#ever since Nix spoke about ya

[petitprincekiryu]

@abstractreign​ asked : parsley or oak? { slides this in— hello!!

(( answering BOTH bc I can’t choose ??? ))

parsley :   describe a holiday your muse enjoys ,   and why they enjoy it .

(♚)┊ ❝ Christ month, of course. The other holidays are lovely but -- something about the winter solstice brings immense warmth... as illogical that sounds. I can see parts of heavens’ quintessence; but also perceive humans at their prime. mostly. ❞ 

——  “His head and his hairs were white like wool, as white as snow - “ (Rev 1:13) 

Aside from the Winter month shaping after his true form / essence, it also revealed a more graceful city... with humans being at their brightest and less from the every day tainting deeds. Furthermore; the snowy weather did bring a state of absolute bliss for Shibuya’s sky. ( as “heaven” are intended to present )

oak :   who would your muse consider the strongest person they know ?

(♚)┊ ❝ Let’s put that reign challenge to the test !! — wanna compare crowns ? ❞ and see which one is bigger. 

[musicnoots]

The Rest Is History

Richard Winters/Reader

Requested by @thisishirathesecond​: “Hi, Shannon may I request an imagine?, something like everybody thought winters don't have anyone back home, but he does and he is that good with hiding things, the boys in easy company make fun of him that he's single or a quaker, when the war over he introduces the boys to his wife who is very very very very drop-dead gorgeous and downright beautiful, voice like angel, gentle, kind but she has fire in her they boys was so shocked, jaws on the floor they are daze and awestruck.”

A/N: Consider me a Dick Winters love bot now!!! I love writing for him!

Synopsis: No one knew Dick Winters had a significant other until he attends an Easy Company gathering.

Tags: @gottapenny @those-dusty-jump-wings @curraheev @david-weepster @majwinters @alienoresimagines @wexhappyxfew @medievalfangirl @bandofmarvels @dumpofdumblings @junojelli @inglourious-imagines @dustyjjumpwings @higgles123

Dick Winters is a very private man.

He likes to keep private matters to himself, doesn’t matter who it involves, he prefers to keep it on the low and away from the ears of his men. In addition, he didn’t want to distract them with details of his personal life—he was their commanding officer, the man who would lead them into battle and tasked with bringing them back alive and victorious. He kept letters from home tucked under his sleeve during the war, bedside memories shoved into the back of his head, and a wedding ring safe in the breast pocket of his uniform.

Everyone assumed he was a bachelor, a good man with good intentions who had no one waiting back home for him, to wrap arms around his torso and shove their nose into the crook of his neck for a hero’s welcome. 

While Dick did like to consider himself as a good man with good intentions, he did have someone waiting at home. You.

“You know,” he breathed, arm wrapped around your shoulders as the two of sit on the steps of the front yard of your house, stargazing after a particularly lazy Wednesday that consisted of making chocolate pie and napping on the couch in the afternoon, “there was a soldier of mine back in the war…”

The night is late and there are fireflies flying in the garden, the sky is as clear as water, and the stars shine brighter than your husband’s teeth in your wedding photo that hangs on the living room wall. Since 1939. 

“Mm?” You were half asleep with your head on his shoulder when he spoke, as beautiful as when he took your hand and slipped on a ring that made you perennially his.

You were a secret Dick Winters kept only to himself—he kept your letters reserved for late night readings, he looks at the photos you send him when he’s absolutely alone to his own devices, touch-starved and longing to hold your hand on a picnic blanket under the stars. The days he yearned to see your face again, to have you kiss his cheek and smile as beautiful as the flowers that grow in the front yard of your house, kept under wraps as he fought a war in the middle of Europe, not knowing if he’d be able to go home. 

He kept every single letter you sent him. Every single photo, every single gift you managed to shove in a small manila envelope—he used to keep them inside his closed hand as he slept, hoping to dream of you dancing in the kitchen like you used to. Cookies baking in the oven and fresh lavender sitting on the windowsill, going on the tips of your toes to peck his cheek and kiss his lips for all of eternity. Heaven is a place on Earth with you, and God knows just to what extent he’s willing to do just to spend another hour with his wrapped around your waist.

Dick knew he had to come back alive for you.

“Is it Nixon?” you asked, slowly yet steadily falling asleep on the shoulder of the man you loved so dearly. He smells of toasted almonds and fresh linen, and there’s nothing more you want than to fall asleep in his arms. 

He chuckled. “No...not Nix. You know how he is.”

The first time Lewis found out about you, Dick was at his desk reading a letter you had sent along with a picture of you, the words Miss you drawn in black ink on the back. Of course he tried numerous times to set Dick up with the folks at the bar back when they were in officer training school, failing each time until he found him looking at your picture with stars in his eyes, his thumb running over your cheek like he usually does, more beautiful than the women at the bar—Dick was in love.

He was surprised to find that Dick has a wife, let alone a significant other. Lewis thought the man was too uptight, too compliant, he would have never thought someone as beautiful as you would have married someone like him. 

“Guarnere,” he said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer, “his name is Bill Guarnere. He’s put together an Easy Company get together this Saturday. I meant to ask if you wanted to come.”

He received an invitation earlier this week.

How he got this address will forever be shrouded in mystery, but there’s no way Dick is passing off an opportunity like this.

He’ll admit, the amount of times Guarnere has accused him of being a Quaker, a Mennonite, any Christian denomination has surpassed the fingers on his hands but that doesn’t change anything between them. Dick cares and supports his men equally, although Lew may have been receiving special treatment ever since training school, and if your husband trusted these men with his own life, then you would too.

When the date finally did come, you were dressed in your best clothes with your hand intertwined with your husband’s. Wedding rings out and behold for the entire world to marvel at, hair done just the way you like and it’s for no one but yourself, Dick Winters did not look like the good bachelor he was thought to be back in the war. 

“Look who it is!” A man points at Dick with one of his crutches, square jaw and an accent anyone can acquaint to Philadelphia. “We got the whole band back together!”

Your husband reaches forward, shaking hands and exchanging smiles, and you try to avoid the stares and whispering heard from afar. You catch some of their names and faces—Bill, Babe, Joe Toye, Luz—they’re exactly how your husband described in the letters he sent to you back then.

“Gentlemen, this is my wife, Y/N,” Dick introduces you, his hand protectively on your waist and you wave to them, hoping to make a good first impression on the men he’s spent nearly half a decade fighting a war with. 

“Newlyweds?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no… actually, we’ve been married for what is it?” He turns to look at you with furrowed eyebrows, thinking exactly how many years you have been in each other’s lives. “Almost ten years now? Definitely been together for well over ten years—she’s my college sweetheart,” he says sweetly.

“Hold up,” Bill spoke on behalf of the men at the gathering, “sir, so you’re telling me that you were married the entire time we were in Toccoa, in Aldbourne, in Europe, and we didn’t even know?”

“To be fair Guarnere, we were in the middle of a war.”

“But still!” he exclaimed amidst all the chattering that erupted around them. “You’re telling me and the rest of the company that you had a wife this pretty waitin’ for ya back here? Sir, I’m glad you’ve been happily married for almost a decade, but me and the boys, we—”

“Can’t believe that someone as beautiful, smart, and witty as her married someone like me?” Dick said. “Neither can I, but I’m glad she chose me. I’m grateful that she waited that long for me to come back from the war, I’m grateful for her, I really am.” 

You can’t remember what else he said that left you with rosy cheeks and smiling the same way you did as on your first date together, but you know what waiting for Dick to come back after all those years, finally having him in your arms in the front yard of your home was worth it, and rest is history.

[eighthxjune]

aixa writes black people + love #2 community: A “World” Still Necessary

It was 1987 when A Different World premiered.  I was young, like not yet double digits, young.  Every Thursday night, at 8:30, my mom, dad, sister, brother and I gathered around the TV, belting out the show’s theme song by Phoebe Snow in season one, Aretha Franklin in seasons two through five, and Boyz II Men in its final episodes.  Those lyrics were soon my alma mater:

I know my parents loved me Stand behind me come what may I know now that I’m ready For I finally heard them say

It’s a different woorrrrrld than where ya come from

Hillman College was a pinnacle place for me.  It personified cultural identity, and as someone who grew up in a predominantly white suburban town, the only Black pupil until high school, it was majestic and I wanted to be there.  Hillman displayed the cool factor our culture exudes so effortlessly; highlighting our style, dialect, posture, passion, and purpose from every region of the country, the continent of Africa and the Caribbean.  This “world”, was different than where I came from, and it was beautiful.  It gave me hope that a place - outside of my own home - supportive, caring and nurturing existed.

I saw Black teachers champion students who didn’t see their own unique potential, and dorm directors give sage advice. Witnessed roommates with nothing in common become best friends, and confidants.  I got hyped, and danced when adamant voices rallied together until a donor ceased support of South Africa’s apartheid.  And understood what loyalty looked like when a friend rescued his homegirl from what nearly turned into a date rape.  I cheered on two Black men fighting the weapon of racial injustice brought upon by a rival school, and marveled in a student reclaiming the image of Aunt Jemima, realizing her imperial complexion was to be treasured.  I observed discoveries, rejections, failed attempts, triumphs and losses, and empathized as if they were my own, because honestly they were.  Hillman was a community, a Black community, our community, an extension of who I was, who I am.  At such a young age, it was introducing me to myself.  This “different world” was a reflection of my desires and dreams.  It was an aspirational exhibit of Black successes - a rarity shown in media. Hillman was a place that encouraged you to stretch your capacity of thought and understanding.  It valued unlearning stifled ways of thinking, to learning expansively and with zeal.

Debbie Allen, an HBCU alum of Howard University, and the show's brilliant producer, as of season two, understood the importance of telling Black stories with all of their complexities.  She used television as a tool to address what was most difficult and challenging about us.  “If we’re not doing that, we’re not doing a good job.”  She expressed to Netflix’s Strong Black Legends.  When brought on board she excitedly wrote a storyline for character Denise Huxtable (Lisa Bonet), who, at the time, was pregnant in real life.  She thought it would be great to present the experience of a young Black student from an upper middle class family, not married, about to embark on motherhood.  Though the idea got nixed by the show’s creator, Bill Cosby - who didn’t approve of Denise being pregnant in college - I wonder what her story would have developed into as a student mother, a credible notion, and one I’m certain would have advanced her role.  

See, at Hillman, students strived to be the best versions of themselves, and looked forward to reciprocating care to those who raised them.  But, even more vital, they knew their obligation to boost those who were succeeding them. They cherished their Blackness and its power.

The hub of the campus was The Pit - the school’s eatery that made an appearance in practically every episode.  It was where students solely exhaled after a day of grueling classes and friends merged to catch up on the latest of tales.  Conversations flowed candidly at this hangout and with comedic flair.  Everyone passed through the beloved grumpy owner, Mr Gaines’ (Lou Myers) spot.  Even my forever heartthrob, Tupac, made a stunning guest appearance as Piccolo, an old flame from Baltimore coming to put claims on his childhood love, Lena James (Jada Pinkett Smith).

Relationships played a significant part in character maturation at Hillman, and the love story that tugged at my heartstrings was Whitley and Dewayne, performed by Jasmine Guy and Kadeem Hardison.  Cleverly laced throughout the show’s entire series, we journeyed with a high maintenance southern debutante from Richmond, VA and a Brooklyn native in J’s and flip-up glasses, who got a perfect score on his math SATs.  Allen took us on an exciting ride while these two people - growing individually - were also hesitantly falling in love with each other.  It was the ingenious love story I needed, and subconsciously yearned for, even if I were only in the fifth grade.  How could I not gush over this attainable fairytale that spoke my love language. I kept twinkling at the idea that, ‘In just a few years, this college life will be a reality for me.’  

Although Hillman College was a fictional place, its impact tripled enrollment of Historically Black Colleges and Universities.  As you may have gathered by now, A Different World ignited my love for HBCUs, and then began my search in finding one most suitable for me; a place that served as a home and fostered my voice, since it was currently muffled, allowing others - who didn’t look like me - to feel comfortable in the presence of my Black skin.  By the time I got to high school I attended the Black College Tour, twice.  Not because I was having trouble finding a good school, but really I was in awe of the noteworthy offerings provided at these historically Black schools.  The curriculums were impressive, the faculty resembled me, and the alumni were groundbreakers.  I was visiting institutions that are irreplaceable.  There was so much to learn about myself, and it was to happen in this next phase.  During my visits, I watched students purposefully carry themselves across campus, greet friends with hugs and daps, expressively admire each other’s gear and hairstyles, pause on building steps to continue debatable class discussions, only to be interrupted by an eye-catching smile.  The exploration alone made my heart flutter, and shortly after I was back at home flexing in my new Black college apparel - showing off the schools I toured.  By senior year of high school I decided to attend Howard University in Washington, D.C. and it was more than I imagined it to be; finding me in a way I didn’t think it could.  It met me where I was and readied me to rule the world.

There have always been skeptics who find HBCUs to be limiting.  But, honestly there isn’t a place that will “teach you how to love and know yourself” like one - a necessary move after centuries of oppression; especially as a Black woman who receives bare minimum support when it comes to this country’s level of respect. These institutions encourage you to go inward and prepare yourself for life ahead, beyond Black communities.  On the backs of scarred ancestors, almost 200 years ago, HBCUs were created, reshaping American history.  Literally built by their hands, these Black forebears constructed a place to acquire a well desired education, and for once, as a majority, marked a setting where Black issues could be discussed. Despite what history instilled upon us, Black people were thriving and these HBCUs had a strong hand in making sure of that.

Howard University is a big part of my DNA, a connection made due to A Different World.  It’s not easy expressing to those who have never attended an HBCU how magical those four years were, and how much rich history is seeped in the campus soil.  However, the show is the best demonstration; restoring a feeling that will always remain in my heart, reminding me of friendships built that reside at my core.  I graduated from Howard years ago, started a career in New York and since moved to Los Angeles to begin a new chapter.  But every autumn, when I can, I race back to celebrate Howard’s homecoming, in high hopes of reliving just a taste of some of the greatest years of my life.  It's never quite the same, but I don’t expect it ever will be.

A Different World came to an “end of the road” in 1993, and now I stream its episodes to emotionally reconnect with a missed experience; watching amusingly as if I hadn’t seen each one several times already.  Because I still yearn to explore a “world” that inspires me to reach for more of myself, and a Black love story that provides hope.  And though this “world” may be different, I know, I’m not alone.

Take care of yourself.

[blair-the-navigator]

Morning Glow [pt 2]

[Takes place after Keep and Leave Behind]

“I love you. Be safe.”

Watching the forms of Milae and Yun disappear through the door, departing to a briefing with a more determined energy than when the Nix had first arrived, was oddly cathartic for a stag that still felt the slightest bit of ignorance to the state of affairs surrounding the group. Dario understood the implications of the news Akkey had brought to them; only catching on to the gravity of what it meant once Yun had his moment of vulnerability. The room fell quiet, and for the first time since his unfortunate encounter with Vox back on Haligan, he was truly alone with himself in a way that felt more lonely than he had anticipated.

Be kind to yourself, Yun.

He found himself wandering for a moment before settling in the seat that had been previously occupied by Yun. The heightened mood from before was fading quickly, replaced by the reality that they faced going into a seemingly insurmountable challenge. He let his face fall into his hands, propped up by elbows on the table.

You can do this. You have to do this.

The stag's thoughts were trailing, but not before a soft rap on the door caused him to jump in his chair. He was sure he hadn't locked it, but whatever the two of them forgot, it must have been important to turn around so quickly. Dario swung the door open, already prepared to look down to greet the man or the goat, but a less familiar face stood timidly with a paw raised, having been prepared to knock once more.

“Oh- goodness, hello. I wasn't anticipatin' ye’ ta’ answer so fast.”

Blair let his arms fall to his side, giving a slight bow as he spoke. “I was told ta' look fer ya, uh, Earl sent me. Wanted ta’ make sure you were doin' alright.”

In all of the commotion, Dario hadn't even considered the duties he had neglected. Though it was only for the day, there would be some guilt that lingered about not providing assistance to the Rebellion.

“Yeah... yeah. Thank you, for letting me know. Tell him that was on me.” Dario looked to the ground beside Blair, not wanting to go into further detail. “I'll be back tomorrow, for sure. He can count on that.”

The silence that followed created a thick tension that neither half-breed was prepared to break. Their last encounter could be classified as grim at best.

“Do- do you want to come inside? It's getting dark.” Dario stepped to the side, extending on his invitation. Blair did not move.

“Eh, I suppose I won't be 'ere too long. Got a few last minute things ta' take care of before I sleep, so I don't think that will be necessary. Thank ye', though.” The ferret had unintentionally mimicked Dario's stare at the ground, unable to look at him after the last time they had spoken. “Also wanted ta' ask if you were... doin' alright.”

“As best as I can be, given the circumstances.” Dario couldn't stifle a laugh that crept out; the last time he had seen the ferret was one of the worst days of his life, and he was sure he could say the same for the half-breed standing before him. “You seem to be healing well... those will scar nicely.”

Blair looked to his arms, littered with barely visible imperfections in his fur that were slowly beginning to settle. He knew the streaks on his face would take more time.

“A real tragedy, ain't it? A man like me should not 'ave his beautiful face marred like this.” He joked as he ran a paw across the cuts; it was easy to make a mockery of it, but the memories associated with it would sting far longer than the physical wounds. “Listen, I... I am truly sorry fer what happened to ye'. If I had know what Sy – I'm sorry, Sylar – was planning, I would not 'ave ever brushed up ta’ te' likes of him. I wish I could 'ave done more to stop it all.”

The stag had leaned against the door frame; the frigid air against his torso causing him to shiver as time went on, but he hadn't noticed. Hearing the mustelid lament about their transgressions had him thinking back on the entire situation, and what it had lead to.

“It... was a matter of time. I knew that Sylar would figure it out eventually.” Dario crossed his arms against his chest for warmth. “You were caught in it as I was. Nobody to blame but the one who isn't around to hear it anymore.”

“I suppose yer right about that.”

“I am sorry, I haven't asked your name.” Dario grabbed for a cloak that was hung near their door, draping it around himself. “If you don't mind me asking, that is.”

“Blair.” The ferret held out a paw slowly, determining whether the stag would be receptive to it. “Blair Birns. I am glad to make yer acquaintance on better terms.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Blair.” Dario took it gently, cognizant of his still-healing hand. “It must be strange here. You weren't a part of the Rebellion during the last few weeks... so what is next for you?”

Blair scratched at his neck with his claws, thinking on the question for a moment. He hadn't given much thought to his own plans, other than taking each day and surviving.

“I'll be honest with ye' – I don't think I'll be stayin' 'ere fer long. I left home fer my own reasons, and I might just head back. Not sure quite yet.”

“I can respect that. Where is home?”

“Vansvindar, a ways north from 'ere. I don't reckon you would be too familiar with it, eh?”

“Other than hearing the name, unfortunately not.” The name had come up in passing during a conversation Vox and Dario had with a pair of merchants during their travels, but it was so many years ago that the stag could not rely on his recollection as fact. “I'm sure it would be nice to be home for a while.”

“Aye, it would. It would...” Blair could feel himself overstaying his welcome; the light of day had nearly expired along the horizon. “Best be takin' my leave. I'll be sure ta’ see ye' before I depart. Please, let me know if I can help ye' wit anything.”

“Likewise, Blair. I look forward to it.”

The ferret worked up a grin as he turned to head back to his temporary housing; Dario returning the same. His trudge across the Jaw was slow and growing colder with each step, but the sense of loneliness that had overcome him in recent days was shrinking in a way that made the trip much more tolerable. There was no plan for Blair beyond getting through another night, but the prospects of a new day finally felt as if they held unimaginable opportunity.

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 2

See what you’ve missed here …

We had been meeting at The Grind on Tuesday’s, Wednesday’s, & Saturday’s for the last two weeks. We discussed last names, home towns, the obvious sports, and the strange hatred we shared for cherry licorice. I took notes on the path that led him to becoming a fighter, & he filled me in on his basic training habits for a fight of this magnitude. He had been on the wrestling team throughout high school, & could’ve hand picked from the patch any college he wanted to attend, and a scholarship would’ve been offered on a silver platter. For a moment, I let myself envision Colton sporting a varsity letterman jacket marking the halls as captain of the wrestling team. The mental illustration may have produced an overdose of lust, which caused me to shift lustfully in my seat. He chose a rowdier way instead, consisting of drugs & some extra-curricular gambling debt, leaving him in need of some quick pocket cash before he quote, ‘got ran down by some greasy-haired bookie’. Enter, the dabbling inside the octagon. 

The first two matches he had managed to pin down had been easy defeats to his pleasant surprise, & a blue fired flame had been lit in his core. The adrenaline. The passion. The sheer ruthlessness was something he said he became dangerously addicted to. The rush of feeling alive, yet toying with combative death, replaced his desires of betting. As he climbed the latter of men’s’ competitive cage-fighting, his mom had fallen ill in the meantime. Leading him eagerly back home to her side, and promising to lay down his habitual drug use, and shady gambling. But the fighting, no. He explained how it had become his only way a life, and an outlet amid all the worrisome stress of his mother’s illness. And his speculations of my Pilot family beaming with excitement once I dropped the story onto their desks, had been correct. Ryan, my boss, had guaranteed me a full front-page for my “excellent snag.”

 This particular Saturday morning strayed away from the typical routine the two of us had settled into. Colton suggested I join him for his morning run through the city, and he’d show me around to some of the crevices of Pittsburgh I hadn’t seen. If I’m truthful, nothing about trouncing through the freezing streets of downtown Pittsburgh, in the dead of winter, at 4 a.m. appealed to my senses. However, the added minutes of Colton to my day, were ones I would gladly grasp on to. He offered to meet at my place, because it was “a real bad idea for a girl like me to be wondering alone in the streets at the break of daylight.”

Finishing my second layer of apparel, I took one last survey in the mirror dragging on the thermal elastic headpiece. My dirty blonde waves were tied in a tight ponytail, and I nixed the makeup, concluding this morning would involve ample sweating. I checked my watch spitting out the last remnants of toothpaste, assuring I wouldn’t have my running partner waiting. At that very second, I heard a heavy knock on my door. Spewing a nervous exhale, I made my way to the front of the apartment, loosening my tensed shoulders, and rolling my neck along the way. This was a simple run, not a date. He would probably have headphones stuffed in his ears the entire time, forgetting I was even tagging along at his side. So, why was my stomach twisting dopy somersaults?

I swung the dark green barrier open, and his freshly awoken, soft eyes trailed up my form. “Good-morning sunshine.” He checked his watch, “And I see you’re right on schedule.”

I slung the thick mane off my shoulder as a “take that” to his cheeky tone of surprise at my ability to flop out of bed this time of day. I squeezed the handle closing the door behind me assuring I had locked it, and we made our way down the silent stairs from my upper level abode.

“How far are we going again?” I kicked myself for only now deciding to request that particular information.  

“I tracked a course that’ll bring us right back to your place. It’s just 4 miles. You think ya’ can handle it, hot shot?” He smiled teasingly & began jogging backwards out of sight without any warning. What had I gotten myself into?

 Just as he’d promised, we completed his perfectly mapped out 4-mile route, ending at the very steps of my apartment complex. There wasn’t much talking along the way, but he’d shoot me a wink shaking his head, impressed that I was able to keep up. We decided to skip out on The Grind, & instead I extended an invite for coffee at my place.

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get the pot started.”

As I was pulling mugs & filling the Mr. Coffee, I watched him intently from afar. He began wandering around my living room looking at every picture I had framed on display. Senior prom with all the girls from the team, my best friend Sara & I on our unplanned trip to Mexico before I left home. He seemed genuinely interested in seeing more of me and his eyes smiled, meticulously observing a deeper look at my life in the snapshots. Who I really was, and where I came from. I could feel a warm snicker sneak onto my lips at the realization.

While the liquid brewed in the kitchen, I found my way back to the living room to join my guest. I dead-weighted myself onto the leather couch with a dramatic, exhausted sigh.

“And here I thought you were in shape after stayin’ on my ass this morning.” He laughed, making his way to the open seat next to me. I extended a light kick in his direction for the insult.

“Next time, my rules. Let’s see how the big bad cage fighter takes on 100 suicide sprints, huh?” Suicides were Coach Gibson’s chosen form of torture, and boy, did he torture us. I considered myself a master of the trade by sophomore year.

“Do you ever miss it? Basketball, I mean?” He propped his sculpted arm on the back of the couch and turned to face me, and his eyes held such sincere interest.

“Every day. It was my way of life. I think, maybe my injury was life’s way of telling me it was time to expand. Grow up, ya’ know? Time to make another name for myself.”

“You have no idea much I get that, Liv. Honestly. But, it looks like you done pretty well for yourself on ya’ own two feet out here.”

That was enough about me, and the basketball topic for today. Ball would lead to my parents, my parents would unveil the family drama, and it wasn’t the right time for such. I needed to shift his attention to something lighter, and quick. But the shift it took, was not one I expected.

“I still can’t seem to get warm! My whole face is numb,” I shuddered.

He reached his masculine hands over playfully to smoosh my cheeks in an attempt to warm my frozen skin, my lips forming into that of a duck face. I reached for his wrists, giving a weak effort to pry his scorching hands from my face with a chuckle. My doe eyes locked with his, and I watched them turn from lighthearted and tender, to darkly mischievous. Our bodies tensed in unison, and he lightened the grip he had on my now very flushed skin, but didn’t release. His dark shadow slowly carried itself into my personal space, and I knew what was coming next. I didn’t dare rush the intensity of this moment, nor do anything to stop the inevitable. The misty bluish orbs on his face danced from my eyes, to my lips. Eyes, to lips. Eyes, to lips. His left hand eased back a fly away strand of hair that was sticking to the apple balm on my mouth, then he coated his own lips before they finally reached their desired destination.

They were every bit as perfect, and downy as I knew they’d be. Instantly, my first reaction was to melt to doughy-like putty when his large arms slowly began to cloak my small form. I was nearly high from the sheer bliss, and my entire body appeared to lose feeling. Yet, it seemed feel everything in the air at the very same time. Limbs immobilized, along with my mouth, which was doing little to sustain its role in what was transpiring between us. I pinched my thigh between two fingers to awaken myself, & suddenly my body caught up with my mind. I reached my arm up to caress the back of his thick neck as he began to deepen the kiss, grazing my fingers through the baby hairs that laid sweat slicked there.

We just jogged 4 miles, how does he smell so good?

I could vaguely taste drops of salty sweat leftover from our morning adventure. His hands wandered over my hips to the small of my back, squeezing almost as if he didn’t realize his own strength. A glossy tongue tickled my lips gently requesting entrance. All too eagerly I obliged & opened my mouth to welcome him in with lazy a mewl of need. Our tongues danced to an unfamiliar rhythm in efforts to learn how the other moved. I could feel the build between my thighs becoming irrefutable, causing the stickler in me to pull away abruptly. I accepted this night would likely end with a forbidden visit from my battery-operated friend stored in my bedside table.

“Woah, Ritter. Let’s take a breather, yeah? Didn’t see that coming.”

His face still dangerous, minimal inches from mine he spoke. “Honest? I been plannin’ that one since the second I laid eyes on ya’, kid.” He winked & bit his pillowy bottom lip, nearly sending me choked over the edge of heated exile.

I dipped my head feeling the flush rise up my neck. Colton Ritter was pushing all the right buttons & he knew it. “How about that coffee now? Although, I’d say it’s plenty warm in here at this point...” I grinned.

I escorted him to the kitchen, seemingly walking with the legs of a clumsy fawn, and served him a dark cup of caffeine. He asked about some of the pictures he’d noticed throughout the house, & I told a few old basketball tales from my “glory days.”

“What would you say to gettin’ together again sometime, Liv? Someplace other than The Grind, & no damn sweats allowed. For either of us.”

I patiently held off on answering, giving my best effort to play it off calmly. “I think I could manage that just fine. I might even enjoy it, too.”

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

[thesportssoundoff]

Holiday Shopping For The UFC’s Dozen Weight Classes

Joey

December 20th, 2018

The HAPPIEST of holidays to you and yours and I hope whatever you’re celebrating turns out to be the best one yet. This time of year isn’t every for everybody so if you’re a dude or lady out there struggling, remember that there’s always help to be found out there. If the holidays got ya down then don’t feel weak going out there getting yourself the help you need to make it through. We are, as they say, in this together and there are probably more folks out there just like you than ya realize. On the other hand, if you’re like me and this time of year is your favorite time of the year then here’s hoping these last five anticipatory days aren’t too gruesome for ya. Hopefully you did your shopping early enough to where it’s all about the waiting game and you aren’t that guy who waits to the last minute, runs into a CVS and grabs your mom or dad the first gift card that catches your eye on the rack.

MMA in 2018 was...strange and like most of combat sports, filled with plenty of unfulfilled wishes and genuinely cool moments overall. For all we gripe, I’d argue that ONE, Bellator, UFC, PFL and *insert regional organizaton here* delivered enough that we as fans should’ve been satisfied. For as much as we may gripe about the UFC, there’s zero doubt that they gave us plenty of good shit down the stretch of another long grueling schedule. With all of that laid bare, I wanted to do something different and instead of talking about what I want from MMA under my proverbial holiday tree, I’d spin it around and look at what each weight class in the UFC would be asking for. What does each weight class NEED for 2019?

Women's Strawweight

Big Gift: Finishes

The UFC's strawweight class has had it rough in 2018 which is weird because the talent level has never been higher. The hardcore journey into Asia has netted some new talent for the coffers from China and South Korea primarily plus Brazil churned out a collection of intriguing yet raw 115 lb fighters. The division also has seen a rise of domestic talents like Maycee Barber, Mackenzie Dern (She was BORN here so hush) and Tatiana Suarez all having fantastic years with proven names like Karolina K, Michelle Waterson, Jessica Andrade, Courtney Casey, Angela Hill and Tecia Torres stepping up. We even got a return from Cynthia Calvillo to further deepen what is a very talented and deep class. Even without Rose Namajunas, lost into early to mid 2019 due to neck problems, the division has seen plenty of damn good fights and intriguing names step up. The problem is that nobody in this division seemingly can finish fights. When news of the UFC's impending end of the flyweight division started circulating, statistics about finishes, punches thrown and knockdowns were floating around. Flyweights averaged the second lowest amount of finishes due to strikes, the second lowest percentage of finishes related to the number of strikes thrown per fight and finishes overall. The divisions behind flyweight in all those categories? Women's strawweight! There's a subculture of fans on twitter who make a killing taking the over on strawweight fights. At one point during the year, we had gone 12 straight strawweight fights without a finish. Deep into August, strawweight's finish per fight percentage was almost absurdly low. To the division's credit, the year has ended strong as we have had a 50% finish rate in all strawweight fights since UFC 228 in September. That doesn't make up for the total lack of finishes due to strikes but as a sub can be as fun as a TKO if we're being fair. The division has a wealth of talent, has seen some solid matchmaking and a decline in the importance of the grinder types who tend to slug their way through fifteen minute affairs. We're getting more athletes, more active fighters, less fighters who have a tendency to struggle in exchanges and just a better quality of MMA overall from the strawweights. Even accounting for talent taken for the 125 lb class, the health of this division seems strong. Just get folks finishing fights, keep giving us quality fights and get Rose back.

Stocking Stuffer: No weight cutting snafus

Flyweight

Big Gift: The Christmas Miracle

Simply put, the flyweight division needs a miracle. They got an extension on their life support with UFC on ESPN+ requiring a main event and TJ vs Cejudo getting bumped over. Those are temporary cures to a long term problem at flyweight; a problem that isn't going to be fixed with just one fight especially when MMA memories are fleeting. This division needs a new attitude, a new outlook and a new semblance of fan appreciation. You can be mad about Dana for a lot of things but he is 100% right when he says that he hopes the MMA media and their fans are as supportive of flyweight if it sticks around as they were when the Turk came around to claim the weight class. This division needs a Christmas miracle and the only person capable of delivering this is Henry Cejudo on January 19th. If Cejudo can't beat Dillsahw then this division probably does die a long painful drawn out death. Dillashaw would be a two time champion and the UFC would probably quietly nix the weight class rather than have yet another guy hogging up two belts. Cejudo remains the one man who can lengthen this division out. He has to beat Dillashaw and even that might just delay the inevitable. It has to be the sort of win that says that 125 lbs is only getting better with more talent inside of it than ever before. He has to basically blame Mighty Mouse for not taking the challenges the fans asked for and prove that flyweights aren't just smaller fighters but the best small fighters the UFC has.

Stocking Stuffer: A talker

Women's Flyweight

Big Gift: An identity

I suppose a hearty "Finally!" is owed to Valentina Shevchenko. After Nicco Montano struggled to heal up from a variety of injuries and ultimately missed weight, Valentina won her first ever UFC title with a decision win over Joanna Jedrzejczyk and got a jolt back into the UFC's floundering OTHER flyweight division. While she's not the champion that people want, she's the champion we got and Valentina is the sort of fighter who I imagine will have zero problems fighting anywhere 2-3 times a year in a division that could use a consistent champion. This division if anything needs stability and its own identity; something that can help clear the air of the stink that flyweight is just the scraps of 115 lbs and 135 lbs fighting out over a title nobody wanted but wound up getting in the name of inclusivity. It needs some sort of structure to be carved out the way that 115 lbs went through the growing pains of crafting its own hierarchy. It went from the TUF ladies to Joanna as this overpowering overconfident champion ruling over this division of young up and comers with something for everyone. There's no Ronda here to make everything relevant so the matchmaking and the women involved will need to do some heavy lifting. If flyweight turns into a "Who can Valentina 49-46 next?" then this division will be hopeless to ever go anywhere. It needs something that makes it stand out and fighters on the come up who can really present themselves differently.

Stocking Stuffer: Continued Depth

Bantamweight

Big Gift: Actual title fights

Stocking Stuffer: More Main Events

Over the past two years, we have had TWO bantamweight title fights. We had Cody vs TJ 1 in November of 2017 and Cody vs TJ 2 in August of 2018. This division has become such a tremendous hotbed for talent, earnest rivalries and developing unique fighters that it's a shame that the title picture has become so stagnant. Even if you were the kind of guy who got tired of Cruz vs  Team Alpha Male, you gotta admit that was at least an angle that could reliably turn out consistent title fights. Cody vs TJ was obviously a financial hit but the counter argument is that the desire to stop and start and wait for the first fight then the rematch created what we have now. The division is clearly not helped by that plus we've also got a logjam now with TJ going down to 125 lbs to fight Cejudo in a super fight that's kinda not super at all given that IF ANYTHING the argument can be made that Cejudo is the guy more qualified within his own division as it pertains to having a reason FOR a super fight. TJ has an immediate #1 contender waiting on him in Moraes and while I believe he proved who the man was vs Raphael Assuncao in their last encounter, the fact remains they're tied up and a trilogy is a just fight. Not good or entertaining but a just fight. That doesn't even begin to account for fighters like Jimmie Rivera, Pedro Munhoz, Dominick Cruz, Aljamain Sterling and the winner of Petr Yan/Douglas Silva de Andrade as compelling title fights in the potentially near future. This division needs title fights next year; not one, not the promise of multiple ones but actual honest to goodness fresh compelling new title fights with fresh new challengers for TJ Dillashaw.

Women's Bantamweight

Big Gift: A Pulse

If not for the legacy crafted by Ronda, Holly and Miesha, we'd be saying the stuff we say about the 125 lb class for men in this division too. We don't need to re-litigate what ails the 135 lb class. Divisions one up and one down raided the middle class and took away reliable names like Jessica Eye, Holly Holm, Alexis Davis, Liz Carmouche and Valentina Shevchenko to name a few. Retirement and pregnancies took away the star power from the division, namely the likes of Ronda Rousey, Miesha Tate and Julianna Pena. What remains is a hollowed out husk of a division that has no signs of life left in it. Amanda Nunes vs Rocky Pennington is probably the worst title fight of 2018 and I suppose it spoke to the depth of this division that Pennington on a near two year layoff plus a broken leg was the right choice for the title fight. At the end of the day, 135 lbs just needs something. It needs some sort of a pulse and a reminder that it has its place in MMA. It needs someone to invest in it or some star to emerge from out of nowhere to step up and create some talent within it.

Stocking Stuffer: A TUF

Featherweight

Big Gift: Some divisional air freshener

Can great fights and great fighters get stale? 2017 began with Max Holloway and Jose Aldo on a collision course with Frankie Edgar on the outskirts looking in and a collection of proven quality fighters who had been beaten by some combination of the three as the filler. The "upside" was in guys like Yair Rodriguez, Renato Moicano and Brian Ortega. 2018 began with Max Holloway as the sole head of the division with Jose Aldo as the clear #2 fighter, Frankie Edgar on the outskirts looking in and a collection of proven quality fighters who had been beaten by some combination of the three as the filler. The "upside" guys were Renato Moicano, Brian Ortega and Zhabit Magomedsharipov. In 2019, we will enter the  year with Max Holloway as the sole head of the division with Jose Aldo as the clear #2 fighter, Frankie Edgar on the outskirts looking in and a collection of proven quality fighters who had been beaten by some combination of the three as the filler. The likes of Cub Swanson, Jeremy Stephens, Ricardo Lamas, Darren Elkins and company continue to be the filler. The likes of Renato Moicano and Brian Ortega have graduated in value but I don't think either fighter at this moment can say they're above Jose Aldo (while Ortega can absolutely make a claim that he's the #3 guy). Most of these guys have all fought one another or fought someone who has fought Edgar, Aldo or Holloway. This division could use some freshening up and something new going on with it. Maybe that's Moicano taking the FINAL step up to replace Edgar or Aldo at the top of the charts or maybe Ortega is back in a title fight before 2019 ends. Maybe the likes of Alexander Volkanovski,  Zhabit Magomedsharipov, Yair Rodriguez and can survive the gatekeeper's boss run that is the likes of Swanson, Edgar, Lamas and Elkins in some form or fashion. Hell maybe even guys like Michael Johnson and Chad Mendes can continue to be a vibrant little surprise, racking up some timely wins and preventing new challenges. This division is realistically the best division in MMA but if we end 2019 with the same old same old at the top then I'm going to have to call foul there.

Stocking Stuffer: Health and happiness for action fighters

Women's Featherweight

Big Gift:  An investment

The UFC is building performance institutes all over the world and I think that's great. It's their money, spend it how ya wish on what you like. That said if the UFC wants this featherweight class to live beyond Cyborg skipping out, it may be time to put those PI's to their best uses. Even if people cry favoritism, use the UPI's to restock the shelves in WMMA. Let athletes in need of a home stop in there, train for free, board for free and then try to find them gyms you're comfortable with to continue their careers. There's no reason that women's hockey/basketball/softball/wrestling athletes aren't being tempted with continuing their athletic careers in the UFC. That requires an understanding of failure and the tacit knowledge that you may invest hundreds of thousands into people who may not make it. Invest in your product long term, realize you might sink a cost or two and reap the benefits over the long term. It CAN be done.

Stocking Stuffer: A drama free year out of Cyborg (or whoever your champ is)

Lightweight

Big Gift: Detangler

Any other division in the world with the likes of Khabib Nurmagomedov, Conor McGregor, Tony Ferguson, Dustin Poirier, Kevin Lee, Al Iaquinta, Paul Felder, James Vick, Justin Gaethje, Donald Cerrone, Anthony Pettis, David Teymur, Alexander Hernandez and countless others would be a pretty damn hot division and to its credit 155 lbs is pretty damn hot. Even if we can express disappointment in some of the ratings this division has drawn, the fights have been absolutely outstanding as a whole on the year. What this division really needs though is some detangler to help us figure out just what the hell we've got going on here. Is Khabib going to be out for a year? Is Conor? Will Ferguson fight ONLY for a title or will he be active again like in years past? Is Al Iaquinta really a top 5 LW? Can guys like Kevin Lee and James Vick bounce back from rough showings at the end of the year? We've got a loaded division but not a lot happening in large part due to the Khabib and Conor situation and also due to Ferguson and Poirier seemingly getting stuck in between fighting and not fighting for various reasons.  This division deserves a bit better luck than that.

Stocking Stuffer: A 165 lbs division

Welterweight

Big Gift: The element of danger

I've sort of beaten this into the crowd to the point where it's lost effectiveness so I won't belabor the point much longer. 170 lbs needs somebody to finish a fight. It needs a title fight with actual buzz and not buzz about seeing who can race to the bottom first. This is the UFC's weirdest, wackiest division which is somewhat unfortunate given the history of 170 lbs as a whole.

Stocking Stuffer: A Renaissance run from an old horse

Middleweight

Big Gift: Continued youthful and exciting international imports

There's some life here! For once, middleweight has some life going on with it! After the 2014/2015 run where Weidman, Rockhold, Whittaker and a bunch of TUF guys stepped up and showed out, the division hit a lull until this year. We got some glory days runs out of the likes of Jacare and Chris Weidman, we had Yoel Romero fight two times a year like a mad man but we also had the likes of Israel Adesanya, Karl Roberson, Paulo Costa, Thiago Santos and Jared Cannonier mark their arrivals as forces to be reckoned with at 185 lbs. The Contenders Series gave us fighters like Kevin Holland, Ian Henisch and Edemen Shahbazyan. Fighters like Tom Breese and Darren Till realized that lopping off limbs to make 170 lbs was a bad idea. For the first time in the history of the UFC, we're going to get a middleweight title fight between two guys under the age of 30. Even if you account for the fact that Chris Weidman and Luke Rockhold are bound to leave the division soon, it doesn't actually feel like a death shot which is pretty amazing given 185's reliability on aging fighters to keep it afloat. What this division needs is really just more of the same. More fighters under 30 popping into the mix, less weathered proven mid tier gatekeepers being given opportunities over and over that they consistently come up short in. Keep building 185 lbs, man. We'll eventually have a serious division in short order.

Stocking Stuffer: One Jacare title fight

Light Heavyweight

Big Gift: Help

Help. SOMEBODY. Jesus christ, somebody help this god forsaken division. Anthony Smith and Thiago Santos are top 10 LHWs after a few fights! The only three really intriguing prospects are Johnny Walker, Dominick Reyes (who no longer feels like a prospect) and Aleksandr Rakic. This division needs help. It needs fresh new fighters, reinforcements from 185 lbs or just something. We're a win, a suspension and a bad sneeze from Gustafsson away from Shogun vs Jan Blachowicz as a title fight in 2019.

Stocking Stuffer: MULTIPLE Jon Jones fights

Heavyweight

Big Gift: The Same Old Same Old

Honestly I know there are folks who dislike the heavyweight division but let's be honest. This is a golden era for big doughy dudes doing big things. We've got old horses having renaissance years in Daniel Cormier. Alexei Olyenik and Junior Dos Santos. Derrick Lewis got to fight for a title! The European HW scene is popping with new guys springing up every other month seemingly. We got to see fighters like Arjan Bhullar and Tai Tuivasa get tested a little bit with some adversity. We might be finally getting some sort of ROI on guys like Justin Willis, Curtis Blaydes and Walt Harris. Francis Ngannou and Alistair Overeem both ended the year on the right side of the tracks. Despite our best reservations or concerns, Greg Hardy is coming and will step into the cage as literally the best athlete in HW division history. Even CAIN VELASQUEZ has apparently had the cobwebs blown off of him! The UFC heavyweight division is doing okay and everything will be alright. Just keep doing what you're doing, try to sign some more of these up and coming European heavies, be a bit more careful with the prospects you've got and let the division keep on keeping on. Long live Heavyweight MMA!

Stocking Stuffer: A semblance of an heir apparent or two

[sleemo]

How Star Wars authors work with Lucasfilm and earn creative control

— SYFY WIRE

Is there a franchise more secretive than Star Wars? Disney and Lucasfilm are notorious for keeping upcoming projects locked away in an inaccessible vacuum and maintaining an air of mystery and secrecy around every aspect of the franchise (at least the stuff that happens on screen). In an age when trailer and spoiler leaks are the norm, Star Wars is air tight.

But that secrecy isn't limited to the films. Every aspect of the Star Wars universe — films, television, books, games, comics — is held to the same standard. Book and comic announcements are major news, and nearly everything — across all media — connects to tell the story of a cohesive galaxy.

Star Wars is one of the few transmedia properties where "canon" is given nearly equal weight as solid storytelling.

Enter the Lucasfilm Story Group, which was formed in 2014 (following the Disney purchase) and is composed of roughly a dozen people responsible for maintaining order — and keeping all of the creative ducks in a row — within the Star Wars universe. No small feat, that.

Since then, one of the most persistent questions among fans is how much creative control the Story Group has over various projects. And when it comes to books (of which there are many), how much freedom do the authors really have to tell their own stories?

Turns out, they have quite a bit! SYFY WIRE reached out to a number of Star Wars authors, and if there's a common theme among their answers, it's that they have almost total creative freedom.

Leland Chee, the official "Keeper of the Holocron" is one of a few people on the Story Group who also helped control the creative strings before the Disney purchase. In other words, his experience managing "canon" predates the Story Group. Because of that, he has a unique view on how the role has changed.

"We've got more content [now] then I ever thought we'd have. Before we had a Story Group, what George did with the films and The Clone Wars was pretty much his universe," Chee said. "He didn't really have that much concern for what we were doing in the books and games. So the Expanded Universe was very much separate. What we had to do in the Expanded Universe was, if George did something in the films that contradicted something we had done in the Expanded Universe, then we'd have to change the EU to match what he did in the films."

"[For example,] all of a sudden, lightsabers can only be blue, green, purple, or red. That means we've got to take out these yellow lightsabers. OK... Jedi can't marry. So, this Jedi over here that got married, we'll have to figure that out. So there was a lot of that — having to retcon to compensate for what's being done by George in the films.

"So with the Story Group overseeing all of the content in film and television and elsewhere, we don't have to retroactively make those changes. We can anticipate those changes. We can seed things in one medium [and see them grow] in another. So we might be seeding things in books or TV that you might not realize is substantial until years down the road. And if people knew what the road map looked like, they would just be floored."

Perhaps the most public face of the Story Group (thanks to social media), Pablo Hidalgo clarifies their surprisingly hands-off role: "All of us in the Story Group are here to help creatives find the story they're trying to tell in Star Wars. Sometimes that means feedback regarding continuity. Sometimes that just means feedback based on how we think the story is shaping up."

And that sentiment was overwhelmingly echoed by the authors with whom I spoke. They almost all describe approaching their respective projects with a bit of trepidation, expecting the Story Group to micromanage their stories and mandate story/character changes in the interest of continuity. The truth, as it turns, is something quite different.

Chuck Wendig (Aftermath trilogy) describes the process almost verbatim with Hidalgo: "I had a lot of freedom to develop and shape the story; guidance from Lucasfilm was about sharpening that story and bringing my vision in line with the storyworld at large. It was pretty much the ideal relationship, and I never felt stifled or managed."

Adam Gidwitz (So You Want to Be a Jedi?) describes the process as empowering and exciting, even though one of his ideas was nixed by the Story Group. "One thing they did shoot down was an idea I had early on in the process. [I wanted it to] be a Jedi teaching a young Padawan this story soon after [Return of the Jedi] concluded. And they had said that because J.J. Abrams had been contractually given a perfectly clean slate for Episode VII that I could not even imply the existence of Jedi after Episode VI."

Still, Gidwitz got to retell The Empire Strikes Back in the second person, an unconventional approach that shows the flexibility of the group.

And according to Tom Angleberger (Beware the Power of the Dark Side!), it was Lucasfilm's willingness to roll with Gidwitz's non-traditional take on Empire that gave him the courage to suggest a similar creative risk with his adaptation of Return of the Jedi.

"I remember being really nervous about telling the story the way I wanted to. And then we were there at Skywalker Ranch, and I'm so nervous that I'm just going to get shot down when I say I want to have the 'dear reader' style of writing," he remembered. "And then Adam goes, 'I'm going to tell mine in the second person!' And then I was like, 'Oh, I'm doing dear reader.' Because Adam broke the ice with that second person thing, and they were so supportive of it! They were like, 'Go for it!' So I realized that, wow, they really do want us to go for it."

Angleberger confirmed that he had "almost no parameters" while writing the book. "But we knew that eventually the Story Group was going to have to look at it. We knew we wouldn't get away with everything, but we also knew that we were allowed to at least try to get away with stuff. And I got away with some really fun stuff."

For her part, Alexandra Bracken (The Princess, the Scoundrel, and the Farm Boy) was not allowed to read Gidwitz's or Angleberger's adaptations of the original trilogy in advance of writing her adaptation of A New Hope, but she was told about Gidwitz's decision to use the second person.

"It was in the sense that they were trying to show me that I could do whatever I wanted with it. [My editor] told me that, first and foremost, they wanted me to have a ton of fun writing the book," she said. "And initially I was not having fun writing the book because I was so stressed out about it. And then I had a separate visit to Lucasfilm, and the Story Group said, 'You can make little changes and alterations. We just don't want you to contradict something that's in the film itself or anything that's upcoming in The Force Awakens. But you can make little scene adjustments and alter the dialogue a little bit to better suit your needs.'"

Claudia Gray (Lost Stars; Bloodline; Leia: Princess of Alderaan) was initially approached to write a YA "Romeo & Juliet in space" set adjacent to the events of the original trilogy. With a few relatively minor exceptions, she was set loose to write whatever story she wanted. "I thought, when they came to me, they were going to tell me what to write, but that was very much not the case. I had a lot of freedom. The outline had to be approved, but it was my outline and they really let me tell the story I wanted to tell. It was wonderful."

John Jackson Miller (A New Dawn) is one of only a very few authors who straddle the line and has written for the franchise both before and after the Disney purchase. His novels exist in both the "old canon" (now Legends) and "new canon."

Miller explains, "Back before 2014, Lucasfilm had their fiction team proofread everything and approved the stories that go forward. But I think, then, it was more a matter of air traffic control—of them being aware of all the other things that were going on and coming out, and just wanting to make sure that things we did didn't collide with things that were going on elsewhere."

From his perspective, there are a few changes with the Story Group in place, but it's "not so much a matter of content flowing in our direction as the authors, but like 'Hey, here's a character you should name-drop.'" For example, when he was writing his short story "Bottleneck" (which appears in The Rise of the Empire), he was asked to insert a character who would later appear in Alexander Freed's Battlefront: Twilight Company.

"It wasn't a heavy-handed 'This is what this story is about,' but it was guidance in the sense of 'Here's something that's going to come out fairly far down the line, and if you insert this character now, it'll look like we planned it.' And in fact, we did! In the past, it was possible for characters in one medium to pop up in another, but it kind of happened organically and it wasn't something that was done by design."

Cecil Castellucci (Moving Target) had a similar experience. "You have to understand, [I was writing] before The Force Awakens came out. We didn't know what was going to happen, and nobody was allowed to know anything. So there were things in my book, and I didn't even know what I knew. I wrote a framework for the story and then [the editors] would come in and pepper little things in. It kind of worked like that. I knew that Leia was going to be giving her memoirs to a droid. So I just named the droid whatever. But then they were like, 'No, this is the name of the droid: PZ-4CO.' Because they knew he would end up in the movie. And he does! You hear his name! I was probably the only person who was excited about that. It was kind of like, you do your thing, and then other people come in and course correct."

So how much freedom did Ben Acker and Ben Blacker (Join the Resistance) have when they started writing their series? Blacker doesn't even hesitate. "Oh, so much freedom. It is absolutely the book that we wanted to write. I would say, there's not really oversight, but there's guidance, and that's really an editor's job. And [our editor] did a really terrific job with it. The big thing that the Story Group (who reads everything) provides is just their knowledge of what's going on in every corner of the Star Wars universe. They're really good at looking at an outline of the manuscript and saying, Well, you can't use this kind of droid because it's no longer in use 30 years after Jedi, but what about this kind of droid? Or instead of using this kind of alien, why don't you make up a new alien so it doesn't have ties to anything and you get to own a piece of the Star Wars universe? That's been a really cool and surprising thing."

What's fascinating about the Star Wars publishing machine is that there's also an entire library of "nonfiction" titles that dive deeper into the details and minutiae of the universe. Adam Bray (Ultimate Star Wars; Star Wars: Absolutely Everything You Need to Know) is intimately familiar with these.

"In 'nonfiction' Star Wars writing, the freedom I have varies a little from project to project. My primary objective is to work within existing canon and tell it like it already is. But sometimes there are gaps that need to be filled in. In these instances, the Story Group folks give me a lot of freedom to invent new information, as long as I run it by them later for approval. This tends to be background details rather than storylines, though occasionally these details might suggest a little story waiting to be told.

"When I worked on the guides for the animated Star Wars Rebels series, the show was new, so there were lots of vehicles and technology that needed names and stats, so that kept me busy. Numbers and droid names are a fun thing to invent, especially if you can tie them to something meaningful. If I have questions about obscure details, I can consult Leland Chee or Pablo Hidalgo at Lucasfilm. And one or more members of the Story Group always reads my manuscripts, fact-checks, and provides feedback for both in- and out-of-universe content."

The amazing thing about Star Wars, though, is that the members of the Story Group are very accessible to fans. Find me another fandom that can say that. Pablo Hidalgo (@pablohidalgo), Leland Chee (@HolocronKeeper), and Matt Martin (@missingwords) are all very active on Twitter and responsive to fans. But please be respectful and reasonable.

Hidalgo's Twitter bio used to read "2 rules: Don't pitch anything. Please don't ask me about the future."

You can bet they've heard it all.

— SYFY WIRE

[hiddenxtreasures-blog]

My muse has been hiding an injury from yours. Send 🤕 for your muse to confront mine about it! - All

Even if he wouldn’t bring it up or even say it out loud, Maddox knew that something was wrong. Ben hadn’t been down to see him in longer than usual--though, there was always a chance his sense of time was off because that happened more often than not. Still, he was sure something was up because no matter what, the Demon had never stayed away this long, even if their last encounter had been a battle from start to finish. His suspicions were confirmed when the cell door creaked open and hands he didn’t know were snatching him out. Of course Maddox fought the guard, he always did. Whatever was up, he was sure he wasn’t going to like it so the struggle continued up until the moment he was deposited at Ben’s door. The fight drained out of him a little, but once he walked inside, he was deflated completely. The Demon looked...tired? He’d never seen the other in any state less than violent and in complete control and the fact that Ben didn’t bark an order or lunge for him immediately actually worried Maddox a little. The lack of reaction to his appearance wasn’t what he should have been concerned with though and before he’d opened his mouth to snark off, the man shifted and he could see the wound on his side. Eyes went wide at the sight and a bit of panic shot through him. “Tha fuck happened to ya?” he snapped, moving closer without warning. “Is this why I ain’t seen ya? How long have ya...Is it...somethin’ they can fix?” Maddox’s mind raced suddenly with all the possibilities of the injury and there wasn’t a single one that he liked. Ben was the first in far too long--probably ever--that he...liked and he wasn’t ready to let that go just yet. “Look, I dunno why ya called for me. Ya know I can’t...I’m just a human. Ya need to get fixed up or whatever. Call a Faerie or a Witch or some shit. Like now. Ya got that kinda juice, right?”

 Christian was more than used to the cold shoulder from Cosette by this point. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if the woman was truly still unforgiving or if she simply enjoyed the back and forth now, but either way, he’d grown accustomed to her simply ignoring him, walking by as if he didn’t exist. Even when he spoke. Still, it didn’t stop him from speaking every single time his eyes fell on her. He greeted the other Vampire and complimented her as always and just as usual, she passed by, not sparing a glance. But something was different about her, off even. A scent or something. Rather than continuing on as he normally would have, Christian followed after Cosette, his eyes raking over her again and again. Gloves. The kind that went all the way up her arms and while that might have not been out of place in their past, the woman hadn’t donned anything close to it since he’d seen her on the Island. Without a word, he reached up and grabbed her arm, tugging a glove down at the same time. And then he saw the source of his discomfort. A festering bite mark on her forearm. “What is this?” he demanded, his grip tightening to make sure she couldn’t break free from him. “How long have you had this? Why have you not had it seen about? You may not care if you live or die, but I do. Let’s go.”

 Quinn was always grateful for whatever time he got to spend with Nixon, there was no question about it. He knew the Faerie was busy often and he also knew that others on the Island rented him on occasion, so being together was always a treat for him. He flopped down onto the bed next to the man with a silly grin on his face. The look was returned of course, but not before a grimace flashed across Nixon’s features and even if it was only a second, it was more than enough for him to catch. Quinn’s face drew down immediately and he shifted up to look down at the man. “Wassamatter?” he asked, the concern clear in his voice. For whatever reason, Nixon seemed to be avoiding his gaze and didn’t offer up much of an answer, or at least, not a real one. He knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid. After a moment, he noticed the way the Faerie shifted beneath the covers, pulling them up a bit more on his left side. It was a dead giveaway and immediately, he reached to peel them right back down. A brief tug of war ensued before Nixon gave up with a sigh, but any smile the victory might have warranted was completely lost when Quinn revealed what the other had tried to hide from him. Thick, dirty bandages around his thigh and it was clear from the dried red stains, it wasn’t exactly a fresh wound. “Oh my Gods, Nix! What happened?” he asked, worry etched into every inch of him as he blinked up at Nixon. The fact that it wasn’t already healed worried him because that meant magic hadn’t worked. And he definitely thought of the Faerie as pure magic. “Are ya okay? What can I do? Why didn’t you tell me?”