#distant thought but I think mean old men r fun

[dogcollarpunk]

urge to draw smth I have absolutely 0 reason to draw

[writing-fool]

mlqc | like it’s a bad thing pt. 1

I think these are ‘fighting’ scenarios, but I’m not 100% sure at this point. It’s like a ‘relationship on the cliffs’ thing. Pt. 1 for Victor and Shaw because I noticed these were getting a tad long. And they kind of carry the same theme, I guess. Wanted to include Lucien, but I ended up not being able to finish his for now...so if I make the next part, he’ll probably be on there.

I’m still working on a hp!au for Victor, but that may take a while since the inspiration doesn’t seem to be arriving anytime soon. It’s all been a bit tough, sorry. I say this all the time, but I apologise for the lack of fics; my writing pace’s been slow.

As always, enjoy the read!

Love,

R.

Warning(s): slight angst, profanity, mention of mature content.

Victor

You love Victor. You really do. But sometimes, just sometimes you wonder why you put up with this man and his bullshit. A great downside to being involved both romantically and professionally is that those types of relationships tend to bleed into one another. This could be in the form of an office quickie...or something a lot less fun. 

On the outside, Victor may seem put together, but you know him well enough by now that this month has been incredibly stressful for him. But so has it been for you. Safe to say, it’s been tense, even at home. Victor’s constant nagging about work performance and his snide comments at your so-called slacking off have pushed you to the breaking point, and you’re really not going to sit there and take it today.

“Do you even understand what I’m saying? LFG can’t move forward with your company if you continue working at this inefficient pace. You, as the head of a company, should know how to improve the quality and efficiency of your work.”

You sigh, not taking your eyes off of the laptop in front of you as Victor exasperatedly throws another one of your proposals on the coffee table. “I get it. Just give me some time.” You rub your temples, getting back to your own work.

“Do you? It doesn’t seem like you get the point here. You. Do. Not. Have. Time,” he harshly points out.

“You know you’re able to manipulate time, right?” You raise an eyebrow and look up at his unamused face. 

“I can’t favour you like this. Did you really think I was going to stop time to solve your inefficiency problem? You can’t rely on others all the time. A company that can’t pull itself up is use—” 

Something in you snaps at that very moment. “I get it. We’re useless, inefficient, and we’re so lucky LFG is even willing to support this failing company. I’m a useless boss, I can’t do anything right, I’m leeching off of my rich, CEO boyfriend to get ahead, I fucked my way to the top, whatever. Tell me something I don’t know,” you snarl, slamming your laptop shut with a resounding snap.

“You know that’s not what I’m saying.” Victor’s glaring now, sharp, stormy eyes boring into yours.

“Oh, do I?” you mimic his words, narrowing your eyes, “Because you sure don’t seem to tell me otherwise. I can’t read minds, Victor, and all I hear from your mouth are insults telling me how incapable I am as a boss. So pray tell, how am I supposed to think I deserve my job when not only the entire business world, but also my own fucking boyfriend tells me I don’t?”

Victor’s clearly taking aback by your sudden outburst, but his need to get his point across in this argument seems to win over the instinct to lighten your mood at this very moment. “First of all, I don’t know why you care what others say—”

“Because I’m human! Maybe you don’t think of people calling you names anymore because they’re lost in the sea of people literally grovelling at your feet, but I’m not you,” you rub your temples again, voice lowering as the mental exhaustion kicks in.

“I don’t know if I can live like this anymore. Fuck Victor, you make me feel like a failure and you just don’t seem to care.” You push past his stunned form and head to the bedroom.

“Sleep in your office if all you care about is work.” You glance back at him for the last time before slamming the bedroom door shut.

Victor messed up. Royally. He didn’t mean to take his stress and anger out on you and he definitely didn’t mean to act like your boss at home. 

He’s been trying to get back to work for the past two hours while giving you some space, but the lingering guilt and worry in the back of his mind prevent him from actually doing anything productive. What if you really meant it? What if this is it? He can’t lose you just because he acted like an idiot. Victor’s always assumed you knew he cherished you more than anything in the world...but maybe he’s been neglecting you as a partner.

With a steel resolve to make it right, Victor leaves his home office and walks to your shared bedroom. The light from the hallway streams in as he opens the door, illuminating your sleeping figure. You’re curled in on yourself in a protective, almost guarded way, something you never do (you’re usually the kind of sleeper that has their limbs flopping everywhere on the bed). Victor feels a sharp pang in his heart at the notion of seeing you look this broken...because of him.

Gently, as to not wake you, he shuffles to the dresser, carefully taking off his shirt and folding it over a chair. After sufficiently (un)dressing himself, he slides under the sheets. 

Victor tentatively reaches a hand over to touch your arm, only to feel you turn away from his touch. Instead of pulling his hand back, Victor brings his hand around your waist, pulling you flush against his bare chest.

You’re awoken by the sudden movement, and in your sleepy state, you lean back into the warmth surrounding you.

Victor’s breath grazes your ear as he whispers. “I’m sorry.” Hm?

Your mind slowly registers that the warmth is, in fact, caused by Victor’s body heat, and more importantly, that you’re still very much upset with him. You struggle to get out of his grip, but that only seems to tighten the hold Victor has on you.

“Don’t. Stay with me,” he pleads, voice tinged with despair. You’ve never seen him this vulnerable before. You still your actions, instead opting to turn around to face Victor.

“I don’t know if this is what I want,” you speak up after a long moment of silence, “I love you, but I don’t want to be stuck in a relationship where I’m not welcomed.”

“Do you feel like you’re stuck here?” Victor asks.

You avoid his gaze. “I’m not sure. It’s not all your fault, but I do wonder whether you stopped caring about me sometimes. You’ve been so harsh to me, lately.”

“I didn’t, I never stopped caring,” Victor takes your hand in his left one, interlacing your fingers, “But I understand that I’ve made you feel insecure and uncared for. I never wanted to make you feel worthless, but I’ve gone too far this time, haven’t I?”

A mirthless chuckle escapes your mouth. “That’s an understatement,” you quip.

You expect Victor to retort back with something mean, revert to his distant self (at least, to the distant person he’s become this month), but instead, he gently cups your cheek with his right hand, raising your face up to look at him again.

A soft kiss is placed on your forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to be less harsh, and I’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me. I’ll fix it all, your insecurities, your anxiousness. So give me one more chance, please. Let me fix it.” Victor’s beautiful grey eyes look into yours, sadness apparent on his face. You lie there for a long while, staring into his sombre eyes in silence.

“You’ll do anything?” you finally ask in curiosity. A resolute nod is your answer. “Even stop talking about work at home?” Victor nods again. You pause for a while, contemplating your next request. “...And take me to Souvenir and make me pudding every day?”

Victor snorts. “That’s the least I can do, dummy,” he chuckles lightly. Suddenly, his eyes widen. “I don’t mean you’re dumb. I just—”

Your soft giggle breaks his anxious ramble, and Victor feels like he’s just won the biggest prize at the lottery. “Just this is fine,” you whisper, “I thought it’d take longer for me to forgive you. But for some reason...I’m just happy to see your old self again.”

Victor sighs, pulling you closer. He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, inhaling deeply. “Dummy, don’t be so kind to me. I won’t know what to do,” he mumbles, relishing in the dark quiet of your bedroom. Truth is, he probably never knows what to do when it comes to you.

“You just have to love me, that’s all,” you pull your hand out of his, instead hooking your pinkies together, “No take-backsies.”

He rolls his eyes at your antics, a fond expression betraying the lack of annoyance behind the gesture. His pinky finger curls around yours ever so slightly, as if it’s desperate to hold onto yours. As if he’s desperate to hold onto you. 

“No take-backsies.”

Shaw

“Not again,” you growl under your breath.

Shaw’s always been popular with the ladies, the gents, and the non-binary friends. Which is fine, it’s fine. You’re not a jealous person. You’ve dealt with people asking him out, people asking him if he was a celebrity and making you take pictures of him and some other person on a date, older ladies in your family groping him whenever you bring him to a family function (which really, isn’t about jealousy. You got mad, rightfully so, because they were harassing him). You can’t even remember how many times one of his campus students has confessed to him. With you right next to him at the table! Is it that unbelievable that I’m his significant other?

But too far is too far.

You walked into the fancy nightclub tonight, expecting to get a drink or two in your system, let loose with Shaw for a couple of hours, drag his drunk ass home and cuddle in bed. Not this. 

The moment you walk in, you spot Shaw’s lavender coloured mop of hair sticking out over one of the booths. But he’s not alone, oh no. He’s surrounded by young men and women fawning over him like he’s some kind of celebrity or host club guest. And even though he looks a little bored, he’s not exactly bothered by the attention he’s getting. Because of course he isn’t. The moment his eyes land on you though, he looks you up and down appreciatively before shooting you a challenging smirk. He reaches over to a long-haired girl next to him, lazily fingering a lock of her hair. She looks up at him with a coy smile, but his amber eyes are fixed on yours, gauging your reaction. Oh, so he wants me to come over? Play the little jealous significant other? Hah! Not today, boy. I didn’t come here to play games. 

You raise an eyebrow, a visibly annoyed expression showing on your face. Instead of heading in his direction, you strut to the bar, shoes tapping rhythmically on the floor. I look hot, I feel hot, and I need a fucking drink. 

You order a bourbon on the rocks, gulping down a large sip of the beverage a soon as it gets to you. Bourbon is made to be savoured. You hear Victor’s voice resounding in your mind from the time he taught you how to judge alcohol for a production. So am I, but nobody’s been thinking of that, apparently. You turn around with a scowl, leaning against the bar. You feel horrible, and the fact that Shaw’s back to his childish antics isn’t making that any better. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips as you tilt your head back, closing your eyes. The flashing lights are blurry, but still noticeable through your closed eyelids. But what you don’t notice, is the man heading over to you from his side of the bar. 

Shaw notices. How could he not? The moment you walked in the room, all he could see was you. And he knows he’s being a little shit, trying to make you jealous like that, but he can’t help wanting to play with you. It’s just a game of push and pull, and maybe he just wanted to see how hard you’d pull for him.

He didn’t expect you to react like that, though.

So here he is, so uncharacteristically walking (or strutting, because he is still sort of himself, after all) away from the admiring crowd of people around him and towards his clearly pissed off lover. And the man who’s clearly trying to chat you up.

“—buy you a drink?” he overhears. Shaw halts and watches the blinding spotlights in the club illuminate the sight in front of him.

He sees you lean closer to the man, foreheads almost touching in a conspiring way, before you shrug and the two of you turn to the bar. The man flags down the bartender, holding two fingers up. He’s just ordering two drinks for himself. That’s it.

His gait picks up again as he sees the bartender slide your favourite drink across the counter. Before you can even take a sip of bourbon, the textured glass is ripped out of your hand. Shaw downs the amber liquid, the burning sensation washing away the bitter taste of jealousy. 

“Thanks for ordering me a drink, honey,” he emphasizes the pet name, grinning at you before turning his head to the man with a fierce glare. The man raises his hands in defense, shakes his head at you with a smile, and promptly heads back to the other side of the bar. Shaw turns to you, the grin slipping back on his face momentarily.

“Already cheating on me?” he asks, masking the slight hurt behind a teasing façade. Shaw plops down on the stool next to you, watching your face. You look slightly guilty at first, but then your expression morphs back into one of anger...and exhaustion. You aren’t actually cheating on me, are you?

“Funny thing for you to say,” you ground out. 

“...So you were jealous.”

“That’s what you take from that?” You stare at him incredulously, his smug grin slowly sliding off of his face. I’m making it worse. Why did I make it worse?

“Jesus, you’re a prick,” you sigh, “No drink can fix this evening. I’m just going to go home. Do what you want, I don’t care anymore.” You climb out of your seat, making a beeline for the exit. Shaw is quick to follow you outside, grabbing your wrist before you can flag down a cab.

“Let me go, Shaw.”

“Hey, hey, it was a joke. You know that, right?” His ears are ringing from the loud music back in the club, but the sudden quiet’s more deafening than any song booming from the speakers. It feels sad, and Shaw hates it.

“I said, let me go.” You’re refusing to look at him. Why is it turning out like this?

“It was a joke. If I let go, you’re going to leave. Don’t leave me,” the slight pleading of his voice makes you turn around to look at his face. He tentatively releases your wrist, and you make no move to leave...yet.

“I don’t want to play these games anymore.”

He looks at you with furrowed brows. “I don’t understand,” he says.

“Is it fun, to try and make me jealous? To remind me of the fact that I’m somehow not suited for you, that after this amount of time, I’m still not enough for you?” you poke a finger into his lithe chest, “Because guess what, you succeeded. I’m jealous. I admit it, you won.”

 “I didn’t—And you took that guy’s offer for a drink! You’re not better!” Shaw suddenly raises his voice, his stance akin to that of a wolf on guard.

“I told him I had a boyfriend! And you know why he bought me a drink? Because he said I looked like I needed a pick me up. And you didn’t even notice! Even worse, you’re the fucking reason I needed one in the first place!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know you were going to throw a hissy fit over me hanging out with some friends?” he spits out.

“Friends? They were hanging onto you, Shaw! One of those girls had her tits so close to you, she almost suffocated you with them. And you know it,” a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “You love the attention. And we both know I was never enough to provide that for you. So I quit.”

Shaw deflates. “What do you mean, you quit?” 

“I don’t want to be vying for your affection with the rest of them, I guess. It’s selfish of me, but somehow I thought I’d be special, or something,” you scoff, kicking a nearby rock of the pavement, “But I don’t think I am. Not to you. So I think we should stop all of this before one of us gets even more hurt. I think we should break up.”

Shaw halts, burying both of his hands in his hair. His breathing quickens as he processes your words. “No, no, absolutely not. We aren’t breaking up.” he looks at you with the same pleading eyes he used that time when he got sick and begged you to cuddle him instead of getting his medicine. Back then, everything seemed so...lovely.

“I don’t know what else to do, Shaw,” your voice breaks, and Shaw feels his heart shatter at the notion of you hurting this much. “I just don’t know why you do this, I—”

“Because I don’t deserve you.” 

“What?” You shake your head in confusion.

“I know it’s fucked up. Everyone around us knew that I wasn’t deserving of you. Just look at me,” he gestures at himself, “I’m a fucking gangster dating someone who deserves better. So I tried pushing you away, and then you pulled back, and you fought for me. And I just don’t know how to deal with that, ‘cause people don’t do that for me.”

You sigh. “You deserve to be fought for.”

“I don’t. I really fucking don’t. Because here I am, with the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m about to lose them. And it should be what I want because I keep pushing and pushing and pushing, but now the only thing I want is you. I fucked up.”

You lean against a nearby wall, silence hanging above you two before you break it. “I...don’t think this dynamic is healthy,” you start.

“I know, I’m sorry. I fucked up, but I promise I’ll—”

“And if we’re going to try this again, you’re going to have to fix your attitude,” you interrupt him.

“I—you’re serious?” a careful nod has Shaw’s expression turning from dumbfounded to ecstatic. His grin’s back, but now it seems more...genuine. More innocent. 

“Fuck. I can’t believe it,” he tilts his head up to the sky in glee, but soon looks back at you with resolution in his eyes, “I’m going to be the best boyfriend you’ve ever seen.”

You laugh. “Is that a challenge, pretty boy?”

“You bet your ass it is,” he teases, swiftly scooping you up into his arms, “I fucking love you, and I’ll do anything I can to prove it,” he mutters into the crook of your neck.

“Shaw...I love you too, but people are really staring, actually.” You cast worried glances over his shoulder.

“Don’t care.”

“...Of course you don’t.”    

Shaw’s scenario was a bit of an emotional rollercoaster, to be fair. I think I made him pretty OOC, but I’m filling in a lot of the blanks in regards to his personality, and for some reason he has serious trauma and insecurities here, which is either kinda valid, or projecting. I don’t know if I’m satisfied with it...but it’s going I guess.

[mythicamagic]

Terracotta Teeth - Chapter 3

During a long drive to Tokyo, Kagome’s car is totalled by a monstrous silver dog. She now finds herself stranded in a remote village, where the residents appear kind, if slightly distant. However something or someone seems a little too keen on making her stay, permanently.

Rated M for later chapters

Horror/Romance/Drama

You can read this story on Ao3, Fanfiction.net or Dokuga

Chapter One - here     Chapter Two - here   Chapter Four - here

Under the Guise ~

Nursing a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, Kagome stared at the floor. Kaede was busy talking lowly with Sesshoumaru, having called him over after the distressed screaming and dead rabbit incident an hour or so ago. Kagome barely noticed their harsh whispers and instead felt her need to leave for Tokyo double.

A hand touched her arm, causing her to flinch. Startled blue met calm dark eyes, and Sesshoumaru shifted in his seat beside her. She didn't remember him joining her.

"You will come to stay with me."

She blinked in surprise, "r-really? Isn't that a bit much though? I-I mean I could-"

"You're distressed, are you not?" He asked, gaze fixed on her as usual. He wore a pensive frown, as though mulling over something.

"Yeah...okay, thank you. Sorry for the trouble," she murmured, agreeing without much argument. She hugged her arms, rubbing them slightly. "I just don't understand how it got in. That dog...I know it left t-that thing. But how?"

"Perhaps this is not the work of the dog but a prank from one of the village boys," came Kaede's voice.

Kagome glanced up at the old woman lingering near the living room door. "No. It was the dog," she noticed Kaede open her mouth again and cut her off. "I just know it, okay? It did this. I feel like it's after me."

She hugged her arms tighter, missing the silent exchange between Kaede and Sesshoumaru. His large hand reached over again, this time covering her own. Kagome felt warmth emanating from it and turned frightened eyes up at him. "You're safe. This one will get your things. Rin is waiting in the car if you wish to join her."

Guilt swamped her, "ah geeze, I woke her up so late at night! I'm sorry."

He surprised her by flicking her forehead. She yelped and rubbed it, frowning at him as his lips curved up. "Cease your apologies, they are becoming tiresome."

Kagome huffed, but felt gratitude well up in her chest. Stupid kind jerk.

Soon enough, she'd helped Sesshoumaru with her bags, lugging them into the trunk of his sleek black car. Rin dozed in the backseat so Kagome left her undisturbed and instead turned to Kaede, who watched the whole thing from her porch. Sesshoumaru closed the trunk and got into the drivers seat while she jogged up to the old woman.

"Thank you for letting me stay, Keade. I wish...that thing hadn't happened, but I'm grateful all the same for the nights spent here." She forced a smile, glancing around at the dark bushes with a hint of paranoia. Keade's cold, withered hand took her own, and Kagome fought down the lurch of her stomach. Every fibre of her being rejected that touch, wanting it off. It was like a slab of chilled meat. But she forced herself to hold still, hating her reaction. True, Kaede had been grumpy and a little distant, but she'd shown her care in other ways.

Now that single, narrow eye stared at her. "Girl...you need to be very careful. Do not let yourself linger in these parts longer than another week or so."

Kagome frowned slightly. "Why not?"

"Kagome!" A bright, peppy voice reached her ears. Kagome glanced over her shoulder and smiled, waving at Rin, who beamed at her, leaning out from the window of the car. "Father says you're going to be staying with us now, I'm so happy!"

Kagome giggled, but stilled at the tense form of Sesshoumaru. He appeared to be glaring past her shoulder for some reason. She turned back to the old woman, who removed her hand and drew away inside her house.

"Kaede, what did you mean?" She tried to press, but she shook her head.

"Never you mind. Get gone, you've kept me up long enough." The door closed with a final sounding click.

She blinked, a little confused. Hearing Rin's chatter however, Kagome quickly became distracted and hurried to the car, trying to avoid inspecting the dark woods behind the hotel too closely.

Somehow Kagome was unsurprised by the size of the house, which more closely resembled a traditional Japanese mansion. It was difficult to see the structure properly what with the late hour, but just from what little she could see, the house impressed her. It stood alone in the forest, located away from the tiny village for some reason. It was nearer to the school, perched upon the same hill, but reclusive in comparison.

"It's beautiful, did you inherit it?" She asked, tone hushed.

Sesshoumaru turned off the engine, dousing them in silence. "Hn, in a way."

They exited the car, Sesshoumaru handing her the keys to the house in favour of lifting Rin out, carrying her sleeping form in his arms. Kagome smiled and turned the key, venturing inside. Feeling the walls for a light, she stilled and blushed when Sesshoumaru's free hand grasped hers and led it over to the switch. Flicking it on, Kagome blinked and glanced around at the sparse but traditional decor. There were a few paintings hung on the walls, which seemed to clash a little with the aesthetic.

After taking off her shoes and following him further in, Kagome was shown to her room, which seemed to favour blue tones. She turned in the threshold, lingering and biting her lip. She set down her bags and awkwardly watched Sesshoumaru disappear into a room with Rin, returning a few minutes later and sliding her door shut. He rose a brow at the hovering woman.

"What is it?"

"I-I guess my nerves are still a little frazzled," she murmured, cradling her hand close to her chest.

His dark eyes observed her carefully, before approaching and brushing past her into the room. He knelt by her futon and drew back the covers, gesturing to it like a patient parent ushering their child to bed.

Kagome snorted and huffed, unbuttoning her coat to reveal her nightclothes. She hadn't had a chance to change.

Goosebumps whispered over her flesh as she knelt opposite him and crawled onto the futon. "This feels weird," she pointed out bluntly.

"Hn, you worry much for such a little thing," his tone was equally flat.

Kagome drew the covers up over her lap, blushing. He lingered a little close, but she felt oddly grateful for it. Her foolish heart beat a little faster. "If I could stop having such a run of bad luck maybe I wouldn't need to worry."

"Is it bad luck?"

"I think getting stranded and chased by a wild dog qualifies, definitely."

His expression returned to pensive and quiet, keeping his thoughts locked far away from his tongue. She tried to read him but failed, opting to wear her heart on her sleeve as usual. "You've been worrying about me but, are you good? Seems like something's bothering you."

Their eyes connected, his a touch wider, before he masks his surprise. "It is nothing. This one is merely curious about earlier. What was it that made you so certain the dog was responsible?"

Kagome curled her hands into the covers, glancing at the window surreptitiously. "I don't know exactly, and it probably sounds strange but I can feel this energy whenever it's close." The moment she said it out loud it did sound strange. She expected him to make fun of her, but his eyes only sparked. His attention turned more intense, if that were possible.

"Interesting. Do you sense it now?" He asked quietly.

She tried to focus, waiting for any brush of that rippling heat, but found nothing. "No, there's nothing. Thanks for letting me stay here by the way, I feel much better," she admitted, glancing up at him coyly. "Sorry."

When his lithe fingers came up to flick her forehead again, she grabbed his hand and smiled. "Can you stay here for a little while?"

Sesshoumaru stared at her quietly, slowly shifting to cross his legs. "Very well."

Kagome eased down to lay on her futon, pulling the covers up to her nose. "Du ru funk if coud gu un?"

"I do not speak comforter," he cooly replied.

Blue eyes narrowed, before she lowered the material to under her chin. "Do you think it could get in?"

The taciturn man watched her carefully, and she felt the weight of his heavy, considering stare. "I am here, nothing will touch you." Dark eyes almost seemed to glow slightly in the faint light. Kagome blushed, but after all the uproar, felt herself relax in his presence. She noticed him turn and grab a book, quietly reading by her side as her eyes turned heavy.

The last thing Kagome saw before slipping into sleep were his eyes, lit by the faint glow of the lamp, shining honeyed gold.

Exploring her new lodgings the next day after Rin had gone to school felt a little intrusive. After all, she was staying in a home now, not a hotel. And yet Kagome couldn't quite help her curiosity. A traditional mansion! And it housed so many old fashioned things inside, some seeming like they belonged in a museum. It certainly helped to take her mind off dead rabbits, with their glassy eyes rolled back in their heads, bloodied throats torn open-

"The fuck is your problem? Why won't you just tell me?"

She jumped, having zoned out staring at the ornate sword Sesshoumaru had displayed on his wall. Looking at the window, she shifted, tiptoeing over and peering down. Sesshoumaru stood outside in the back garden, facing who she recognised to be his brother.

The foul mouthed man looked severely pissed off, gritting his teeth. "Did you get her for me or not?"

Sesshoumaru seemed to murmur something in reply, but it was so quiet she couldn't hear it. His body stood tense and still however, almost coiled tight like a snake.

"Because she looks exactly like Kikyo! Smells like her too! It could be her reincarnation!"

"Inuyasha," came the severe, slightly louder reply, a bite in his tone.

The two men seemed to square off for a moment, Inuyasha clenching his hand into a shaking fist. "Shoulda known. Of course ya didn't. Why would you?" He sneered. "So which is it, huh? This for the village? Yeah I bet that's what you told everyone. Keh...or is it for you? Is she for you?"

Kagome frowned, wondering what they were talking about. Kikyo. Hadn't Inuyasha called her that when they'd first met?

She couldn't tell if Sesshoumaru answered, but the younger brother stormed off, disappearing around the side of the house. Sesshoumaru watched him go, before quietly following.

After watching them leave, her attention strayed up, looking further in at the back garden. No rabbits in sight, but a large brown shed was tucked away in the furthermost corner. Upon closer inspection it looked a little...big to be a shed. Maybe a workshop of some kind? Though Sesshoumaru hadn't stuck her as the artistic sort. She supposed the paintings downstairs could be his.

Shaking herself, Kagome reached for her bag and took out some pills to help steady her nerves. She was going back to the school later, hellhound or not. She had a job to do.

Sesshoumaru had told her there was no need to return to work so soon, but Kagome insisted. She'd accepted his offer to escort her the school at least, but had started cleaning early, scrubbing a water-fountain. The work kept her loud mind busy. Children laughed and raced past her, their high pitched squeals making her smile.

"Hi Kagome," Rin chirped, walking over to her. Daisies were tucked into her untamed hair.

She grinned, pausing. "Hey sweetie. How's things?"

"Great, thank you! But um...are you alright? After the rabbit thing?"

A cold feeling washed over her, and Kagome fought to keep her expression neutral, failing. "Rin. Where did you hear about that?"

"Some teachers were talking about it, and then some kids in class." The little girl rooked back on her heels, "um...so, is it true the big dog brought it to you?"

Slowly nodding, Kagome set her sponge down, a little numb.

Rin put her hands into her pockets and hummed, "you know, it sounds like when a cat brings you dead birds. Like a present!"

"It's not the same-" Kagome cut herself off, not wanting to go into detail and scare the poor girl. Cats didn't open windows and deliberately place their kills out like...

Like an offering.

Kagome swallowed and stared at Rin, turning pale. "Why do you think it would bring me a rabbit though? I'm not it's owner."

She shrugged her small shoulders, "maybe it wants you to be, in a way."

With that said, Rin smiled and leaned forward, hugging her. Another chill ripped through Kagome, making her spine straighten. There was no warmth in the tiny body hugging her. She felt like a cushion that had been stuffed with chilled foods. The only sense of comfort came from the familiarity of the clothes she was wearing, but everything else felt alien, wrong. Just like when Kaede had touched her.

Rin pulled away and smiled, while Kagome could only stare blankly in cold shock. The girl's brown eyes flitted over her face, before leaving without another word.

When the sky had begun to darken once more, the students had left the grounds, leaving Kagome alone. Well, almost. Light spilling out from under one of the shut doors on the second floor caught her attention. Venturing closer, she noticed it to be the Library entrance.

Looking through the small glass window of the door, she spied Sesshoumaru sitting at a desk.

Kagome hesitated to knock. By the looks of things, he was deeply engrossed in his reading, but why he was there after hours, she couldn't say. Perhaps he'd come back after taking Rin home to make sure she'd be alright? Kagome smiled at the thought, splaying her hand on the door instead and pushing it open a touch, before pausing. Sesshoumaru's form appeared to be...glowing? The red light curled outwards, looping back into him in waves.

She stiffened when his body began to change. His image rippled and shifted, emanating that awfully familiar heat she'd sensed before. Taking a step back, the door eased shut as Kagome pressed a hand to her open mouth, chocking on a scream. The stifling heat licked at her cheeks through the door, while fur rushed over Sesshoumaru's pale skin. His face elongated into a muzzle. Eyes changed from dark, to gold to blazing red. Kagome gave a muffled cry from behind her hand, causing the large silver dog to look up, ears perking.

Turning on her heel, Kagome madly dashed away, sweat breaking out on her forehead. Her temples pounded. Not him. Not Sesshoumaru. He'd been so kind, so accommodating. She didn't want to believe it, couldn't.

The rippling energy chased her down the echoing hallways, jaws opening wide. Her heart near burst in her chest as she heard the door swing open behind her. Quickly bolting around a corner, Kagome grabbed a random door handle and yanked it open, ducking inside a classroom.

You idiot! Her mind screamed at her. The stairs. Why hadn't she ran for the stairs?

But her rabbit heart wanted a place to hide, to escape and burrow in. Kagome protested against it and dashed over to the windows. She was only on the second floor. If she needed to, she could drop from such a height. Grabbing a pair of scissors since they were the nearest sharp object, she brandished them, pushing the window up, arm shaking.

From behind the door the hallway lay silent, until a rhythmic clicking of nails scraping across the floor reached her. The faint sound of panting joined in. Kagome turned to the window and looked down at the ground. Actually it looked a little far. If she hit it the wrong way...

A shadow appeared under the doorway, accompanied by wild sniffing. The beast took several long inhales and exhales under the door, while her heart beat into over drive. She couldn't move.

After what felt like an eternity, the nose drew away from under the door, but the shadow remained. Kagome stared at it, quivering in terrified silence. Bones locked still. The beast finally moved on, the clicking and scraping of nails growing quieter.

Sinking down to the floor, Kagome trembled, clutching the scissors so tight their blunt edges bit her skin. "W-why?" She breathed, mind in a frenzy. He was the reason she'd crashed- had deliberately jumped at her and crushed her engine. Had he meant to strand her? Isolate her there at the village? And why had he left that rabbit? Fiddling with her phone, Kagome dialled for the Police, but got no reception. Lowering it, hopelessness threatened to sink heavily into her shoulders, and she shuddered alone in the shadowed room.

After shaking in a huddled mess for awhile, Kagome had chanced a look out into the hall. Seeing nothing, she'd made a break for it, right out of the school, the courtyard and further still down the hill. She didn't know where she was running to- and had no plans, but felt the burning, screaming need to get away.

Her feet sounded too loud on the road but she urged herself on, sprinting past the quaint village and following her memory. Sesshoumaru had turned his car off from the main road she'd been driving on and followed a path somewhere into the village. In the fading light of the evening, it was difficult to tell which way to turn, but the pulsing of something up ahead, almost similar to Sesshoumaru's energy urged her on.

She followed a path that her instincts approved of, and glanced up at the branches criss-crossing overhead, their shadows playing wraith-like fingers over her face. Kagome pushed herself on, legs becoming heavy as her heart hammered in her chest, lungs protesting. Coughing, Kagome skidded to a stop, swaying on her feet. Just a little more. The road had to be up ahead.

Forcing a few more steps, Kagome raised her hand, only to lurch back when it met physical resistance in the air. "W-what?" She breathed, pushing her fingers forward again.

The same invisible force resisted her hand, and no matter how much Kagome pushed against it. She couldn't break through. The energy shimmered in her mind's eye like a barrier, and though such a thing felt impossible, after witnessing that hellish transformation she didn't question it.

"Shit- what...what do I do now?" She panted, feeling something flare to life inside her chest. A strange, pure feeling comforted her slightly. Before Kagome could identify it properly, the sound of paws padding closer had her back snapping straight.

Looking over her shoulder, Kagome faced the white beast. He stood only a few paces away, staring down at her. The pale light of the moon bathed him in soft tones, making his fur shine. Those red eyes glowed brighter as they narrowed. His mouth peeled back in a silent snarl, exposing large sharp canines. Her throat tightened. Quickly reaching into her pocket, Kagome grasped the scissors, whipping them out and brandishing them like a knife. She was tired of being afraid, bone weary of it. Shoving it down, she tried to keep her hand and tone steady.

"Let me go, Sesshoumaru."

[tieflng]

chocobox 2020 letter under the cut, because i do things and participate in things now i think.

dear chocolatier: thanks for writing for me! my actual requests were sparse because they were. quite long. especially the pyre one, because it turns out i have a lot of thoughts about minor/historical background characters as seen in the book of rites. so my prompts are all here, along with the dnws just repeated for good measure. thanks for reading all of this, i hope you can find something to have fun with.

pyre -

oops!! all golathanian! i was just really drawn to him reading the book of rites; there's something about an ordinary (certainly flawed) human man making the choices that brought every event in the game to pass and turned him into a godlike eldritch basketball saint. also, 'you gave your freedom that i might yet have mine' is a line i've been thinking about for an entire year. also, the g in lgbt is for golathanian. i'm really into the idea that the man the commonwealth could lionize as the ideal of strength is admirable not as a conqueror or warlord, but as someone with commitments to others that make him overcome his flaws-- someone who does the cooking for the group and makes dry comments and lectures out of worry and has a stupid laugh and acts like a grouch when he is secretly a giant softy. (and someone who is visibly gay and gnc, because the base of my mazlow hierarchy of needs is gay/bi men presented as admirable figures of authority, and i think that's something that should have been in the game, even if the commonwealth in-universe was going to erase it.) the heart and idealism and earnestness is what makes him worthy of respect, and that he's human, even if technically he ends up as a demigod sports-omen star.

i'm firmly in favor of autistic scribes (solidarity with chae) and scribes as large-r Readers. aside from soliam and khaylmer who both have cis energy i'm very up for any of the requested characters as trans or nonbinary, and near and dear to my heart especially are transfem chae and triesta and a nonbinary/my-gender-is-just-gay gol. explicit lgbt identities in general are a plus. environmental details-- i adore the richness and mystery and wonder of the downside, but i'd also kill for some sahrian imperial court ambiance. adventure is good, character study is always good, shenanigans and mischievous escapades between friends, misunderstandings that work out or not, angst with comfort is fine, moral or philosophical dilemmas or conversations (perfect for this group). it'd be nice to see something about titans, about (r/R)eading, the downside as an eldritch landscape, the simultaneous decay and might of imperial sahr, about turning into celestial bodies, a good old fashioned slow burn/mutual pining.

ha'ub & gol - i've always imagined these two are best friends - the first two scribes, 2/3 of the og triumvirate, and both dealing with the fact that 'mercy' means they have to keep soliam murr's fool ass alive. ha'ub is a chaotic little bumpkin who's never belonged anywhere, gol is an increasingly long-suffering visitor to purgatory dimension-- i feel like for all that he knows more about survival here than his new Big Friends, ha'ub feels just as indebted to them for being able to relate to him. it can't be easy being the first imp with human-like intelligence, or at least surely the only imp you know. misunderstandings between different species, teaching each other about sahrian human and downside imp customs, teaming up against howlers (did the howler/imp distinction exist yet, if all imps were wild and drive imps didn't exist??), learning to communicate with someone whose speech and language are very different. gol standing up for ha'ub in the 'why does an imp get a triumvirate' debate. why is ha'ub accursed? too, if there's gol/soliam, there's an opportunity for 'just kiss him already', or whatever misunderstandings imps have about human relationships/will-they-or-won't-they tensions.

gol & chae - please call the vagabond girl chae! i loved her basically at the moment i saw her and her arc means a lot to me. she’s autistic coded but her belief in the scribes-- in actually hearing and speaking to the scribes-- is never undercut by the narrative. and she’s immensely strong! she’s survived in the downside by herself from 17-19! and imo at least the scribe known for being strong and resilient and untiring, not to mention idealistic and loyal, would admire the absolute fuck out of her. i’d like her childhood as moontouched/homeless and displaced, her topside ending as a religious leader and inspiration in the sahrian union, wandering alone in the downside, her role with the nightwings-- i just really want to see what conversations these two would get up to, i want them to learn from each other, i want chae to have support and encouragement and comfort from everyone’s favorite nomad scribe. what does she ask him? what does he tell her? passing messages from ti’zo or the heralds? looking for advice/help on behalf of the nightwings, or just comfort when she’s feeling out of place? god, the fact that she’s in the companion class that parallels khaylmer-- do they talk about that, or how does gol feel? there are so many damn good interactions here. please don’t infantilize her or portray her beliefs and reactions as nonsensical or weird.

gol/soliam - i have so many thoughts about these two that i almost don’t want to say everything. my sense is they didn’t get together until the downside, with a very long enemies > grudging allies > friends > lovers, at least on gol’s end. you don’t jump over the edge of the world to kill someone and immediately kiss and make up. topside before he gets disillusioned there’s potential for that good courtly love - gol pining hopelessly (and perhaps obliviously, depending on how soliam acts towards him) for his beautiful distant liege, sol who so very clearly did not feel anything genuine for anyone as emperor, but who maybe has some ‘oooh, master-general ;)’ poking out of the hedonism-flavored depression. and then he falls down the river and realizes he was a big idiot. i could do very early sweet moments, courtly aesthetic and accidental intimacy, seeing a tender side to the emperor that most people never get close enough for/soliam murr Almost having a real feeling other than physical attraction. i could also do rebuilding their trust and rapport in the downside, mutual pining, growing closer despite everything and wondering privately if they couldn’t actually work out. or established relationship tenderness and fluff. i could also very much do explicit content with these two.

gol & khaylmer - ahh, yes. enemies. i got the impression from gol’s account (and gol’s account is really all we get) that these two hated each other, to ‘put his picture on the bull’s eye of the dartboard’ levels of hatred-- but also, maybe, that they had more in common than they wanted. gol and khaylmer as the only two grownups in a decadence-obsessed imperial court? certainly as the closest advisers to the emperor, whatever that means when your emperor is soliam murr. i always got the impression that gol was a bit more of a bastard than he let on-- nomad masteries are very ‘now i’ve thrown him off his rhythm!’ and you can’t tell me ‘preferred to fall on his enemies by surprise under the cover of darkness’ Isn’t the trait of a highly slippery character. then again, their worldviews and beliefs might as well be from two different planets, but then again again, do we really get an unbiased opinion on khaylmer to know what his worldviews really is? two driven and idiosyncratic people, more similar than they think, who just deeply hate and misunderstand each other at a fundamental level. also, please a deep dive into khaylmer’s head. lot of opportunity for backroom dealing and court drama here.

scribes & scribes - scribe adventures! or scribe shenanigans and arguments! i see these eight as having strong and contrasting personalities, but fundamentally caring about each other, even if they can get into real drama and conflict. fighting titans, exploring together, writing the book of rites, becoming eldritch basketball gods. found family is great, early stages of found family that grouchily insist they're business associates is better. there is so much you could do with these losers as a collective and i love them with my entire heart.

dnw: fantasy homophobia or transphobia, dubcon/noncon including under the influence, hand/eye trauma, unsanitary things, angst without a positive/hopeful resolution. in terms of explicit content, please no humiliation or impact play/physical pain. fandom specific: don't undercut chae's feelings or beliefs or write her in an ableist way. i also see gol and soliam as gay, and milithe and triesta as lesbians, so i'd prefer no references to past/current m/w relationships for them-- not because having m/w history invalidates gay peoples' identities, but because for me personally that'd be a horrible experience and it makes me sad thinking about my favorite characters going through that.

hades -

i did not expect to like a large soft-spoken honor-bound minotaur who duels you in honorable combat as much as i did, but probably should have knowing basic facts about myself. anything asterius-focused is great-- i really want to see him well-received in elysium and with a partner who cares about him......! he deserves nice things! elysium as a setting is so lush, environmental details, moments of respite, greenery, the river lethe, the elysian stadium, the beauty of eternal paradise And the fact that the people who live here decide to just beat the tar out of each other for fun.

this game has a really strong cast, and i'd love to see mentioned or featured olympians/house denizens/run npcs other than the requested characters. patroclus is a strong possibility for a fic in elysium, but achilles, hypnos, hermes/artemis/athena, and eurydice are also favorites of mine. i'm always down for explicit gay/bi identities, and i've been toying with trans masc zag and/or nonbinary aster.

Asterius/Zag - the inherent romantic tension of having a standing date to fight someone in hand to hand combat. but also, meeting outside of the arena in some way - a peaceful moment in a fountain chamber? maybe aster helps zag in a tough spot with some exalted? they both meet up in patroclus's chamber? i like how aster respects you for your strength and ability and the comparison he draws between them both as having been born monstrous/in darkness could use some (gentle) exploration. both of them uncovering hidden depths or softness in each other.

Asterius/Theseus/Zag - the inherent romantic tension of having a standing date to fight two people in hand to hand combat. i very much see this as an aster-centric v-- i don't really buy these or zag being into each other on their own, but learning to get along for the sake of their mutual boyfriend is good, and the comedy that ensues. anything i like in aster/zag or aster/these would be good here. absolutely not opposed to an aster-centered threesome (he deserves it).

Asterius/Theseus - how did these persuade hades to move the bull of minos to elysium? how did they become champions in the stadium? fighting by each others' sides, aster discovering after a mortal lifetime confined to a labyrinth that he's into men, these feeling weirdly compelled to show off or impress him. theseus training him in 'heroic ways'. theseus's lines about ariadne felt needlessly gross/borderline misogynistic and i'd like for them either to not come up Or for aster to sit him down and give him a piece of his mind. that's his sister, you idiot.

Cerberus & Zag - just a boy and his dog! cerby comforting a younger zag when hades is on his bullshit, or kid zag sleeping all cuddled up with his pubby. growing up and watching the house change. zag venting to cerberus or asking for advice, like you do with your pets when you don't expect an answer (and maybe getting one??). something in styx would be good, or zag finding any other kind of treat or toy and smuggling it back in from one of his runs.

dnw: fantasy homophobia or transphobia, dubcon/noncon including under the influence, hand/eye trauma, unsanitary things (please light on the descriptions of the satyr sack, lmao), angst without a positive/hopeful resolution. in terms of explicit content, please no humiliation or impact play/physical pain. as far as fandom specific: please nothing that portrays hades as good or justified in any of his actions. nothing zag/meg or zag/than; i really prefer zag and meg to have acknowledged their feelings and decided to stay friends.

arthuriana/let’s be real i’m here for the gawain and the green knight - 

......i'm just in this for the inherent homoeroticism. explicitly gay/bi gawain and bi bertilak is great, bertilak and his wife both being in on it is great, threesome? more christmas games? courtly flirting? being cozy inside? going on a dangerous quest? anything sounds great, just have fun with it!

dnw: homophobia including period-typical (just not why i read fanfiction), dubcon/noncon including under the influence, unsanitary things, hand/eye trauma, cheating/negative feelings between the hautdeserts, angst. in terms of explicit content, please no humiliation or impact play/physical pain.

[princeofshadows-blog1]

“True Love”

Inspiration: "True Love" by P!nk (aka it’s basically got the lyrics written in sorry Broski’s lmao).

Fluffy Klangst.

Lance sighed heavily as he stared at his feet, only half listening to what Keith was saying.

"Lance! Honestly, pay attention will you?" Keith exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed.

Lance looked up and scoffed, "Yeah, sure, whatever, Mullet."

Keith glared, moving closer until they were practically nose to nose. "Shut the Hell up, Lance!" Instead of answering, Lance pushed Keith away, glaring back. "You know, sometimes, I hate every single stupid word you say, Lance!"

"Yeah? And sometimes I wanna slap your face with a chair!" He seemed to lose himself for a moment, before continuing in a much softer tone. "But then again, there's really no one like you, Keith." Lance advanced, gently taking one of Keith's hand into his own. "I mean, I've never met a person who could constantly push my buttons like you do."

"Yeah, I know. And I'm sorry that I'm always getting on your nerves." Keith smiled warmly at Lance, his cheeks tinted pink as he pulled Lance into a hug.

It was safe to say, that without the other, their lives would sincerely suck.

~

Lance hummed happily as he walked up behind Keith, hugging the Red Paladin from behind. "Hey there, Mullet."

Keith grunted in response, "I'm not in the best mood, Lance." He pried himself from Lance's grip and walked down the hall towards his room, Lance not far behind.

"But Keith! What did I do now?"

"Everything!" Keith whirled on Lance, glaring at the boy with angry violet eyes. "You piss me off, and yet I still freaking love you! Always going and flirting with strangers, always poking fun at me, insulting my hair! You know, sometimes I want to hug you, but I also wanna strangle you to death at the same time!"

Lance stared at Keith, processing all that he had just said. "Well, you may be an asshole, but I love you too. You know, sometimes make me really freaking mad."

"Sometimes I ask myself why I'm still here, and ask where else could I go to get away, but... You're the only love I've ever really known, you know?" Keith looked down at his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"You know, sometimes I hate you," Lance replied seriously, hands on his hips. "Sometimes I just really freaking hate you."

Keith laughed, "I guess it must be true love, eh?"

Lance smiled, chuckling softly, "Well, they do say nothing else can break a heart like true love, so I guess it must be that."

"Yeah, no one else can break my heart like you, after all."

~

Lance sat in Keith's room, curled up on the red paladin's bed and staring intensely at the wall.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" Lance sat up and yanked at his hair, crying out in frustration. "Why? Why'd you have to..."

Keith stared at Lance, not sure what to say. He just stood there, waiting patiently for Lance to calm down, or to at least confide in him what's wrong.

"Keith! Why'd you do that? Answer me, damn it!"

Keith stared at Lance blankly, "Do what?"

"Push me out of the way!"

"Because I love you."

"Yeah, but you got buried under all that rubble instead! Do you realise how hurtful it was for me, watching and waiting and hoping you'd wake up soon? Did you even stop to consider my feelings on the subject?"

Keith huffed angrily, "And mine freaking don't?"

Lance opened his mouth to reply, but Keith wasn't having it.

"You may think that I didn't consider you're feelings, but I did! But I also considered mine, and neither way looked good, so I took a chance and risked my life for yours!" Keith crossed his arms and hung his head, staring at the ground. "I'd gladly give my life for yours."

Lance didn't speak for a while, and Keith knew he was thinking the same thing.

It wasn't until Lance started giggling that Keith looked up, violet eyes brimming with hurt at the thought of Lance laughing at him.

"Wow, way to be romantic." Lance chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.

Keith's eyebrows shot up, "What?"

Lance rolled his eyes, "You know, romance? Repeat after me, R-O-M-A-N-C-E." Lance smiled brightly, "You can do it, babe."

Keith laughed, "I know what romance is, Lance. And I can spell it just fine. I was just confused, I guess."

Lance smirked, "Well then, I guess the teacher needs to teach the student a new lesson~" He stood up and walked over to Keith, wrapping his arms around the boy's neck.

"U-uhm, what do you m-mean?" Keith internally cursed himself for stuttering.

"Let me show you~" Lance purred, smirking up at Keith before pulling him into a wild, passionate kiss.

When Shiro found the two naked boys curled up together underneath the sheets the next morning, he didn't have the heart to wake them up, choosing to instead leave them as they were.

~

It was a couple years later, when the Paladins were back on Earth.

Shiro and Allura were happily engaged and were living in the castle, which was now safely hidden away in a beautiful forest where military people apparently couldn't find them. Coran lived there as well, and was always bugging the two with his laughable nonsense, but they didn't care.

Slav, on the other hand, also refused to leave the castle, which meant Shiro had to deal with him until the end of his days. Or Slav's days, if Shiro gets his way. (Don't tell Allura!)

Pidge and Hunk were sharing an apartment in the city, but still constantly visiting their friends. Pidge managed to land a job as a professional hacker for the government, and Hunk opened his own restaurant.

Lance and Keith lived in Keith's old little shack at first, but, due to Lance's constant complaints about how hideous it was and the lack of space and WiFi, Keith finally agreed to move to the city.

They moved into an apartment a couple doors down from Pidge and Hunk, so they were constantly having sleepovers and goofing around and hanging out.

It was paradise.

But then it all changed.

Keith started getting distant, and was constantly nervous around Lance.

Lance didn't know how to figure out what was going on, so he just sat and watched as the love of his life slowly broke their bond, bit by bit.

If only he knew what was causing Keith to break down.

Keith knew Lance was the one he wanted to spend eternity with when they first slept together. He had never felt more loved and cherished than in that very moment.

He went to Shiro for advice, and he realised what he had to do.

He went and bought a set of rings, and hoped to the gods above that Lance would say yes.

It's been a month, and Keith knew that if he procrastinated any longer, it would all fall apart before it even began.

So he set everything up.

A romantic candle lit dinner at Hunk's restaurant (because they all knew that the two would rather eat a good hamburger than something overly expensive and unnecessarily fancy), a friendly moonlit walk along a nearby beach, and finally...

"Hey, Lance?"

Lance snapped his head up to look at Keith, a somewhat dreamy smile on his face. "Yes, babe?"

Keith sighed, before letting go of Lance's hand and stepping away, "I have something important to say."

When Keith looked up at Lance, he could see something akin to fear upon his face, the boy looking ready to bolt.

"Nothing bad, I swear!" Keith rushed out, suddenly internally panicking because what if Lance doesn't want me anymore and says no?

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly when he noticed Lance visibly relax. "It's just... You've always been there for me, even before we were friends. And you never judged me for my past, you didn't judge me for being half Galra, you didn't... You stood by me.

"I don't know if you feel the same after me being all distant and nervous and all, but I know for a fact that I love you, and I don't want to live without you."

He took another deep breath, "Lance McClain, you are one of the most beautiful, most talented, and most charming men I have every met in my life. I love absolutely everything about you. The way you laugh until your stomach hurts, the way you smile constantly, even when your suffering.

"I love the way you wrinkle your nose when you find something rude or cruel or distasteful, and how you always seem to know how to fix problems..."

Keith looked away, getting down on one knee and pulling out a small, purple velvet box.

He looked up at Lance and saw that he was on the verge of tears, a quivering hand covering his mouth.

"I love you more than anything else in this world, and I'd like it if you could be mine forevermore." He looked directly into Lance's eyes and held his gaze as he opened the box, revealing a simple silver band with a single, purple diamond adorning it. "Will you marry me?"

Lance shakily removed his hand from his mouth and held out his left hand for Keith to slip the ring onto, "Idiot. Of course I will."

Keith smiled brightly and jumped to his feet, slipping the ring onto Lance's ring finger and pulling him into a kiss.

"True love came through after all, eh?" Keith mumbled against the others lips, smiling softly.

Lance chuckled, "Yeah, maybe true love does exist. I still hate you, though."

"I hate you too, Lance."

{La Fin}

~Prince Of Shadows

[obtusemedia]

In Ascending Order: Ranking Taylor Swift’s singles worst to best

After slowly tilting her sound away from Nashville more and more with each album, Taylor Swift made a clean break from country five years ago with her synthpop masterpiece, 1989. It was about as successful as a pop album could be, producing three massive #1 hits and cementing Swift as the world’s biggest popstar.

Fast forward three years, and her next album, reputation, was bitter and moody — a good fit for the American landscape of 2017, but a far cry from the bright melodies and fun sing-a-longs of her previous smashes, Red and 1989. The lead single hit #1, but quickly stumbled down the charts and the album’s follow-up singles didn’t have the same impact. But you’ll still find those who defend reputation, and a year and a half later, it’s clear there are some gems hidden in the wreckage. 

Now that Swift is entering her 30th year of life with a catalogue that’s ran the gamut from country-fried ballads about teen crushes to vengeful electropop bangers about Kanye West, I thought it was a good time to look back on her career. Because despite her negative (sorry) reputation right now, Swift has contributed many great songs to the modern pop canon.

Here’s the ground rules: The song had to be a single from one of Taylor Swift’s six albums. No deep cuts (apologies to “All Too Well”), no soundtrack tunes (sorry, Fifty Shades) and no featured spots on others’ songs (asking me to listen voluntarily to John Mayer is too much to ask, sorry).

#37: “End Game” feat. Future and Ed Sheeran (reputation, 2017)

Listen, Taylor, if you want to have guest rappers on your single, that’s fine. But maybe get, you know, actual rappers. Ed Sheeran doing his awkward schtick certainly does not count. If this was a hip-hop flavored pop song, fine — then why is legitimate rapper Future here? The Atlanta trap icon feels so out of place on this gentrified R&B cut, and he only gets a few bars anyways, making his appearance seem more like Swift wanting cred more than anything else.

Honestly, if that was the only problem, “End Game” wouldn’t be last place on this list. But nope, the song itself is a giant mess in itself. The production aims for sexy and nocturnal and lands in lethargic. And what is this song even about? Is Taylor making a song about how cool she and her boyfriend are, or about her negative reputation? The post-chorus, which suddenly veers into that later topic, tries so desperately to be a chant-along and it falls utterly flat.

With all of Swift’s other singles, even the ones I don’t like, I at least understand how someone could like it. But I have no clue who “End Game” is for, or who would enjoy listening to it.

#36: “Ours” (Speak Now, 2010)

I’ve listened to this song many times, and I find it hard to remember a single hook or line. “Ours” isn’t aggressively awful, but it is painfully bland, and I have no plans on listening to this nondescript ballad after I’m done writing this.

#35: “Fifteen” (Fearless, 2008)

I can’t take away the good intentions of “Fifteen.” The general message of being wary of manipulative older men (or, in this case, high school seniors) and enjoying youth while it lasts is nice, if a bit cliché.

But this song still bugs me. Swift sings the story of her and her (real-life!) friend Abigail’s experiences as ninth-graders like she’s a wise elder, looking back with years of experience. But she was only 18 when she wrote “Fifteen” — I’m sure she matured some in those three years, but once you realize that, it makes the whole song come off as fairly condescending.

Couple the after-school special lyrics with a sickeningly sweet acoustic guitar musical style, and “Fifteen” doesn’t hit the mark.

#34: “Gorgeous” (reputation)

The lyrics aren’t the problem here (except that any Angeleno knows that at the intersection of Sunset and Vine, it’s just a Walgreens). Nah, it’s the shrink-wrapped production that drives me nuts. There was the potential for a great, 1989-esque pop song here, but it got neutered.

#33: “Mean” (Speak Now)

Given that Swift eventually became the music industry’s Regina George, this song has aged horribly. Also, this sounds way too much like the Country Bear Jamboree for me to take it seriously.

#32: “Bad Blood” feat. Kendrick Lamar (1989, 2014)

The worst song from Swift’s best album, “Bad Blood” is a clunky mess that frankly doesn’t go hard enough. If you’re going to make a diss track towards Katy Perry, go for the kill shot! Prism was mediocre, her whole look was tacky, she wrote this disaster — Swift had plenty of options. But I guess she felt adding a couple phoned-in Kendrick Lamar verses, getting Selena Gomez and Lena Dunham (??) in the music video, and spouting clichés did the job better. *shrugs* At least it’s catchy.

(Side note: Perry obviously lost that feud, but “Teenage Dream” is absolutely flawless and probably better than any song Swift wrote)

#31: “Everything Has Changed” feat. Ed Sheeran (Red, 2012)

“Everything Has Changed” has a gorgeous, wilting chorus, and Swift and Sheeran have clear chemistry. Beyond that, it’s unfortunately kind of forgettable.

#30: “Fearless” (Fearless)

I’m honestly not sure why this needed to be a single. It’s fine and all, but it doesn’t stick in the brain compared to Fearless’ other smash hits.

#29: “New Year’s Day” (reputation)

Ending the brash reputation with a quiet, sparse piano ballad was a smart move, and the bittersweet “New Year’s Day” is a solid enough tune. 

But here’s the thing — Swift wasn’t the only popstar in 2018 to put a minimalist, Jack Antonoff-produced piano song on her album. Lorde did nearly the exact same thing just a few months earlier with the heartbreaking “Liability,” which is much rawer and more intense than “New Year’s Day.” In other words, when I hear Swift’s ballad, I enjoy it, but I find myself wishing she went for the emotional jugular like Lorde did.

#28: “Tim McGraw” (Taylor Swift, 2006)

Here’s the part where I admit that I’m really not into country music, so a lot of Swift’s very early material isn’t for me. But, like with other genres I don’t love, I can at least respect talent, and “Tim McGraw” is a great piece of detailed, nuanced songwriting. But acoustic-y country ballads will never be my favorite.

#27: “The Last Time” feat. Gary Lightbody (Red)

Here, we have the opposite situation as “Tim McGraw” — a musical style I love, but not done very well.

These types of Coldplay-esque, faux-indie power ballads were totally my thing back in the day (shoutout to The Fray and obviously, Coldplay). But although “The Last Time” does have real bonafides with its soaring chorus, great guitar solo, and Snow Patrol frontman Gary Lightbody contributing vocals, it just doesn’t click. The duo doesn’t have a lot of chemistry, and the epic feel shoots for “Chasing Cars” and lands closer to...one of Snow Patrol’s other songs that nobody remembers.

#26: “...Ready For It?” (reputation)

I’d love to just make a snarky joke about Swift trying to rap and embarrassing herself in the process (which she kind of does) ... but I can’t lie, this is a total guilty pleasure. It’s about as close to a classic Ke$ha song as we’re going to get in the gloomy late-2010′s, so I can forgive the try-hard vibe.

#25: “Our Song” (Taylor Swift)

This is the very first of Swift’s songs I ever heard. Naturally, being a 13-year-old wannabe snob at the time, I hated it immediately.

Over a decade later, I can appreciate “Our Song” for its adorable charms and extremely quotable lyrics (“when you talk reeeeeeal slow” is my personal favorite). But it still rubs me the wrong way a bit, probably because Swift was pretending to be a southern hick when she was actually raised by a wealthy family in Reading, Pennsylvania. ...but it’s still a solid pop tune.

#24: “Mine” (Speak Now)

So uh...I guess Swift really wanted to write a Bruce Springsteen song? Specifically, a more optimistic version of “The River,” with a romantically doomed teenage flame sputtering out into adult financial troubles.

But obviously, a song about a shotgun wedding and blue-collar poverty wasn’t going to sell to Swift’s audience, so she gave the trope an uplifting spin, complete with a bright, peppy chorus in a major key. And it kind of works! I’m not going to pretend that “Mine” is top-tier Taylor, but sometimes rough stories do have a happy ending.

#23: “Should’ve Said No” (Taylor Swift)

A nice and pissed-off song about a cheating boyfriend, “Should’ve Said No” has a great, visceral chorus and Swift puts 100 percent of the blame on her scummy ex, who’s trying to weasel his way back into the relationship. I will say this about country: it’s a great vehicle for breakup songs.

#22: “The Story of Us” (Speak Now)

This is a great example of a very under-used style of breakup song — the slowly-drifting-apart story. It’s not usually as fiery, but it’s a lot more realistic and relatable. The best recent example I can think of is The 1975′s new wave heartbreaker “A Change of Heart,” which admittedly, is a lot better than “The Story of Us.”

Still, Swift gives the trope a nice effort here, and the charging guitars perfectly match her growing frustration at this boy who gets more and more distant as time goes on. The book framing device is a nice twist too (“NEXT CHAPTER.”), and it all adds up to one of Swift’s more underrated singles.

#21: “Look What You Made Me Do” (reputation)

Ahh yes, the infamous Kanye West diss track. Let’s be clear, nobody looked good in this feud — Taylor came off as vindictive, back-stabbing and petty. Then Kanye lost any moral high ground by wearing MAGA hats and buddying up to Trump.

The funny thing is, the songs from both artists that are central to this feud — “Look What You Made Me Do” and Kanye’s “Famous,” the song that reignited Swift’s rage — are both deeply ridiculous songs that I love despite my better judgement. The main issue with Swift’s song is that she can’t decide whether to play the cackling villain or the victim. The smart move would’ve been to lean into her dark side, like Kanye himself did with Yeezus, but she isn’t willing to completely do that, which makes the song have a pretty awkward tone.

YET. “Look What You Made Me Do” is still way too much fun for me to hate. The “I’m Too Sexy”-aping chorus? Love it. The thumping, wonderfully stupid Black Eyed Peas-esque production? Give me more! “I’m sorry, the old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now. Why? BECAUSE SHE’S DEAD!!” — that might be my favorite part of all.

It’s a total disaster, but it’s a highly enjoyable one. But considering that I find other bombs like Lady Gaga’s ARTPOP fascinating too, maybe my opinion isn’t valid on this one.

#20: “22″ (Red)

I read a tweet once that called this song the “Kidz Bop ‘Tik Tok.’” Don’t remember who wrote that, but they’re absolutely right. Not that there’s anything wrong with that! It’s probably the closest Swift came to a squeaky-clean Carly Rae Jepsen banger.

#19: “White Horse” (Fearless)

The darker cousin of “Love Story,” Swift proved with “White Horse” she could also use classic tropes to convey weepy ballads as well as the sweeping romances. I honestly wish the lyrics were a little less vague — usually Swift is hyper-specific, which serves her well in these breakup songs — but Swift’s emotive performance carries the song regardless.

#18: “Begin Again” (Red)

Musically, the sleepy sound of “Begin Again” doesn’t do a lot for me, but the lyrical detail and story are stellar. After listening to so many Taylor Swift songs about crushing heartbreak or whirlwind romances for this list, it’s nice to hear a more understated song about a first-date that goes well. It especially works well at the end of Red, a fairly angsty album. 

“Begin Again” might still have some exaggerations (nobody’s first date is that perfect, Taylor, come on now), but the more grounded, mature tone was a nice change of pace for Swift.

#17: “Shake It Off” (1989)

This song is so, so stupid. And yet I know every single word. Yes, even the incredibly awkward rap breakdown (“THIS. SICK. BEAT!”).

I can’t in good conscience name “Shake It Off” as a top-tier Swift single, but it’s damn fun, despite its awful lyrics. Which basically makes it — gasp — a Katy Perry single. Oh, the irony.

#16: “Delicate” (reputation)

Swift went nocturnal with this sleeper hit. I couldn’t get into it at first, but it eventually grew on me, with its subtle production and charmingly insecure lyrics. Who among us hasn’t nervously second-guessed everything they’ve said or done when they’re around a new romantic partner?

The vocoders and slowly building percussion just add to what was already a solid groove, and it’s no wonder that “Delicate” eventually creeped up the charts despite the fact that, as Swift said herself, her reputation’s never been worse.

#15: “Picture To Burn” (Taylor Swift)

If I’m going to enjoy a country song, it better be ridiculous and stuffed with as many goofy clichés as possible. The single can’t take itself too seriously (and should be super catchy, of course). This is why some of the few country songs I semi-ironically love sound less like George Strait and more like “Man! I Feel Like A Woman.” If all country music was as silly as “Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy,” I’d probably like the genre a lot more.

“Picture To Burn” isn’t quite on those songs’ level, but it nearly matches the same level of yee-haw fun. Swift puts on an aggressive Southern accent, there’s a literal banjo solo at one point, and it’s about the best country topic there is: getting revenge on your ex!

Swift leaves no shot unfired as she calls out her former boyfriend for her “stupid ‘ol pickup truck you never let me drive,” calls him a stupid redneck, threatens to date all his friends and even gets her daddy involved. (At one point, the song contained a lyric about telling his friends he was gay, but thankfully, she later removed it)

It’s not quite “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,” but it’ll do in a pinch.

#14: “Wildest Dreams” (1989)

One of the smartest things Swift’s done during her blockbuster pop era is cribbing ideas from other musicians and adapting them to her own personality. As mentioned earlier, “22″ is her version of a Ke$ha party song, “Mine” is like one of Springsteen’s heartland tunes, and “Shake It Off” is an intentionally dumb Katy Perry single.

But probably the most obvious example of this is “Wildest Dreams.” And the artist Swift cribs from on this sweeping ballad is more of a cult favorite than a true pop megastar: Lana Del Rey. Don’t lie, you hear it too: the cooing, sensual vocals, the cinematic sound, the lyrics that evoke classic Hollywood romance. It’s basically just “Summertime Sadness” without the Spaghetti western guitars.

And that’s absolutely a good thing! Although Swift doesn’t have Lana’s stunning alto vocal (sorry, but you know it’s true), she can still absolutely play that classic movie starlet role. Add a bit more modern pop structure to Del Rey’s indie-darling formula, and you’ve got the recipe for an easy standout track.

#13: “You Belong With Me” (Fearless)

Pointing out that “You Belong With Me,” arguably Swift’s biggest early hit, is problematic isn’t a new take. The idea of that someone inherently “belongs” with you because you like them has been debunked. I’m sorry this guy doesn’t you like you back Taylor, but maybe he has a good thing going with that cheer captain who wears short skirts? Let him be.

...but on the other hand, Swift was 19 when she wrote “You Belong With Me.” Most people criticizing the lyrics here are doing so through an adult vantage. Yes, the message is toxic, but it’s also extremely accurate to how teenage crushes work. I can promise you that I had similar feelings in junior high/high school, and I know I’m not alone in that regard. 

Also, “You Belong With Me” is far too catchy and bouncy to truly hate. So although I can’t rank it too high due to the iffy lyrics, I can’t deny that it does tap into some raw teen emotions, even if they’re ugly.

#12: “I Knew You Were Trouble.” (Red)

I was there. That fateful day in 2012 when Taylor Swift *gasp* MADE A DUBSTEP SONG. People were snarking that this was basically just Skrillex for the Forever 21 crowd, sharing around that (hilarious) screaming goat remix, and so on.

But seven years later, although that dubstep production is oh-so-early-’10s, “I Knew You Were Trouble” absolutely holds up. If Swift was going to abandon country, why not go all out? Besides, the drop still hits with a lot of force, mirroring the visceral anger of her lyrics. If anything, it isn’t intense enough. Maybe she really should’ve gotten Skrillex to produce...

#11: “Out Of The Woods” (1989)

YES inject that synthy Jack Antonoff production right into my veins.

I’m still upset that “Out Of The Woods” wasn’t a smash like 1989′s other singles, but it is a pretty weird song. The chorus is aggressively repetitive (its only real flaw), it’s a breakup song that’s less relatable lyrically and more abstract, and America was too busy paying attention at the time to Bieber semi-apologizing.

But THAT PRODUCTION. It’s nervy yet propulsive, with a quiet-loud-quiet setup that any good power ballad needs. Antonoff even provides some backup vocals, which is always a welcome addition. Swift herself really sells the song too. I wouldn’t say she’s a powerhouse singer, but she’s really giving it her all here in terms of vocal force — something she typically shies away from.

“Out Of The Woods” will likely be lost to time for all but the most ardent Swifties. But for those who love it, may I suggest listening to some Bleachers?

#10: “Back To December” (Speak Now)

The stereotype of Swift’s breakup songs, particularly in the early stage of her career, was that they weren’t self-aware and basically demonized whatever boy the song was about (or the girl she was jealous of). And while that’s not 100 percent true, the stereotype did have some merit back then.

That’s why “Back To December” was rightfully hailed as a breath of fresh air for Swift, and it’s held up extremely well nine years later. The perspective has shifted — in this story, she’s the one admitting guilt for ending the relationship. It’s a very measured, mature song, but with still enough tender emotion and regret to stay relatable. The orchestral sweep is a nice touch as well, emphasizing the tragedy of the situation.

Also, fun fact: This song is about Swift’s relationship with Twilight hunk Taylor Lautner. Maybe the relationship didn’t work out because she thought it was weird to date a guy with the same name? It was probably because she’s more of a Hunger Games fan.

#9: “Getaway Car” (reputation)

Here’s the one thing reputation improved upon from 1989. As just a cursory listen could tell you, “Getaway Car,” sonically, is extremely similar to “Out Of The Woods.” They’re both pulsing, synthy new wave tracks with a heavy Bleachers influence — considering they’re both Antonoff productions, not surprising at all. It even steals a lyric from Bleachers’ “Rollercoaster.”

So what makes “Getaway Car” a superior sequel? Well, it’s a smoother ride, for sure — the aggressively repetitive chorus in “Out Of The Woods” was that song’s weak spot. And “Getaway” has a more clear concept as well, being about a Bonnie and Clyde-inspired escape from a failing relationship, invoking all the bittersweet emotions that come along with that. “Out Of The Woods” is...about a car crash with Harry Styles? I guess?

It’s really a personal call. They’re both amazing songs, I just happen to think Swift and Antonoff refined their collaboration on this later attempt.

#8: “Teardrops On My Guitar” (Taylor Swift)

“Teardrops On My Guitar” is both obviously written by a 15-year-old kid, but also so, so much better than that implies. 

The lyrics here are extremely wholesome and corny — unlike��“You Belong With Me,” Swift doesn’t even take any shots at the girl her crush is currently dating, and there’s references to “wishing stars,” something I think I’ve only ever heard in Disney songs. And like many of Swift’s early songs, it absolutely nails the yearning emotions of a teenage crush, especially for those of us who were too shy to do anything about them.

But obviously, Swift wasn’t an average ninth-grader. The lilting melody in the verses of “Teardrops” fits the lyrics perfectly. And the song comes off both very polished and radio-ready, yet still plucked right from the pages of a diary. Yes, Swift co-wrote the song with pop-country songwriter Liz Rose, but that’s not unusual for a very young artist. Lorde’s “Royals” (written at age 16) had a co-writer, too.

The simple beauty of “Teardrops” is what brought Swift into the mainstream, and there’s a good reason for that: it’s an incredible start to a career.

#7: “Blank Space” (1989)

“Blank Space” might be the only intentional, successful self-own in recent pop history. I can’t think of another time when an artist eviscerated their public persona with such surgical precision, and it actually made them more endearing.

Tired of trolls constantly making jokes about her short relationships and constant breakup songs, Swift decided to make the joke herself, 8 Mile-style. In “Blank Space,” she paints herself as a psychotic maneater who will drive any guy insane. Out of all her disses over the years, she might have saved the best barb for herself: “Darling, I’m a nightmare dressed like a daydream.” The instant tone switch from the cooing, seductive first verse to the furious, delusional second verse is brilliant.

If there’s one flaw to “Blank Space,” it’s that the production is maybe a tad too minimalist for such an intense song. But the hook is still massive, and the song isn’t about the production anyways: It’s 100 percent a lyrical showcase for Swift, and a way to beat her haters at their own game. 

Dissing yourself while still coming off smart is a tough tightrope to walk, as “Look What You Made Me Do” unfortunately proved. But with “Blank Space,” Taylor proved that, even if for a brief moment, she controlled the narrative.

(Also, this is Taylor’s best video. Obviously.)

#6: “Sparks Fly” (Speak Now)

A lot of the other songs in this top 10 work because of a very specific reason, whether it be the production or a clever lyrical conceit. But it’s difficult to describe what makes “Sparks Fly” fly so well. 

At first glance, it’s not that much different than other early upbeat Swift singles — it’s got the country-rock guitars, lovesick lyrics, a bit of a twang but not too much. But this is where that formula reaches perfection. It’s no wonder that after “Speak Now,” Swift tilted hard into pure pop, because she wasn’t going to top this.

The chorus is passionate and soaring, with even the percussive lyrics ( “Drop. Everything. Now.”) contributing. And this seems like a super-odd aspect of a Taylor Swift song to compliment, but “Sparks Fly” also has a fantastic guitar riff — something few of her pop contemporaries would try.

Sometimes what makes a song great is to just have every aspect go perfectly, and that’s exactly what happened with “Sparks Fly.”

#5: “Red” (Red)

The title track to Swift’s instant-classic album Red is the closest she’s come to being a full-fledged rockstar (well, that and album cut “State Of Grace,” which is an obvious U2 pastiche). It’s definitely more of a country-fried, Sheryl Crow brand of rock, but it suits Swift well. There’s even a killer guitar solo!

As a summation of a whirlwind relationship, “Red” absolutely nails the bittersweet feelings that come after a breakup. Even the best moments or aspects of her ex have a dark side, but she seems equally wistful about the worst moments. And the color-based chorus (a few years before Halsey stole the idea), complete with a new wave-y vocal echo, is simple but effective. It’s the perfect middle between Swift’s uber-pop era to come and her Nashville songwriter past.

#4: “New Romantics” (1989)

I was hesitant to include “New Romantics” on this list. Yes, it was a single, but it was also a tacked-on bonus track to 1989. But it’s too damn perfect of a pop song to leave off.

Honestly, how was this not included in the regular tracklisting of 1989? Yes, it’s her best album, so there’s not a lot of filler, but “New Romantics” would’ve still been an improvement over nearly all of the songs there. The production by pop wizards Max Martin and Shellback pops and whizzes with energy. It’s pure ‘80s heaven, with an anthemic sing-along chorus and bouncy synths and drum machines.

But naturally, Swift herself is a major factor to why “New Romantics” is such an effective pop song. Her vocal delivery here has a knowing wink, with a bit of snark. You might even call it Debbie Harry-esque. For a song where Swift is conveying the joys of non-stop partying, she certainly sells it. And I’d imagine if she released it as a regular single earlier in 1989′s cycle, it would’ve been another #1 smash.

#3: “Love Story” (Fearless)

“Love Story” deliberately misinterprets multiple literary classics to create an uber-cheesy, ridiculous fairy tale. And it’s easily the best song of her country era, and one of the best pop songs of the ‘00s, bar none.

The star-crossed lovers angle is overdone, yes, but Swift sings about this secret relationship with such passion and earnestness that it feels fresh again. When the surprise ending comes and the boyfriend proposes (wait, aren’t they both high schoolers? Maybe wait a bit on that one, guys), it’s got all the sappiness of a Hallmark special, and yet it totally works. You can tell the then-18 Swift didn’t find this cheesy in the slightest, and her bold, passionate sincerity works.

Even the fact that the song seems to not understand what The Scarlet Letter was actually about, or how Romeo and Juliet ends, is honestly more charming than anything else. “Love Story” is like a puppy — full of boundless joy and absolutely impossible to resist, despite not being all that smart.

#2: “Style” (1989)

I can’t imagine the confusion and shock that Swift’s management must have felt when she told them she wanted to record a song that sounded like the Drive soundtrack. But it was an absolutely brilliant move, and it gave us the song that will likely age better than any of Swift’s other singles.

To be fair, “Style” is much more radio-friendly than your average Chromatics single — but not by much! Swift’s vocals are less ethereal than Ruth Radelet’s, and the hooks are much more obvious. But many Chromatics songs, or songs from Drive, are already pretty catchy — Swift just needed to maximize them into a slinky-yet-explosive new wave behemoth.

The pulsating synth background and Swift’s whispery vocals make “Style” an all-time classic song for aimlessly driving around at night, yet it’s big enough to fit in with her more blunt hits. In fact, it might be the one time she actually seemed *gasp* cool. It’s too bad reputation tried so hard to recapture this dusky vibe and utterly failed, but at least we’ll always have her first attempt.

#1: “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” (Red)

It took Swift many, many tries to capture that elusive first #1 hit. But when she finally reached that pinnacle in 2012 with the gleefully venomous “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” it made perfect sense. After all, it’s her best song.

Swift has written many breakup songs before, but she’s never had this much fun knocking down her ex — in this case, the famously sleazy John Mayer. And her digs are just so relentless and delivered with a perfect smirk. There’s the dig at Mayer listening to “some indie record that’s much cooler than mine,” which drips with sarcasm. She calls him out for his inability to fully commit, saying both that his breakups and makeups only “last about a day.” And of course, there’s also that wonderfully exasperated phone call, where Swift groans about her ex’s persistence, calling the situation “exhausting” and mocking him. 

The best part is that all of this is delivered in a sugary-sweet, insanely catchy campfire sing-along that wouldn’t leave anyone’s heads in the fall of 2012. That chorus is just so joyful and fun that you have expect the little bouncing ball to pop up next to the “WHEEE-EEE!”

It seems weird to say Swift’s best song is also her big sell-out moment, but some artists were just meant to be pure pop. And in Swift’s case, she didn’t sacrifice any of her sharp songwriting en route to a catchier, more fun sound, which created one of the most iconic pop songs of the ‘10s.

[networkingdefinition]

Labrador Retrievers Quotes

Official Website: Labrador Retrievers Quotes

• A man is like a bit of Labrador spar, which has no luster as you turn it in your hand, until you come to a particular angle; then it shows deep and beautiful colors.- Ralph Waldo Emerson • A man is like a bit of Labrador spar, which has no lustre as you turn it in your hand until you come to a particular angle; then it shows deep and beautiful colors. There is no adaptation or universal applicability in men, but each has his special Talent, and the mastery of Successful men consists in adroitly keeping themselves where and when that turn shall be oftenest to be practiced. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • Art is like an ill-trained Labrador retriever that drags you out into traffic. – Annie Dillard • Australian cattle dogs, are not like Labradors, where they just like to just sit around by the fire and get petted. They’re working dogs, so they have a lot of energy, and they can drive you crazy. – Owen Wilson

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Labrador', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_labrador').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_labrador img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Books of natural history make the most cheerful winter reading. I read in Audubon with a thrill of delight, when the snow covers the ground, of the magnolia, and the Florida keys, and their warm sea breezes; of the fence-rail, and the cotton-tree, and the migrations of the rice-bird; of the breaking up of winter in Labrador, and the melting of the snow on the forks of the Missouri; and owe an accession of health to these reminiscences of luxuriant nature. – Henry David Thoreau • Children, as well as grown-ups, in their individual, glorified, drudgery-proof homes of Labrador, the tropics, the Orient, or where you will, to which they can pass with pleasure and expedition by means of ever-improving transportation, will be able to tune in their television and radio to the moving picture lecture of, let us say, President Lowell of Harvard; the professor of Mathematics of Oxford; of the doctor of Indian antiquities of Delhi, etc. – R. Buckminster Fuller • Clinton’s pet Labrador, Buddy, is getting neutered. The dog will never have sex again. Overnight, they’ve turned Buddy from a Democrat into a Republican. – Jay Leno • Coal is a portable climate. It carries the heat of the tropics to Labrador and the polar circle; and it is the means of transporting itself whithersoever it is wanted. Watt and Stephenson whispered in the ear of mankind their secret, that a half-ounce of coal will draw two tons a mile, and coal carries coal, by rail and by boat, to make Canada as warm as Calcutta, and with its comfort brings its industrial power. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • I can’t imagine living in a house without a couple of dogs. If I ever got out of bed at night and didn’t have to step over a Labrador or two or three, or move one off the covers so I could turn over, my nights would be more restless and the demons that wait in the dark for me would be less easily fended. – Gene Hill • I love dogs. I grew up with dogs in my family from the time that I was a little boy; we always had German Shepherds and Labradors. I get on very well with dogs, they trust me. – Paul Walker • If unconditional love, loyalty, and obedience are the tickets to an eternal life, then my black Labrador, Venus, will surely be there long before me, along with all the dear animals in nature who care for their young at great cost to themselves and have suffered so much at the hands of humans. – Richard Rohr • It is in vain to dream of a wildness distant from ourselves. There is none such. It is the bog in our brains and bowels, the primitive vigor of Nature in us, that inspires that dream. I shall never find in the wilds of Labrador a greater wildness than in some recess of Concord. – Henry David Thoreau • Most of my escapades were getting my Labrador dog into the back of my car to drive to Brooklyn where I worked at Avenue M Studios shooting a soap opera and battling being a 17 to 18-year-old playing twins being afraid that I was going to get fired, because who wouldn’t fire me? I had no idea what I was doing. – Anne Heche • Mousse was a Labrador retriever, which is a large enthusiastic bulletproof species of dog made entirely from synthetic materials. This is the kind of dog that, if it takes an interest in your personal regions (which of course it does) you cannot fend it off with a blowtorch. – Dave Barry • Quarkbeasts, for all their fearsome looks, are obedient to a fault. They are nine-tenths velociraptor and kitchen blender and one-tenth Labrador. It was the Labrador tenth that I valued most. – Jasper Fforde • Saying that you don’t believe in magic but do believe in god is a bit like saying you don’t have sex with dogs, except labradors. – Jimmy Carr • That Cabot merely landed on the uninhabitable shore of Labrador gave the English no just title to New England, or to the United States generally, any more than to Patagonia. – Henry David Thoreau • That’s the thing about being a Labrador retriever – you were born for fun. Seldom was your loopy, freewheeling mind cluttered by contemplation, and never at all by somber worry; every day was a romp. What else could there possibly be to life? Eating was a thrill. Pissing was a treat. Shitting was a joy. And licking your own balls? Bliss. And everywhere you went were gullible humans who patted and hugged and fussed over you. – Carl Hiaasen • The hardest thing about being a guy is that women don’t accept that you really are just a simple, pathetic, labrador retriever-like creature. That we live in a world were women actually expect you to think thoughtful thoughts, and have real emotions, which we don’t have. Having to try to live up to the imaginary ideal that women have of what men are, instead of just being what you are, which is just a pathetic creature, but still. – Dave Barry • There are people all over the world who like to write fan letters in the voice of their pet: ‘Hello, my name is Fifi and I’m a labrador and I think you’re great. Paw paw!’ – Rebecca Hall • There is the morass, wherein you plunge up to your knees, or the walking over the stubborn, dwarfish shrubbery, whereby one treads down the forests of Labrador; and the unexpected bunting or sylvia which perchance, and indeed as if by chance alone, you now and then see flying before you, or hear singing from the ground creeping plant. – John James Audubon • Well the dog that is the most is the a Labrador retrievers because they tolerate kids tugging on them and things better than other dogs. They are a real good natured. They’re also real calm and sometimes when working with autistic children that’s probably more popular dog breed – now there are different ways to use service animals. – Temple Grandin • When the contemplative mind is a French mind, it is content, for the most part, to contemplate France. When the contemplative mind is an English mind, it is liable to be seized at any moment by an importunate desire to contemplate Morocco or Labrador. – Agnes Repplier • Yes, I hate it when people call me a ‘national treasure’. It takes away your bite and makes you feel like a harmless old golden Labrador. – Sue Townsend

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'y', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_y').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_y img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'y', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_y').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_y img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[equitiesstocks]

Labrador Retrievers Quotes

Official Website: Labrador Retrievers Quotes

• A man is like a bit of Labrador spar, which has no luster as you turn it in your hand, until you come to a particular angle; then it shows deep and beautiful colors.- Ralph Waldo Emerson • A man is like a bit of Labrador spar, which has no lustre as you turn it in your hand until you come to a particular angle; then it shows deep and beautiful colors. There is no adaptation or universal applicability in men, but each has his special Talent, and the mastery of Successful men consists in adroitly keeping themselves where and when that turn shall be oftenest to be practiced. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • Art is like an ill-trained Labrador retriever that drags you out into traffic. – Annie Dillard • Australian cattle dogs, are not like Labradors, where they just like to just sit around by the fire and get petted. They’re working dogs, so they have a lot of energy, and they can drive you crazy. – Owen Wilson

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Labrador', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_labrador').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_labrador img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Books of natural history make the most cheerful winter reading. I read in Audubon with a thrill of delight, when the snow covers the ground, of the magnolia, and the Florida keys, and their warm sea breezes; of the fence-rail, and the cotton-tree, and the migrations of the rice-bird; of the breaking up of winter in Labrador, and the melting of the snow on the forks of the Missouri; and owe an accession of health to these reminiscences of luxuriant nature. – Henry David Thoreau • Children, as well as grown-ups, in their individual, glorified, drudgery-proof homes of Labrador, the tropics, the Orient, or where you will, to which they can pass with pleasure and expedition by means of ever-improving transportation, will be able to tune in their television and radio to the moving picture lecture of, let us say, President Lowell of Harvard; the professor of Mathematics of Oxford; of the doctor of Indian antiquities of Delhi, etc. – R. Buckminster Fuller • Clinton’s pet Labrador, Buddy, is getting neutered. The dog will never have sex again. Overnight, they’ve turned Buddy from a Democrat into a Republican. – Jay Leno • Coal is a portable climate. It carries the heat of the tropics to Labrador and the polar circle; and it is the means of transporting itself whithersoever it is wanted. Watt and Stephenson whispered in the ear of mankind their secret, that a half-ounce of coal will draw two tons a mile, and coal carries coal, by rail and by boat, to make Canada as warm as Calcutta, and with its comfort brings its industrial power. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • I can’t imagine living in a house without a couple of dogs. If I ever got out of bed at night and didn’t have to step over a Labrador or two or three, or move one off the covers so I could turn over, my nights would be more restless and the demons that wait in the dark for me would be less easily fended. – Gene Hill • I love dogs. I grew up with dogs in my family from the time that I was a little boy; we always had German Shepherds and Labradors. I get on very well with dogs, they trust me. – Paul Walker • If unconditional love, loyalty, and obedience are the tickets to an eternal life, then my black Labrador, Venus, will surely be there long before me, along with all the dear animals in nature who care for their young at great cost to themselves and have suffered so much at the hands of humans. – Richard Rohr • It is in vain to dream of a wildness distant from ourselves. There is none such. It is the bog in our brains and bowels, the primitive vigor of Nature in us, that inspires that dream. I shall never find in the wilds of Labrador a greater wildness than in some recess of Concord. – Henry David Thoreau • Most of my escapades were getting my Labrador dog into the back of my car to drive to Brooklyn where I worked at Avenue M Studios shooting a soap opera and battling being a 17 to 18-year-old playing twins being afraid that I was going to get fired, because who wouldn’t fire me? I had no idea what I was doing. – Anne Heche • Mousse was a Labrador retriever, which is a large enthusiastic bulletproof species of dog made entirely from synthetic materials. This is the kind of dog that, if it takes an interest in your personal regions (which of course it does) you cannot fend it off with a blowtorch. – Dave Barry • Quarkbeasts, for all their fearsome looks, are obedient to a fault. They are nine-tenths velociraptor and kitchen blender and one-tenth Labrador. It was the Labrador tenth that I valued most. – Jasper Fforde • Saying that you don’t believe in magic but do believe in god is a bit like saying you don’t have sex with dogs, except labradors. – Jimmy Carr • That Cabot merely landed on the uninhabitable shore of Labrador gave the English no just title to New England, or to the United States generally, any more than to Patagonia. – Henry David Thoreau • That’s the thing about being a Labrador retriever – you were born for fun. Seldom was your loopy, freewheeling mind cluttered by contemplation, and never at all by somber worry; every day was a romp. What else could there possibly be to life? Eating was a thrill. Pissing was a treat. Shitting was a joy. And licking your own balls? Bliss. And everywhere you went were gullible humans who patted and hugged and fussed over you. – Carl Hiaasen • The hardest thing about being a guy is that women don’t accept that you really are just a simple, pathetic, labrador retriever-like creature. That we live in a world were women actually expect you to think thoughtful thoughts, and have real emotions, which we don’t have. Having to try to live up to the imaginary ideal that women have of what men are, instead of just being what you are, which is just a pathetic creature, but still. – Dave Barry • There are people all over the world who like to write fan letters in the voice of their pet: ‘Hello, my name is Fifi and I’m a labrador and I think you’re great. Paw paw!’ – Rebecca Hall • There is the morass, wherein you plunge up to your knees, or the walking over the stubborn, dwarfish shrubbery, whereby one treads down the forests of Labrador; and the unexpected bunting or sylvia which perchance, and indeed as if by chance alone, you now and then see flying before you, or hear singing from the ground creeping plant. – John James Audubon • Well the dog that is the most is the a Labrador retrievers because they tolerate kids tugging on them and things better than other dogs. They are a real good natured. They’re also real calm and sometimes when working with autistic children that’s probably more popular dog breed – now there are different ways to use service animals. – Temple Grandin • When the contemplative mind is a French mind, it is content, for the most part, to contemplate France. When the contemplative mind is an English mind, it is liable to be seized at any moment by an importunate desire to contemplate Morocco or Labrador. – Agnes Repplier • Yes, I hate it when people call me a ‘national treasure’. It takes away your bite and makes you feel like a harmless old golden Labrador. – Sue Townsend

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'y', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_y').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_y img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'y', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_y').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_y img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

[thesnhuup]

Pop Picks — August 30, 2019

August 30, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

I usually go to music here, but the New York Times new 1619 podcast is just terrific, as is the whole project, which observes the sale of the first enslaved human beings on our shores 400 years ago. The first episode, “The Fight for a True Democracy” is a remarkable overview (in a mere 44 minutes) of the centrality of racism and slavery in the American story over those 400 years. It should be mandatory listening in every high school in the country. I’m eager for the next episodes. Side note: I am addicted to The Daily podcast, which gives more color and detail to the NY Times stories I read in print (yes, print), and reminds me of how smart and thoughtful are those journalists who give us real news. We need them now more than ever.

What I’m reading: 

Colson Whitehead has done it again. The Nickel Boys, his new novel, is a worthy successor to his masterpiece The Underground Railroad, and because it is closer to our time, based on the real-life horrors of a Florida reform school, and written a time of resurgent White Supremacy, it hits even harder and with more urgency than its predecessor. Maybe because we can read Underground Railroad with a sense of “that was history,” but one can’t read Nickel Boys without the lurking feeling that such horrors persist today and the monsters that perpetrate such horrors walk among us. They often hold press conferences.

What I’m watching:

Queer Eye, the Netflix remake of the original Queer Eye for the Straight Guy some ten years later, is wondrously entertaining, but it also feels adroitly aligned with our dysfunctional times. Episode three has a conversation with Karamo Brown, one of the fab five, and a Georgia small town cop (and Trump supporter) that feels unscripted and unexpected and reminds us of how little actual conversation seems to be taking place in our divided country. Oh, for more car rides such as the one they take in that moment, when a chasm is bridged, if only for a few minutes. Set in the South, it is often a refreshing and affirming response to what it means to be male at a time of toxic masculinity and the overdue catharsis and pain of the #MeToo movement. Did I mention? It’s really fun.

Archive 

July 1, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

The National remains my favorite band and probably 50% of my listening time is a National album or playlist. Their new album I Am Easy To Find feels like a turning point record for the band, going from the moody, outsider introspection and doubt of lead singer Matt Berninger to something that feels more adult, sophisticated, and wiser. I might have titled it Women Help The Band Grow Up. Matt is no longer the center of The National’s universe and he frequently cedes the mic to the many women who accompany and often lead on the long, their longest, album. They include Gail Ann Dorsey (who sang with Bowie for a long time), who is amazing, and a number of the songs were written by Carin Besser, Berninger’s wife. I especially love the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, the arrangements, and the sheer complexity and coherence of the work. It still amazes me when I meet someone who does not know The National. My heart breaks for them just a little.

What I’m reading: 

Pat Barker’s The Silence of the Girls is a retelling of Homer’s Iliad through the lens of a captive Trojan queen, Briseis. As a reviewer in The Atlantic writes, it answers the question “What does war mean to women?” We know the answer and it has always been true, whether it is the casual and assumed rape of captive women in this ancient war story or the use of rape in modern day Congo, Syria, or any other conflict zone. Yet literature almost never gives voice to the women – almost always minor characters at best — and their unspeakable suffering. Barker does it here for Briseis, for Hector’s wife Andromache, and for the other women who understand that the death of their men is tragedy, but what they then endure is worse. Think of it ancient literature having its own #MeToo moment. The NY Times’ Geraldine Brooks did not much like the novel. I did. Very much.

What I’m watching: 

The BBC-HBO limited series Years and Years is breathtaking, scary, and absolutely familiar. It’s as if Black Mirrorand Children of Men had a baby and it precisely captures the zeitgeist, the current sense that the world is spinning out of control and things are coming at us too fast. It is a near future (Trump has been re-elected and Brexit has occurred finally)…not dystopia exactly, but damn close. The closing scene of last week’s first episode (there are 6 episodes and it’s on every Monday) shows nuclear war breaking out between China and the U.S. Yikes! The scope of this show is wide and there is a big, baggy feel to it – but I love the ambition even if I’m not looking forward to the nightmares.

May 19, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

I usually go to music here, but I was really moved by this podcast of a Davis Brooks talk at the Commonwealth Club in Silicon Valley: https://www.commonwealthclub.org/events/archive/podcast/david-brooks-quest-moral-life.  While I have long found myself distant from his political stance, he has come through a dark night of the soul and emerged with a wonderful clarity about calling, community, and not happiness (that most superficial of goals), but fulfillment and meaning, found in community and human kinship of many kinds. I immediately sent it to my kids.

What I’m reading: 

Susan Orlean’s wonderful The Library Book, a love song to libraries told through the story of the LA Central Library.  It brought back cherished memories of my many hours in beloved libraries — as a kid in the Waltham Public Library, a high schooler in the Farber Library at Brandeis (Lil Farber years later became a mentor of mine), and the cathedral-like Bapst Library at BC when I was a graduate student. Yes, I was a nerd. This is a love song to books certainly, but a reminder that libraries are so, so much more.  It is a reminder that libraries are less about a place or being a repository of information and, like America at its best, an idea and ideal. By the way, oh to write like her.

What I’m watching: 

What else? Game of Thrones, like any sensible human being. This last season is disappointing in many ways and the drop off in the writing post George R.R. Martin is as clear as was the drop off in the post-Sorkin West Wing. I would be willing to bet that if Martin has been writing the last season, Sansa and Tyrion would have committed suicide in the crypt. That said, we fans are deeply invested and even the flaws are giving us so much to discuss and debate. In that sense, the real gift of this last season is the enjoyment between episodes, like the old pre-streaming days when we all arrived at work after the latest episode of the Sopranos to discuss what we had all seen the night before. I will say this, the last two episodes — full of battle and gore – have been visually stunning. Whether the torches of the Dothraki being extinguished in the distance or Arya riding through rubble and flame on a white horse, rarely has the series ascended to such visual grandeur.

March 28, 2019

What I’m listening to: 

There is a lovely piece played in a scene from A Place Called Home that I tracked down. It’s Erik Satie’s 3 Gymnopédies: Gymnopédie No. 1, played by the wonderful pianist Klára Körmendi. Satie composed this piece in 1888 and it was considered avant-garde and anti-Romantic. It’s minimalism and bit of dissonance sound fresh and contemporary to my ears and while not a huge Classical music fan, I’ve fallen in love with the Körmendi playlist on Spotify. When you need an alternative to hours of Cardi B.

What I’m reading: 

Just finished Esi Edugyan’s 2018 novel Washington Black. Starting on a slave plantation in Barbados, it is a picaresque novel that has elements of Jules Verne, Moby Dick, Frankenstein, and Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad. Yes, it strains credulity and there are moments of “huh?”, but I loved it (disclosure: I was in the minority among my fellow book club members) and the first third is a searing depiction of slavery. It’s audacious, sprawling (from Barbados to the Arctic to London to Africa), and the writing, especially about nature, luminous. 

What I’m watching: 

A soap opera. Yes, I’d like to pretend it’s something else, but we are 31 episodes into the Australian drama A Place Called Home and we are so, so addicted. Like “It’s  AM, but can’t we watch just one more episode?” addicted. Despite all the secrets, cliff hangers, intrigue, and “did that just happen?” moments, the core ingredients of any good soap opera, APCH has superb acting, real heft in terms of subject matter (including homophobia, anti-Semitism, sexual assault, and class), touches of our beloved Downton Abbey, and great cars. Beware. If you start, you won’t stop.

February 11, 2019

What I’m listening to:

Raphael Saadiq has been around for quite a while, as a musician, writer, and producer. He’s new to me and I love his old school R&B sound. Like Leon Bridges, he brings a contemporary freshness to the genre, sounding like a young Stevie Wonder (listen to “You’re The One That I Like”). Rock and Roll may be largely dead, but R&B persists – maybe because the former was derivative of the latter and never as good (and I say that as a Rock and Roll fan). I’m embarrassed to only have discovered Saadiq so late in his career, but it’s a delight to have done so.

What I’m reading:

Just finished Marilynne Robinson’s Home, part of her trilogy that includes the Pulitzer Prize winning first novel, Gilead, and the book after Home, Lila. Robinson is often described as a Christian writer, but not in a conventional sense. In this case, she gives us a modern version of the prodigal son and tells the story of what comes after he is welcomed back home. It’s not pretty. Robinson is a self-described Calvinist, thus character begets fate in Robinson’s world view and redemption is at best a question. There is something of Faulkner in her work (I am much taken with his famous “The past is never past” quote after a week in the deep South), her style is masterful, and like Faulkner, she builds with these three novels a whole universe in the small town of Gilead. Start with Gilead to better enjoy Home.

What I’m watching:

Sex Education was the most fun series we’ve seen in ages and we binged watched it on Netflix. A British homage to John Hughes films like The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and Pretty in Pink, it feels like a mash up of American and British high schools. Focusing on the relationship of Maeve, the smart bad girl, and Otis, the virginal and awkward son of a sex therapist (played with brilliance by Gillian Anderson), it is laugh aloud funny and also evolves into more substance and depth (the abortion episode is genius). The sex scenes are somehow raunchy and charming and inoffensive at the same time and while ostensibly about teenagers (it feels like it is explaining contemporary teens to adults in many ways), the adults are compelling in their good and bad ways. It has been renewed for a second season, which is a gift.

January 3, 2019

What I’m listening to:

My listening choices usually refer to music, but this time I’m going with Malcolm Gladwell’s Revisionist History podcast on genius and the song Hallelujah. It tells the story of Leonard Cohen’s much-covered song Hallelujah and uses it as a lens on kinds of genius and creativity. Along the way, he brings in Picasso and Cézanne, Elvis Costello, and more. Gladwell is a good storyteller and if you love pop music, as I do, and Hallelujah, as I do (and you should), you’ll enjoy this podcast. We tend to celebrate the genius who seems inspired in the moment, creating new work like lightning strikes, but this podcast has me appreciating incremental creativity in a new way. It’s compelling and fun at the same time.

What I’m reading:

Just read Clay Christensen’s new book, The Prosperity Paradox: How Innovation Can Lift Nations Out of Poverty. This was an advance copy, so soon available. Clay is an old friend and a huge influence on how we have grown SNHU and our approach to innovation. This book is so compelling, because we know attempts at development have so often been a failure and it is often puzzling to understand why some countries with desperate poverty and huge challenges somehow come to thrive (think S. Korea, Singapore, 19th C. America), while others languish. Clay offers a fresh way of thinking about development through the lens of his research on innovation and it is compelling. I bet this book gets a lot of attention, as most of his work does. I also suspect that many in the development community will hate it, as it calls into question the approach and enormous investments we have made in an attempt to lift countries out of poverty. A provocative read and, as always, Clay is a good storyteller.

What I’m watching:

Just watched Leave No Trace and should have guessed that it was directed by Debra Granik. She did Winter’s Bone, the extraordinary movie that launched Jennifer Lawrence’s career. Similarly, this movie features an amazing young actor, Thomasin McKenzie, and visits lives lived on the margins. In this case, a veteran suffering PTSD, and his 13-year-old daughter. The movie is patient, is visually lush, and justly earned 100% on Rotten Tomatoes (I have a rule to never watch anything under 82%). Everything in this film is under control and beautifully understated (aside from the visuals) – confident acting, confident directing, and so humane. I love the lack of flashbacks, the lack of sensationalism – the movie trusts the viewer, rare in this age of bombast. A lovely film.

December 4, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spending a week in New Zealand, we had endless laughs listening to the Kiwi band, Flight of the Conchords. Lots of comedic bands are funny, but the music is only okay or worse. These guys are funny – hysterical really – and the music is great. They have an uncanny ability to parody almost any style. In both New Zealand and Australia, we found a wry sense of humor that was just delightful and no better captured than with this duo. You don’t have to be in New Zealand to enjoy them.

What I’m reading:

I don’t often reread. For two reasons: A) I have so many books on my “still to be read” pile that it seems daunting to also rereadbooks I loved before, and B) it’s because I loved them once that I’m a little afraid to read them again. That said, I was recently asked to list my favorite book of all time and I answered Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. But I don’t really know if that’s still true (and it’s an impossible question anyway – favorite book? On what day? In what mood?), so I’m rereading it and it feels like being with an old friend. It has one of my very favorite scenes ever: the card game between Levin and Kitty that leads to the proposal and his joyous walking the streets all night.

What I’m watching:

Blindspotting is billed as a buddy-comedy. Wow does that undersell it and the drama is often gripping. I loved Daveed Diggs in Hamilton, didn’t like his character in Black-ish, and think he is transcendent in this film he co-wrote with Rafael Casal, his co-star.  The film is a love song to Oakland in many ways, but also a gut-wrenching indictment of police brutality, systemic racism and bias, and gentrification. The film has the freshness and raw visceral impact of Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing. A great soundtrack, genre mixing, and energy make it one of my favorite movies of 2018.

October 15, 2018 

What I’m listening to:

We had the opportunity to see our favorite band, The National, live in Dallas two weeks ago. Just after watching Mistaken for Strangers, the documentary sort of about the band. So we’ve spent a lot of time going back into their earlier work, listening to songs we don’t know well, and reaffirming that their musicality, smarts, and sound are both original and astoundingly good. They did not disappoint in concert and it is a good thing their tour ended, as we might just spend all of our time and money following them around. Matt Berninger is a genius and his lead vocals kill me (and because they are in my range, I can actually sing along!). Their arrangements are profoundly good and go right to whatever brain/heart wiring that pulls one in and doesn’t let them go.

What I’m reading:

Who is Richard Powers and why have I only discovered him now, with his 12th book? Overstory is profoundly good, a book that is essential and powerful and makes me look at my everyday world in new ways. In short, a dizzying example of how powerful can be narrative in the hands of a master storyteller. I hesitate to say it’s the best environmental novel I’ve ever read (it is), because that would put this book in a category. It is surely about the natural world, but it is as much about we humans. It’s monumental and elegiac and wondrous at all once. Cancel your day’s schedule and read it now. Then plant a tree. A lot of them.

What I’m watching:

Bo Burnham wrote and directed Eighth Grade and Elsie Fisher is nothing less than amazing as its star (what’s with these new child actors; see Florida Project). It’s funny and painful and touching. It’s also the single best film treatment that I have seen of what it means to grow up in a social media shaped world. It’s a reminder that growing up is hard. Maybe harder now in a world of relentless, layered digital pressure to curate perfect lives that are far removed from the natural messy worlds and selves we actually inhabit. It’s a well-deserved 98% on Rotten Tomatoes and I wonder who dinged it for the missing 2%.

September 7, 2018

What I’m listening to:

With a cover pointing back to the Beastie Boys’ 1986 Licensed to Ill, Eminem’s quietly released Kamikaze is not my usual taste, but I’ve always admired him for his “all out there” willingness to be personal, to call people out, and his sheer genius with language. I thought Daveed Diggs could rap fast, but Eminem is supersonic at moments, and still finds room for melody. Love that he includes Joyner Lucas, whose “I’m Not Racist” gets added to the growing list of simply amazing music videos commenting on race in America. There are endless reasons why I am the least likely Eminem fan, but when no one is around to make fun of me, I’ll put it on again.

What I’m reading:

Lesley Blume’s Everyone Behaves Badly, which is the story behind Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises and his time in 1920s Paris (oh, what a time – see Midnight in Paris if you haven’t already). Of course, Blume disabuses my romantic ideas of that time and place and everyone is sort of (or profoundly so) a jerk, especially…no spoiler here…Hemingway. That said, it is a compelling read and coming off the Henry James inspired prose of Mrs. Osmond, it made me appreciate more how groundbreaking was Hemingway’s modern prose style. Like his contemporary Picasso, he reinvented the art and it can be easy to forget, these decades later, how profound was the change and its impact. And it has bullfights.

What I’m watching:

Chloé Zhao’s The Rider is just exceptional. It’s filmed on the Pine Ridge Reservation, which provides a stunning landscape, and it feels like a classic western reinvented for our times. The main characters are played by the real-life people who inspired this narrative (but feels like a documentary) film. Brady Jandreau, playing himself really, owns the screen. It’s about manhood, honor codes, loss, and resilience – rendered in sensitive, nuanced, and heartfelt ways. It feels like it could be about large swaths of America today. Really powerful.

August 16, 2018

What I’m listening to:

In my Spotify Daily Mix was Percy Sledge’s When A Man Loves A Woman, one of the world’s greatest love songs. Go online and read the story of how the song was discovered and recorded. There are competing accounts, but Sledge said he improvised it after a bad breakup. It has that kind of aching spontaneity. It is another hit from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, one of the GREAT music hotbeds, along with Detroit, Nashville, and Memphis. Our February Board meeting is in Alabama and I may finally have to do the pilgrimage road trip to Muscle Shoals and then Memphis, dropping in for Sunday services at the church where Rev. Al Green still preaches and sings. If the music is all like this, I will be saved.

What I’m reading:

John Banville’s Mrs. Osmond, his homage to literary idol Henry James and an imagined sequel to James’ 1881 masterpiece Portrait of a Lady. Go online and read the first paragraph of Chapter 25. He is…profoundly good. Makes me want to never write again, since anything I attempt will feel like some other, lowly activity in comparison to his mastery of language, image, syntax. This is slow reading, every sentence to be savored.

What I’m watching:

I’ve always respected Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, but we just watched the documentary RGB. It is over-the-top great and she is now one of my heroes. A superwoman in many ways and the documentary is really well done. There are lots of scenes of her speaking to crowds and the way young women, especially law students, look at her is touching.  And you can’t help but fall in love with her now late husband Marty. See this movie and be reminded of how important is the Law.

July 23, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Spotify’s Summer Acoustic playlist has been on repeat quite a lot. What a fun way to listen to artists new to me, including The Paper Kites, Hollow Coves, and Fleet Foxes, as well as old favorites like Leon Bridges and Jose Gonzalez. Pretty chill when dialing back to a summer pace, dining on the screen porch or reading a book.

What I’m reading:

Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy. Founder of the Equal Justice Initiative, Stevenson tells of the racial injustice (and the war on the poor our judicial system perpetuates as well) that he discovered as a young graduate from Harvard Law School and his fight to address it. It is in turn heartbreaking, enraging, and inspiring. It is also about mercy and empathy and justice that reads like a novel. Brilliant.

What I’m watching:

Fauda. We watched season one of this Israeli thriller. It was much discussed in Israel because while it focuses on an ex-special agent who comes out of retirement to track down a Palestinian terrorist, it was willing to reveal the complexity, richness, and emotions of Palestinian lives. And the occasional brutality of the Israelis. Pretty controversial stuff in Israel. Lior Raz plays Doron, the main character, and is compelling and tough and often hard to like. He’s a mess. As is the world in which he has to operate. We really liked it, and also felt guilty because while it may have been brave in its treatment of Palestinians within the Israeli context, it falls back into some tired tropes and ultimately falls short on this front.

June 11, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Like everyone else, I’m listening to Pusha T drop the mic on Drake. Okay, not really, but do I get some points for even knowing that? We all walk around with songs that immediately bring us back to a time or a place. Songs are time machines. We are coming up on Father’s Day. My own dad passed away on Father’s Day back in 1994 and I remembering dutifully getting through the wake and funeral and being strong throughout. Then, sitting alone in our kitchen, Don Henley’s The End of the Innocence came on and I lost it. When you lose a parent for the first time (most of us have two after all) we lose our innocence and in that passage, we suddenly feel adult in a new way (no matter how old we are), a longing for our own childhood, and a need to forgive and be forgiven. Listen to the lyrics and you’ll understand. As Wordsworth reminds us in In Memoriam, there are seasons to our grief and, all these years later, this song no longer hits me in the gut, but does transport me back with loving memories of my father. I’ll play it Father’s Day.

What I’m reading:

The Fifth Season, by N. K. Jemisin. I am not a reader of fantasy or sci-fi, though I understand they can be powerful vehicles for addressing the very real challenges of the world in which we actually live. I’m not sure I know of a more vivid and gripping illustration of that fact than N. K. Jemisin’s Hugo Award winning novel The Fifth Season, first in her Broken Earth trilogy. It is astounding. It is the fantasy parallel to The Underground Railroad, my favorite recent read, a depiction of subjugation, power, casual violence, and a broken world in which our hero(s) struggle, suffer mightily, and still, somehow, give us hope. It is a tour de force book. How can someone be this good a writer? The first 30 pages pained me (always with this genre, one must learn a new, constructed world, and all of its operating physics and systems of order), and then I could not put it down. I panicked as I neared the end, not wanting to finish the book, and quickly ordered the Obelisk Gate, the second novel in the trilogy, and I can tell you now that I’ll be spending some goodly portion of my weekend in Jemisin’s other world.

What I’m watching:

The NBA Finals and perhaps the best basketball player of this generation. I’ve come to deeply respect LeBron James as a person, a force for social good, and now as an extraordinary player at the peak of his powers. His superhuman play during the NBA playoffs now ranks with the all-time greats, Larry Bird, Magic Johnson, MJ, Kobe, and the demi-god that was Bill Russell. That his Cavs lost in a 4-game sweep is no surprise. It was a mediocre team being carried on the wide shoulders of James (and matched against one of the greatest teams ever, the Warriors, and the Harry Potter of basketball, Steph Curry) and, in some strange way, his greatness is amplified by the contrast with the rest of his team. It was a great run.

May 24, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I’ve always liked Alicia Keys and admired her social activism, but I am hooked on her last album Here. This feels like an album finally commensurate with her anger, activism, hope, and grit. More R&B and Hip Hop than is typical for her, I think this album moves into an echelon inhabited by a Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On or Beyonce’s Formation. Social activism and outrage rarely make great novels, but they often fuel great popular music. Here is a terrific example.

What I’m reading:

Colson Whitehead’s Underground Railroad may be close to a flawless novel. Winner of the 2017 Pulitzer, it chronicles the lives of two runaway slaves, Cora and Caeser, as they try to escape the hell of plantation life in Georgia.  It is an often searing novel and Cora is one of the great heroes of American literature. I would make this mandatory reading in every high school in America, especially in light of the absurd revisionist narratives of “happy and well cared for” slaves. This is a genuinely great novel, one of the best I’ve read, the magical realism and conflating of time periods lifts it to another realm of social commentary, relevance, and a blazing indictment of America’s Original Sin, for which we remain unabsolved.

What I’m watching:

I thought I knew about The Pentagon Papers, but The Post, a real-life political thriller from Steven Spielberg taught me a lot, features some of our greatest actors, and is so timely given the assault on our democratic institutions and with a presidency out of control. It is a reminder that a free and fearless press is a powerful part of our democracy, always among the first targets of despots everywhere. The story revolves around the legendary Post owner and D.C. doyenne, Katharine Graham. I had the opportunity to see her son, Don Graham, right after he saw the film, and he raved about Meryl Streep’s portrayal of his mother. Liked it a lot more than I expected.

April 27, 2018

What I’m listening to:

I mentioned John Prine in a recent post and then on the heels of that mention, he has released a new album, The Tree of Forgiveness, his first new album in ten years. Prine is beloved by other singer songwriters and often praised by the inscrutable God that is Bob Dylan.  Indeed, Prine was frequently said to be the “next Bob Dylan” in the early part of his career, though he instead carved out his own respectable career and voice, if never with the dizzying success of Dylan. The new album reflects a man in his 70s, a cancer survivor, who reflects on life and its end, but with the good humor and empathy that are hallmarks of Prine’s music. “When I Get To Heaven” is a rollicking, fun vision of what comes next and a pure delight. A charming, warm, and often terrific album.

What I’m reading:

I recently read Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, on many people’s Top Ten lists for last year and for good reason. It is sprawling, multi-generational, and based in the world of Japanese occupied Korea and then in the Korean immigrant’s world of Oaska, so our key characters become “tweeners,” accepted in neither world. It’s often unspeakably sad, and yet there is resiliency and love. There is also intimacy, despite the time and geographic span of the novel. It’s breathtakingly good and like all good novels, transporting.

What I’m watching:

I adore Guillermo del Toro’s 2006 film, Pan’s Labyrinth, and while I’m not sure his Shape of Water is better, it is a worthy follow up to the earlier masterpiece (and more of a commercial success). Lots of critics dislike the film, but I’m okay with a simple retelling of a Beauty and the Beast love story, as predictable as it might be. The acting is terrific, it is visually stunning, and there are layers of pain as well as social and political commentary (the setting is the US during the Cold War) and, no real spoiler here, the real monsters are humans, the military officer who sees over the captured aquatic creature. It is hauntingly beautiful and its depiction of hatred to those who are different or “other” is painfully resonant with the time in which we live. Put this on your “must see” list.

March 18, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Sitting on a plane for hours (and many more to go; geez, Australia is far away) is a great opportunity to listen to new music and to revisit old favorites. This time, it is Lucy Dacus and her album Historians, the new sophomore release from a 22-year old indie artist that writes with relatable, real-life lyrics. Just on a second listen and while she insists this isn’t a break up record (as we know, 50% of all great songs are break up songs), it is full of loss and pain. Worth the listen so far. For the way back machine, it’s John Prine and In Spite of Ourselves (that title track is one of the great love songs of all time), a collection of duets with some of his “favorite girl singers” as he once described them. I have a crush on Iris Dement (for a really righteously angry song try her Wasteland of the Free), but there is also EmmyLou Harris, the incomparable Dolores Keane, and Lucinda Williams. Very different albums, both wonderful.

What I’m reading:

Jane Mayer’s New Yorker piece on Christopher Steele presents little that is new, but she pulls it together in a terrific and coherent whole that is illuminating and troubling at the same time. Not only for what is happening, but for the complicity of the far right in trying to discredit that which should be setting off alarm bells everywhere. Bob Mueller may be the most important defender of the democracy at this time. A must read.

What I’m watching:

Homeland is killing it this season and is prescient, hauntingly so. Russian election interference, a Bannon-style hate radio demagogue, alienated and gun toting militia types, and a president out of control. It’s fabulous, even if it feels awfully close to the evening news. 

March 8, 2018

What I’m listening to:

We have a family challenge to compile our Top 100 songs. It is painful. Only 100? No more than three songs by one artist? Wait, why is M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” on my list? Should it just be The Clash from whom she samples? Can I admit to guilty pleasure songs? Hey, it’s my list and I can put anything I want on it. So I’m listening to the list while I work and the song playing right now is Tom Petty’s “The Wild One, Forever,” a B-side single that was never a hit and that remains my favorite Petty song. Also, “Evangeline” by Los Lobos. It evokes a night many years ago, with friends at Pearl Street in Northampton, MA, when everyone danced well past 1AM in a hot, sweaty, packed club and the band was a revelation. Maybe the best music night of our lives and a reminder that one’s 100 Favorite Songs list is as much about what you were doing and where you were in your life when those songs were playing as it is about the music. It’s not a list. It’s a soundtrack for this journey.

What I’m reading:

Patricia Lockwood’s Priestdaddy was in the NY Times top ten books of 2017 list and it is easy to see why. Lockwood brings remarkable and often surprising imagery, metaphor, and language to her prose memoir and it actually threw me off at first. It then all became clear when someone told me she is a poet. The book is laugh aloud funny, which masks (or makes safer anyway) some pretty dark territory. Anyone who grew up Catholic, whether lapsed or not, will resonate with her story. She can’t resist a bawdy anecdote and her family provides some of the most memorable characters possible, especially her father, her sister, and her mother, who I came to adore. Best thing I’ve read in ages.

What I’m watching:

The Florida Project, a profoundly good movie on so many levels. Start with the central character, six-year old (at the time of the filming) Brooklynn Prince, who owns – I mean really owns – the screen. This is pure acting genius and at that age? Astounding. Almost as astounding is Bria Vinaite, who plays her mother. She was discovered on Instagram and had never acted before this role, which she did with just three weeks of acting lessons. She is utterly convincing and the tension between the child’s absolute wonder and joy in the world with her mother’s struggle to provide, to be a mother, is heartwarming and heartbreaking all at once. Willem Dafoe rightly received an Oscar nomination for his supporting role. This is a terrific movie.

February 12, 2018

What I’m listening to:

So, I have a lot of friends of age (I know you’re thinking 40s, but I just turned 60) who are frozen in whatever era of music they enjoyed in college or maybe even in their thirties. There are lots of times when I reach back into the catalog, since music is one of those really powerful and transporting senses that can take you through time (smell is the other one, though often underappreciated for that power). Hell, I just bought a turntable and now spending time in vintage vinyl shops. But I’m trying to take a lesson from Pat, who revels in new music and can as easily talk about North African rap music and the latest National album as Meet the Beatles, her first ever album. So, I’ve been listening to Kendrick Lamar’s Grammy winning Damn. While it may not be the first thing I’ll reach for on a winter night in Maine, by the fire, I was taken with it. It’s layered, political, and weirdly sensitive and misogynist at the same time, and it feels fresh and authentic and smart at the same time, with music that often pulled me from what I was doing. In short, everything music should do. I’m not a bit cooler for listening to Damn, but when I followed it with Steely Dan, I felt like I was listening to Lawrence Welk. A good sign, I think.

What I’m reading:

I am reading Walter Isaacson’s new biography of Leonardo da Vinci. I’m not usually a reader of biographies, but I’ve always been taken with Leonardo. Isaacson does not disappoint (does he ever?), and his subject is at once more human and accessible and more awe-inspiring in Isaacson’s capable hands. Gay, left-handed, vegetarian, incapable of finishing things, a wonderful conversationalist, kind, and perhaps the most relentlessly curious human being who has ever lived. Like his biographies of Steve Jobs and Albert Einstein, Isaacson’s project here is to show that genius lives at the intersection of science and art, of rationality and creativity. Highly recommend it.

What I’m watching:

We watched the This Is Us post-Super Bowl episode, the one where Jack finally buys the farm. I really want to hate this show. It is melodramatic and manipulative, with characters that mostly never change or grow, and it hooks me every damn time we watch it. The episode last Sunday was a tear jerker, a double whammy intended to render into a blubbering, tissue-crumbling pathetic mess anyone who has lost a parent or who is a parent. Sterling K. Brown, Ron Cephas Jones, the surprising Mandy Moore, and Milo Ventimiglia are hard not to love and last season’s episode that had only Brown and Cephas going to Memphis was the show at its best (they are by far the two best actors). Last week was the show at its best worst. In other words, I want to hate it, but I love it. If you haven’t seen it, don’t binge watch it. You’ll need therapy and insulin.

January 15, 2018

What I’m listening to:

Drive-By Truckers. Chris Stapleton has me on an unusual (for me) country theme and I discovered these guys to my great delight. They’ve been around, with some 11 albums, but the newest one is fascinating. It’s a deep dive into Southern alienation and the white working-class world often associated with our current president. I admire the willingness to lay bare, in kick ass rock songs, the complexities and pain at work among people we too quickly place into overly simple categories. These guys are brave, bold, and thoughtful as hell, while producing songs I didn’t expect to like, but that I keep playing. And they are coming to NH.

What I’m reading:

A textual analog to Drive-By Truckers by Chris Stapleton in many ways is Tony Horowitz’s 1998 Pulitzer Prize winning Confederates in the Attic. Ostensibly about the Civil War and the South’s ongoing attachment to it, it is prescient and speaks eloquently to the times in which we live (where every southern state but Virginia voted for President Trump). Often hilarious, it too surfaces complexities and nuance that escape a more recent, and widely acclaimed, book like Hillbilly Elegy. As a Civil War fan, it was also astonishing in many instances, especially when it blows apart long-held “truths” about the war, such as the degree to which Sherman burned down the south (he did not). Like D-B Truckers, Horowitz loves the South and the people he encounters, even as he grapples with its myths of victimhood and exceptionalism (and racism, which may be no more than the racism in the north, but of a different kind). Everyone should read this book and I’m embarrassed I’m so late to it.

What I’m watching:

David Letterman has a new Netflix show called “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction” and we watched the first episode, in which Letterman interviewed Barack Obama. It was extraordinary (if you don’t have Netflix, get it just to watch this show); not only because we were reminded of Obama’s smarts, grace, and humanity (and humor), but because we saw a side of Letterman we didn’t know existed. His personal reflections on Selma were raw and powerful, almost painful. He will do five more episodes with “extraordinary individuals” and if they are anything like the first, this might be the very best work of his career and one of the best things on television.

December 22, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished Sunjeev Sahota’s Year of the Runaways, a painful inside look at the plight of illegal Indian immigrant workers in Britain. It was shortlisted for 2015 Man Booker Prize and its transporting, often to a dark and painful universe, and it is impossible not to think about the American version of this story and the terrible way we treat the undocumented in our own country, especially now.

What I’m watching:

Season II of The Crown is even better than Season I. Elizabeth’s character is becoming more three-dimensional, the modern world is catching up with tradition-bound Britain, and Cold War politics offer more context and tension than we saw in Season I. Claire Foy, in her last season, is just terrific – one arched eye brow can send a message.

What I’m listening to:

A lot of Christmas music, but needing a break from the schmaltz, I’ve discovered Over the Rhine and their Christmas album, Snow Angels. God, these guys are good.

November 14, 2017

What I’m watching:

Guiltily, I watch the Patriots play every weekend, often building my schedule and plans around seeing the game. Why the guilt? I don’t know how morally defensible is football anymore, as we now know the severe damage it does to the players. We can’t pretend it’s all okay anymore. Is this our version of late decadent Rome, watching mostly young Black men take a terrible toll on each other for our mere entertainment?

What I’m reading:

Recently finished J.G. Ballard’s 2000 novel Super-Cannes, a powerful depiction of a corporate-tech ex-pat community taken over by a kind of psychopathology, in which all social norms and responsibilities are surrendered to residents of the new world community. Kept thinking about Silicon Valley when reading it. Pretty dark, dystopian view of the modern world and centered around a mass killing, troublingly prescient.

What I’m listening to:

Was never really a Lorde fan, only knowing her catchy (and smarter than you might first guess) pop hit “Royals” from her debut album. But her new album, Melodrama, is terrific and it doesn’t feel quite right to call this “pop.” There is something way more substantial going on with Lorde and I can see why many critics put this album at the top of their Best in 2017 list. Count me in as a huge fan.

November 3, 2017

What I’m reading: Just finished Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, her breathtakingly good second novel. How is someone so young so wise? Her writing is near perfection and I read the book in two days, setting my alarm for 4:30AM so I could finish it before work.

What I’m watching: We just binge watched season two of Stranger Things and it was worth it just to watch Millie Bobbie Brown, the transcendent young actor who plays Eleven. The series is a delightful mash up of every great eighties horror genre you can imagine and while pretty dark, an absolute joy to watch.

What I’m listening to: I’m not a lover of country music (to say the least), but I love Chris Stapleton. His “The Last Thing I Needed, First Thing This Morning” is heartbreakingly good and reminds me of the old school country that played in my house as a kid. He has a new album and I can’t wait, but his From A Room: Volume 1 is on repeat for now.

September 26, 2017

What I’m reading:

Just finished George Saunder’s Lincoln in the Bardo. It took me a while to accept its cadence and sheer weirdness, but loved it in the end. A painful meditation on loss and grief, and a genuinely beautiful exploration of the intersection of life and death, the difficulty of letting go of what was, good and bad, and what never came to be.

What I’m watching:

HBO’s The Deuce. Times Square and the beginning of the porn industry in the 1970s, the setting made me wonder if this was really something I’d want to see. But David Simon is the writer and I’d read a menu if he wrote it. It does not disappoint so far and there is nothing prurient about it.

What I’m listening to:

The National’s new album Sleep Well Beast. I love this band. The opening piano notes of the first song, “Nobody Else Will Be There,” seize me & I’m reminded that no one else in music today matches their arrangement & musicianship. I’m adding “Born to Beg,” “Slow Show,” “I Need My Girl,” and “Runaway” to my list of favorite love songs.

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J from President's Corner https://ift.tt/32jCJ0H via IFTTT

[gosanonekoma]

「 Shall we stick together a little longer ? 」

• Shall we stick together a little longer ?

• Kuroo & Tsukishima ( Haikyuu )

                                                   —–

The sun, at its highest point in the sky, illuminated the forest decorated with countless flowers. Many children of all ages played there, imagining themselves a policeman, a princess, a superhero or even a chef. Among them was a blond little boy but he wasn’t imagining himself in his dream, he was just quietly reading next to his grandmother who knitted. He was much more self-effacing than the others, preferring the sweetness of his books. The old woman left her occupation to turn her gaze towards the pages that devoured her grandson with such attention. “What are your reading my little moon ?” “A book with ghosts.” “And it doesn’t scare you ?” "No, the ghost is nice.” Listening to the child’s words, she smiled. “Do you want me to tell you a secret ?” “A secret ?” “About a ghost.” “Yes !“ The child gave the most innocent smile to his grandmother, totally abandoning the writing which had captivated him for so long. "You see this church over there? It was built on an old cemetery a long time ago.” “So there are still people underneath ?” “It was so old that it must not remain much now, but the souls of these people may still be wandering here.” “Souls ?” “Yes, they are said to protect the forest. They are also said to wander among the trees with their transparent bodies, which can only be touched when the latter encounters his soulmate.” “The ghosts can fall in love even after their departure ?” “Of course, they can as you and I do. You know, our family is the one who has taken care of this forest for generations so every night I brought food to this hole you see in the church.” "Why did Grandma bring food ?” “Because these people are inhabitants of our village in their own right.” “So, did Grandma meet one ?” “I met a lot of them.” “They are nice ?” “Very, they always told me stories about their lives.” “But why have I never seen one Grandma ?” “Because they’re afraid.” “Afraid of what ?”“Since my childhood, things have changed and they no longer have the same confidence in us that they had before.” “Why ?” “People are no longer as nice as they used to be. Even if they are only ghosts, they want to avoid any possible danger.” “You think I could meet one ?” “Maybe, I don’t know.” The little boy made a disappointed pout, he seemed so interested in these supernatural beings. He went home the next day.

The years had passed and the child, now a handsome man, came back to his grandmother’s house. “Ah my little moon, happy to see you again.” “Grandma, I’m not a child anymore.” “Whatever you say Tsukishima, you’ll always be my little moon.” Despite his more distant attitude, the softness of his voice when he spoke to him had not changed. “My little moon, could you bring food to the church today ? My legs are terribly painful.” "Okay, rest.” Tsukishima had never thought that his grandmother would ever ask him that. But to tell the truth, since that day, this story had not left his mind, he always wanted to approach these much talked about guardians of the forest. The young man took the dish concocted with love and walked with difficulty towards the church. Indeed, a succulent odor emanated from the dish and Tsukishima took it on himself in order not to savor it. His footsteps slowly led him to the place where he saw a body zigzagging between the trees. However, this body didn’t look human, the adrenaline and excitement climbed inside Tsukishima. Would he finally meet a ghost like those his grandmother had described him long ago ? His feet kept walking until he found himself behind the mystery. He was a tall young man, of a size similar to that of Tsukishima, with brown hair. He held out his hand, would it cross this body ? “Eh ?” The stranger suddenly turned around, not giving Tsukishima an opportunity to -maybe- traverse him. “What are you doing ?” “Ah .. I .. Well … ” He was so embarrassed by the fact of being discovered that the blonde couldn’t even answer this simple question. Plus, this unknown person was particularly attractive. “Ah, it’s you who bring the meal today ?” “Yes..” “How can it be ? Is the grandmother fine ?” “Her legs hurt so she asked me to bring it instead of her. I’m her grandson.” "I see, nice to meet you then. I’m Kuroo.” “Tsukishima.” The said Kuroo held out his hand but Tsukishima looked at him strangely, why did he do this when he could not touch him ? “I can touch you?” “Oh no you can’t. I had forgotten that I was no longer human !“ Kuroo withdrew his hand with an embarrassed expression but showing him a kind smile that could dissipate the darkness of the night.

Days disappeared one after the other, but the conversations between the two young men remained engraved in their memory like precious memories which were added day after day. A conversation. "Do you really eat the dishes that my grandmother cooks ?” “Of course, we can’t let these wonderful dishes rot !” "Is it as vital for you as it is for us ?” “Actually no, we can live without eating but they are so good ! We eat just for the pleasure of eating especially since we no longer take weight so why prevent ourselves from enjoying it ?“ Another one. "What are you doing during the day ? “The same as what you must do except work and study.” “The same thing ?” “Yes, I party with my friends, I watch television, I cook ..” “I don’t do it.” “Seriously ? You must be bored then.” And yet another. “Tell me, do ghosts have superpowers like in movies and books ?” “Like ?” “Cross the walls or even fly !” “No.” “It’s not funny..” “I didn’t think you could have a face that childish on your face Tsukki !” “Shut up !” “But it would be fun to cross the walls, I could make tons of jokes.” The long conversations under the moonlight kept accumulating under the sound of their laughter. However, one question remained in Tsukishima’s mind. "Kuroo ?” “Hm ?”"How did you fly away ?” The young man had not directly used the word dead as if frightened by it, not preventing Kuroo from understanding its meaning. “A few years ago, a drunk driver hit me while I was coming home from school. I got an A for my essay and was so excited to show it to my parents. But I wasn’t paying attention around me, too absorbed by the idea of ​​showing my note to my parents. In the end, I was never able to show them.” Tsukishima didn’t know what to say. “My parents didn’t recover and left the village, they couldn’t bear to go where I’d been knock down. "Are you alone here then ? Since when ?” "From as far as I can remember.” Although Kuroo was only a ghost, an infinite sadness emanated from his body. Tsukishima’s heart tightened. He wanted to take his hand in his but all these words exchanged made him forget that he could not : they were different. He refused to resign himself to this unfortunate reality, he took his hand and arranged them so that they seemed entwined. Kuroo was astonished nevertheless he didn’t separate from his friend as if his human warmth was really going to invade his cold ghost body.

The nights went on and on, but the sweet sound of the laughter was no longer heard in the forest. Tsukishima had not returned, leaving a deeply anxious Kuroo sitting waiting for his friend’s arrival every night. Tsukishima came back a full moon night. It was no longer the same Tsukishima, his beauty had been stained by bruises present on his beautiful face. Kuroo didn’t wait for his friend to reach him, he ran at full speed and squeezed his face into his hands. “Ouch, you’re hurting Kuroo.” The blonde was twisting in pain as the bruises were inflamed. Only, Kuroo realized that it wasn’t just on his face, his body was also covered of bruises and cut. “What happened ?! Who did that to you ?! Explain to me !” “Calm down..” “No I will not calm down ! Have you seen what state you are in ?!” The brown wasn’t able to contain his anger, he wished from the depths of his soul to reduce to dust those who had dared to touch the purity that Tsukishima represented in his eyes. “Tell me, please Tsukki.” “No, you will reject me after ..” “What are you talking about ? There’s no way I would ever do that. Whatever happens, you remain my Tsukki. ” He pressed him with his gaze more gently than he had done a few seconds before. He wanted to know, he had to know ! “At university, I met a man. He represented everything I loved in men, he was attentive, kind, handsome. I watched him for a long time discreetly without ever putting myself forward. One day he came to talk to me and asked me if I wanted to have a drink with him. I believed in a miracle and let myself be carried away. Only, he made me drink, drink, drink until I was confused enough to do really horrible things to my body. The next day I wanted to escape from this nightmare but he threatened to reveal all the photos he had taken the night before. I couldn’t let him divulge them, it would have been the end for me then I had no choice but to follow his orders all more degrading than the others ..!” Kuroo was shocked, how could a face as joyful and pure as Tsukishima’s one hide so much suffering and shame without even realizing it all this time ? “As soon as the year ended, I came to find refuge here thinking that he would let me go at least until next year but I had too much hope. When I returned to grandma’s house after our last conversation, he was waiting for me in front of it. I didn’t know what to do, I was paralyzed. He took me into an alley in the shade of any passage and broke me again .. I couldn’t do anything .. ” Salted pearls rushed down his cheeks. To Hell with their difference, Kuroo embraced his frail and trembling body while taking care not to hurt him. “I’m sorry Kuroo ..” “Why are you apologizing ? You didn’t do anything wrong, don’t worry. ” He kept holding him, fearing that Tsukishima would break into his arms. The minutes passed, but the intensity of his tears and the strength of the embrace didn’t seem to reduce. “Well my little moon, it would seem that you found the perfect friend.” "Grandma ?” Tsukishima turned around, forcing Kuroo to pull apart reluctantly. “I believe there’s no need for me to tell you that this man was obviously not the right one ?” "No, indeed.” “However, I believe there’s a need for me to tell you that this man is obviously the right one. ” The two men did not immediately understand and looked at each other. It was only a few moments after the reality caught them by surprise. “They are said to wander between the trees with their transparent bodies, which can only be touched when the latter encounters his soulmate. Kuroo, I entrust my little moon to you. If you don’t take care of him well, I won’t cook anymore for you, understood ?” The old lady walked away without waiting for Kuroo’s answer. “Count on me grandma !” The grandmother disappeared in the distance, Kuroo captured the lips of his soulmate with the moon as only witness which seemed already to bless them with its light.