#festival millenni

[juliancallejo]

Julia Holter.

Festival Millenni. Shoko, Madrid. 20 de noviembre de 2024, 21:00.

Julia Holter ha estado apareciendo y desapareciendo de mi discoteca y de mi memoria varias veces. La he ido redescubriendo y siempre me he preguntado a qué viene olvidar las cosas buenas. Pero hay demasiada música que disfrutar, y poco tiempo para existir. Por eso tiene esa cualidad de desconocida recurrente, que siempre reaparece como una sorpresa luminosa, un juguete eternamente nuevo que abrazar frenético y entusiasmado.

Escucharla en directo tiene mucho de frustrante, su música incita a los ojos cerrados y el cuerpo liviano, a estar solo y dejarse llevar. Demasiado para una sala llena de gente, a pesar de estar fuera de la multitud, como el que espera cerca de la salida a escapar primero. Sus canciones, a pesar de todo, cuando quieren son como escuchar una banda de culto de la década de los 80, de esas que dejaban entre el frenesí y la pose. Y yo me estoy conteniendo, para no caer en ninguno de los agujeros emocionales a los que, intuyo, podría arrastrarme. Otro yo, todavía latente, hubiera sufrido mucho esta noche. 

La conclusión, demasiado precipitada, es que sus canciones están pensadas desde los sueños y hechas para los sueños. Abre puertas que no tenemos claro si debemos atravesar, si hemos sido invitados o si encontraremos lo que queremos, o lo que tememos. Pero tranquilas. Podemos elegir entre lo ligero o lo dramático. Entre el balanceo, o la caída. En los sueños, basta con chascar los dedos y despertar.

Alguien me ha preguntado si vengo de algún medio. Ha pasado un chico que me ha mirado como si me conociera; lo llevaban a la calle porque se estaba encontrando mal. Me he quedado pensando si su mirada era de socorro, de vergüenza o de confusión. Desde este rincón algo comienza a parecer ese sueño que se supone que, hemos venido a esquivar. Julia se ha tornado incisiva e inquietante. La sala estalla en aplausos y alguna botella cae al suelo. Una mujer bosteza y yo pienso que qué bien estar aquí.

Me estoy acordando todo el rato del directo que grabó John Cale para Antártida. Una luz similar, unos sentimientos parecidos, un purgatorio azul que anuncia el giro final, la batalla. Y, unas canciones igual de buenas.  Y un bis que parece invocar la música de Cale, aunque estalla en una euforia que no esperábamos. Quizás todo aquello se quedó agazapado y me costó dormir anoche. Quizás todo está en mi cabeza y me lo he inventado. Ahora, a la mañana siguiente, lo único que brilla es el juguete nuevo: la música de Julia Holter. Escuchad Loud City Song y Something in the Room she Moves, y su disco en directo, In the Same Room, leed sus letras. Descubridla, olvidadla y encontradla de nuevo. Hay que abrir regalos como si fuéramos niños. Al final, serán pocos, demasiado pocos.

John Cale, en Antártida, de Manuel Huerga. La película que menciono en el texto.

[natureselements]

Today’s good mood is sponsored by heavy metal 🤘

[nardacci-does-art]

When I was a kid, the world was full of wonder. Now the world is still full of wonder, but it's very expensive, & the capitalists & conservatives are actively trying to kill the wonder, & between my health, social anxiety & inability to justify spending on travel, I just order things online now & then to give myself something to look forward to. You know how it is.

[ellcrys]

the killers set at boston calling was SO GOOD 😭😭😭

[clophie]

i just did 3 15 hour market days in a row i am a BEAST

[hidemiwoods]

Japanese Millennials

A big open-air rock festival is held annually every summer in the small town where I live that is enclosed by mountains. More than ten times as many people as the town’s population visit during the few days of the festival. People all over the country and even from overseas fill up the train station that is usually inactive and quiet. In front of it, an endlessly long line is formed in the heat…

[berriblossom]

Oh, Great Divine!

☆| It's time for a SAGAU, more so a comforting one. Reader's gender is ambiguous and gender neutral, archons adore reader, in this sense the Nahida tag is platonic!|

☆ Tags/warnings! | Socially Aware Genshin AU, archons and people of Teyvat treat the reader as a god or heavenly figure, religious references (cathedral of Mondstat and Narukami/ Sangonomiya Shrines of Inazuma) some minor lore for reader, Reader is referred to as "Their Grace" or "My/Your Grace" and "The Great Divine" ALL PORTRAYALS ARE FICTIONAL!! anyway, enjoy.|

Within the lands or nations of Teyvat, for centuries the practice of worshipping an Archon was beyond common, more so for those who wish not to believe in spiritual practices concerning the gods of each element are more on the rare side to find. However even if such existed, there was one thing to never be doubted within the lands of Teyvat.

The Great Divine's presence over mortals and immortals alike.

The creation of Teyvat in many national mythos credits the sole ideas and creation to the Great Divine. Even the archons and the sources of their celestial names were blessed upon them by their divine grace. Depending on which nation you visit, some may say that their archon is specifically blessed by their grace.

In Mondstat, the nation of wind, song, freedom, wine, and bard's ballads, once every 100 years they celebrate the freedom blessed to them by Barbatos and the Great Divine. A tradition stretching for the last millennial to show the love and deeply routed affection given by its people and archon. Yes, Barbatos, or now the "drunken" bard known as Venti among his people. Every festival of a "New Eve" as they call it, is another 100 years for him to show his affection for his beloved divine. Despite his defiance to Celestia and the natural order placed after your departure, he still fully believes in your care and love for humans and archons alike. To Venti, whispering to the wind like he did with you thousands of years prior, even in his wind-spirit form. You'd sit together where now the great tree at Windrise and speak about the future of Teyvat, something despite having the authority over you simply spoke to him as:

"For what will come, Your nation will prosper and learn the true meaning of freedom and song..."

So to this day, he sits under that tree and thinks of the years since, missing your warmth from curling up in your hands as a wind spirit to laughing and humming beside you in his divine form. He has seen it for the last few hundred years, the art, songs, plays, books, and even food and weapons made in your name, and every hundred years he repeats the same. A small prayer from his soul is whispered into the wind as he tells his deep care and love for his dear grace. And the people of Mondstat no different, all gather at the great Cathedral and warmly sing about the Great Divine and Lord Barbatos as they place to wine, food, and gifts at the altar of your image. When alone Venti will sneak in and sit under your statue, missing the warmth of your hands but relishing the love in your image.

In Liyue, the nation of Geo, contracts, and the adepti, the greats divines are influenced by the first contract Rex Lapis made with them over 7000 years ago, even before Liyue was a fully combined nation. Zhongli remembers the conversation you two had, sharing a simple game of wit and tea. Then he was immature to your influence and power but now he relishes in it. Proudly in his vast historical knowledge, preaching his love and the power the great divine holds. How you could shape the sea with a flick of your wrist, how you've created mountains from your fingertips, how your vast knowledge is spread throughout teyvat as a bible to be studied and read over and over again. But mostly what he and all of Liyue celebrate is the contractable care and affection you give him and the people of Liyue.

This time around Liyue is a time spent every hundred of years a new eve of dawn as it is called, one Zhongli and his fellow adepti never get tired of. A time to give gifts of care to neighbors, friends, and even coworkers in the busy harbor. Even the Northland Bank celebrates by lowering interest on loans!

(But only for this amount of time and by the next New Eve of Dawn the Interest WILL reset)

But mainly it is a way to give worship to the Great Divine and their trust in Rex Lapis and his Adepti to protect and serve Liyue. Everything Zhongli has done was for your gratitude and divine love. So when a New Eve comes, he sits anywhere in Liyue, the mountains, hills, somewhere to overlook the harbor, and enjoys a warm cup of tea. Your favorite while imagining your smile as you talk, the games you'd two play. He watches his disciples and Apeti celebrate with gifts, food, and songs at your altar set around Liyue. He sips his tea and awaits your fated return, happy to share more memories and stories with you.

Within the land of Eternity, formerly transcience, Inazuma's style of celebration differs slightly from some nations. The Grand Narukami Shrine would hold a private ceremony, cleansing the sacred Sakura tree and your statue underneath, barhing the precious stone engravings with crisp clean water. Meanwhile the people if Inazuma would be celebrating on their own occasions, firewroks light into the clear sky, dancing ceremonies at the teahouse fill with guest.

However, the new electro archon herself sits alone at the top of Tebshukaku. Quietly walking down memeory lane in her mind. For the last five centuries of the New Eve of Dawn celebration, she'd sit in her space of Euthymia alone in solitude quietly sulking at the idea of your everlasting figure. How her and Makoto would chat down the lane of inazuma speaking about plans of you, speaking of your visions of the nation of electro, Makoto laughing at how embarrassed Ei used to be around you and your divinity. Now Ei smiles solemnly..

She knows now that she as archon must take the mantle, for in your teachings that it the goal of the heavenly principles you've left. Fated to return, she prays that you'd come to her first. She dreams and imagines in her meditations within her quiet Euthymia that you'd hold her. That her loneliness would be cured indefinitely. But for now she waits, with a plate of dango and some ofdly colored tea, shit eats alone as the fireworks set off atop Narukami island, she whispers a promise to herself and her nation on your honor.

"For it will be fate...my grace...you shall return to us...to eternity...we shall be reunited."

Far off in the lands of eternity, however, the island that formed the resistance sings and dances around the bonfire, the resistance army of Sangonomiya and Watatsumi laugh as they praise the late OmiKami, or the serpent god Orobashi. The fire dances as troops tell stories, shrine maidens sing and laugh, and her priestess sits while holding a book. She smiles softly. Kokomi looks above at the horizon and sees the corpse of their late god, she wishes silently to herself and for her ancestors to below the sea. That once the great spirit of life and forefather of the vishaps would return to bring life to the benevolent serpent. But for now, she sits alongside Gorou as they watch the troops enjoy the holiday.

Within Sumeru, however, and alongside it, Fontaine...the New Eve of Dawn has been on the academic calendar differently, which is how some older nations react. For those in the rainforest, it is a blessing of Lessor Lords Kusanali's birth. For the dessert, it is the bringing of a new promise for the scarlet sand kings doubted return. Within the nation of dendro, it is a holiday of now academic activities, no scholars shrouded in work, but a day off. The people worship by their own will and sit in taverns, bars, and cafes to drink mereily while chatting with friends. Some visit your altar within the Akademiya, and others pray at home.

Nahida sits on a branch of the great tree that houses the knowledge many wish to obtain, in her hands an ancient seed of fate, she herself has no memory or knowledge of where it came but holds ot and teasures its existence. For she has a kindling that it is tied to this divine spirit that is expected to awaken. From her small conversation with Apep, the seed is treasured. Hence, she holds it and feeds the growing plant bits of dendro elemental energy. She sighs as she watches the sun set and the cheers from the streets and grand bazars performances. Nilou must be dancing now, she thinks. She hums a small song while kicking her feet, her hands warm with caution. She may not know you yet, but she knows already... Your spirit and divine will watch for her and her nation. The goddess of wisdom has many questions for the great creator of this world, but for now, she just hums and sits happily, a great birthday gift indeed.

Meanwhile, in Fontaine, similarly, it is deemed a weekend off of work. Many go home, some go to the Opera to catch performances of the holiday, others read tabloids of the steambird that some random person in the court has the great divine in their basment all along. All fiction truthfully. Furina reads her book as she makes another plate of pasta macaroni. For the occasion, she bought extra special ragau to taste amazing. She dances around her kitchen listening to soft music. For years her mind would have doubted and even hated this day, anxious fears of disappointment and disapproval looks from her days as stabding archon. Would you have hated her? Did you think she failed fontaine and you? Was her a cursed human taking title of archon an insult to you? Furina had nightmares even of the prohecy and your return to see fontaine gone and underwater. But now, as the prophecy and fontaine were safe and out of fear, she ate and asked a good question this new century.

"What kind of pasta would their grace like..."

Soft rainfall drops onto the steps of the Palais Mermonia, the evening rain was forcasfed but welcomed, Neuvillette wrote on the papers softly, agreeing to a few celebratory events the Opera wanted to hold. Usually Lady Furina would be jumping for the task but here he was. Dread builded in his soul. This time of year brought many pains to Neuvillette.

A new century meant a new set of hundreds of years he gets to oulive humans, melusines maybe, but also the clock inches closer and closer to your return. Neuvillette spent early years of his lofe researching and discovering his species and kind for decades. Figuring that if you are the forefather and creator of vishaps and the sovereignty. Why was so many things done the way they were? Why ddi the power the gnosis and archons hold come from them? Why can't he understand your implications, even such his ancestors didn't wish to think against? What power do you hold and how did aid Fontaine in the end? He knew Focalor and Egeria spoke to you, even asking for forgiveness before your departure, so why? Neuvillette, places his pen downs and stands to look out the window of his office to look down at the streets of the Court of Fontaine, a glass of crisp water swirls in his hand. He sips slowly and sighs, coming to think.

"In this new century...please with it, may you come along too my grace."

In the nation of fire, victory, war and passion, raors could be heard from the stadium of flames as people of different tribes shouted and cheered the competitions down below. Surfing races, climbing achievements, conbat bouts, even break dancing competitions held. Mavuika sits at her throne above as her people cheer and celebrate, raising glasses, foods, gifts, and money even in your image. She slips away from the fesitivites to be alone in the speakers chambers, past the sacred flame, and into her personal get-away. Now empty, she stares at the famous wheel of the sun, Natlan has held for centuries, the same you blessed the first pyro archon with, as their rules of ruilibg were left in your favor. She smiles as she too holds her head high, similar to her ancestors before her.

She remebers before she was even archon, how her parents would tell stories of the Great divines influence, love, and power. That the spirit of victory belongs to the pyro archon yes, but the strength was given by you as well. She remembered your fave engraved in ancients temples and stones around Natlan and now some statues around the lands too. She knows too well her nation is blessed by your, not only for the peoples cheers and vitcories but the long-lasting stay they've had against the threat of the abyss thus far. Maybe when you return and ward off the abyssal threats for good, she top could ask something of you...for that she won't know until she sees you herself.

"Until we meet my grace...may your memeory burn eternal.. and your power live within my people."

-> Did i go overboard, yes...but eh...hoped you enjoy, and also i may make a small series out of this..who knows..

[buckets-and-trees]

Danger in the Heat of my Touch

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 2.3k Summary: Tuesday, January 2, 2018. A getaway for your sister's bachelorette party puts you in danger - but only a very particular kind of danger.

Content/Warnings: we're continuing to call this "fluffy" angst, repeated hook ups, Nomad Steve is still soft!dark and a warning all his own, smut (vaginal fingering, cum savoring, public sex)

Author Notes: The second offering for my Birthday Jubilee.

Previous Part | Series

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

There was nothing like a wedding to remind a person of their woefully single status.

That it was your baby sister’s upcoming nuptials made it all the more difficult and not because you weren’t happy for her - you were thrilled, you adored and wholeheartedly approved of the guy she was marrying - but because it brought into sharp relief that you weren’t getting married or anywhere close to it.

The bridesmaids getaway trip to Aspen, Colorado, had been a piece of all the wedding festivities you had actually been looking forward to. The use of a timeshare had been generously provided by your sister’s new soon-to-be in-laws, and you generally liked the group bridesmaids. It was a happy mix of active and read-at-the-resort types as well as a mix of single and in relationship among the six of you.

Unfortunately, you hadn’t planned on stepping into a nightclub while you were there.

It hand’t crossed your mind as a possibility even once.

And yet here you were.

You had never been to a club in your life.

You felt completely out of place in the dimly lit, crowded nightclub. The pulsing music was so loud you could feel it vibrating in your chest. Your sister and the other bridesmaids were already on the dance floor, laughing and moving to the beat. You, on the other hand, were planted firmly at the bar, nursing a vodka soda and trying not to look as uncomfortable as you felt.

"Hey, wallflower!" Your sister's voice somehow cut through the thumping bass. She appeared at your elbow, flushed and grinning. "What are you doing over here all alone?"

You raised your glass. "Just enjoying my drink."

"Come on! You can't just sit here all night. Come dance with us!"

You hesitated, but the pleading look in her eyes weakened your resolve. With a sigh, you downed the rest of your drink and allowed her to lead you onto the dance floor.

The crush of bodies was overwhelming at first, the heat and energy palpable as you wove through the crowd. Your sister found a small clearing where the rest of the bridesmaids were dancing, and they cheered as you joined their circle somewhat awkwardly.

To your surprise, it wasn't as terrible as you'd feared. As you swayed to the beat, you found yourself relaxing slightly. The music was still too loud for your taste, but there was something freeing about letting your body move to the rhythm. Your sister and the other bridesmaids danced around you, their energy infectious. You even managed a laugh when one of them attempted a particularly ridiculous dance move.

The DJ transitioned seamlessly from one song to the next, each beat blending into a continuous wave of sound. Flashing lights swept across the dance floor, painting the crowd in ever-changing hues of blue, green, and purple. The air was thick with the mingled scents of perfume, sweat, and alcohol.

After a few songs Melissa, one of the other bridesmaids, leaned in close to shout over the music. "I need a break! It's so hot in here!"

"I'll keep you company," you offered, grateful for an excuse to step away from the crowded dance floor.

Melissa smiled in relief. "Thanks! I'm dying of thirst."

“You find us a table, I’ll get us some drinks!”

She nods, and the two of you part ways and meander through the crowd.

As you made your way to the bar, you found yourself swept up in the pulsing rhythm yet again. Without even realizing it, you began to move with the music, dancing your way through the crowd, gliding through so much more easily then before.

You spun, laughing as you narrowly avoided collision with a tall man in a glittering shirt. He grinned back, raising his drink in a silent toast before disappearing into the crowd. The anonymity was intoxicating.

You continued making your way to the bar, and a particularly catchy song came on, its infectious rhythm impossible to resist. You began to singg, hips swaying sensuously to the beat. You lifted your arms above your head, lost in the moment, until you felt strong hands grip your hips from behind. The touch was firm, almost possessive, as whoever it was pulled you back against a broad, muscular chest.

For a moment, indignation flared within you at the stranger's audacity. You whirled around, ready to give the presumptuous man a piece of your mind.

But the words died on your lips as you found yourself face to face with Steve Rogers.

Your heart nearly stopped. The flashing lights painted his features in alternating hues, but there was no mistaking those piercing blue eyes, that strong jaw now covered in a fuller beard than you'd ever seen on him. He wore a plain black t-shirt that clung to his muscular frame, and a sinfully intense look on his face.

"Steve?" you breathed, your voice lost in the pounding music.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. "Dance with me."

It wasn't a question. His hands remained firmly on your hips as he began to move, guiding you to sway with him to the pulsing beat. You were acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against yours, his powerful thighs brushing against you as you moved together.

The rational part of your brain screamed that this was dangerous, that he shouldn't be here. But the way he was looking at you, touching you, made it impossible to think clearly. You found yourself melting into his embrace, your arms sliding up to wrap around his neck.

Steve's hands roamed your body as you danced, tracing the curve of your waist, sliding down to grip your round ass. The possessive touch sent tendrils to wrap around your now pulsing core.

Your mind reeled, trying to process his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

"I could ask you the same thing," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear to be heard over the music. "This doesn't seem like your usual scene."

You laughed, the sound lost in the pulsing music. "It's not. It’s my sister’s bachelorette party."

Steve's eyes darkened at the mention of your sister. "Where is she now?"

You glanced around, suddenly remembering that you were supposed to be getting drinks for Melissa. "On the dance floor with the other bridesmaids, I think. Wait, are we safe?" your mind suddenly rushing to the logic of why he would probably be here at all.

His grip on your hips tightened fractionally, and he nodded. “We stopped what we came here to stop tonight. But I shouldn't stay long."

Steve's eyes scanned the crowded dance floor, his body tensing slightly. You could almost see the tactical assessment happening behind his eyes. After a moment, he relaxed marginally, his gaze returning to you.

As one song transitioned into the next, Steve's hand slid up your back, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. He tilted your chin up, his intense gaze meeting yours. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was heated and hungry.

His tongue teased at the seam of your lips, and you parted them eagerly, deepening the kiss. Steve's hand tightened against the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss further. You melted into him completely, your body molding to his as if you were made to fit together.

When you finally broke apart, both breathless, Steve rested his forehead against yours. "I shouldn't have done that," he murmured, though he made no move to release you from his embrace.

"You shouldn’t have stopped," you replied, your voice barely audible over the music.

Steve's eyes searched yours, a mix of desire and conflict swirling for only another moment, and then his lips were on your again, demanding. The kiss was electric, igniting every nerve ending in your body. His hands roamed your curves possessively as you lost yourself in the sensations. The pulsing music faded into the background, your world narrowing to just the two of you in this moment.

One of his hands found your neck again, holding you steady, but the other found its way to your inner thigh, sliding up, up to your aching pussy, fingers ghosting over your sensitive skin. Your breath hitched as his hand reached the apex of your thighs, cupping you intimately.

"Steve," you gasped against his lips, torn between desire and the awareness that you were in a very public place.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as his fingers began to move, stroking you through your underwear. "You're so wet already," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "All for me?"

You could only whimper in response, your hips rocking against his hand almost involuntarily. The music and the crowd faded into the background as Steve's fingers worked their magic, teasing and stroking until you were trembling in his arms.

Steve's fingers continued their relentless teasing, stroking you through the thin fabric of your underwear. The crowded dance floor provided some cover, but you still felt exposed, vulnerable. Yet the thrill of potentially being caught only heightened your arousal.

"Steve," you gasped, clinging to his broad shoulders as pleasure coursed through you. "We can't... not here..."

He nipped at your earlobe, his beard scratching deliciously against your sensitive skin. "Why not?" he growled. "No one's paying attention to us."

To prove his point, he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear, his fingers finally making direct contact with your slick folds. You bit back a moan, burying your face in his chest to muffle the sound.

Steve's fingers explored you expertly, circling your clit before dipping lower to tease your entrance. The pleasure was almost unbearable, laced with the adrenaline at the risk of discovery. Yet you clung to him desperately, your hips rocking against his hand as he worked you closer to the edge.

"That's it," he murmured directly in your ear, his voice low and husky. "Let go for me. Want to feel you come on my fingers."

One more particularly well-timed stroke of his thumb over your clit sent you careening over the edge. You bit down on his shoulder to muffle your cry as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Steve held you close, his fingers working you through your orgasm until you were trembling and oversensitive.

As you came down from your high, reality began to seep back in. The pulsing music and flashing lights of the club reasserted themselves. You became acutely aware of how exposed you were, even in the crowded darkness.

Steve slowly withdrew his hand, his intense gaze never leaving yours. Without breaking eye contact, he brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean.

The sight sent another jolt of arousal through you, but it was tempered by a growing sense of urgency. You glanced around nervously, suddenly remembering your sister and the other bridesmaids.

Steve sensed your growing unease and pulled you closer, one of his strong arms encircling you protectively. He cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "I have to go," he said, his voice barely audible over the pulsing music.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat. Of course he had to leave. This stolen moment was all you could ever have.

Steve leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. "I shouldn't have sought you out," he murmured. "But when I saw you, I couldn’t…" He trailed off, his eyes roaming your face as if memorizing every detail.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing. "I'm glad you did," you said, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

For a moment, Steve looked as if he might say something more. But then his expression hardened, resolve settling over his features. He leaned in, capturing your lips in one final, searing kiss that left you breathless.

When he pulled away, his voice was urgent. "Be careful. Stay with your friends."

Before you could respond, he was gone, disappearing into the crowd as swiftly and suddenly as he had appeared.

You stood there for a moment, feeling dazed and bereft. The pulsing music and flashing lights seemed garish now, the crowded dance floor oppressive rather than exciting. You were in a crowd, people pressed up around you, and yet the wave of loneliness that washed over you was so overwhelming you almost couldn’t breathe.

Why did you have to see him again when you thought that maybe, just maybe, you had finally gotten him out of your system?

Your heart ached, but all you could do was make your way to the bar on unsteady legs, order drinks for you and Melissa. And when you found her and later when you all went back to the timeshare, you’d have to pretend as if you hadn’t just been taken apart in the middle of a crowded dance floor by Captain America.

It’s not something you would have told all the women, of course, but you trusted your sister enough you would possibly have told her.

But it would make no difference.

And what would you tell her anyway?

Steve had rocketed into your life for what was clearly a fling in the summer. When he’d shown up at your door in September, you had felt the tone of shouldn’t be here cast its shadow over the night. Tonight that last look he gave you - the angry resolve was so clear. You knew before he wasn’t going to stumble into your town again, but now you knew that if you somehow crossed paths again, you would never know - he wouldn’t insert himself into your life again.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I've known since mid-September that this was the next time you would see our Exiled Nomad (you the reader fictionally in the storyline, but also that I wanted to wait to share any more of their story until when the calendar aligned with it). We know you'll see him again in March (that's where this whole 'verse started, remember?), but the question is will you see him before that?

read more in the Exiled Nomad Series

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[mariacallous]

Offal, aka organ meats, are about to make a comeback. Yes, I predict that brains, livers, spleens, tongues and testicles will feature heavily on the menus of Israel’s (and the diaspora’s Jewish/Israeli-style) hottest eateries by this time next year — if they aren’t already. Why? Because young chefs are increasingly inspired by traditional Jewish dishes, driving a return-to-roots style of cooking. And these old-school classics are notably innard-heavy.

Offal is an oxymoron; it’s both a poor-person food, which is why it was so popular in the shtetl, and a celebratory food, eaten on Shabbat and festivals. Many Sephardic cultures consider it a delicacy. Read on and decide for yourself.

Let’s start with an old Ashkenazi classic: chopped liver. While for me, it will always be in style, many of my contemporaries don’t feel the same. Luckily, young Jewish chefs have already set their sights on it, and may well have the power to convert millennial diners. Take Anthony Rose’s recipe in “The Last Schmaltz,” which sears the livers, then deglazes the pan with arak before blending, serving the chopped liver with thyme-scented caramelized onions.

Another well-known offal dish is the Jerusalem mixed grill. Made with chicken giblets and lamb parts, and seasoned with onion, garlic, black pepper, cumin, turmeric and coriander, this classic street food is believed to have originated sometime between 1960-1970 at one of two (now feuding) restaurants in Jerusalem’s Machaneh Yehuda Market. While the Jerusalem grill is far younger than most Jewish offal dishes, it originated in a similar way: Butchers had a surplus of unwanted offal so they sold it off cheaply, then some savvy chefs turned the offal into a desirable dish. The mixed grill was one of the first offal dishes to receive multiple modern makeovers. At his restaurant Rovi, Yotam Ottolenghi adds baharat onions and pickles, while Michael Solomonov included a Jerusalem grill-Southern dirty rice hybrid in “Israeli Soul.“

Of course, this is not the first dish based around grilled offal; Tunisian Jews liked to throw a selection of lamb or veal innards onto the grill, which they called mechoui d’abats, and Baghdadi Jews sought a similar smokiness, which they achieved by cooking chicken livers on the tandoor.

Roman Jews preferred their offal battered and fried, rather than grilled. Few know that their famed carciofi alla giudia (deep-fried artichokes) was often served alongside fried sweetbreads, livers, and — most notably — brains. North Africa’s Sephardi communities loved their brains, too, commonly serving them in an omelet called a meguina or menina on festive occasions. Meir Adoni referenced this love in his brain fricassee — a North African-French fusion dish of veal brains inside a croissant with harissa and preserved lemon — at his New York restaurant Nur.

Offal was also commonly used to add a depth of flavor to a soup or stew. Yemenite Jews — one of the few communities who continue to cook traditional offal dishes — make a soup with bulls’ penis and cows’ udders, while Eastern European Jews, particularly of Polish descent, continue to add kishke  — a sausage made of stuffed beef intestine — to their weekly Shabbat cholent. A slow-cooked stew called akod is one of the better-known dishes of Tunisian Jewish cuisine, where tripe flavored with cumin, garlic, harissa and tomato paste is the star of the show. Moroccan Jews eat a similar dish on Passover, which ditches the tomato paste but adds liver, heart, and beef dumplings.

Admittedly, there are some offal-based dishes that may find it trickier to stage a comeback. Ptcha – an aspic that reached its height of popularity in shtetl-era Ashkenazi communities — is arguably top of the list. However, it’s not without hope; ptcha was actually born in Turkey in the 14th century as a peasant soup made with lamb’s feet, served hot. This, I’d wager, is a more palatable gateway (it’s basically bone broth) to the Eastern European version, which opts for calves’ feet and allows the soup to cool and set into a jelly, thanks to the gelatin in the hooves.

It only takes one dish to change your view of offal from weird and unappetizing to tasty and versatile. If livers, brains and tripe were good enough for our ancestors, not to mention famed chefs, who are we to turn up our noses? Happy eating!

[iero]

I think I'd be more jealous of WWWY festival go-ers if My Chem was doing Three Cheers in full and, you know, the whole "This festival is a giant cash grab set on millennials and Gen-Z's nostalgia for emo music and what they think the 'emo' subculture is." thing leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

[cowboyemeritus]

Day 26

Prompt: Stoned

Pairing: Swiss/Reader

Tags: marijuana use, dry humping

Notes: millennials, i'm sorry in advance for coming at you (actually, get dunked on). if it's any consolation was saying shit like that in 2016 too.

At this point, making bongs out of weird shit probably qualifies as a hobby of yours.

“Got pumpkin guts in my mouth,” you spit, pulling a string of orange goop off your tongue. “Why the fuck did we do this again?”

“Because it’s Spoopy Season,” Swiss replies into the crook of your neck. “And we’re festive as shit.”

You cringe at his choice in vocabulary, trying to scoot away but finding yourself pinned under him. “Please never say that again. You sound like a Millennial.” In a literal sense, he is one, having stalked this earth long before your father’s-father’s-father’s-father’s-father was even a twinkle in his father’s eye. Still, it hardly gives him the right to talk like it’s 2016 again.

He hums, and you settle back into comfortable silence. You’re featherlight, a veil of fog draped over your mind. Mountain does not fuck around with the shit he grows, and after a hellish week (not in a good way) of Copia micromanaging your preparations for Samhain, to go brain-dead for a while is exactly what you need.

It feels like the couch is swallowing you, and Swiss’ body is like the heaviest weighted blanket, comforting in the way that it smothers you. After a while, the ghoul begins to hum a tune into your neck. It doesn’t sound like any song you know, but something about the melody is familiar, like a long-forgotten lullaby. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his hair, delighting in the texture of his curls. Swiss lets out a contented sigh, pressing a kiss to your neck. You twitch a little, senses heightened by the high. Then he shifts. The thigh he has carelessly slotted between your legs rubs you just right, and you can’t stop the  noise that bubbles out of you.

He moves again, testing the waters. This time, you grind your hips into the firm muscle, scratching his scalp encouragingly. His mouth, impossibly hot, again latches onto your neck as he begins to suck on the tender skin. Surely you’ll be made fun of for walking around the Abbey covered in hickeys, but you don’t want him to stop, not when it feels this good. Your lips part, a needy moan spilling forth as you grind up into his thigh. Against your hip, Swiss’ cock twitches, already filled out.

Neither of you are in any rush. Sometimes you fuck with purpose, like when he needs to get loose before rehearsal, or when you just want to scream after a meeting, but this isn’t one of those times. Why end it so soon? It’s not like you’re going anywhere.

After sucking on your neck a little while longer, Swiss begins trailing kisses across your jaw. Still grinding against you, his forked tongue works its way past your lips almost as soon as he reaches them. Both of your mouths are dry, incredibly so, but it doesn’t faze either of you. Suddenly, he pulls away, spitting.

“You taste like pumpkin,” he says. Suddenly, you’re both convulsing with laughter. When your sides begin to hurt, tears welling up in your eyes, you have to force yourself to breathe, clutching your stomach.

“Too festive,” you wheeze. “Too spoopy for me.”

[respectthepetty]

You're American?!

Anon, this is the expression I feel you had while you wrote that sentence.

Yes. Yes, I am American. What gave it away? Me stating all the time I'm American (rural Southwest, Catholic, bisexual, a slut, Hispanic/Black, a Leo, a vegetarian) or was it the way I spell "colors"?

For an aging millennial who knows better, I actually offer up way too much information in the tags. So . . . fuck it, let me offer up more - I was born in Japan due to America's strategic colonization in over 80 countries (aka my father was in the Air Force), so my first passport has a picture of a week-old me! Whenever I renew my license or fill out any type of legal paperwork, I have to present five documents to prove my American citizenship since I was born in a regular Japanese hospital instead of the one on the American base. When I travel, internationally or domestically, it never fails that I get held up because my passport is American, my place of birth is Japan, and my place of residency is . . . just know people don't realize it's an American state. I travel often, but I think about two years ago, I might have fucked an international criminal at a Canadian music festival because I got held up in the Montreal airport for hours trying to leave and since then, I always have to go to the counter to print out my boarding pass and I always get asked additional questions. Odd, but if the criminal was who I think it was, the sex was worth it.

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

予感 [Presentiment] • クロノ・トリガー [Chrono Trigger] • 朝の日ざし [Morning Sunlight] • やすらぎの日々 [Peaceful Days] • みどりの思い出 [Memories of Green] • ガルディア王国千年祭 [Guardia Millennial Fair] • ゴンザレスのお歌 [Gato's Song] • 不思議な出来事 [A Strange Happening] • 風の憧憬 [Wind Scene] • おやすみ [Good Night] • 樹海の神秘 [Secret of the Forest] • 戦い [Battle 1] • ガルディア城 ～勇気と誇り�� [Courage and Pride] • んっ！？ [Huh!?] • マノリア修道院 [Manoria Cathedral] • 道行くものへ祈りを・・・ [A Prayer to the Road that Leads] • 沈黙の光 [Silent Light] • ボス・バトル１ [Boss Battle 1] • カエルのテーマ [Frog's Theme] • ファンファーレ１ [Fanfare 1] • 王国裁判 [Kingdom Trial] • 隠された事実 [The Hidden Truth] • 危機一髪 [A Shot of Crisis] • 荒れ果てた世界 [Ruined World] • 過去の謎 [Mystery of the Past] • 16号廃墟 [Lab 16's Ruin] • 生きる望みをすてた人々 [People Without Hope] • ラヴォスのテーマ [Lavos' Theme] • 世界最期の日 [The Day the World Revived] • 暴走ロボ軍団ジョニー [Robo Gang Johnny] • バイクチェイス [Bike Chase] • ロボのテーマ [Robo's Theme] • 工場跡 [Remains of the Factory] • 戦い2 [Battle 2] • ファンファーレ２ [Fanfare 2] • 時の最果て [Brink of Time] • 愉快なスペッキオ [Delightful Spekkio] • ファンファーレ３ [Fanfare 3] • 地下水道 [Underground Sewer] • ボス・バトル２ [Boss Battle 2] • 原始の山 [Primitive Mountain] • エイラのテーマ [Ayla's Theme] • 風と空と大地のリズム [Rhythm of Wind, Sky, and Earth] • 燃えよ！ボボンガ！ [Burn! Bobonga!] • 魔王城 [Magus' Castle] • 錯乱の旋律 [Confusing Melody] • 魔王決戦 [Battle with Magus] • 歌う山 [Singing Mountain] • ティラン城 [Tyran Castle] • 夜の底にて [At the Bottom of Night] • 時の回廊 [Corridors of Time] • ジール宮殿 [Zeal Palace] • サラのテーマ [Schala's Theme] • 封印の扉 [Sealed Door] • 海底神殿 [Undersea Palace] • クロノとマール ～遠い約束～ [Far Off Promise] • シルバード ～時を渡る翼～ [Wings That Cross Time] • 黒の夢 [Black Omen] • 決意 [Determination] • 世界変革の時 [World Revolution] • ラストバトル [Last Battle] • 星の祝祭 [First Festival of Stars] • エピローグ ～親しき仲間へ～ [Epilogue - To Good Friends] • 遥かなる時の彼方へ [To Far Away Times]

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[windsweptinred]

I don't want to say atypical Millennial couple behavior... But if the perfectly tailored, white matching leather boots fit. 😆

When you and your boyfriend have the same

fashion taste

ear piercing

hair style

love for pets

issues

[aurumacadicus]

It's time to pick our August book for book club! Tumblr will vote, and the book club will then vote among the top three in Discord. If you’d like to join the book club, send me a message and I’ll send you a link to the discord! Keep an eye out for the other poll, and check out the books’ summaries under the cut!

Gwen & Art Are Not in Love by Lex Croucher

It’s been hundreds of years since King Arthur’s Reign. His descendant, Arthur, a future Lord and general gadabout, has been betrothed to Gwendoline, the quick-witted, short-tempered princess of England, since birth. The only thing they can agree on is that they despise each other.

They’re forced to spend the summer together at Camelot in the run up to their nuptials, and with 24 hours, Gwen has discovered Arthur kissing a boy and Arthur has gone digging for Gwen’s childhood diary and found confessions about her crush on the kingdom’s only lady knight, Bridget Leclair.

Realizing they might make better allies than enemies, they make a reluctant pact to cover for each other, and as things head up at the annual royal tournament, Gwen is swept off her by her knight and Arthur takes an interest in Gwen’s royal brother. Lex Croucher’s Gwen & Art Are Not in Love is chock full of sword-fighting, found family, and romantic shenanigans destined to make readers fall in love.

Dreadful by Caitlin Rozakis

It’s bad enough waking up in a half-destroyed evil wizard’s workshop with no eyebrows, no memories, and no idea how long you have before the Dread Lord Whomever shows up to murder you horrible and then turn your skull into a goblet or something.

It’s a lot worse when you realize that Dread Lord Whomever is… you.

Gav isn’t really sure how he ended up with a castle full of goblins, or why he has a princess locked in a cell. All he can do is play along with his own evil plan in hopes of getting his memories back before he gets himself killed.

But as he realizes nothing – from the incredibly tasteless cloak adorned with flames to the aforementioned princess – is quite what it seems, Gav must face up to all the things the Dread Lord Gavrax has done. And he’ll have to answer the hardest question of all – who does he want to be?

A high fantasy farce featuring killer moat squid, toxic masculinity, an evil wizard convocation, and a garlic festival. All at once. All in all, Dread Lord Gavrax has had better weeks.

A Magical Girl Retires by Park Seolyeon

Twenty-nine, depressed, and drowning in credit card debt after losing her job during the pandemic, a millennial woman decides to end her troubles by jumping off Seol’s Mapo Bridge.

But her suicide attempt is interrupted by a girl dressed in white—her guardian angel. Ah Roa is a clairvoyant magical girl on a mission to find the greatest magical girl of all time. And our protagonist just may be that special someone.

But the young woman’s initial excitement turns to frustration when she learns being a magical girl in real life is much different than how it’s portrayed in stories. It isn’t just destiny—it’s work. Magical girls go to job fairs, join trade unions, attend classes. And for this magical girl there are no special powers and no great perks, and despite being magical, she still battles with low self-esteem. Her magic wand . . . is a credit card—which she must use to defeat a terrifying threat that isn’t a monster or an intergalactic war. It’s global climate change. Because magical girls need to think about sustainability, too.

Park Seolyeon reimagines classic fantasy tropes in a novel that explores real-world challenges that are both deeply personal and universal: the search for meaning and the desire to do good in a world that feels like it’s ending. A fun, fast-paced, and enchanting narrative that sparkles thanks to award-nominated Anton Hur, A Magical Girl Retires reminds us that we are all magical girls—that fighting evil by moonlight and winning love by daylight can be anyone’s game.

Six Crimson Cranes by Elizabeth Lim

Shiori’anma, the only princess of Kiata, has a secret. Forbidden magic runs through her veins. Normally she conceals it well, but on the morning of her betrothal ceremony, Shiori loses control. At first, her mistake seems like a stroke of luck, forestalling the wedding she never wanted. But it also catches the attention of Raikama, her stepmother.

A sorceress in her own right, Raikama banishes the young princess, turning her brothers into cranes. She warns Shiori that she must speak of it to no one: for with every word that escapes her lips, one of her brothers will die.

Penniless, voiceless, and alone, Shiori searches for her brothers, and uncovers a dark conspiracy to seize the throne. Only Shiori can set the kingdom to rights, but to do so she must place her trust in a paper bird, a mercurial dragon, and the very boy she fought so hard to marry. And she must embrace the magic she’s been taught all her life to forswear—no matter what the cost.

The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas

“Only the most powerful and honorable semidioses get chosen. I’m just a Jade. I’m not a real hero.”

As each new decade begins, the Sun’s power must be replenished so that Sol can keep traveling along the sky and keep the chaotic Obsidian gods at bay. Sol selects ten of the most worthy semidioses to compete in the Sunbearer Trials. The winner carriers light and life to all the temples of Reino del Sol, but the loser has the greatest honor of all—they will be sacrificed to Sol, their body melted down to refuel the Sun Stones, protecting the world for another ten years.

Teo, a seventeen-year-old Jade semidiós and the trans son of the goddess of birds, isn’t worried about the Trials . . . at least, not for himself. His best friend, Niya is a Gold semidiós and a shoo-in for the Trials, and while he trusts her abilities, the odds of becoming the sacrifice is one-in-ten.

But then, for the first time in over a century, the impossible happens. Sol chooses not one, but two Jade competitors. Teo, and Xio, the thirteen-year-old child of the god of bad luck. Now they must compete in five trials against Gold opponents who are more powerful and better trained. Worst of all, Teo’s annoyingly handsome ex-best friend and famous semidiós Hero, Aurelio is favored to win. Teo is determined to get himself and his friends through the trials unscathed—for fame, glory, and their own survival.

The Lost Apothecary by Sarah Penner

A forgotten history. A secret network of women. A legacy of poison and revenge. Welcome to the Lost Apothecary…

Hidden in the depths of eighteenth-century London, a secret apothecary shop caters to an unusual kind of clientele. Women across the city whisper of a mysterious figure named Nella who sells well-disguised poisons to use against the oppressive men in their lives. But the apothecary’s fate is jeopardized when her newest patron, a precocious twelve-year-old, makes a fatal mistake, sparking a string of consequences that echo through the centuries.

Meanwhile in present-day London, aspiring historian Carline Parcewell spends her tenth wedding anniversary alone, running from her own demons. When she stumbles upon a clue to the unsolved apothecary murders that haunted London two hundred years ago, her life collides with the apothecary’s in a stunning twist of fate—and not everyone will survive.

Vermilion by Molly Tanzer

Gunslinging, chain smoking, Stetson-wearing Taoist psychopomp, Elouise “Lou” Merriwether might not be a normal 19-year-old, but she’s too busy keeping San Francisco safe from ghosts, shades, and geung si to care much about that. It’s an important job, though most folks consider it downright spooky. Some have even accused Lou of being more comfortable with the dead than the living, and, well… they’re not wrong. When Lou hears that a bunch of Chinatown boys have gone missing somewhere deep in the Colorado Rockies she decides to saddle up and head into the wilderness to investigate. Lou fears her particular talents make her better suited to help placate their spirits than ensure they get home alive, but it’s the right thing to do, and she’s the only one willing to do it. On the road to a mysterious sanatorium known as Fountain of Youth, Lou will encounter bears, desperate men, a very undead villain, and even stranger challenges. Lou will need every one of her talents and a whole lot of luck to make it home alive…

[quibbs126]

I know you've done this before but can you please maybe make a darkwhip kid, but with the basis that Whipped comes from the Millenial Tree family?

I finally finished her, this lady is Whipped Ganache Cookie

Fun fact, Whipped Ganache was one of the first fankid names I came up with when I first made my list, which was a little before I opened up requests, I just didn’t get requests for darkwhip nor did I have ideas like I did for pureraisin and darklico, but then I finally ended up getting this request, so I could use it

So basically ganache is like this chocolate sauce or icing or filling, it has a lot of uses, and whipped ganache is this whipped version with more cream than chocolate. I picked it because it seemed like whipped cream but chocolate, perfect for darkwhip

The thought occurs to me that maybe chocolate mousse could have worked too (mainly due to my roommate saying whipped ganache reminded her of it), but I like Whipped Ganache. And I can save it for later (but not the other darkwhip kid, and I don’t need a third one)

Whipped ganache:

So this is technically my second time drawing her, with my first attempt only getting as far as the hair sketch. I couldn’t figure out what to do for her outfit, so I just left her for some months until yesterday

But I had a good idea of what to do for the hair (even if I changed it somewhat)

But let’s get to the outfit. Yet again, I didn’t really know what to give her, other than she probably wears dresses. I put her in a hanbok since I was like “I dunno, that’s an outfit she could wear”. And sure it looks fine, but I wasn’t really sure it fit her, specifically with the request of her having some relation to Millennial Tree Cookie, but you know, no one gave me a goddamn answer when I asked (well other than my friend who said keep the hanbok, but she also said she was biased so) so I just had to stick with the hanbok. I’m still not sure it works to be honest. I mean, if she’s going for a formal event/festival in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, sure, but I’m not sure it works as her default. Maybe if I can come up with something better I can make a new design with that, but for now, this is what I have

I’m also not sure about her outfit colors to be honest. I wanted her to have pinks, but I also wanted her to have browns (and also that purple I got that looked neat), and I’m not sure I found the best balance in the end. But I asked my friend and she said “look good” so I kept it

I like the mountain pattern on her hanbok, I got that straight from Dark Choco’s costume

Sorry, I don’t have much to say. I came up with the hair months ago and don’t really remember all the logic other than it being long sort of like Millie and having pearls because Whipped Cream, and I have more complaints about the outfit because I don’t think it fits. But I like everything else about her aside from her outfit

Anyways, character time

So I think I came up with some ideas for her back in July when we were coming back from England, though I soon went on to work on Vanilla Lily/Witch Hazel (and fun fact, I haven’t looked back at those notes until right now as I’m writing this)

So first thing about Whipped Ganache (that I probably should have mentioned in the design section), she is very tall. She isn’t necessarily wide, but she is tall, taller than either of her parents. I just wanted to mention that

But anyways one of her main things is that she has healing magic, which is what she’s supposed to be doing with the flower in the sketch (wasn’t sure how to give off the glowing effect though). But also, while her magic is healing, it’s deadly towards things of dark magic, like what healing magic does to undead things in old games (actually as far as I’m aware that’s only FF7)

I’m remembering now, I think one thing I envisioned with her is her summoning a giant ass laser like what Millennial Tree does in his Skill, and when she fires it, her allies caught in it would be healed while her enemies (presumably made of dark magic) would be harmed

Whipped Ganache is generally a very serene and kind person, has the patience of a saint. I’m not sure she has a breaking point, she probably does but I haven’t thought much on it. She’s very attuned to nature as well, maybe not to the point of being a tree hugger, but enough that she doesn’t like blatant exploitation of it. Also she’d survive very easily by herself in the wild

Another thing about her is that she plays a harp. Not a lyre like what Carol or Lilybell uses, but a full giant harp. I got that from listening to Millennial Tree Cookie’s theme

Anyways, I think that’s about it for her. But also just a note, she’s not the only darkwhip kid I plan to make, it’s just that she doesn’t necessarily follow the same rule of being related to Millennial Tree. I mean she and Whipped Ganache live in the same timeline, they’re sisters, but she doesn’t have much that makes that trait noticeable, so she’ll get her own thing

But yeah, I hope you enjoyed Whipped Ganache