#but even in the better tags it’s mostly like one or two really dedicated historical tumblrs posting all the content which is meh

[thebaffledcaptain]

I’m just gonna go out here and say that the fandomification of the american revolution Bothers me even as someone who used to be into the fandom side

[vina-writes]

Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k] 

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale! 

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark​ [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?" 

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken​ [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina 

[ineloqueent]

Starstruck: Part 15

Brian May x Fem!Reader

This is Part 15 of a multi-part fic. Click the links below to read the Masterpost, the previous part, or the next part of the fic :)

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

Summary: When studying at Imperial College in the 1970s, your path is crossed by a beautiful boy as much in love with the stars as you.  

Warnings: swearing, drinking

Historical Inaccuracies:

Mary didn’t go on tour with Queen in 1975

On the 14th of November, 1975, Queen did not leave early for the start of the ANATO tour. Indeed, they “had to rush from London to Liverpool” (x) because they had been shooting the music video for ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in the very same afternoon as the day of their first gig on tour!

Word Count: 3.8k

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

August, September, and October disappeared in such a whirlwind rush that you hardly noticed them. You didn’t have time to notice much these days.

Queen were running thirty-eight-hour sessions at multiple recording studios throughout London, working day and night to record and refine the material for their still unnamed fourth album.

Preparations for a release in late November were in full swing, and Queen’s manager Reid was neglecting meetings with Elton John— Elton bloody John, it would never cease to amaze you— to dedicate his time to organising the legs of Queen’s next world tour. Locations, bookings, the transport of instruments and equipment and people, lodging, catering, insurance; the list of things to arrange was endless.

Which was why you often played assistant to Reid, in the absence of Reid’s actual assistant— some clonker named Paul Prenter who turned up late to meetings and had far too much to say for how few hours he put into going to work. You couldn’t be Reid’s full-time assistant, however, because you also tagged along with Roy Thomas Baker, Queen’s producer, since Freddie had more or less insisted that you do so.

You spent a lot of time with Queen, both in the studio and out of it.

In the studio, Freddie consulted you on album concept, Deacy relied on you for input on the song he was writing about Veronica, and Brian taught you to play ‘‘39’. Hearing you sing along with Brian, Roger decided that you should help with backing vocals on one of Freddie’s tracks, and much to everyone’s delight, he coaxed you into agreement. You weren’t delighted with this arrangement, though; you were far too nervous that you’d ruin the vocals of the others.

Outside of the studio, Freddie continued to harp on about your musical education, as he called it, lending you records until you were listening to his music almost constantly.

“I want you to have memorised my collection, darling,” he said one night, swirling his wine, “by the time we set off on tour.”

“Um, okay… That’s a lot of music, Freddie,” you’d swallowed, eyeing the quite frankly enormous record collection that Freddie’s living room housed.

“Psh, all in a day’s work.”

You saw Roger the least out of the four, because when not at Queen’s various recording locations, he was… well, he was bedding Heather, to put it politely. He did take you for the occasional drink and a banter, though. You found that you and he shared a lot of similarities in terms of childhood and upbringing, and this made Roger more brotherly to you than ever.

When he had the time, John would join Roger and you for drinks at the local pub, and the three of you would spend far too long chatting away into the evening. But mostly, Deacy and Ronnie were knackered from their parenting of Robert, and when you could see it all beginning to take a toll on John— he went from the studio to caring for his son and did not sleep in between— you offered yourself as a babysitting service. Deacy and Veronica were immensely grateful for this, because Robert seemed to like you, Auntie Y/N, and though the child could scream bloody murder if he so wished, he was generally a good kid. It was enjoyable to see him learning the ways of the world around him, from lights and colours, to the sounds of his parents’ voices.

Sometimes, when you babysat Robert, Brian came along.

Robert may have liked you, but he loved Brian.

Brian had helped John and Veronica to hang glow-in-the dark stars and planet-mobiles from the ceiling of what was to be Robert’s room when he moved out of his parents’ bedroom, and Brian had been as animated by the activity as though he had been decorating a room for himself.

When Brian visited Robert, he sang to him and rocked the child in his arms and danced about the room, quite forgetting that there was anybody else there. Robert would giggle and occasionally attempt to poke Brian’s nose, which brought Brian no end of wonder, and once again affirmed for you that Brian’s aspirations of one day becoming a father were well-suited to him.

Unfailingly, on the nights when Deacy and Veronica were away, once Robert fell asleep, Brian would suggest that the two of you take to the rooftop to see the stars— of course bringing with you a baby monitor. Thus, you spent many an evening wrapped in a blanket atop the roof of your friend’s house while your best friend sat beside you, cheeks flushed with the cold but unwilling to return inside, even though his teeth chattered and his hair blew about his face in the chilly wind. You began to bring hot chocolate to the roof, though what you really wanted to do to warm Brian was to curl into his side and snuggle close to him.

You didn’t, though. You reserved your pining for him in the form of long, lingering looks.

He’d called you his best friend, and best friends, you told yourself, were built upon platonic principles. If he’d wanted romantic involvement with you, he would have made that clear, and he hadn’t, so you resigned yourself to pushing your feelings down in the pit of your stomach and pretending that his smiles didn’t melt you as easily as chocolate on a summer’s day. Naturally, however, pushing feelings down doesn’t make them go away, but rather concentrates them more, so that every brief glance and accidental touch makes one feel that everything is just that much closer to bubbling over entirely.

But Brian was everywhere you looked, inescapable, inevitable, smiling and just being generally goofy, spouting the most fascinating facts about the cosmos at odd intervals, urging you to sing with him when he sang, nodding at you approvingly over his guitar when you matched his vibrato almost perfectly one Thursday night. Because despite everything, despite Queen’s dawn-to-dusk-to-dawn schedule, Brian still made time for teaching you guitar on Thursday nights.

If it wasn’t for the nights, you might have thought that you could take it.

Take him winking at you and calling you ‘love’ at irregular moments so that your heart stuttered and your thoughts grew sluggishly slow. Take him being near you at almost every hour of every day, and long into the nights as well. Take him existing in his willowy gorgeousness, sunshine-warmed skin and sunlit eyes, soft curls, wide-eyes, angular frame.

But the nights were long, because Brian had confessed that he had begun to sleep better as of late, and this rendered his beauty healthier, more stark, in light of his getting enough rest.

Yes, the nights were long, not for him but for you, because you couldn’t close your eyes without seeing his gentle smile and his hazel eyes.

It was as though he had traded you a milder case of his insomnia, and it frustrated you perpetually, because when you weren’t working or lounging about with Queen, you were studying intensely so as to take your final exams early.

Indeed, you’d committed to not only Queen, but to astrophysics as well.

You were working overtime to finish this year’s coursework early— very early— in fact, by the middle of this month.

You’d been surprised that Dr. Carmichael had even agreed to help you in the first place, but you suspected that something about your situation had reminded him of himself. In the very least, when you’d boldly asked him why he was willing to help you with extra lecture hours and study sessions, he’d said something cryptic about once having missed an opportunity himself, and that he regretted nothing more in his life. You’d been floored that he would openly admit something so personal, being that Carmichael wasn’t the open-book type, but he’d only smiled sadly and told you to have your next paper on his desk by Monday.

It was all very stressful, going from the studio to studying and back to the studio. Your days dissolved into exam preparations and recording sessions, with only guitar lessons in between.

The most difficult part of it all was the guitar lessons.

Brian right across from you, biting his lip, bending strings up the fretboard with long fingers and a concentrated gaze. He’d glance up and nod to you, upon which you’d copy the movement he’d just done, and he would either nod again and continue in whatever song he was playing, or offer you critique. He was articulate in his teaching, and his manner utterly enamoured you, because he moved as though he were made of light.

God, you wanted to kiss him. Just the thought of him being so close to you, touching you, made you shiver. He was so delicate in everything that he did, and you wanted his delicate hands against your skin, his mouth on your mouth, breathing the same air, and you wanted him to want you.

Perhaps that was why you’d begun flirting with him, against your every notion of common sense.

It was just an innuendo here, a touch there, winking at him over your guitar. You didn’t even know where any of it was coming from, because you’d never once in your life had the confidence to flirt. Maybe you drew confidence from Brian’s reaction each time you said or did something suggestive; he blushed, looked down, smiled boyishly. Fucking hell, he was cute. And you felt an inexplicable rush of adrenaline every time you got away with pushing boundaries.

It had been Friday afternoon when Freddie opened a bottle of Moët et Chandon in the kitchen of his flat, and you were with him and Roger and John and Brian to cry woah! when the bubbly liquid shot out of the bottle and onto the floor.

“Freddie,” Brian tutted, shaking his head, and you tried not to laugh.

Roger tossed Brian a tea towel and Brian mopped up the spilled champagne.

“Well, darlings, that’s it,” said Freddie a few minutes later as the five of you gripped filled glasses, “that’s the next album!”

There was a cheer.

Roger raised his glass. “To…” He frowned. “To what? We haven’t exactly named the album.”

You all frowned. Then Deacy shook his head. “To the album!” he said.

“To the album!” you all chorused, laughter abundant in the moments before everyone drank their champagne.

This afternoon, it had been just you and the band, because Freddie had wanted an in-celebration before he threw the actual party for the album on the first night of the tour. But this afternoon gathering also had other significance: today was Reid’s deadline for when the name of the album had to be decided.

And by the time you left Freddie’s place at five that evening, a film had been watched, and a decision had been made.

The name of the album was to be as rivetingly dramatic and as magnificently opulent as the name of Queen.

The album was to be called A Night At The Opera.

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

The wind was a character in itself, and the sky was weary with the plethora of grey clouds it carried, but it was not raining.

You noticed, because you wanted to remember. You wanted to remember everything about today, the day you set off for Liverpool. With Queen.

You were going on tour.

With Queen.

It hadn’t really sunk in yet. Still, it was happening, because you were walking from the Underground to the tour bus pickup point, which was by one of the studios Queen had been using to record the album.

You had packed light— a minimal array of clothes that would last you a while, being mixed and matched and reused until a washing machine could be located; some essential toiletries; a few well-loved books; your messenger bag; your guitar.

You’d dressed in your warmest, heaviest clothes from the beginning, layering as your mum had always taught you to do.

Your mum. She’d rung you last night.

“And you promise me you’ll call?” she’d said, as though she were in some dramatic film about her daughter leaving on some risky adventure, during which all the characters in the movie learn emotional maturity through a montage of artistically-shot scenes.

You’d sighed, every bit the exasperated daughter. “I’ve promised you before, mum. You know I always keep my word.”

But the dramatic film analogy had indeed borne a grain of truth. This was an adventure, and it was risky.

Money wasn’t something you’d brought much of, because it wasn’t something you had much of. Queen were already covering your expenses as far as food and lodging, and you hadn’t wanted to bother your parents for any money, given how you were already letting them down a little in postponing the completion of your astrophysics degree.

But, as ineloquent as the phrase was, this tour was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

How many people would be able to look back on their life and say, ‘yes, I went on a world tour with a rock ‘n’ roll band’? So few. So few that it was almost saddening that you were getting the chance to do something like this, while so many others would never.

And to think that you’d almost not come along.

Brian was leaning against the tour bus, a book held elegantly before his face as he rested his elbow on his other arm, which was wrapped around his upper body. He looked cold, with windburn colouring his cheeks, his lower lip tucked between his teeth, and his arm was likely wrapped around him more for warmth than in support of the book.

He lowered the novel as you approached, a lovely smile already on his face.

“Morning!” he said brightly.

“Shh,” you chided. “It’s three AM, Brian.”

“Ah, yes,” Brian nodded, his face serious. “No decent people have got up yet.”

“What does that make us?” you laughed.

He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Indecent,” he winked.

You’d thought there was only so many times that Brian May could make you blush, but here you were again, blushing like you were five years old, instead of twenty-five.

“Not on my bus, you’re not,” said Freddie to Brian, hopping down off of the tour bus.

Brian rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a hypocrite, Fred.”

“I think you should be directing your chastity comments toward Roger and Heather, Freddie,” you said, nodding in the direction of the two shadowy figures that had been approaching, only to stop in the middle of the empty road to have a snog.

Freddie wrinkled his nose. “Yes indeed. We may need some ground rules.”

Deacy stuck his head out of the bus. “ROGER! No shagging on the bus!”

“Shhh!” you and Brian and Freddie cried all at once.

“Three o’clock in the morning, everyone,” you said. “Three o’clock.”

“Now that, dearie,” Freddie raised a finger, “reminds me. I’m going back to sleep.”

He mounted the steps to the bus once more, and disappeared inside.

“Me too, I think,” said John, blinking tired eyes before following Freddie back onto the bus.

Tucking his book into the folds of his coat, Brian turned to you. “Can I give you a hand with that?” he nodded to your suitcase.

“Yeah, thanks.”

He took your suitcase and loaded it onto the bus, and offered to take your guitar as well, until Roadie-John turned up and muttered something about being put out of a job, confiscating your guitar from Brian.

Brian widened his eyes at you, and the two of you boarded the bus before you could offend any more roadies at far too early of an hour.

“By the way,” Brian said as he held the door open for you, “I like your scarf.”

You tugged on the end of the rainbow garment. “I wonder why.”

Inside, Roger and Heather had arrived and were sitting in a booth by the window, flicking through polaroids. Mary was there too, and she smiled sleepily at you and Brian as you entered, her eyes only half-focussed on the magazine in her lap.

Freddie and Deacy had each drawn the curtains of their bunks. From the sounds of snoring that drifted from their direction, it was obvious that they’d both already fallen asleep again. You envied their ability to slip into unconsciousness so quickly; sleep did not come easily to you, these days.

Brian seemed to think the same thing. “Lucky bastards,” he muttered, “falling asleep like that.”

“Treacherous,” you agreed, and Brian smiled at you. But then you yawned, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Am I to expect your betrayal as well?” he said.

You shook your head. “No, just my annoyingness as a travel partner. Chances are I’ll just yawn for hours and never have anything come of it.”

But Brian frowned thoughtfully. “Exactly what time did you go to bed last night?”

You winced, remembering the late hour. In fact, it wasn’t many hours ago at all. “Midnight,” you responded sheepishly.

“Midnight?” said Brian. “You’re worse than me! Go on,” he ushered you toward a pair of seats, “sit down, have a rest. Even if you can’t sleep, it’s good to close your eyes for a bit.”

“Says the insomniac,” you retorted, albeit half-heartedly. You really were rather tired. You slid into the narrow gap, taking the window seat, and Brian sat down beside you. “You know how hard it is to keep your eyes shut when they don’t want to be.”

Brian smiled, and you knew he empathised. “All the same. Less than three hours of sleep, Y/N. That’s quite bad.”

You sighed. “I know, I know.”

Soon, Roadie-John, Crystal, and Ian Brown, who was to be managing the UK leg of the tour, boarded, and with the driver in his seat, the bus rolled out of Osborn Street and onto the main road.

“Think I’ll try reading,” you said, pulling out the book at the top of the pile in your bag. Brian shrugged off his coat, folding it in his lap and retrieving his paperback from one of the inner pockets.

He looked at his book, and then at yours, and then back at his again.

“What is it?”

“We could just have brought the one copy and shared it,” he said, “saved that packing space.” A goofy grin was on his face as he waved his copy of Steppenwolf, the very same book you held in your hands.

“Oh! You like Hermann Hesse?”

“He’s my favourite author,” said Brian, and the same stupid grin he’d worn before appeared on your own face.

“Good taste,” you told him, covering a yawn.

Crystal dimmed the overhead lights. “I’m going to sleep,” he announced to no one in particular, and as you looked around, you found that, with the exception of the driver, you and Brian were the only ones left awake.

“Well then,” Brian said in the darkness, “there’s not really any good light to read by.”

You snorted. “If you’re trying to convince me to go to sleep, you’re failing miserably.”

Wordlessly, Brian slid his book into the seat pocket in front of him, then eased your bag from your lap and the book from your hands, setting your bag on the floor and the book into its own seat pocket. He lifted his coat from his own lap and draped it over you, tucking it in around your shoulders.

“I’m sorry I’ve nothing more to offer you,” he said softly, as the lights of the city swept over his face through the uncovered window.

And yet he’d given you everything he had. Selflessly, without a thought, though the morning was cold and he still had not warmed from standing outdoors in the wake of the wind.

The simple gesture filled you with such an adoration that you had no way to express it.

You shuffled closer to him and laid his coat across you both, then settled your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Brian.”

He leaned his head against yours, and you were reminded of the night at Ridge Farm.

You sighed quietly, cuddling into his side. You fought to keep your eyes open, but you were so tired, and Brian was so warm.

“Go to sleep and dream again,” he murmured sweetly, and your eyelids felt a thousand times heavier than before.

“What if I miss something?” you whispered, because the fear of the world passing you by was suddenly overwhelming.

Brian’s voice hummed in harmony with the peaceful silence around him. “I’ll be right here to tell you about everything when you wake up again.”

“Everything?”

“Every butterfly and every tree,” he promised. “Every hole in the road and every star in the sky.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

“Y/N,” Brian was shaking your shoulder gently. “Love, we’re here.”

You groaned. “M’was fimally ‘sleep,” you said.

“I know. I’ve already postponed waking you for this long, though,” he said. “The others have left. They’ve unloaded the bus.”

You sat up blearily. “Well, I should get on with it, then.”

Brian smiled. “You can sleep when you get to your hotel room. It’s not like we’ve got anything to do today, anyway, until soundcheck.”

“Well, you’ve got to tell me about everything you saw while I was asleep.”

He laughed. “Shouldn’t take too long. It was London to Liverpool, there’s not much to report.”

You passed him his coat, which had somehow migrated entirely over to you, and he passed you your bag, slipping your book back into one of the pockets.

Brian looked at you a moment, and you stared back up at him, wondering what he saw in your half-open eyes and messy hair while you were met with the sight of pretty hazel irises and immaculate curls.

He reached for the rainbow scarf and wound it around you more tightly, adjusting your jumper so that it wasn’t in the way. His touch lingered on the nape of your neck, his eyes roamed yours. His lips were rendered a dusky pink in the pale morning light.

“It’s cold in Liverpool,” he said, and slid from his seat.

Your eyes followed him as he disembarked the bus, his curls bobbing as he bent a little to avoid hitting his head on a beam.

Anyone could have seen the longingness in your stare, how you yearned to call him back, pull him to you, kiss him until he was lost for both breath and words, watch him blush the way he made you blush.

There was really nothing stopping you.

You’re my best friend.

So perhaps there was one thing stopping you.

Brian poked his head back through the door. Affection bloomed in your chest at the mere sight of him. It was sickening.

“Coming?” he asked, far too awake for seven o’clock in the morning.

“Yeah,” you said. “Coming.”

⁺˚*·༓☾ ☽༓･*˚⁺

A/N: filler? call me out. it’s okay, because next week is chapter 16 :’)

taglist: @melting-obelisks @sgt-stardustkillerqueen @hgmercury39​ @topsecretdeacon @joemazzmatazz​ @perriwiinkle​ @brianmays-hair​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @ilikebigstucks​ @doing-albri​ @killer-queen-87​ @n0-self-c0ntro1​ @archaicmusings​ @cloudyyspace​ @annina-96​ @themarchoftherainbowqueen​ @annajolras​ 

Masterpost / Part 14 / Part 16

[bazzybelle]

10 Writer Questions Thing

Ok so, this is the last tag thing I’ll post for today. Gonna try and limit my time on here, so that I don’t fall back into old familiar patterns (besides, I gotta work on other things...)

Thank you to @fight-surrender and @bazypitchandsimonsnow (two authors I ADORE and respect).

1) What’s your favorite genre to write?

HISTORY!! Was there any question?? I’m in the middle of planning a Historical AU event because THAT’S how much I love Historical Fiction and Art! I’ve always been a history nerd, and I’ve always believed that History was more than just boring dates and analyzing war plans... It’s about the stories surrounding the people who lived in the past. What were their motivations for doing the things they did? What did they fear? What did they love? How did they spend their days? How did the events of their time impact them? 

Plus, I feel you can learn a lot by reading historical fiction. It may not always be 100% accurate but (at least for me) it sparks the interest into reading more about the time period and learning more about it. 

*simpson gif: NEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRD!!*

2) Do you pull inspiration from real-life, or do you pull things from other books/ fanfiction you’ve read?

A bit of both... Mostly through real life though.. Like my husband will make a comment and I’ll be like “That’s SUCH a Baz thing to say”, and I’ll write it down to use later on. In fact, in my last fic, I made Baz follow the academic path that my husband followed and I didn’t even realize I did it until I re-read my fic. 

But for things like words to use and descriptors, I find I’ve gotten better because of the fics I’ve read, and because of the amazing guidance from my friends (like @carryonsimoncarryonbaz and @giishu who offer suggestion on how to improve my vocabulary and plot flow). 

3) Do you tend to write one-shots, short stories, or longer things?

Short stuff... I have my DeNiall fic, I Need Another Perfect Lie, and I’m currently working on my Renaissance story, but other than that, my fics are all one-shots. I want to get into the habit of writing longer, chapter stories, because I do love writing and I’d like to write a story that is novel-length. 

4) Do you prefer to write description or dialogue?

I do love writing dialogue, but I also love writing set up and scene building.. It’s why sometimes in my fics, you’ll get a line of dialogue and then a massive paragraph of just inner thoughts. When I used to Role-Play on message boards, that’s how we did it. We would do a lot of inner thoughts and scene descriptions, with very little dialogue. I guess my writing kinda developed that way, and I’m trying to train myself to be ok with writing back and forth dialogue without over analyzing every little detail of the exchange. That’s a challenge for me. 

5) Favorite fic/book of all time?

Ok for fics.. I have WAY too many, and right now, I’m too lazy to search for them all to link (I really need to take advantage of the Bookmark option on AO3...) I think I should maybe do like a monthly fic rec post, to show more love to the fics I’ve been reading (because leaving kudos, and novel-long comments clearly aren’t enough, right, Nu!?).

Ok for actual books... Obviously Carry On and Wayward Son. I’ve spoken great lengths abut how these books impacted me, and my drive to find my writing passion again (and to get the mental help I’ve always needed but was too stubborn to fully understand the severity). 

Actually all of Rainbow’s books have had a major impact on me in some way or another. 

Same goes with John Green’s books. There is a quote from Looking For Alaska, that I hold dear to my heart that I want to get tattooed on my body, and it sums up everything I feel about my life and journey thus far. 

The books, The Botticelli Secret by Marina Fiorato, and The Last Cato by Matilde Asensi are phenomenal in their story telling and their plot development. Just amazing. 

The Harry Potter books, definitely! Despite JK’s stupidity, the books are wonderful, and I cannot deny that they’ve had a HUGE impact on me. 

A Song of Ice and Fire. The TV series got me into the books and I just absorbed them like there was no tomorrow. I read A Storm of Swords before the season aired and when “THAT MOMENT” happened, I re-read those chapter SEVERAL times, and then literally threw my book on my bed, called my husband (who was my very new boyfriend), and started shouting that George R. R. Martin was evil. 

6) Favorite trope?

Oufffff Ok... Playing with hair. Flirty, soft kisses, “OH NO! ONLY ONE BED?!”, “Fake dating”, “slow-burn”... The list goes on. 

7) Are you the kind of person to work on more than one wip?

Noooooo. I can’t focus on more than one thing at a time. I worry that if I don’t finish one WIP before starting another, the WIP will never get finished (it’s my fear for DeNiall, but I am working on it). I am trying to train my brain to be ok with working on more than one WIP.

8) How long have you been writing for?

OH BOY... Ok...

Officially... since 2004, I think. I started after Season 6 of Charmed, because I couldn’t deal with Chris Halliwell being killed off (the NERVE). I found a message board dedicated to Charmed and I met a few people who were into writing fan fiction and RPing. I got really into it, and loved it. 

I’ve written for Charmed, Grey’s Anatomy, Criminal Minds... then took an 8-year long break went through an 8-year long slump/depression. And I’m back, and writing for Carry On and I’ve never been happier to be part of a fandom. 

9) Do you tend to write more during the morning, afternoon, or evening?

Evening. I work during the day and I’m too focused on numbers and invoicing to think about other things. However, if it’s a dead day, I can probably write quite a bit. I wrote my first Bat-Baz fic while at work, during a very quiet day. 

10) Do you prefer to post and update your wip chapter by chapter, or do you prefer to wait until your wip is 100% finished before sharing it.

I’m trying to get into the habit of writing my fic entirely before posting. I’m very hard on myself, and if a fic tends to not do so well, I lose motivation to continue, because well... why bother? I’m getting at being kinder to myself though, and kinder to my readers. The ones that have been so sweet, deserve an ending, so I’m working on giving them one. :) 

[bettsfic]

reading advice (for writers)

you know those posts that are like, “remember when we used to read books and now we all have no attention span because of the internet.” then there’s the very contrived advice that’s like, “if you want to be a writer you have to read”??

well i think they’re completely true but they also really suck, and we of the youngish adult writers of 2018 have it pretty hard, especially those of us in fandom who enjoy reading fanfic more than original fic because it’s mostly tagged properly and possesses the emotional catharsis we’re looking for, pretty much guaranteed.

that said, i think it’s really important -- whether you write fanfic, ofic, or both -- to read traditionally published work, in part because it can help better inform your fanfic, but also because it will help develop your writing overall. and if you’re interested in ofic, it’s pretty much a necessity to read.

so, i just graduated from an MFA program in creative writing, and contrary to popular opinion, the MFA does not actually teach you how to write. it gives you space to write, and mostly, it teaches you how to read as a writer.

so here is everything i’ve learned about reading as a writer over the past two years:

you do not have to read anything you don’t want to read

part of the problem with “read everything you can!” advice is that there is a lot of stuff out there, and a ton of it doesn’t jive with your interests. moreover, there’s a kind of pressure to read the Classics just to say you’ve read them when in fact a lot of them are boring, irrelevant, and dare i say overrated. so here is me giving you permission: you don’t have to pick up Hemingway or Faulkner or whoever else to be a good writer. life is too short to force yourself to read dead white dudes.

if a book doesn’t grab you by the first 10%, put it down

this is what has helped me more than anything else as a reader, because i found i would commit myself to a boring book and then never want to read it, so i would stop reading for months at a time. so, when you pick out a book, go to the last page and check the number. promise yourself you’ll read 10% of the book. 400 pages? read to page 40 and ask yourself, “do i really want to turn the page? if i put this book down, would i want to pick it back up again later?” if the answer is no, return it to the library or wherever you got it. try the next book in your pile. your TBR list is long; be merciless. 

but if you want to make it look like you read the book...

commit to 25%. then go to the wikipedia article, read the plot summary, and fast forward to the last 10-15 pages. bam. you’ve more or less read the book. bonus points if you watch the movie, too. so if you’re really committed to reading Ulysses or whatever but you don’t want to slog through it, you can digest enough to be able to hold a conversation about it in a few hours and move on with your life. you can even pretend you enjoyed it and found it a formative reading experience that helped shape your understanding of the work of fiction, really, absolutely groundbreaking, etc etc. this is especially helpful if you find yourself anywhere in the literary sphere because other writers will expect you to be familiar with the canon. 

read selfishly and take tools from everything you read

when you read anything, even the stuff you don’t like, ask yourself, “what tools can i take for my own writing?” let’s say you really love the plot structure -- write it down somewhere so you remember to try it out for your own story. if you love the lyricism of the sentences, find a few sentences you really like and jot them down by hand, inspect what about them makes you love them so much. steal aspects of characters you admire, pacing, conflict, stakes. steal as much as you can without stealing the words themselves. you can even use this for things you don’t like by rephrasing the question: “what is it about this story i would like to avoid in my own work?” pivot every single thing you read to be about you and your writing. take notes. mark up and highlight your book if you have to. reading as a writer is not a passive activity but an active one. you’re not being entertained, you’re learning. so let published works teach you. 

carve time out of your day to read

at 7pm every day, i put my phone down and pick up an actual physical book. this is my personal preference -- i have no beef at all with ebooks, but honestly, i get so tired of staring at lit screens all day, and paper books without the distraction of my phone is such a nostalgic feeling for me, back when i was 14 and the library was my second home and if someone wanted my attention they had to call me on a landline. if you had the same upbringing, dedicating some time to read a physical book will do you wonders. if ebooks are your thing, it’s still important to schedule reading time for yourself, not as an obligation to uphold, but as something to do that’s good for you and that you enjoy. 

write letters to your favorite authors!!

seriously. if you love a book, let the author know. they will not be annoyed or upset. they will be thrilled. it’s a good way to network with other writers, and it’s a great practice of literary citizenship.

when someone recommends a book to you, ask why

this is something i’ve only recently learned to do, as someone who gets book recommendations pretty much constantly. if the person knows you decently, i don’t think it’s out of line to ask, “what would i specifically like about this?” because then that will tell if you if the person is only recommending it because they like it, not because they think you’ll like it. if the person knows your writing, it’s fair to ask, “how is this book in conversation with my work?” so you have a head start in the kinds of tools you’ll want to take from it. 

follow your aesthetic instincts

as a writer, honing your aesthetic will always be one of your highest aims, which means constantly seeking out writers whose aesthetics you admire and analyzing what it is you admire about it. “aesthetic” is kind of a vague term, but it refers to your overall vibe -- the things you write about and why you write about them. my aesthetic is more or less “midwestern class warfare meets sexual identity crises with a lot of dark humor,” so i tend to look for other writers who share facets of that aesthetic and i inspect what’s working for them, where they publish, what their influences are, etc. i try to read both within my aesthetic but also far outside of it too. for example, i love historical fiction but i know i’ll never, ever write it. but i appreciate the aesthetic, and i can take tools from it like dedication to detail, internal conflicts, etc.

read short fiction (please)

this is my personal plea. short stories are a great way to find authors whose work is in conversation with yours, so that you can then go check out their novels with a good idea already of what you like about them. short stories are all over the internet via literary and genre mags. they’re a much smaller commitment than novels and tend to have just as much emotional impact (if done well) as novels. more importantly you’ll always have recs for your friends, and it’s a lot easier getting someone to read a 6k story you enjoyed than a 60k novel.

resources

don’t have time to read but like to listen? try the new yorker fiction and writers’ voice podcasts

like marking up books but don’t want to buy them new? check out thriftbooks (my favorite site on the internet -- the link here will get you 15% off!)

finished a book you like but don’t know what to read next? try what should i read next

want to stay apprised of the goings on in the modern literary community? subscribe to the lithub newsletter and arts & letters daily, two newsletters i’ve been subscribed to for years 

as always i’m glad to answer any questions! happy reading!

writing advice tag

[puroresu-musings]

NJPW / ROH G1 SUPERCARD Review (April 6th 2019, New York, Madison Square Garden)

Honor Rumble  **

NEVER Openweight/ROH TV Title vs. Title Match: Will Ospreay vs. Jeff Cobb  ****

Rush vs Dalton Castle  DUD

WOH Title Match: Mayu Iwatani (c) vs. Kelly Klein  **

New York City Street Fight: Flip Gordon, Juice Robinson & Mark Haskins vs. Bully Ray, Silas Young & Shane Taylor  **1/2 (I guess)

IWGP Jr Heavyweight Title Match: Taiji Ishimori (c) vs. Dragon Lee vs. Bandido  ****1/4

IWGP Tag/ROH Tag Title vs. Title Match: Guerillas Of Destiny vs. Brody King & PCO vs. The Briscoes vs. EVIL & SANADA  ***3/4

RPW British Heavyweight Title Match: Zack Sabre Jr. (c) vs. Hiroshi Tanahashi  ****

IWGP Intercontinental Title Match: Tetsuya Naito (c) vs. Kota Ibushi  ****3/4

ROH World Title Ladder Match: Jay Lethal (c) vs. Marty Scurll vs. Matt Taven ****

IWGP Heavyweight Title Match: Jay White (c) vs. Kazuchika Okada  ****3/4

Photos.

Well this was a historic and interesting show, as at times it was like watching two completely different wrestling shows at the same time. First things first, the lion’s share of ROH stuff on here was... not good. ROH is a company that once had such a unique identity, that watching it now is so weird. Lets face it, without this relationship with New Japan, what identity would Ring Of Honor even have? Also the booking on here from the ROH standpoint, was a tremendous example of not knowing what your audience wants. Nobody in the sold out MSG wanted to see guys like Minoru Suzuki, Tomohiro Ishii, Hirooki Goto and others, wasted in the pre-show batle royal, and have nearly half an hour dedicated to a disinteresting Bubba Ray Dudley street fight, or a TNA nostalgia act, not to mention a Ladder Match, that whilst great, was horrendously over-long at 29:35. Also Matt Taven winning the belt seemed like a total anti-climax.

However, the NJPW stuff on this show was excellent. The pre-show Rumble was what you’d expect, it was mostly disinteresting, and it went on forever (42:21). The ROH guys got zero reation coming out, whereas the New Japan guys all got respectable to enormous pops, depending on who they were. The biggest responses were for Minoru Suzuki, Tomohiro Ishii and Jushin Thunder Liger, the latter of whom got the legend treatment. However, the biggest reaction was saved for the surprise appearance of The Great Muta! It was tremendous to see him, even though he moved like a glacier, he was in really good shape, and his exchanges with Liger got over huge. Kenny King won to no reaction, when he eliminated both legends. The first bout of the main show saw NEVER Openweight champion, Will Ospreay, take on ROH TV champion, Jeff Cobb, in a title for title match. This was great stuff, as you’d expect, but probably wasn’t as good as expected. They worked a great big guy/little guy style, with the added wrinkle of the big guy being able to fly too. The crowd was hot, the action great, and the stuff creative. The finish saw Cobb hit a top rope Tour Of The Islands, followed by a regular version, to win both straps in 12:52. This means Cobb defends the NEVER title against Taichi at the next NJPW show, which is quite the styles clash. Next, Rush squashed Dalton Castle in 15 seconds in what was an effective way to get the Mexican star over, but felt somewhat superfluous on this show, and Kelly Klein won the WOH title from Maiyu Iwatani in a profoundly uninteresting contest, with a horrendous post-match.

The never-ending Bully Ray stuff was next. I must admit, I was so disinterested, I went and did something else for a bit in the hope I’d miss this, and came back only to find it still going! What I did see was OK, at best. The show really wasn’t doing well at this point, with a single match worth a damn thus far, but it picked up considerably from here. The 3 way Jr Title match was excellent. Yes, it only went 8:54, and with even 5 more minutes, could have been outstanding, but it was still the best thing on the show up to this point, by far. The spots these guys did were mind-blowing, culminating in Bandido hitting a DOUBLE top rope Fall Away Slam into a Moonsault on both Lee and Ishimori, which blew the roof off the Garden. In the end, Dragon Lee won the title in an all-action sprint, when he pinned Bandido (not the defending champion) with Desnucadora. This was so good. Next up was the insane 4 way tag title vs. title match, with IWGP tag champs, GOD, taking on ROH tag title holders, PCO and Brody King, with the Briscoes and EVIL and SANADA thrown in for good measure. This was another wild bout, which saw PCO take the craziest bump of the weekend, that I saw anyway, when GOD gave him a double powerbomb out of the ring, and he landed hard on the concrete. This was insane, and I feared he may have been dead. Tama hit King with Gun Stun, then the Tongans won both sets of belts when they pinned him with a Super Bomb. I really liked this, it was an unhinged four-way brawl. The ROH guys, and even GOD, looked really good here, however EVIL and SANADA were literally just bodies going through motions here and if they weren’t in it, I’m not sure it even would have mattered. Toru Yano stole the IWGP tag belts in the post match, whilst the Enzo and Cass bullshit kicked off around ringside.

ZSJ successfully defended the Rev Pro British title against Tanahashi next. This was another excellent bout in their series, but coming after three crazy matches in a row, two of which were great, and with them working a considerably more methodical style, the crowd were slightly more subdued here. Despite the slow start, they finally won the crowd over, and Sabre retained after submitting the Ace with his new stretch he’s calling Yes! I am A Long Way From Home (which I believe is Mogwai reference) after 15 minutes of action. Tana was apparently injured in this somewhere though, which puts a bit of a dampner on things. Naito defended the I.C. Title against Ibushi next. What more can be said of matches between these two? Every time they get in there against each other, I’m fearful one, or both, might die. Which is never a great feeling to have when watching a wrestling match. Of course, the fact their matches are always out of this world good makes up for it slightly. But only slighty. This had loads of crazy stuff in it; Ibushi hit a snap rana on Naito off the apron to the floor, as well as that deadlift German off the second rope, which when Naito landed, his head snapped like he’d been thrown out of a car. They had a stiff strike exchange, before Naito hit a reverse rana and Destino for a great near fall. Ibushi battles back with a headkick, two Boma Ye’s, a Last Ride, and Kamigoye to win the Intercontinental title in decisive fashion at the 20:53. This was the right move to me, as with Kota part of the company full time, New Japan really should be positioning him at the top of the card, and Naito is already an established star (even if that star has fallen somewhat over the last year), so he isn’t hurt by the loss. Ibushi’s first defense is against Sabre Jr at the Sengoku Lord show in Nagoya on April 20th, which should be great. The ROH World Title Ladder Match followed. It too was excellent, and featured some incredible bumps, but it went on much too long, and Taven winning hardly invokes enthusiasm, it must be said.

Which brought us to the main event of the evening. This was an exceptional piece of drama, which took its time to get to where it was going. I’ve heard people complain about how the first half of the match wasn’t exactly scintilating, but it was all part of telling the story it set out to tell. It built to an incredibly dramatic climax, which saw, amongst other things, Jay White joining an incredible elite club of guys who have ever kicked out of a full on Rainmaker, probably the most protected finisher in the business. In fact, it took Okada four dropkicks and four variations of the Rainmaker to finally put Switch Blade away. After hitting a Blade Runner (which noticeably wasn’t kicked out of here), Jay went for another, but Okada turned it into a German Suplex. As the sold out MSG went crazy, and after a series of blocks and counters, Okada hit the spinning Tombstone and another Rainmaker to win his 5th IWGP Title at the 32:33 mark, and send everyone home happy. Honestly, Okada looked like the best worker on the planet (I mean, because he is. Even better than Kenny) and he put in a superstar performance here, doing everything to make White look like a star. To his credit, Jay carried his load well here too, and looked great throughout. At only 26 years old, the future is very bright for him too, but the title change was the right call I believe. Okada is still your franchise player, and whilst he doesn’t have a whole load in the way of fresh challengers, his main events are unequelled. Next up for him is a title defense against SANADA in Fukuoka on May 3rd, as he promised to Cold Skull after beating him to win the NJC. Their last match was a classic, so I see no reason for that not to be too.

NDT

[art-little-nonsense]

Tagged by @fireolin

Thank you, dear! This was fun to do :D

Rules: Answer 30 questions. Tag 10 blogs you want to get to know better.

Nickname(s): joolita

Gender: cis girl

Sign: Virgo

Height: 160 cm, give or take (5'2)

Current time: 0:58 AM

Favorite band(s): Aah, there are so many bands i like… Off the top of my head it’s Walk the Moon. Chvrches, The Naked and Famous, and Queen.

Favorite solo artist(s): Do composers count? If so then Christopher Tin, Harry Gregson-Williams and John Williams (if it weren’t for the latter i probably wouldn’t have survived high school). If composers don’t count then Annie Lennox and Rae Morris.

Song stuck in my head: Star Trek Next Gen theme song

Last movie I saw: Kingdom of Heaven, director’s cut, for perhaps the 7th time. I do know the movie is so historically inaccurate it hurts (even the clothes, aaaargh!), and objectively middling in terms of plot, but i just… like it a lot. I am not without sin.

Last show I watched: Steven Universe. And now i have questions.

When did I create my blog: In January 2018

What do I post: My so-called art, which turns out to be mainly hunter x hunter fanart or original stuff, or gifts for my friends

Last thing I googled: ‘kyoto central post office opening times’. I am a certified bore.

Do I have other blogs: Yes! My main blog is our-little-nonsense. I share it with my buddy Munen, my partner in worldbuilding and storytelling crimes. We reblog anything and everything. The blog is a trashcan. But it’s the sort of trashcan i feel comfortable in.

We also have a separate sideblog dedicated to our webcomic. It’s called raguscorner. It’s mostly comic doodles and update notifications. I should probably give it more love at some point…

Do I get asks: This one is a first!

Why did I choose my url: I wanted it to match the main url invented by Munen, bc the art thing is a sideblog and i cannot really like posts (or so i believe), but i still wanted ppl to recognise me (i am too lazy to have a proper second blog. Two dashes full of funny cats would ruin my chances of ever getting any work done).

Following: On my main i follow 160 blogs. The number is rapidly growing :D

Followed by: 33! Thank you all for putting up with my infrequent updates and weird content!

Average hours of sleep: I’d like to say 8, but it’s more like either 4ish or 12ish. The world refuses to accept that i am a creature of the night, insisting on my participation in bleak affairs called ‘mornings’.

Lucky number: I don’t really have one.

Instruments: My hand eye coordination is so rubbish that anything more complex than, say, the triangle, is probably above my skills. So no :)

What I’m wearing: PJs. I am a disgrace to humanity.

Dream job: I suppose that full-time-comic-artist-working-on-their-own-project-untouched-by-corporate-greed is the dream, but i am pretty satisfied with my job as a translator specialising in academic works on anthropology and the history of art. I only wish it did not generate problems with cash flow.

Favourite food: generally speaking i love variety more than anything. But if i had to pick one cuisine, it’d be Sichuan food. And also chocolate.

Nationality: Polish

Favorite song: There are many, but when i feel bad my go-to song is Princes of the Universe.

Last book I read: “Un Lun Dun” by China Mieville. I loved it! The author points out the stereotypes associated with novels for the younger reader, and then skilfully avoids them.

Top 3 fictional universes I want to join: AtLA, the world depicted in the comic i am drawing (if only to see the planetary rings) and Fading Suns as presented by my Game Master (it was a world to remember, too bad half the team moved abroad and we cannot really play anymore).

As to tagging, if you feel like it: @zinkul, @fismoll7secinv, @adastra-carozo, @marcianek. I’m pretty sure everyone else i know has done it already, but do feel tagged if you want to do it!

[go-redgirl]

5 Ways Donald Trump’s Policies Helped Black Americans

Speaking to a packed crowd in Dimondale — a suburb of Lansing, Michigan — Donald Trump made a direct appeal to black Americans, asking: “What the hell do you have to lose” by supporting me? That was August 2016. The question caused consternation from the elite media. There weren’t enough fainting couches to go around. But as I chronicle in my new book, 50 Things They Don’t Want You to Know About Trump, black Americans, indeed, had a lot to gain from a Trump presidency.

Below are five ways that President Donald Trump’s policies help black Americans.

1. Net New Women-Owned Businesses Added Per Day by Black Women Reached a Record High in 2018 and 2019

The average number of new women-owned businesses opened per day reached a record level in 2018, surging to 1,821. The number held steady in 2019, a year that saw an average of 1,817 businesses owned by women open per day. The data derives from U.S. Census Bureau Survey of Business Owners and was part of the annual State of Women-Owned Businesses Report, commissioned by American Express. A woman-owned business is defined as any firm that is “at least 51 percent owned, operated and controlled by one or more females,” American Express explains.

No group saw more business start-ups under President Trump than black women.

New businesses owned by black women represented the highest rate of growth of any group in the number of new firms between 2018 and 2019. Indeed, black women accounted for 42 percent of net new women business owners, in 2019 which is three times their share of the female population. A dizzying irony? The very subgroup of voters who were among those who supported President Trump’s election the least have in this instance benefited from his economic policies the most.

2. Trump’s EPA Awarded $100 Million to Fix the Broken Water Infrastructure System in Flint, Michigan

The town of Flint, Michigan, which the Census Bureau says is roughly 54 percent black, suffered a sad saga of lead-laced water for years. The crisis began in 2014. Barack Obama was president. The disaster burgeoned under decades of Democratic Party supremacy. Still, it quickly became one of the American Left’s favorite bludgeons to beat the only Republican around to blame, former Gov. Rick Snyder.

Obama signed a Michigan emergency declaration in January 2016. The move saw too few federal resources dedicated to replacing dirty pipes and fixing the lead contamination in the city’s water supply. In fact, Obama’s Michigan emergency declaration ended in August 2016. It’s hard to find criticism of Obama as stark as that of the city’s favorite son, Michael Moore.

The Oscar-winning documentary filmmaker blasted Obama for sipping filtered water during a May 2016 trip to Flint, Michigan, meant to reassure residents that the city’s lead-tainted drinking water was safe to consume.

Michael Moore said on HBO’s Real Time with Bill Maher in September 2018:

It was still poison. … [H]e pretended to drink from a glass of water and then said that it wasn’t a stunt. And it was.

And it just put a knife in the heart of so many people in Flint who were hoping he would come with the Army Corps of Engineers, dig up these poison pipes, and replace the pipes in the city. And he didn’t do that. And then people gave up and a lot of people stayed home. They didn’t vote for Trump, but they just stayed home.

It was a small little example you see how sometimes the Democrats really screw it up. They’re the party of the people, they should be there for the people, they should fight for the people.

It wasn’t until March 2017 when President Trump’s Environmental Protection Agency awarded a $100 million grant to fund projects to replace Flint’s bad pipes. There were various bumps in the road, like in any big government project. By the spring of 2019, Flint’s water system was mostly fixed. You can go on social media today and find people complaining about dirty water in Flint but even Trump-bashing NPR conceded in April 2019, “tests have shown Flint’s tap water has improved greatly since the depths of the water crisis. Now, it’s well within federal and state standards for lead, even better than many other cities.”

3. The Trump Administration Struck a $1 Billion Deal to Provide HIV Prevention Drugs Free to 200,000 Uninsured Americans Every Year for the Next Decade

In February 2019, President Trump unveiled an ambitious plan to eradicate the transmission of HIV within a decade. “Together, we will defeat AIDS in America and beyond,” the president declared of the pandemic that has caused an estimated 32 million deaths worldwide between 1981 and 2018. An estimated 1.1 million Americans had HIV in 2019. Another 40,000 Americans are diagnosed every year. Health and Human Services (HHS) projects that some 400,000 Americans will contract the deadly virus over the next decade.

While black Americans represent roughly 13 percent of the overall population, we accounted for 42 percent of new HIV diagnoses in 2018, according to CDC data. One in two gay black men in America will be diagnosed with HIV over the course of their lifetime, the CDC warned in 2016. 

The number of new cases of black women with HIV, which causes AIDS, has dropped by 40 percent in recent years, the agency said, but infection rates have seen a sharp increase among young gay men, especially blacks, according to 2016 CDC figures. “Blacks account for more new HIV infections, people estimated to be living with HIV disease, and HIV-related deaths than any other racial-ethnic group in the U.S,” the Kaiser Family Foundation concluded.

The president proposed, and Congress approved and appropriated in its 2020 fiscal budget, a historic $291 million to fund the first phase of the administration’s bold plan to end HIV. The administration’s initiative, known as Ending the HIV Epidemic: A Plan for America (EHE), seeks to reduce new U.S. HIV infections by 75 percent over the next five years and by 90 percent by 2030. By May 2019, Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar II had rolled out a new program, Ready, Set, PrEP. Azar also announced that his agency had secured a donation of drugs, worth billions, from Gilead Sciences, Inc. that would see the pharmaceutical company donate pre-exposure prophylaxis (PrEP) medication for up to 200,000 individuals each year for up to 11 years. 

A 30-day supply of the HIV prevention drug can carry a $2,000 price tag for people without insurance. HHS says, program participants are individuals without prescription drug coverage who have tested negative for HIV and have a valid on-label prescription for PrEP.

Studies have shown that PrEP reduces the risk of getting HIV from sex by about 99 percent when taken consistently. Among people who inject drugs, PrEP reduces the risk of getting HIV by at least 74 percent when taken consistently.

The Centers for Diseases Control and Prevention (CDC) estimates that in 2018 roughly 220,000 individuals had received a prescription for PrEP, which the agency says reduces the chances of contracting HIV through sex by up to 97 percent. Coverage, though, comes with a stark racial divide, the CDC claims. 

Coverage was particularly low among those groups who contract HIV at a disproportionately high rate: young gay and bisexual people and minorities, according to the agency. White Americans were estimated as being between four and seven times more likely to be covered for PrEP than their black and Latino counterparts, CDC data showed.

By March 2020, access to HIV PrEP medications were available to qualifying participants at CVS Health, Walgreens, and Rite Aid locations. The three companies, a combined total of more than 21,000 locations, donated their dispensing services to HHS as part of the national program to prevent the spread of HIV.

4. The Poverty Rate for Black Americans Dropped to an All-Time Low in 2018

The poverty rate for black Americans fell by 0.9 percentage points and by 0.8 percentage points for Hispanic Americans in 2018, the latest year for which data are available. Those figures represent, for both groups, the lowest levels of poverty ever recorded by the Census Bureau.

The poverty rate for both groups also hit record lows the previous year, with black poverty rates falling to 21.2 percent in 2017. The rate was expected by experts to fall to another historic low in 2019. That defies the Democrats’ chorus of doom and gloom about the economy. Just a few months after the Census Bureau reported record-breaking poverty declines, a Gallup survey assessing the economic mood of the nation found that 59 percent of Americans said they are better off financially than they were just a year earlier—and a staggering 74 percent said they will be even better off in 2020.

5. President Trump Has Allocated More Funding to Historically Black Colleges and Universities than Any Other President

In May 2017, President Trump promised “unwavering support” for the nation’s historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs). In December 2019, President Trump signed a bipartisan bill, known as the FUTURE Act. The law permanently reauthorized hundreds of millions of dollars in federal funding for America’s 102 historically black colleges and universities.

College closures, declining enrollment, and scant finances contributed to the rising risk of these schools losing their accreditation. Trump vowed to break the logjam in Congress over the funding for HBCUs. By the end of 2018, he had appropriated more than $360 million to these institutions. The massive figure put him in the record books as having allocated more money to HBCUs than any other president in history.

Michael Lomax, the president and CEO of the United Negro College Fund (UNCF), praised the president and the thousands of advocates responsible for getting the legislation turned into law. “We enlisted more than 20,000 supporters to write and call their members of Congress. This activated army of advocates [who] became the frontline of support for HBCUs, and they won the battle for our institutions,” Lomax said.

[fireladybuckley]

Wifey Mountain Trip 2017

So I know Jules (@outside-the-government) already posted some photos and stuff but I want to post mine as well <3. She covered most of the actual camping stuff, and I want to cover that but mostly all the wildlife and scenery!!

Starting with the vehicle we rented... a Hyundai Tucson.  It only had like 3000km on it.  Pretty damn smooth ride.  It was FULL of our stuff though.  Like we literally wouldn’t have been able to fit more than a couple of grocery bags more.

Our first stop before Banff.  Lac des Arcs, it was beautiful.  There are huge outcroppings of shale and we found actual fossils in them!!

Shells!  And Horn corals!  And there were tons of other kinds of fossils as well!  It was so exciting, its the first time I’ve ever seen fossils outside of a classroom!

SO MANY FOSSILS 8D

This is Edgar.  He’s a raven that was continually checking out all the campsites.  We decided it was his job to patrol.  We saw him all four days, doing his rounds.  Such a cutie.

Our campsite and cozy tent.  We could have stayed for WEEKS, it was so amazing. <3

On our first evening we went for a little walk behind the camground.  I hadn’t slept at all and we’d been going since about 6am, so I was EXHAUSTED, so we didn’t go too far.  I liked this little path though.

This was the first night.  Pretty smoky in the distance, but we couldn’t smell it much, thankfully.

We went for a bit of a hike/walk first thing in the morning, over to the Hoodoos.  They lost their caps years ago and are just sandstone columns now, constantly eroding.

This beautiful bird had a very strange call, not one we recognized.  I figure out the breed though, this is a Clark’s Nutcracker (Nucifraga columbiana)

Some of the mountains surrounding the Hoodoos area.  I love this last one, with the obvious striations (layers).  You can see so much of the geology and how things formed in these areas, as someone who’s just recently taken a few geology classes, it was absolutely fascinating.

The smoke was pretty bad in the distance that day.  I’ve altered these images as much as I could to see through the haze, but this was as good as I could do.  I’m a little sad because it was one of the coolest peaks we saw.  Still pretty though!

Another stop we made.  It had a whole little walkway dedicated to the the Wildlife Crossing bridges around the Banff area! (as seen below)

Edgar busy inspecting our neighbour’s campsite after they’d left for the day.

Random mountain pic.  Love the way this one is formed, and according to Jules it has a very interesting geologic history.

Hearty camping breakfast!  Scrambled eggs with cheese and taco seasoning and sausages, with bread and peanut butter and toast.

Cutie chipmunk that was watching us closely.  <3

Time to play find the birb!  These little sparrows are EVERYWHERE in town, hopping around.  They’re pretty tame and super cute.

Cutie under a directions sign

*gasp* Rebel!

Found a bunch of Pikachu stuff in one of the candy stores, so cute!! 8D

This squirrel was in the tree above our tent and chattering angrily nearly nonstop.  Apparently we offended it.

Bow Falls.  The Falls are quite small but loud!

Climbing ohhhh so high! (she was actually like 1-2 feet off the ground xD)

Beautiful Bow River just beyond the falls

Bow River still, love the colour!

In front of the falls!

Up to my shins in the water... its VERY cold, glacier fed.  But it felt kinda nice for the couple of minutes before my feet went numb because it was *really* hot!

Couple of random mountain shots :)

This is out at Cave and Basin Historical Site.  There’s some walking trails that goes through some of the natural sulphur ponds/hot springs and you can see all the fishies and the rare Banff Springs Snail  in some of them!

I found a garter snake skin on the path!  Unfortunately we didn’t get to see an actual snek but this was cool too!

Small falls from the hot springs.  The white stuff under the water is a type of algae that thrives in waters with high sulphur content!

Just two biologists in training loving the hell out of these pools <3

Hard to see but there’s a bunch of fish in this picture.  This little pool is barely a couple of inches deep, very warm and full of sulphur.  So amazing!

The rare Banff Springs snail (Physella johnsoni) in its natural habitat!  This little snail lives only in the few hot springs in Banff National Park

An adorable spotted sandpiper (Actitis macularius).  He was doing a bit of a courtship dance when we saw him but I think we scared his prospective mate away.  Sorry dude :(

So on the last day, we went to the Calgary Zoo on our way home!  It was so exciting!  Unfortunately my camera battery died partway through our walkthrough so some of the pics aren’t as good, as they were taken on my phone.

There were tons of these cool statues at the entrance but I love elephants so much so I made sure I got a shot of this one <3

Penguins!

I love this quote so much.   “We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors: we borrow it from our children.”

More penguins!

Big horned sheep!

The best exhibit! <3

Flyin’ with Hedwig.

Baaaaaaa.

Yes, we laughed at this tree.  Yes, we are five years old.

Walked into the aviary to see this gorgeous guy staring down at us.  He’s a Great Grey Owl and there were 3 of them in the aviary.

So gorgeous.

Hedwig!  Beautiful snowy owl.  They’re a lot bigger than I ever realized!

A male elk with the velvet on his antlers starting to peel off.  Kinda gory, but not too bad yet.  He was very handsome.

Cute little groundhog stuffing his face.

The most gorgeous mountain lions/pumas/cougars.  There were two just crashed.  The one sitting up was mildly interested in a magpie that was hopping around, but it was ultimately too lazy to get up lol

Hippos!! I’ve never seen a hippo up close before and I couldn't believe how enormous they were.  They don’t really look it in the pic but MAN they were huge!

Me with a lion statue outside of the “African Safari” exhibits

Cutie meerkats!

First time I’ve ever seen giraffes in person.  They were so amazing!

Zeeeebra

This African Crowned Crane takes the prize for best hair cut

Very, very sleepy lionness.  There was a male and another female as well but they were well hidden.

Ostrich!

Snow leopards!  One of my absolute favourites!!!  I love the tail just hanging there.

Better pic taken a little while after the first.  The one on the right is Leika and the one on the left is Karesh (I think).  Pemba is not pictured.

It was boiling hot so we stopped for ice cream.  SO HOT.

Awesome chameleon in the rainforest exhibit

A seagull attempting to blend in

I can’t remember what this little guy was called, but he was so colourful!  Amazing!

Some awesome shubbery art advertising the Land of the Lemurs exhibit.

I know some of you have already seen this, but on the way back through Calgary, we stopped to have dinner with @youre-on-a-starship!  She is a total sweetie and I can’t wait till we hang out again!

I love my hat.

Annnnd that’s pretty much it!  It was epic and I miss the mountains so much already my heart kinda aches.  Can’t wait until we go back.   Tagging a couple people I know would probably be interested to see this... hope everyone likes it though!!

@mccoymostly @star-trekkin-across-theuniverse @fandomheadrush @thevalesofanduin @bkwrm523 @yourtropegirl @emilyymichelle @secretgaygentdanvers 

@queercapwriting - not sure if you wanted to be tagged but this is the trip I sent you a message about, with my girl <3  It was amazing! :D

[gzw1689]

@sejinpk regarding Kara no Kyoukai

With regards to this post, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure how far I want to go down this line of thought (of analyzing the little details in the series) just yet.

I think I’ve alluded to this in my tags on other posts about Kara no Kyoukai, that it’s one of those series that I kind of have a hard time with. I feel like I should like it, and I want to like it, and I can’t really explain why. Maybe it’s because I felt (feel?) such a strong connection to Fate/Stay Night and I want to like Nasu’s other work.

But if I’m being honest with myself, I have trouble finding meaning in--or even comprehending--the story and a lot of ideas in the films. (I haven’t read the novels yet, but if I ever learn Japanese, I wonder if I might get more out of those.)

I don’t really know what is. Maybe it’s because so much of it is so visual, and I don’t think I’m that great at that kind of thing. Maybe it’s because I’m struggling with the subtitles.

But I think part of it may have to do with the manner in which it tells its story. To get a better idea, it’s kind of similar to how I feel about stuff like Serial Experiments Lain (which is one of the works I feel this way the most about, even compared to some of the stuff I’ve studied for my English degree), Ikuhara’s works, and maybe Evangelion to some extent. I think I’d describe each of those as having quite a lot going on with them, but they’re often very indirect about it.

It doesn’t really help that a lot of the more substantial writing I’ve seen on the Kara no Kyoukai films tends to focus on minuscule details and symbolism. Considering my current understanding of the films, such things mostly go over my head and mean very little to me, even in the two (or three?) times I’ve watched and rewatched the series. I’m not sure if I’m quite “there” yet with Kara no Kyoukai, if that makes sense. It kind of feels like trying to do calculus when you haven’t learned how to deal with polynomials.

(EDIT: Just want to clarify that it’s not that I don’t find the writing interesting or informative; I usually do. I just think its often at one or more levels higher than I’m prepared for, so the ideas don’t entirely stick with me after reading.)

After so many years of studying literature and thinking about this stuff, having a sense of comprehension and/or understanding while reading a work of fiction (or non-fiction) has become pretty important to me. For more “high-minded” works, for lack of a better word, there needs to be enough for me to grasp to make satisfying interpretation(s) of it.

At the same time though, I kind of had to do some work (or at least listen to lectures) to develop a greater appreciation for things like Shakespeare and Swift. Maybe works like the ones I mentioned above require some of that, but a lot of the time when I’m watching things for fun (which is generally how I feel about anime these days), I just want it to be more easily accessible. Maybe going into this area of study has made me less patient instead of more when it comes to trying to understand and appreciate works of fiction, haha.

But at the same time, I’m not so sure about that comparison. With the stuff I studied in English, I don’t think it was so much that I couldn’t comprehend those works (though admittedly, some were more difficult than others; Judith Butler or Slavoj Žižek come to mind as ones that I never really got). I think I could mostly comprehend them on a basic level, but learning things like historical and cultural context just enriched my sense of appreciation for them. In contrast, with those anime series I mentioned, I’m not even sure how I well I comprehended them. In a way, they frustrate me nearly as much as they fascinate me. (EDIT: Well, not really. But I just liked the way that sounded. :P)

All of this just made me think of the role of detail in fictional works, but maybe I’ll explore that topic later.

That said, maybe one of these days, Kara no Kyoukai will finally click with me. Until then, it feels like one of those series where I say something like, “I don’t exactly know what’s going on, but I like it.” And considering some of what I said above, I feel kind of weird about that.

(EDIT: I think what I’m trying to say is that I want to understand the series on a more fundamental level. Right now, I sort of have some puzzle pieces of meaning, but they don’t really make a full picture. Maybe a small fraction of one. Depending on how much time and dedication I want to put into it though, I think it could possibly take quite a while.)

I hope all of that made sense. Some of this stuff is kind of difficult for me to explain, so I’m not sure if I got my thoughts on this across clearly enough. So much for comprehension, haha.

[jcmacri]

The Debate I Never Thought I’d Have

That’s it?

I’m assuming it was a Friday night, just because for most of my life, those were my dad’s days with me. Picked me up from school Friday afternoon, dropped me back off at mom’s Saturday for dinner. In between, there was basketball. From November to June, always basketball, starting in the Fall of 1992, the first time a kid who never wanted so much as to play catch in the front yard showed interest in sports of any kind. The local baseball and football teams were terrible, but something about this team in the orange and blue did it for me. It was the beginning of the most painful love affair I’d ever have. In the early days, that pain was mostly due to one man.

That’s all? That’s not that crazy.

I don’t remember why my half-brother was in from the city, but on this particular Friday, it gave me, him and our dad a chance to watch the Knicks play their rivals, the Chicago Bulls. I knew very little about basketball or the men who played it, so when my brother told me there was this guy on the Bulls that could literally fly, my ears perked up. “His name is Michael Jordan. You have to see him…he jumps with the ball, and then hangs in mid-air. It’s unbelievable.” I was pretty naïve, even for a nine-year old, so when my brother told me that the dude could fly, I was expecting some serious comic-book level shit. And then we watched the game, and, well…

Hs’s not flying…I mean, he jumps really high…but it doesn’t look like he’s that much better than everyone else around him. Is it time for TGIF?

Like I said, I wasn’t the worldliest kid. Over the next five years, my impression of the man I first witnessed that Friday night would change considerably. Like many others between the ages of 30 and 40, I came to regard Michael Jordan with something of a God-like reverence. Debating his place in the hierarchy of NBA history with someone close to my age is only slightly less fruitful than trying to convince a staunch Republican or Democrat to switch their party allegiance. There is no argument. There is the view that Michael Jordan is the best basketball player of all time, and then there is being wrong and stupid. There is no in between.

Figuring out the reasons why are both incredibly simple and incredibly complex. On one hand, there is a symmetry to his accomplishments: six championship battles, six rings, six Finals MVP’s, two three-peats, zero losses. A person who was dropped onto this earth from another dimension could sit and listen to a merits-based Jordan argument and walk away convinced in under a minute. There’s not much to it.

On the other hand, for those who grew up watching him, understanding the true measure of Michael’s greatness is to understand why The Godfather is considered the greatest movie ever made by anyone raised in an Italian American household or why New York City is a place without parallel to anyone who lives there. If you watched him, and experienced that sensation of “he’s not going to lose…he’s never going to lose…he can’t ever lose” - a premonition that never failed - then you know the feeling.

Well, it did fail. Once. To Orlando, in 1995, in a moment history remembers merely as footnote to Jordan’s dominance. Oddly enough, the way that loss ended up fueling his undying dedication to dominating everyone and everything he encountered from then on has rendered it another notch on his belt, not a knock on his legacy.

The other part of the narrative that gets swept under the rug is the Washington era, which I experienced as a 19 and 20-year-old, and in some ways is still my most vivid memory of him. Most choose to ignore those years, but I embrace them, not despite of their imperfection, but because of it. A 40-year-old man who had no business being anywhere near a basketball court could still, on any given night, be the best player on the floor. I was in attendance on one of those nights, his last as a visiting player at MSG. He scored 25 points in the first half, cut his chin diving on the floor for a loose ball, and the Wizards lost a game they needed to win to keep any remote playoff hopes still alive. To this day, it’s the only time I’ve ever rooted against the Knicks.

He would hang up the sneakers that bore his name once and for all a few weeks later, two months before a precocious kid from Akron landed with the franchise that Jordan tortured perhaps more than any other. Now, fifteen years into a career that is unparalleled in sports history for its combination of length and level of dominance, LeBron James finds himself in a similar position to Jordan on that final afternoon at the Garden. 

Much like Mike, James has no business being where he is right now. The Cavs, to put it politely, are not good. They just emerged victorious in a Game Seven in an arena that has historically been the toughest place to win one of those. Jeff Green, playing on a minimum contract that was (correctly) lambasted by the NBA illuminati the moment it was signed, was Cleveland’s second best player. Tristan Thompson, who might very well be playing on a minimum contract himself right now if it weren’t for James, was probably the third. The rest of the Cavs combined to go 7-of-24. Ty Lue, who stated last week that he didn’t put his best shooter in a game because he was waiting for a particular substitution from Boston, is the coach. It’s as far a cry from Riles and Spo and Wade and Bosh as you can get.

And yet here he is. Through what can only be described as sheer force of will, the Cavs will play in a fourth consecutive Finals, the eighth straight for James. The Knicks have not won eight playoff games since James has been in the league, so LeBron haters can forgive me for being the slightest bit in awe of his most recent accomplishment.

It has, of course, ramped up another round of debates, this time at levels not previously heard. The conversations have been getting gradually louder ever since Cleveland dethroned Golden State two years ago, and they have now reached a fever pitch. It seems, for the first time, that there is a place in the Venn diagram - ever so small - where previously staunch Jordan stans are willing to, at the very least, listen to opposing viewpoints.

That, in and of itself, is miraculous. It also isn’t going to make the debate go away any time soon. The Godfather is still The Godfather, New York is still New York, and Michael Jordan is still Michael Jordan to all who were lucky enough to watch him in real time. I’m one of those people, and for LeBron’s entire career, I’ve never been willing to budge on my stance regarding Jordan’s place atop the pantheon, not even a little. If I ever came close, LeBron’s performance in the 2011 Finals versus the Dallas Mavericks sent back the tide. LeBron scored eight points on 11 shots in Game Four. The Heat lost by three, and then went down with something resembling a whimper in games five and six. Game, set, match.

That series ended with LeBron, a petulant pre-teen in the body of a man, at the podium reminding everyone how shitty their lives were and reaching perhaps the lowest point that anyone who’s ever actively held the title of “Greatest Player of his Generation” has ever sunk to. Since that night, all James has done is dominate his sport unlike anyone before him ever dreamt of doing. The numbers don’t lie:

LeBron, 2011 to 2018, age 27 to 33: 26.5 points, 7.7 rebounds, 7.4 assists, 1.5 steals, 0.7 blocks, 36 percent from deep on 4.0 attempts per game, .615 true shooting, 31.2 percent usage, 37.1 minutes per game, 42 games missed, 143 playoff games, seven Finals, three rings, three Finals MVP’s, two MVP’s, seven All-NBA First Teams.

Michael Jordan’s age 27 to 33 seasons, years 1990 to 1996: 30.7 points, 6.3 rebounds, 5.1 assists, 2.3 steals, 0.8 blocks, 37 percent from deep on 2.4 attempts, .575 true shooting, 33.2 usage, 38.2 minutes, 153 games missed, 105 playoff games, five Finals, five rings, five Finals MVP’s, three MVP’s, five All-NBA First Teams. 

Pretty close. If you add up the last five categories for each player – Finals, rings, MVP’s, Finals MVP’s and All-NBA First Team selections – its 22 for LeBron, 23 for Michael. If you throw in the preceding years, it’s James 31, MJ 29.

Here’s the point: if you’re planting a flag for the kid from Wilmington, the numbers are no longer a safe haven…but again, to Jordan’s staunchest supporters, those numbers were never the crux of the argument. No one gives a shit how many Oscars Godfather won. The numbers in an MJ argument have always been background noise. The memory of Michael and what he did -  the sheer inevitability of the result and the brute force with which he made it come to pass - has always been the trump card.

Until now. On the Lowe Post this week, Kevin Pelton wondered aloud, “How much can one man do?” We’ve seen the answer over these last six weeks. Never before has one player done so much for a team, and not in a Russell Westbrook, late-career Kobe, or yes, early-career Jordan kind of way. LeBron has extracted every ounce of what he can from this rag tag bunch, and every time that well runs dry, he dips back into his reserves and finds another pocket of energy. 

The difference between this postseason and 2007 is that those energy reserves are no longer endless. The gas light can go on, and it has, repeatedly. It’s as if he’s calculated, not only within games but over the course of entire series, when and how he needs to spend those precious last few pennies in the account so that he can still make rent. As he lay on the floor following his Game Seven win in Boston, it’s clear that he had been living on ramen noodles and saltine crackers for a few days just to make it past the finish line. 

Jordan needed to do this once, in the flu game (or the hangover game, depending on which story you believe). It is perhaps the moment that defines him more than any other. James has, in a way, had the equivalent of his own flu game since the playoffs began, and he is still standing.  

It has become clear that the man who cowered under the lights in Dallas is gone. The force of nature that has replaced him is in command of every faculty of the game, more so than anyone who has come before him. The most physically superior specimen in sports since Jim Brown has finally put it all together… 

..and yet, in roughly a week from now, in all likelihood, this man will have as many losses in NBA Finals as the man he is chasing has wins. It feels as inevitable as Jordan’s victories once were – the inevitability that defined him in my eyes and the eyes of so many others - and that, more than anything, is the hump some people can’t get over. 

Is it fair? Who’s to say. What’s undeniable is that the 35-year-old man I am is trying to reconcile what I’m seeing with what the 15-year-old boy in me refuses to let go. The answers that were once clear are no longer so. That, in and of itself, is a place I never thought I’d get to.