama “City on a Hill,” Jackie Rohr is a cocaine-snorting, corrupt and racist F.B.I. veteran who longs for the days when the “bad men” were in power, and Decourcy Ward is a principled new assistant district attorney from Brooklyn, determined to “rip out the [expletive] up machinery” in 1990s Boston.

The characters — played with flamboyant vigor by Kevin Bacon and simmering fortitude by Aldis Hodge — shouldn’t like each other, or even be able to work together. And for much of the pilot episode, they don’t.

But one morning last April, as Bacon and Hodge filmed a scene for a later episode in Decourcy’s office — actually a set at Steiner Studios in Brooklyn — the mood was different. The characters were on good terms, maybe even kind of pals.

Decourcy shared his uneaten eggs with Jackie. (In between takes, Bacon joked about being too full to partake in the handsomely stocked craft services.) Both sported shiners on their faces but they didn’t give them to each other; Decourcy’s came from a confrontation with a church minister, Jackie’s from an “alcohol-induced haymaker” at the V.F.W. When their easy chatter was interrupted by a distressing call Jackie received on his period-appropriate oversized mobile phone, Decourcy expressed concern and moral support.

Decourcy and Jackie “don’t trust each other, but kind of need each other,” Hodge said later during a phone interview. “They both represent two sides of the same coin. One is a dark looking into the light, one is a light looking into the dark.”

That could be the tagline of “City on a Hill,” which takes place during a time when crime rates and racial tensions in Boston were exceedingly high until a coalition of community groups developed an anti-violence mission that would prove successful in the late ’90s.

[Read our review of “City on a Hill.”]

The show was created by the relatively unknown writer (and Boston native) Chuck MacLean, but it sports an impressive pedigree of Hollywood veterans, including the executive producers Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and Barry Levinson. It’s a sprawling ensemble piece that’s part procedural and part machismo-fueled interracial buddy tale: Decourcy and Jackie are brought together through their mutual interest in taking on a family of armored car robbers in Charlestown led by Frankie Ryan (Jonathan Tucker). By the end of the pilot, they’re swapping personal stories and strategizing how to build a potentially career-defining case over drinks in a bar.

Their dynamic may call to mind Tibbs and Gillespie or Murtaugh and Riggs, but the show’s origins lie in “The Town,” the 2010 crime thriller Affleck co-wrote, directed and starred in, which also centered on criminals in the working-class, heavily Irish Charlestown neighborhood.

Affleck was inspired to develop “City on a Hill,” he wrote in an email, after “doing so much research for ‘The Town’ and not being able to tell the scope and scale of the story the research yielded.” The series offers a more expansive means “to explore the city and in particular what was going on politically, socioeconomically, racially and culturally at the time I kind of came of age there,” he wrote.

Affleck tapped MacLean, a self-described “bum from Quincy, Mass.” with an unmistakable accent to match, who had worked with Affleck’s brother, Casey, on a script for a movie about the Boston Strangler that never got made. The veteran writer and producer Tom Fontana, who specializes in character-driven dramas set in distinct environments (“St. Elsewhere,” “Homicide: Life on the Streets,” “Oz”), was impressed by the pilot and came on as the showrunner and an executive producer after “City on a Hill” was picked up by Showtime.

While this high-wattage project is MacLean’s first foray into TV, his fascination with Boston history — his home in Los Angeles contains “wall-to-wall” crime and newspaper memorabilia stretching back to the 1930s — made him a good fit for Affleck’s vision.

“I didn’t want to spend five years talking about bank robbers and I don’t think he did either,” MacLean said. “So we started talking about the different things that were going on in Boston in the early ’90s.”

A lot was going on. The city was plagued by violent crime and racial tension, generating plenty of headlines that the series occasionally rips from, à la “Law & Order.”

It begins by citing the notorious case of Charles Stuart, a white Bostonian who in 1989 claimed that a black gunman attacked him and killed his pregnant wife. More than two months passed — during which the police went on a manhunt and Stuart eventually identified someone as the attacker from a lineup — before Stuart’s story fell apart. His brother Matthew went to the police and outed him as the real killer.

The incident exacerbated the already tense relationship between law enforcement and the black community. “The Boston police and the city of Boston — from the end of World War II, there was at least one time in every decade where they became a national embarrassment,” MacLean said.

“The Stuart one was the first time that I think the circumstances lined up that it was particularly bad, but then in the aftermath of it, it allowed for a lot of good to happen,” he added. “That’s the theme that I wanted to look at.”

MacLean, 33, was a child during the era of “City on a Hill.” But the journalist and author Michele McPhee, a writer for the show, was then a young investigative reporter at The Boston Globe, and recalls well the city’s struggles during those years.

“A little girl gets shot off a mailbox,” McPhee said. “Jermaine Goffigan — whose face I’ll never forget — he’s counting Tootsie Rolls from Halloween, still in his costume, when he gets hit by a stray bullet.”

“The city had had enough,” she added.

Jackie and Decourcy serve as the thematic entry point, their unlikely partnership an explicit allegory for the Operation Ceasefire program — also known as “The Boston Miracle.” Black clergy members, police officers, probation officers and outreach workers — once unaligned with one another — joined forces under the direction of the Harvard University criminologist David M. Kennedy to focus on black youth in high-crime areas. After it was carried out in 1996, Boston began to see a decline in homicides, and similar programs were replicated in other cities like Cincinnati with success.

“These two characters are polar opposites,” Fontana said. “But for at least a period of time, [they] need each other and are willing to overlook certain things in an effort to achieve something greater.”

The show’s creative team is primarily white, a liability for a story that aims to authentically portray a time and place defined largely by racial tension. (This season there was one biracial writer, J.M. Holmes, and one Latino writer, Jorge Zamacona.) But “City on a Hill,” doesn’t shy away from depicting its setting’s deeply ingrained racism: Within the first minute of the first episode, Jackie flippantly slings around the N-word.

“That was the world I grew up in,” MacLean said.

But, he added, he spoke frequently with Hodge and Lauren E. Banks, who plays Decourcy’s wife, Siobhan, about their perspectives. “As much as I wanted my story told correctly, I wanted everyone else’s involved in this to be told correctly,” he said.

Hodge said he “chimes in quite a bit” when it comes to the show’s depiction of Decourcy, who is partly inspired by Boston’s first black district attorney, Ralph Martin.

“That’s something that’s a priority going forward, just to get more black voices in the writer’s room,” he said. “Unless you’ve actually been the victim [of racism], you actually don’t know what it is.”

Stories about such fraught but fruitful partnerships risk turning a racist like Jackie into a sympathetic figure by having him work well with Decourcy. But in the early episodes, at least — the first 3 of 10 were made available in advance — the show is less about Jackie learning to not be a terrible human being than Decourcy’s struggle to take down the (white) status quo without becoming like it.

Decourcy is the “hero of the series” who must “deal with the devil” Jackie, MacLean said.

For Hodge, the question is: “How far will he go before he turns into Jackie Rohr?”

As for Jackie, a defining quality, Bacon said, is that he’s “so narcissistic that his belief that the ends justify the means” allows him to behave unethically. (The character is a loose composite of the F.B.I. agents H. Paul Rico, who was indicted on a charge of murder shortly before his death; John Connolly, who aided the mob boss James (Whitey) Bulger; and Dennis Condon.)

The creative team strove for authenticity in depicting the city of Boston as well, even though it almost never actually films there.

The pilot was shot in and around the city, but the production moved to New York once the series got picked up — exterior scenes were shot in Staten Island, New Rochelle, White Plains and the Bronx. (A few scenes have since been filmed in Boston.)

This decision came down to practicality: Boston lacks soundstages and the city is generally “much prettier now than it was” in the ’90s, said McPhee, who served as a kind of Boston credibility consultant.

“I was getting ready to eye-roll and say, ‘Oh God, we’re never going to get Boston,’” she said. But she was impressed with the attention to detail, adding, “There’s a set that represents [the] Bromley Heath [apartments] that I felt like I was walking through the halls of Bromley Heath.”

(“Believe me, it wasn’t my decision,” MacLean said of the move to New York.)

It’s too early to know whether there will be a second season of “City on a Hill,” though MacLean said he’s plotted out five seasons’ worth of material for the leads. According to Affleck, the plan is to move the action from Charlestown to Roxbury if the show gets renewed, and then to a different neighborhood each season, similar to the “The Wire” and its thematically distinct chapters.

“You meet two people from Boston who talk, they never talk about Boston — they talk about the neighborhood where they’re from,” MacLean explained. “The neighborhood is their vision of what Boston is.”

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NSFW #20: Choices and Possibilities

This probably wasn’t safe to do. The shell of the building in a long condemned area of Cleveland’s industrial district was missing a good seventy-five percent of its ceiling, the rubble of the caved in roof scattered all over bits of rusting machinery. Plants and wildflowers, brown and frozen by the icy hand of winter, pushed their way through cracks in the concrete floor- Mother Nature’s defiance of the progress of mankind. The sky was blue with the occasional wispy cloud, but the wind still howled from time to time through the open roof and broken windows. In all of this, three folding chairs were situated on more stable slabs of fallen roof and in them sat three people bundled against the Northeast Ohio cold. A small, slightly-built woman with fiery hair under a Mets cap, swathed in a leather biker jacket and a sunset orange scarf. A blonde man with an imposing build but gentle eyes, tucked in a lambskin bomber jacket with a warm shearling collar and an emerald green scarf. These two are sat side by side, facing the third- a somewhat heavyset fellow in a black puff jacket, his own scarf black and white striped and complemented with black earmuffs. He had a microphone clipped to his coat collar, as did the other two. They also each held large championship belts of gold plate and black leather. The odd man out spoke first. “This is a strange place for an interview, isn’t it?” The redhead laughed. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But nah, it ain’t strange at all when you think about it. I mean, look at this old place. What was it? An industrial bakery? A freakin’ button factory? A post office distribution outfit? There’s so many possibilities, Spade.” Mike McGuire looked up through the open ceiling, tapping a finger against her chin. “Possibility’s a funny thing. You have endless doors open before you, with any number of paths you can take all depending on shit like your ability, potential, privilege, that sort of thing. But the further you go, the more choices you make, the more that path narrows until you’ve made your ultimate choice on how your life or career is gonna go. Sometimes you can go back, but sometimes you’re too far down the path to turn around. Like…” The Bronx Brawler sat back up, leaning forward. “...say you show up at a place of business and grab a tiger by the tail. You’re full of piss and vinegar and you got blood shooting out your eyes and you say you’re gonna destroy everyone. You take out the biggest obstacle in your way and everyone’s wondering what kind of havoc you’re gonna wreak. But what they don’t know is that you’ve already made choices. Choices dictating where you’re going, and it sure’s fuck ain’t where people thinkyou’re going- it’s somewhere a fuckton less.” Spade raised an eyebrow at Mike inquisitively. “You’re not one for waxing hypothetical, McGuire. What are you getting at here?” John had listened to his partner weave this tale. It was a familiar one. Maybe because they had lived it. Sensing Mike’s slight annoyance at the question, he cut in. “This isn’t hypothetical at all.” “Nope. See, in case people out there have lost count, this’ll be our fourth go-round with The Limit. So we should know these guys like the back of our hands, but see, something’s not the same here. The Limit’s changed, Spade, and not for the better.” “Can I be frank with you guys?” “But your name is Bryan.” Bryan looks at John - and then to Mike as if expecting an explanation of sorts. He didn’t get one. “Yeah yeah, what is it?” “These two guys? They’ve put a hurting on you. I’m not talking minor stuff. Injury reports’ clear as day. Mike, right off the bat, a concussion. John, a laceration on your abdomen that required dozens of stitches. Both of you, multiple hospital visits. Mike, your hand. They broke your hand on last year’s season finale of Monday Night Brawl.” “Yes. Yes they did, and that’s just fuckin’ it, Spade. These guys came in like a couple’a brazen bulls, and though we got the W every time, they still came out lookin’ like beasts. Sent us to the hospital twice. Nearly gutted my partner. Busted this hand right here. Like you said.” Mike wiggled her fingers for emphasis. “But remember what I said about choices. The choice the Limit made was to be Dominic Saunders’ hired stooges. Nobody knew that. We sure’s fuck didn’t. Saunders caughteverybody flat footed. And at first it didn’t matter. Sometimes the consequences of your choices ain’t so evident right away. But I tell ya, one moment you’re sending the future champs out in an ambulance, and the next?” She snapped her fingers. “You’re cleaning some Cope-spittin’ motherfucker’s pool.” “Let’s rewind, Bryan.” “Okay.” “Monday Night.” “Right.” “Another display of cruelty from our champion. Rob Garcia wound up in the right state this time. Draco Lazarus makes his glorious return.” Displaying his growing penchant towards sarcasm, John gave the shocking surprise a light golf clap. “Saying the same things he’s always said. Part of another group of like minded individuals making sweeping proclamations for world domination.” And he leveled his gaze at Bryan. “Who cares?” He paused. “Noticed something strange. Mike, how about you? Something out of place.” “Aside from a hideous fucking construct of hair bleach, pus, unidentified fungus, and mutant STD cultures gaining sentience as well as delusions of grandeur?” “There was no Limit.” Mike’s face lit up in realization. “Well what the fuck do ya know. There wasn’t, was there? Seems to be kind of a big omission. Seeing as they’re equal parts of the group and all.” “There is most likely a explanation for that.” “Oh, I agree, and I’m pretty sure what it was, too. They had to go start the car, pack up the gear. They’re relegated to porter and chauffeur duty. This is what’s become of two guys that the EWC Faithful nominated as our most worthy rivals of last year. The vicious pit bulls that bust in outta nowhere and tore us apart are nothin’ more than subservient fuckin’ lap dogs now. The bottom of the barrel in a group that in and of itself is the bottom of the barrel.” “Collateral Damage Part Deux.” “The sequel nobody asked for. And sequels usually fuckin’ suck. I mean, I guess they’re not a sequel to the sequel, that’d be gettin’ in goddamn Criterion territory.” John chuckled wrly. “Original wasn’t much better.” “It’s like when they made all those fuckin’ Sharknado movies one after another.” “What’s a sharknado?” “...when a waterspout sucks up a buncha sharks and then makes landfall so you get a shark tornado.” Church looked to Bryan to see what his reaction was. “Alright, we’re diverging from the point.” “No, we aren’t. Bryan, there is no point to this. Alexander? Frank? There isn’t a point to them. These two haven’t competed since December 1st of last year. A few days prior, Mike and I defeat them for a third time. Are we supposed to be impressed that they torched the Eternal Circle, The Clifton Sisters of yesteryear?” For a brief second, easily missable if one blinked, a look passed over Mike’s face that seemed nothing short of besotted. But it was gone as soon as it came, replaced with a more subdued expression of appreciation. “Well spoken, bud. We’re not impressed. Nobody should be impressed, unless they find their grandma’s Bischon Frise particularly impressive. Cuz like I said- that’s what we’re dealing with now. The bulls have their horns ground down and their brass balls neutered, the beasts have their teeth and claws ripped out. There’s nothin’ to fear, or even to really look forward to. This is rote. This is less than fuckin’ rote. And it’s really fuckin’ sad, because anyone who knows us knows we thrive off good quality competition. If we’re gonna face The Limit, we wanna face The Limit, not Diet Limit.” Bryan adjusted the microphone clip on the collar of his coat. He looked down at a notecard in the palm of his hand before continuing. “Mike, John, you two always have something interesting to say. But, come on, you two are really that indifferent about your opponents?” “You want us to be angry at them? Why would we be?” “Kind of going in a circle here, John. Look at your history with them. It bears repeating.” “No he isn’t. Haven’t you been paying attention? Shit, I never thought I’d miss Heart so much. Here, let me fuckin’ explain.” Mike leaned forward again, eyes hard green stones. “The Limit we fought wouldn’t step aside for anybody. Much’s they said they don’t care about titles, I never really believed that. But it don’t look like they have much of a choice now, do they? Not since their Fearless Leader called in the Gilded Shit. Nuh-uh. Seems like those two want these.” The redhead gave a pat to her belt’s front plate. “And if they want these, where does that leave The Limit? I’ll tell you where. Grunt work and hired help shit.” “Must pay well. After all, Dominic is a generous man.” He shrugged. “But think about it. This could have been the opportunity for The Limit that they would never received through achievement alone. Dominic could have bowed out. Could have said, ‘Rob’s out, The Limit’s in.’ But he didn’t. Instead, your kind and compassionate leader disparaged them as losers. Opting for the untested Maurice Yensman instead. In between their clerical duties for Dominic Sanders, they must have seen a lost opportunity as we systematically picked apart the greatest faction this company has ever known.” “See, and here’s where all that bullshit about blah blah blah, we don’t care about wins or titles we just wanna hurt people, really rings fuckin’ hollow. Cuz them stiffs ain’t even getting the opportunity to do that. Listen, as once-worthy opponents, they should take our advice and get themselves outta that shit show before it’s too late and their horns, balls, fangs, and claws won’t ever grow back. Unless they really want to be lackeys for the rest of their lives.” “Mike. John. I’ll be honest, kind of expected something else.” “What do you mean?” “Last week, you were kidnapped by the Collector.” John shook his head. “That was a rough day.” “Those poor, poor Cliftons.” “And the week before?” “I wonder if Duggan ever got home.” “I hope Candice had GPS for the middle of the goddamn desert.” “Look, no offense to the fine citizens of Cleveland but this place isn’t exactly kosher. I was expecting something more.” NSFW look at each other - and then back at Spade. “More? Like more left of a building?” “Or more left of people who’re supposed to be our equals, but aren’t anymore because of their own boneheaded fucking choices?” “Let’s not be facetious. Even before that, there was the viking funeral. And the grand Melon conspiracy. But here we are - inside some dilapidated ruins.” John looked around and he nodded as if to agree with the interviewer. “Sucks, doesn’t it?” “But you want something with a little more production, don’cha? Well, worry not, Spade. See, we did get a short bit of film in before we came up here. Not only that, it has the Limit themselves in it.” “Not to be confused with last time with The Collector.” John looked puzzled, but Bryan was right, they were both being facetious in this endeavor. “Wait, was that The Collector? Or not?” “The Japanese guy? … Whose house in Boca Raton were we even at?” Her partner shrugged in response as if to say, ‘beats me’. “But my partner is right. The Limit unequivocally agreed to appear, even with being our opponents, in a short film meant to make fun of them.” The viewer at home would catch a glimpse of something flashing in the corner of the screen, almost as if to act as a disclaimer. “Can’t say they ain’t at least good sports.” Mike raised a hand to her mouth, snickering behind it, and whipped out her cell phone, showing it to Spade.The picture faded out, and the viewer was treated to the same video that Spade saw.

[chadfocusblog-blog]

Listen to Hip Hop Music

Hip-hop rap song writer music is the car of hip-hop culture and comprises "rapping" (superimposed with vocals) by emcees. Owing to this, hip-hop music is sometimes known as "rap music," Nevertheless, those who dismiss hip-hop as rap music do not comprehend its wealthy history and the influence this style of music has on youth baltimore hip hop radio stations tradition.

Hip-hop music is a automobile utilized by the singers to address racism, oppression, and poverty points. It narrates tales of inside metropolis African-People living the American dream (via hard work, courage and dedication one can obtain prosperity) from the bottom up, and bitterly touches upon racial discrimination, broken houses, and overcoming adversity.

Invented by Jamaican migrant DJ Kool Herc within the early 70s in New York Metropolis, it has since then spread its tentacles across the world. Herc shifted from reggae information to funk, rock and disco. Owing to the quick percussive breaks, he started extending them utilizing an audio mixer and two records. Because hip hop songwriter gesucht the unique type of music became a hit, performers (emcees) began superimposing the music with vocals; initially, they introduced themselves and others in the audience. Later, the rapping became extra diverse, incorporating transient rhymes, usually with a sexual or violent theme, in an try to entertain the audience.

Within the mid-Nineteen Seventies, hip-hop break up into two teams. One focused on getting the crowd dancing, another highlighted fast-fireplace rhymes. The Nineteen Eighties witnessed further diversification in hip-hop; highly metaphoric lyrics rapping over Chad Focus Get to the Money baltimore rap song multi-layered beats changed easy vocals. In the 90s, gangsta rap (glorified outlaw way of life) turned mainstream. Hip-hop was soon an integral a part of mainstream music, and almost all of the pop songs featured an underlying component of hip-hop.

Within the 90s and into the next decade, elements of hip-hop had been built-in into numerous genres of music: hip-hop soul mixed hip-hop and soul music; within the Dominican Republic, a recording by Santi Y Sus Duendes and Lisa M was coined "Meren-rap," a fusion of hip-hop and meringue. In Europe, Africa, and Asia, hip-hop has undergone a transition from an underground prevalence to the mainstream market.

Hip hop music has grow to be quite the phenomenon within the music trade. We see rappers on television on a regular basis. Hip baltimore best rappers hop artists similar to: Ne-Yo, Kanye West, Fifty Cent, and Lil Wayne have grow to be part of our country's music tradition.

Why do we listen to hip hop music? We take heed to this type of music as a result of it pumps us up. This genre of music has nice beats and rhythms. Individuals dance to the songs at golf equipment and parties all the time. This kind of music is understood for causing people to have a good time together.

Some individuals listen to this genre of music to get in contact with their feelings. Some hip hop lyrics converse to individuals because they have gone by similar experiences. Get More Info Many listeners have a favourite track that when they play it, it will get their adrenaline pumping and their moods change from unfavorable to optimistic.

Hip hop music is a large a part of the African American tradition. Many African People hearken to hip hop music as a result of the vast majority of hip hop artists are African American and listeners can determine with the hip hop artists that they hearken to and see on the television.

Many hip hop songs tell a story. They permit everybody to determine with the day by day struggles that we all face each day. Such topics include: poverty, violence, teen pregnancy, and crime. These matters are talked about quite a bit in right this moment's society particularly since the economy has been in a stoop for over three years.

Hip hop music allows baltimore rap song listeners

to take heed to music that can assist them escape their daily lives. All of us wish to have Wikipedia Here fun and be carefree even when it is just because we're listening to hip hop music.

You should listen to hip hop music however you shouldn't allow kids to hearken to songs that have profanity in them or cope with adult situations. Hip hop music is not for every type of listener however folks ought to at the least listen to some songs earlier than dismissing the style of music. It is best to try something not less than as soon as before saying that you do not prefer it.

Hip hop music can take some getting used to. The perfect time to hearken to hip hop music is if you find yourself caught in visitors or having a irritating day. The music simply immediately places a smile on your face. Hip hop music brings out the creative facet of many music artists, a number of the lyrics sound like lines from a poem or journal entry. Hopefully, you'll give hip hop music a try; it is extremely inspirational and at occasions could be very uplifting. Everybody needs some sunshine and fun of their lives and hip hop music is usually a nice outlet to accomplish this.

Prepare for the most recent hip hop releases. Summer 2013 has formally arrived and we're gearing up to provde the enterprise of the brand new music artists' releases!

Now earlier than we proceed, let me simply clarify that a number of rumors have surfaced as baltimore hip hop artists to precisely what is about to go down during this sizzling, sticky, and horny season.

For starters, Lil Wayne's songs and other new hip hop music releases will likely be served handsomely on a platter by way of your native favorite Summertime radio station, that Chad Focus Get to the Money baltimore rap music is. In addition to, who would've actually doubted Lil Wayne songs as yet one more regulatory bypassing of judgmental fodder for submissive short-term airplay? Not us.

Apart from, the boy has been among the many high hip hop artists since he killed audiences with these none aside from dare I say who? In the event you guessed TT Boi a.okay.a. Sir 2 Chainz, then you guessed proper my associates. Bear in mind again in the Spring of '07 when we all couldn't watch for the latest hip hop releases? Ever since that historic mind-blowing period for Playaz Circle, 2 Chainz has gone on to grow to be seemingly out of nowhere literally one of high music artists thus far.

However that's not all, as a result of my sources inside tell me that this summer time's newest hip hop music will new baltimore rap song 2015 probably be an ever so eventful one contemplating the likes of the classic duo even once more collaborating.

Simply in time. Right on the money, huh? Pssst... we hear this one's aiming to be a basic.

In different rumors of new hip hop music, Rocko's in no way in any type of a rush to take a break so far in getting off of his wave. In spite of everything, so is everybody else riding it out along with him. Definitely be on the heavy lookout for certainly one of his model new music releases around midway by this hot Summer season.

Oh yeah, and for all you doubters and forgetful types out there, guess which hip hop music artist is making a steady and long-awaited comeback? Youthful shorties prepare to pinch yourselves accordingly, for it's possible you'll not know who this is.

Simply not too long ago, the former Cash Cash report label signee, known to other artists as Younger Turk, was launched from jail on what had foully seemed to be trumped up felony-related expenses upon him and different music artists as of late.

We hear that Turk is at the moment again in the lab perfecting and high-quality-tuning his "oh so" Lil Wayne-ish like craft effortlessly for a sharp and secondarily memorable return.

We wish him effectively.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PdhHG3NQNI

*On a sidenote, we also heard unconfirmed rumors of Younger Turk as soon as once more collaborating together with his former group mates Weezy and Juvenile for an official Hot Boy's reunion.

Hip Hop music artists Scorching Boys Young Turk and B.G. have been each incarcerated resulting from what apparently led to the previous groups fallout, amongst different unsolved points. The new hip hop music releases which are slated for this 12 months's Summer time ought to be on smash to say the least.

With out giving freely the entire goods, I must say that fellow west coast artists will turn out to be very lively as soon as again this Summer time within the latest hip hop music scene. Huge up to all of the new music releases coming from up out of the new west. As followers, we need a breath of contemporary air, for positive and most actually.

Effectively, that about wraps up the lowdown on this year's Summer 2013 annual music artists and upcoming new music releases. Definitely maintain a watch out for the west coast as talked about for the west will certainly provide this Summer season's traditional membership bangers and latest hip hop music. Flip up!

Hip hop music as we all know is basically well-liked lately. It began within the 1970's from the South Bronx of New York City. There are lots of sub tradition music kinds which might be concerned with Rap music. Let us know more about hip hop within the following listed particulars:

Brief historical past:

Throughout the 1970's, New York City's African American Puerto Rican group created the Rap music style. It's actually a style that came up whereas attempting so as to add rap music and other instruments like synthesizers, drum machines in stay bands. Rappers are the principle topic of the hip hop though there are extra to it than just rapping. It began with its simple music versions that were modernized and developed all through the years.

Types and Strategies:

Hip hop music or Rap music is not only music in any respect. It is composed of different issues, not only the music itself. If we speak about being in a hip hop tradition and group, you will be in numerous transformation and modifications. For example is their style assertion. Hip hop has brought along a new sort of clothes to all baltimore rappers 2016 artists on the rap music industry including the individuals listening to it. It's what the folks on the Bronx have give you, however the a little bit edge into it. We are able to see a lot of the artists sporting saggy garments, with a lot 'blings' of their equipment. It is all part of the hip hop community transformation.

The language can be a bit completely different. Black folks from the Bronx have a sure style or slang of their language. They are extra of the baroque fashion of speaking, and so they have added that type of their music's. Rap music are consists of songs which can be written for those who desires to specific their feelings in an edgy means.

Graffiti:

Chad Focus Get to the Money Social Profile

Even the graffiti has been remodeled by the hip hop music society. It was used within the earlier years as a form of expression for the political activists. Now, hip hop folks created Chad Focus Get to the Money rap song writer it into a manner for them to express their way of life, ideas with the current society, and all different points. It can be seen throughout the Bronx where it originated.

Rap and Hip Hop Music is likely one of the main developments in music at present. But, so many parents disapprove why not try here of rap/hip hop music, whereas kids, teens and young adults have an timeless love for it. Why?

Most mother and father want the most effective for their children, and so, they go about their days attempting to amass higher lives for themselves and their loved ones. Mother and father had been young once too, but they later found it is more useful to stay a constructive life style in comparison with a detrimental one. They've come to know that the trail towards having constructive experiences begin with feeding the thoughts with constructive ideas, learning good lessons and following smart instructions.

Subsequently, most parents don't need their family members to have destructive experiences, such because the fixed viewing of merciless pictures, repeated emotions of unnecessary pain or repetitive listening to harmful words that are heard in some hip hop and rap songs. For this reason, mother and father do not like many rap and hip hop songs because of the damaging lyrical content. What is more, they do not recognize the concept such dangerous words are being fed into the minds of their youngsters, teenagers or young adults.

Alternatively children, teenagers and younger adults love rap and hip hop music because of the highly effective nature of the beat, while the circulation of the lyrics spew out catchy punch lines and slick metaphors. For the young at heart, hip hop and rap is extra than simply music, it is a life style. It is a fantastic mixture of rhythm, rhetoric and hope. Kids, teens and younger adults everywhere in the world bop their heads emotionally to the rhythmic sounds of hip hop. They change into awe impressed by the rhetorical movement of rap and hope to someday seize the monetary success of the artists seen in the videos.

Though some of the lyrics in rap and hip hop music are derogatory in nature, all of it is not belittling. A number of hip hop and rap artists outright demean people, locations and issues, while some rhyme about how they overcame appalling residing conditions, hateful peers, poverty and crime. Others enhance about their financial success as an affirmation that they have made it out of a life of dreadfulness. And, artists may use language which they are familiar with --- a curse or two to specific such experiences.

So I ask mother and father, a kid, teenagers ChadFocusGettotheMoney and younger adults, is there a balance?

Properly, everyone is aware of that the mind is sort of a sponge, soaking up info like water from the very second of human conception. Indeed, the thoughts vividly records what's noticed via sight, sound, touch, taste, scent and creativeness. Because of this, that which is recorded in our minds has an impact on our conduct. Yes, music additionally shapes our mindset!

Music is taken into account an art and science for a very good reason! Experts in the fields of neuroscience, psychology, biology, physiology, physics and education have labored alongside musicians to unravel the mysteries of music. Such research is aimed at understanding music's basic structure; it's biological, emotional and psychological effect on Chad Focus Get to the Money baltimore rappers humans and the brain; it's therapeutic and altering potential; and its function in the evolutionary course of. Music helps scientists perceive complex capabilities of the brain and opens up remedies for sufferers who're recovering from strokes or struggling with Parkinson's. Research even suggests that music could alter the structure of the brain.