#getting in touch with my southern-ness over here

[ritz-writes]

me: i dont like country music. yes, i like cuntry music, like songs about wives killing their husbands and stuff, but other country music has never been a go to for me

rascal flatts: *exists*

me: ....i retract my statement

[riddle-me-ri]

a/n: so umm…is it weird that I’ve given myself my own like brain rot for my general-partially biased take on a character? I just couldn’t get a Southern Jonathan out of my mind lmao. Plus as much as I’m absolutely suffering in this Texas heat…I do recall a time when summer was decent, especially at night out at my papa’s house…so it’s also a wee little love letter to those days…cause I do miss them. 

Trigger Warning: alludes to sexual activity but nothing explicit, some angst if you squint, heavy touching, and kissing. Also perhaps some wee OOC-ness maybe? This is a bit before he dives deep into his Scarecrow alias and my Jonny is a bit more confident when he’s with someone he cares for…and is in his neck of the woods so to speak.

Word Count: 1.2 k

General Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x Reader - Summer Nights

Tiny blades of fresh grass bit slightly at your bare feet as you ran through the open field. Your smile was wide to the point it almost hurt your cheeks. 

Your long-time boyfriend, Jonathan Crane held your hand tightly as he lead you across the field to a little “watering hole” he called it. 

Your legs are just about to go numb from the long exertion of running to match up with Jonny’s pace, but you finally made it to a tiny lake that laid out just before some dense woods. 

The water glittered as it reflected the bright twinkling stars on a cloudless summer night. The moment is calm, just a few chirps of crickers or the grunts of toads filled the silence. 

Then you realize that Jonathan isn’t beside you anymore. 

“Jon?” You asked out loud, softly at first. “Ugh, Jonny! Where are you?” 

“Right here, darlin’.” He was behind a tall and wide tree. 

You walked over to the tree. “What’re you doing?” 

“Well, wouldn’t want to get my workin’ clothes wet, now would I?” He stepped out from behind the tree and he wore nothing but his boxer shorts. 

“Jonathan!” You squealed as you instinctively covered your eyes and turned away. 

“What? It’s not like you ain’t seen me in my skivvies before-”

“Not out here…i-in the open!” You hissed, you quickly glance around, hoping no one would show up to prove your point. 

“Honey, I can assure you we’re the only ones out here. You ain’t got nothin’ to be afraid of.” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “That’s rich coming from you.” 

Jonathan chuckled deviously. “Point taken. But I promise nothin’ will getcha…especially with me around.” 

He walked up towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You placed your hands on his chest. You could feel the pounding rhythmic beating of his heart past his pale skin. 

“Well…”

“Well what?” 

Jonathan grinned. “Aren’tcha gonna join me?” 

“Wha–?” Before you could finish asking, Jonathan broke from the embrace and dashed toward the short wooden pier. 

“Jonny!” You shouted, astonished. 

The only response was the sound of splashing water. 

You rushed out to the edge of the pier and watched your lanky boyfriend breakthrough the water. 

“What’re you waiting for? It’s awfully lonely out here!” He chuckled, swimming closer to you just below the edge of the pier. 

You were silent for a beat as your eyes shifted left to right. 

“Is the water cold?”

“Nope.” 

“Do I need to take off my clothes?” 

“Unless you wanna be cold when you get out, darlin’.”

Another beat. You sighed before slowly deciding to take off your clothes. You were still hesitant to get in until you were down to your underwear and heard Jon let out a wolf whistle. Pulled by the urge to smack him, you dove in after him. 

Jonathan’s laugh echoed as he tried to fend off your hands, restraining them in his hands by your wrists. 

“Was that so hard?” He teased. 

“No…but you lied. The water is a little cold.” You huffed.

Jonathan chuckled warmly, he placed your wrists around his neck and his hands went under water to wrap around your waist. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll help warm ya up.” 

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You deadpanned before he leaned in to kiss you. 

His lips were wet from the water, making it all the more easier to get your tongue to slide past his lips and into his mouth. Your skin began sticking to his and his grip around your waist got stronger and tighter as if he was trying to keep you afloat for as long as he can. 

You slowly, although reluctantly pulled back. You rested the tip of your nose against the tip of his crooked one. You remember how it got so crooked in the first place. It was already adorably long…but it wasn’t always crooked. 

A couple of classmates from your college have always harassed you and one day Jonny saw it, needless to say he wasn’t going to let them pick on you, like they did him, without a fight. The fight eventually got broken up by the dean and Jonathan and the other party was suspended for a time. 

When you went to check on him the following day, his nose was inflamed and constantly bleeding. You remember kissing it that day…and the next day the bleeding stopped and the swelling went down. 

Back in the present, Jonathan began kissing and lightly suckling on the water droplets that fell down your neck. 

“J-Jonny…” You mumbled out, breathlessly. “I gotta ask you something.” 

Jonathan didn’t hesitate to raise his head up to look at you. “What is it, darlin’?” 

“I just…I’m worried about this whole…fear tactic thing…I don’t want you to get in trouble or get hurt! Billy isn’t worth the risk…just to get back at him?” 

Jonathan sighed. “Honey, we’ve been over this…men…or, better yet, boys like him need a taste of their own medicine. They need to know what it’s like to be afraid…submissive…powerless…if they don’t they’re just gonna keep picking on those weakest.” 

“But does it have to be you? Why do you got to do it?” 

Jonathan perked up an eyebrow, his eyes wandered off into the water as he thought about why. “Because I know…I know fear better than most anyone. Who better to rear it’s ugly head?” 

Your shoulders sloched as you sighed in defeat. You suppose there truly was no getting to him. To back out of this plan of his. 

You brought your hands up from around his neck to frame his jaw on both sides. Your thumb caressing just below his cheeks. 

“Just…please be careful, sweetheart.” You pleaded.

Jonathan leaned his face into your touch before softly kissing along the inside of your palm. “I will, honey. I always am.” 

“I’m looking at a crooked nose that says otherwise.” You giggled. 

Jonathan chuckled. “It didn’t get crooked under the best of circumstances, but I know you love it.” He brought his face down towards yours and rubbed his nose side to side against yours. 

Your smile grew as you pulled him in closer so his lips can meet yours again. 

After sucking on each other’s lips for awhile, Jonathan resumed his task from before with suckling along your skin. Finishing where he left off on one side of your neck and then going to the other side. Your fingers were dug deep in his wet mop of sandy brown hair, doing all that you can to keep his attention there. 

Jonathan pulled you closer to him once more, as the water tries to pull you apart. When your body was up against his, you felt a certain bulge below the surface. Your audible gasp, clued Jonathan to know you knew. 

“I think it’s time for us to take this back to dry land, whataya say, darlin’?” Jonathan whispered in your ear. 

You gulped, nodding your head against his. “Please.” 

Jonathan chuckled deviously. “You better shake a leg, or I’ma just have to drag you to the bottom with me.” 

You dramatically shrieked at the threat as you began swimming back to shore, with Jonathan quickly following you in your wake.

[modernwarfared]

@falle-ness well, i finally made a COD sideblog! hi, so, disclaimer, i only played the new game like last week, so there might still be some things about graves i'm not caught up on. but i'm still gonna put what i know here to hopefully give you somewhere to begin! so first thing's first -- the thing you mentioned with reboots and timelines. long story short there was a Modern Warfare trilogy that came out 2007-2012 (the "original" timeline), and in 2019, they rebooted it, beginning a new Modern Warfare trilogy. The new trilogy has many of the same characters but in different situations and with some new characters added. Graves is not in the original Modern Warfare, so unless you become really interested and want to combine the two worlds somehow, don't worry about anything pertaining to the 2007 MW series!

im not sure how much info you're looking for (if you'd like, i can always provide a list of major characters with some info needed for fic-writing!) so i'll just touch on graves for now. (spoilers incoming.) commander phillip graves is one of the main antagonists of Modern Warfare 2. he has a southern accent, is ambidextrous, and it's mentioned at one point how his name sounds like "fill graves". he is, at first, aligned with the protagonists, helping them to track down missiles that were stolen from the US. he is in charge of a private military contractor company called shadow company (edit: oops, totally misunderstood what shadow company was, see here); most of shadow company's involvement in missions is providing air support. (it's semi-common in the fandom to find fan content of how close he is with shadow company, since they're his only real friends as far as we know.) however, midway through the story, he betrays the protagonists, forcibly taking over the base of the Mexican Special Forces and detaining their soldiers. he was ordered to do this by shepherd, the US army general in charge of the operation. he is later killed by the protagonists (blew up while in a tank).

later, it is revealed that shortly before the game began, the missiles were being moved to american military forces out of country by shadow company. shepherd told graves that the path forward was safe, with no enemy activity, but graves' men were attacked and overtaken, and the missiles stolen. shepherd did this intentionally. i only got the chance to play the game once so far, and i wasn't paying too much attention to dialogue because i was, well, getting shot at, but i remember graves pleading with shepherd multiple times for support from other troops only to be told to "just fix it", basically.

heavy topic incoming. something else i think is important to mention (although don't take my words as gospel because i am white) is that the way he is in the game, graves is a representation of american military racism and imperialism. in the scene where his betrayal is revealed, he says something racist to alejandro (implying that a mexican man is tied to drug cartels with basically no proof -- yikes.) and, immediately after this scene, goes on a killing spree in las almas, mexico. he is also, even before this, notably very excited over killing lots and lots of non-white foreigners. it's possible to argue that graves' actions are about a hatred of drug cartels, not racism, or that he's only doing what shepherd commands him to, but i don't think that's a helpful lens to view him through. graves' canon actions should be recognized for what they are. this doesn't mean you can't write about him, though! fandom is different from canon for a reason, and i'd personally love to explore graves' character in a world where he's not so horrible. it's just good to be aware of what his canon actions represent, because if you're not, you stumble into idolizing those actions without realizing the implications of what you're doing. i've seen people make fan edits of graves in the betrayal scene, or call him a "girlboss" for detaining a bunch of mexican soldiers without reason... not cool, in my opinion. that got a little heavy, and i apologize for dumping all of this on you! but i couldn't let it go unsaid. but again, please don't let it stop you from writing about graves if you're still comfortable with it! there's a lot to explore with the topics of graves having to follow shepherd's authority, a man who knowingly sent many of graves' men to die without remorse. i mean, imagine how he must feel about that whole incident, and how he must feel towards shepherd now. @lexsi-n (sorry about the tag ^^;) wrote a post about graves having resemblance to a dog with shepherd as his handler, as well as some really interesting visual aspects i didnt even notice! sorry if i talked too much, haha. i don't mean to barge in on your post and start telling you what you can and can't write in your own fanfiction. feel free to ignore me if you feel i've not been helpful. on the other hand, if there's anything else you want to know, i will do my best to provide. really, i love explaining things! thanks for reading lol.

Hey, fandom folks.

I didn't play the game, but Commander Graves is my kind of asshole, and I need some help. I run the side blog @a-harlee-to-stahl blog about Warren Kole, but you can @ me here too.

I literally have zero knowledge about Call of Duty game series and whatever and etc., but I wanna write something. Is there any guide or whatever I could catch up about who is who, and all that? I googled, but I'm lost in reboots, timelines, etc.😭

And from what I gathered, we do not have Graves's backstory, right? I'd just love to write something, but I just don't know where to start. Any ops he mentions? Anything? Or maybe you wondered about something he mentioned?

So, please, throw at me most important stuff I gotta know. I'm such a noob when it comes to pc games XD

I see we've got lots of sex stuff with Graves—understandable :DD—but I just want to really dive deep into who he is that kind of powerlust asshole and all that. I looove that shit xddd

Thanks, and cheers, y'all 💜

[ginwhitlock]

summary: JASPER/ BELLA. set in eclipse (but is so far from canon honestly all you need to know is that victoria is after bella). When Jasper snatches Bella away to Texas to escape a vampire’s hunt for the girl who killed her lover, Bella comes clean about her hearts unfaithfulness on an unsettling summer morning, in front of God and everybody.

fic type: oneshot, no explicit scenes

warnings: religious guilt, Bella’s weird brand of horny, cheating on Edward, oh and Alice just doesn’t exist— don’t think about it too hard

There was this openness in the air, something stirring from the west, saturating the cotton fields. A yellow eyed barn cat stood still in the morning light, it’s black coat shifting with the bite of ghostly mice. Whiskers twitching. 

It was watching her, she was sure of it, like the pecan trees and the paddock mud and the mosquitoes. All beady-eyed and searching the brown haired girl, the one with crooked ankles and misaligned bangs that just barely kissed her cheeks in the late summer sun. She looked home grown. Wheat wild. A child of desert planes. And most importantly, she looked lost. 

“I thought you’d still be sleeping by now.” A hushed baritone slipped from the screen door, it’s owner donned in dark royal denim and loose leather. 

If it had been just months before, Bella would’ve rolled her eyes. 

But she was different now. As different as Washington was to Texas. As different as evergreens were to red oak. She swore even the sweat didn’t smell right. 

“Wanted to catch the sunrise.” There was a softness to her front teeth, the round of her molars quiet against one another. To whose ears she was catering to she didn’t know. And to be honest, she didn’t quite care anymore. 

Bella made out a lazy nod from her peripheral, the shaggy haired man seemingly relaxed out here on the front porch of her judgement day, all tan and tall and scented like rolled tobacco. 

Shut up, stupid girl. 

Jasper murmured out a response, something about humans needing sleep and southern sunrises being worthy enough to diminish the former from its place on his immortal pedestal. There was a creak and a groan from the haint green floorboards underneath her before she found herself shoulder to shoulder with the two hundred year old soldier; a stray wind had blown through the shaved baby blond hair lining his chin in the slightest of ways. There was a caution light screaming out from his stature and the brunette girl had the painful urge to swallow it under her teeth and tongue. Soak it in holy water and hide it in her skin for him to find. Or rather, Him, if this stay was going to end like she thought it ought to. 

He couldn’t feel that… could he? Stupid, stupid—

“The marigolds should be blooming about now, just west of the barn. They’re quite a bit prettier than Peter’s fields.” There was something off in the lit of his tongue, the way it flipped and rolled off his teeth. It came out… wrong. Forced. Like he was trying to be overtly kind. The way you talk to a frightened rabbit you clipped with the lawn mower. 

Bella frowned something deep and turned nose at Jasper. “Why did you bring me here, Hale?” 

With the question came a wince to his brow, a noticeable blow to his stature. He seemed to fold ever so slightly towards the young girl. 

“Don’t— don’t call me that.” 

Silence filled the unwalled prison of the porch like nothing else, the birds and wind seemingly gone to rest whenever the two entered into each other's space. Like worldly magnets, chess pieces that threw blows instead of diagonals. The quiet held them both. It held them together. 

Bella Swan blinked slowly in an unknown apology before settling back on the blond with the stone facade. She waited for him to continue. 

He sighed. “It’s safer here. Victoria wouldn’t come this far south without encountering things far worse than the likes of Emmett or Rose.” 

“But this wasn’t Edward’s plan, was it?” Bella’s lashes were like rodeo announcers with their back and forth turns to the outlook of western Texas. 

Jasper looked every bit of his one hundred fifty years as he laid a freezing hand on hers, their knuckles slotting together with unpracticed ease. “No. But it’s mine. And you’re gonna have to accept that.” 

She refused to nod at the man with the thigh clenching, hard work mending, touch, for more than a second. She was far from the type of girl that would lay down and let the boys run out their wildest stupidities on her seemingly catastrophic life, but she felt almost resigned in Jasper's hands. There was a calmness between them she couldn’t place as artificial or not, the soft wool of contentedness slowly covering the surveyor-ship she felt stepping outside this morning. The stares of the flora and fauna turned internal. Fire burned in the pit of her stomach, on the nape of her neck, across the fragile skin of her cheeks where freckles started to show, and mostly, on the warming flesh of her hand where their hands met gently. 

Maybe it was Edward looking onto them from a frozen forest hundreds of miles from here as he hunted a scarlet monster, discovering the hidden plumpness swirling around in his lover's chest for the brother he always worried about, but for all the wrong reasons. 

Or maybe… 

“Jasper, can I ask you something?” 

His eyes were like serpents, glowing yellow under the copper wind chimes above them. 

“Whatever you wish, Isabella.” 

Swallow. Breathe. “When you were human… did you believe in God?” 

A pause sliced the air in two. The cotton plants seemed to stop swaying. The feline vanished. A golden eyebrow fell to his browbone. 

“Yes, Isabella. Yes I did.” His face was drawn, distant, like an old time movie screen was playing out on his stone eyelids. 

Bella’s lips pulled at themselves with her front teeth. “Do you think He’s vengeful?” 

Their eye contact sealed itself, his hand moving on its own accord up her hand to her wrist, cradling the small, delicate bones that allowed her to touch him— but not now. Not ever again. 

“When I was a boy, my mama took me to church every Sunday at seven A.M sharp, and sent me to Sunday school after the service. I was the oldest, even then, and I had more responsibilities than just listening to the preacher ramble on about divinity and charity and sacrifice.”

Jasper's face was taught with memory. 

“I had two baby sisters by the time I turned seven and they were the number one priority, you have to understand, Isabella. Ada and Caroline couldn’t have been older than three when the Leroy boy died sitting in the pew behind us… poor child got heatstroke in his wool britches and after that I started dressing the girls in the lightest things I could find and never waited long after the sermon to get back.” 

Bella turned stormy under the weight of the seemingly young man's words, her eyes dropping from his own to study the way his fingers wrapped around her skin like a life jacket, one part caregiver and one part destroyer. Jasper's own hands seemed to start to tremor just slightly under her stare, or maybe it was from the wash of his own words. 

He took a breath he didn’t need. “But. I started listening when my mother got sick, before the girls finished schooling. Started praying. A part of me was guilty that I hadn’t started before I needed something, that the reason I spoke to Him was for a favor, and a big one at that. I was making up for lost time, I thought. I was begging on my knees for anything. And I didn’t get it.

“They buried an empty coffin with my name on it under a white wooden cross after the army said I went missing. Caroline would plant violets around it in the spring, weed out the planters and start again in the fall. She’d leave me communion wafers in our family pew and have Ada try to talk with me through the minister.” 

“I’m so sorry.” A true sadness settled in her bones, her seemingly selfish desire to have the question answered sat like a heavy stone in the out of her stomach. Her heart held out a warm woolen space for him and she silently begged he would sit in it, for his own sake. 

He waved her off and took on a slight smile, something she had never seen from Jasper. Not in any capacity before that very moment. 

She decided she would try to see it every chance she got for as long as he’d let her. 

“I wasn’t a man of religious structure, Isabella, but. I was a man of faith. The small times I was allowed to watch over my sisters only reminded me of that, no matter how far down to hell I had reached, I still had faith in redemption.” 

His teeth clicked together not unpleasantly. “But I haven’t answered your question have I?” There was a knowing-ness in his voice box and Bella wanted to drink it down like communion wine. She smiled back slightly. 

He was beautiful when he sighed. 

“I’ve done horrible things. Killed innocent people. Slaughtered children and mothers and lambs of God. I have worn blood on my hands like a second skin and not once during any of it did I feel remorse. But darlin,” his lashes fluttered like leaves, “not once did I think God wanted me to hate myself for what I had done. I think… He forgave me a long time ago, before I ever forgave myself. So no. I don’t believe in my brother’s vengeful punisher. Not today. Not in this lifetime.“ She’d never hear the ‘not with you’ fragment he had stuck in his mind.  

She had to step back from him then, the vampire who had become all consuming to her chest and her heart and her fingers. The air was warmer in the space behind him but it almost didn’t matter, the warmth layering her skin was enough to burn through an air conditioning unit anyway. Bella’s hands found clumsy solace in her back pockets as she stared ahead at the rows of painful cotton buds waiting to be harvested. The blood almost pulled to her fingertips. 

Teeth and lips found each other. “I don’t think I’m not going to get punished for this.”

Her words were concrete. Cement. Blacktop on a Kansas back road. They could’ve cut glass if she wanted them to. They almost did as he looked at her. 

“For what, Isabella?” 

Knowing bastard. Always. Knowing. 

No trembling allowed now. 

“For wanting you when Edwards away. When he’s in the same room as us. When he’s hunting the woman who's trying to kill me and you’re just standing there telling me not to be afraid of my own horrible heart… for betraying everything I’ve begged for since me and your brother met. I deserve to get punished for this, don’t I? Don’t you think?” 

She was sweating now, cold droplets running down her back to her the soft slope of her ass. Her knuckles were popping against each other like fireworks and she thought she might faint right then and there, MONSTER written across her forehead in a bruise from the impact. 

A scarred hand felt itself into its place under Bella’s chin and forced her rocking skull to finally glimpse the face she had been thinking of every moment she pulled her eyes away. Jasper Hal— Whitlock? And his clear midnight pupils branding her soul in a sinner’s blush. His lips formed a wonderful crook as he slowly pushed her flat against the ancient siding of the old farmhouse belonging to his long standing brother who looked like everything Jasper was except for his spirit. 

She could die this way and she would face God with a smile. 

“What I feel for you deserves no punishment darlin, but if you insist, I think I’d rather do the punishing than any divine power.” 

His lips were light rosy steel against Bella’s own as the clouds started to stretch out infinitely behind his back, unnoticed by the interlocked couple in their wake. A soft moan escaped as felt the soft chill of a crucifix digging into her neck. 

Maybe God would forgive her for this. Just once.

[slashingdisneypasta]

The Evil Queen x Fem!Reader || Oneshot

Title: Friends in the public eye and lovers on our own

Notes: 

I love herrrr

Plot: You are totally, absolutely in love with Queen Grimhilde. It’s of course, difficult to be in a same-sex relationship in the 1500’s, but she loves you too and makes it work.

Warnings: Unadulterated fluff. Hopefully feel good-ness. Some sexual references. 

~~~

“Hey Hilde, I’m going on my walk now.” I decide, getting up from her thrown and look around for her as I stretch out my arms and my back. We have been sitting in this room all morning, the most strenuous thing I’ve done today is when my lady helped me get on my corset- and don’t me wrong, that’s always a struggle but only because I have a strong, emotional aversion to the thing; Not because it was legitimate physical exercise.

“Have a good walk.” Is the only response I get, and while its lacking in emotion other than focus or… really, any interest at all in what I told her because she’s busy, it does indicate the direction she’s in and that’s good enough for me. I slip around some book towers, manuscript piles and the trash plate to find her at her finance desk -she has different desks, for different responsibilities. It helps her stay more organised and in the right mind for different tasks, - leaned over her work as far as she dares without looking in any way un-eloquent. So, not very far. But if you’ve watched her work as many times as I have, you can tell the difference between this level of bent and her usual straightness, as if she had a spine-length candlestick tied to the chair and her neck. My heart does a little lunge, realising she’s stressed.

“What are you working on?” I ask, quietly. Pulling up a stool beside her and sitting down on it, my skirts unfolding all around it as I crane my neck to peer at the paper under her quill.

“Writing a letter of apology to Lord Marcus.”

“You did something to him?” She must notice the lacing of utter horror in my voice because she makes a gentle, guttural sound from the back of his throat and glances up for a short moment to reassure me that this was not her fault. Or at least not because of her evil tendencies.

“No. But I did miss out on sending him a letter reupping our deal for his grain on the 15th of the month like I always do. I doubt that he’ll notice; I have my suspicion that he’s accepting offers for his grain from the Southern Isles also, anyway.” I don’t know how she writes and talks at the same time, but her focus is my gain, so I won’t waste too much time thinking about it.

Slowly, as I watch her, my grin widens into a smile. “It’s about your sense of dignity, then.” I crane my neck to look at what she’s writing, but get lost in the beautiful, perfect swirls of her handwriting. I’ve seen her scribbles when she isn’t writing for other people eyes, and it looks like chicken scrawl, but when she’s writing a letter she’s so carful and I doubt that anyone else in the world could make 26 different letters in an innumerable amount of different sequences look so beautiful.

Hilde rolls her eyes and straightens up again as she finishes writing the letter. “Precisely.” She prides herself on her sense of dignity, even though its not as morally coded as others can be, and that’s one of the things I love about her. She has a set of rules that she feels all the way to her core, and she never breaks them. Taking a momentary break from her work, she sets her hands in her lap and turns her head to analyse me. “Weren’t you going on a walk?”

“Well-Uh,” Not letting her catch me off guard for long because I know she enjoys it too much, I flash her another grin. “Being in this spot next to you, my love, has freshly become a far preferable use of my existence.” I say the ‘my love’ part quietly enough that I avoid backlash from her- if the any guard or servant heard, who knows what might happen. She’s the queen, yes, and she has no qualms with killing a person or two but word of the Queen sharing her bed with a lady would travel fast and there’s simply not enough poison in her arsenal to take down a whole kingdom.

“How inconsequential your existence must be, then.” Hilde says it lazily, through a tired deep breath as her shoulders rise delicately and shift back into place. She doesn’t expect a serious answer, but oh, she is going to get one.

“I assure you, I consider my actions of vast importance, love.” Rolling her eyes is her response to that, and I sigh- But perk up, at the sight of her lonely looking hand. “Can I hold your hand?”

“You may,” She sighs, like its such a hassle that I would ever want to just hold her hand. Not a hugely affectionate lady, our Queen. My queen.

Oh, she’s such a grinch. And a witch, obviously. And I’m a bit of a dreamer, but I did not dream the tiny flinch of a smile that passes across her lips momentarily when I bring one of her hands to my lap, holding it in both of mine.

I love this, when I get to touch her. It reminds me that we’re more then just good friends, like any other pair of girls. We belong to each other like my husband and I did, before he died. And in a way that her and the King, never did. It makes a genuine, gleeful smile come to my face- one I couldn’t have stopped if I wanted to. And why would anyone, ever, want to?

“Hey,”

“Yes?”

“Come walk with me,” I plead. She doesn’t open her mouth to refuse right away, she just looks at me in a perturbed way because she knows I have arguments and will always hear me out at least. “It’s a beautiful day,” I begin, fighting to ignore the way she tilts her tilt her head and increases her expression. “You’re beautiful,” When in doubt, always tell her that. Because 1, its absolutely true and no one knows it better then she does. And 2, it will always better her mood. An amused look gleams in her half-hooded eyes, and a slight grin takes her mouth. “And, uh, I love you?”

She laughs. “Those are your reasons?”

“Yes.” I squeak, knowing that they were pathetic.

“You would be beheaded in court.”

“Good thing I’m a law-abiding citizen then, unlike,” Here, I just widen my eyes and incline my head towards her. There are a number of things we can’t say out loud, or above a whisper but we’re far better off then plenty of other couples- and I count us as such.

Her eyes flash, on purpose and she use the pointer finger on the hand I’m not holding in my own, in my lap, noticeably close to an interesting area and pokes delicately on my throat, smirking dangerously as she traces down to the collar of my dress at the base of my neck. “Careful love, the way you’re going you’ll get your walk with me. But I assure you, you wont like it.”

I know very well what Hilde’s punishments are like for being cheeky, and I beg to differ. Grinning mischievously myself, I take her lack of closing up and going back to her work as a yes to my invitation and get up from my stool, guiding her to her feet as well. “Lets go!”

“Mm, I suppose business with Portugal can wait… “ Her voice is monotone, but her face reveals her amusement and happiness to leave work for a little bit.

“Absolutely!”

At the door before we leave the throne room, she puts a hand on the door to prevent me opening it and leans across the short space between us to press a lingering kiss to my lips. When she pulls over, a whine inadvertently escapes me and makes her smirk even wider then before, opening the door so we meet her guards on the other side.

“My friend and I are going on a walk; We’ll be fine on our own.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

[firesidebi]

she knew him for a summer

Of course the first time I decide to write fanfic for the first time in two years is the time that ao3 decides to to maintenance lmao. Anyways this was very much inspired by the posts and fics @gr33kg0ds makes about Sally and Poseidon.

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Day 2

He had now noticed her for a second time. This was quite unusual for him, as he had managed to break the long standing habit of glancing in the direction of mortals. He was quite content with observing a particularly well-looking one every now and then but he had finally begun to congratulate himself on the fact that he was now able to let them slip from his mind. It had been a few decades since he and his brothers promised not to entangle themselves with humans and he was quite positive that none of them had broken that particular oath. 

It was hard at first, glancing past the mortals. He had never quite realized how much his eyes seemed to linger on them until he was told he was no longer allowed to. The first couple of years were hard, especially when they approached him. He was not used to resisting the urge to offer a beautiful girl a crooked grin, not used to having to restrain flashing his sea-green eyes in the direction of a handsome mortal man. He knew that he was probably getting along better than Zeus but that did not mean that he was entirely without suffering. But as the years went on it became easier and easier. Now, on the off chance that he visited the mortal world, he was used to rejecting the individuals that attempted to throw themselves at him. He no longer felt the overwhelming desire to approach a beautiful human and woo them away from whomever was already occupying their time. He was content with observing. 

He was strolling on the shore when he once again saw the young woman with long black curls and warm brown skin. The sun had set not too long ago and the pier was filled with the sounds of mortals laughing and cheering over the various games and rides they were occupying themselves with. The beach was no longer as crowded as it had been earlier that same day and he was quite content with the ambient noise of the boardwalk and waves around him. However, the noise was soon interrupted by a shriek. Jumping slightly, he turned around and glanced over at a small group entertaining themselves around a tiny bonfire. Laughter was now coming from the group as a girl with blonde hair tied up in a ponytail shoved her friend, who was shaking with laughter. Even from his distance, he was able to notice how her laugh made her whole body shake, causing her curls to bounce around her shoulders. In the midst of her laughter she glanced up in his direction and the two made eye contact. He quickly looked away, pretending not to notice how her eyes softened with recognition from their encounter the previous day. He continued to stroll down the beach. 

Day 8

“You know you are going to have to tell me your name eventually Mr. Stranger,” she said as she waded through the water. “It’s not fair that I’ve told you mine and you keep holding yours against me.”

He chuckled and splashed some water in her direction, causing her to stumble back in a poor attempt to evade it. 

“I don’t understand why you insisted on going in the water if every time I go to splash you-.”

“We’ve already had this discussion Fish Boy,” she laughed. “If I wanted to get wet I would go under the water myself.”

“Did you just call me Fish Boy?” he asked incredulously. 

She offered him a radiant grin that he was growing more and more fond of as the days passed on. At first it had been a fleeting sense of satisfaction any time he managed to pull one out of her, but now he began to notice that he was going out of his way to see if he could produce the reaction from her. 

“Don’t pretend that I haven’t noticed how they swarm around you from time to time. For a public beach they don’t seem to really know to stay away from the shore.”

“It’s not my fault that they’re drawn to me,” he huffed. And it was true, it wasn’t his fault that they came over to him so close to the mortals. He was their ruler and they were his subjects, of course they would come over to him for aid or out of curiosity. 

“Are you sure that you haven’t laced yourself with fish food?” she asked. 

“Believe me, they hate that stuff,” he said. “Unless a fish has only grown up without any other alternative those thin flakes are absolutely disgusting compared to what they could be having.”

“And you know this how?” she laughed.

He turned to face her and noticed that she had moved closer to him yet again. Despite the protests from his splashing, she still seemed to be drawn to him. He didn’t know if it was because of his godly-ness or if she simply liked to be in close proximity to him. A small part of him hoped for the later. 

“I know this Sally Jackson,” he smirked. “Because as you have so kindly pointed out, the fish like to converse with me.”

She rolled her eyes at him and waded deeper into the water. 

“Don’t tell me then,” she said. “But mark my words Fish Boy, I will find out your secrets!”

He let out a laugh of his own as she dove into the water, purposely kicking her legs up to splash him. 

Day 20

She had seen him. Of course, mortals were always prone to viewing the actions of gods but the mist covered it up. He had seen it over the millennia, the mist disguising his conflicts both on land and in the sea. How many times had he been battling one of the many monsters that had resurged from Tartarus for it to be reported as nothing more than a sudden hurricane on the mortal news? That was the point of the mist after all, for the mortals not to see. For them not to have any inkling of the godly world.

But Sally had seen him. 

These last two weeks had been dangerous for him. He knew he should not be getting close with any mortal but for some reason he still couldn’t manage to break whatever was forming between him and Sally Jackson. She was enchanting like no mortal had ever been before. She was carefree and did not seem to care that those around them would falter while sparing a passing glance at him. She did not hesitate to roll her eyes at him when he made a particularly bad joke or glare at him when he still refused to tell her his name (though now she had made a guessing game out of it, hoping to trip him up one day). Her laugh moved through her whole body and he couldn’t help but look her way when he heard the melodic sound escape from her lips. The last two weeks of spending time in the sun with her had caused her already brown skin to darken even further and made the soft sprinkling of freckles adorning her face and shoulders deepen. She was mesmerizing and dangerous and she had somehow seen him through the mist. 

He wasn’t doing anything particularly damning, nothing that would cause the mist to have to exaggerate its hold over the eyes of mortals. The sun had gone down not too long ago and the beach was not particularly crowded in the area he occupied. This was good, for even though he had been spending most of his time on land he still had business to attend to in the sea. A hippocampi had tracked him down to update him on the conflicts in the southern Atlantic. As god of the sea, it was up to him to find a way to settle the issue without too many repercussions on either side. He was caught up in the information and did not hear the soft footsteps from behind him, if he had he may have had time to think of an explanation. 

“So,” he heard a familiar voice drawl and a pit developed in his stomach. “You weren’t lying when you said you talked to the fish.”

Sensing the change in atmosphere, the hippocampi dove back under the water without any preamble and left his king without any means to explain himself. 

“I-,” he stuttered as he turned around to face the shorter woman. She had her arms crossed and was looking up at him with an indiscernible expression. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Sally rolled her eyes and took a step closer. Although he was immortal and had dealt with conflicts much more heinous than this, he had been absent of the dread that lay within his chest for a long time now. He had grown unfamiliar with the piercing gaze of a mortal that did not worship him. 

“This stuff,” she said, gesturing to the ocean. “This stuff is something I have lived my life seeing. Nobody else seems to see it and everyone calls me crazy. Are you going to be like them?”

“No,” he spluttered. 

He hadn’t even hesitated.  

“Then I want you to start explaining yourself,” Sally said coolly. “I want you to explain what the fuck I just saw, why I am seeing it, and how you’re involved with all of it.” 

“You’re going to think it’s crazy, mortals always do.”

She didn’t falter at his use of the word ‘mortal.’ Instead, she stepped closer to him and looked up at him defiantly. 

“Try me,” she whispered. 

He opened his mouth and then closed it. He didn’t want to scare her off but something in the back of his mind told him that if she wasn’t scared off by now then she would never be. Something even further back told him that it would be better for everyone if she was scared. Shoving aside his thoughts he reached out his hand and took hers into it, silently pleased that she had not flinched away from his touch. 

“Let’s take a walk Sally Jackson,” he said softly. “And I shall tell you everything.” 

Day 29

It had been almost a month since he had been drawn to Sally. It had been over a week now that she knew of his identity and everything else that came with it. But she had not ran from him or his proclamation that he was ‘Poseidon the Almighty God of the Sea.’ She had taken his words in stride and did not interrupt him once during their entire conversation. Sally had saved all her questions for the end. 

“Why am I able to see through the mist?”

“So that first day I saw you, the trident you were holding wasn’t a prop?”

“My parents were killed in an unexplained crash, is that the fault of your brother?” 

“Why are you here?”

Of all the questions she had posed he had tried to give her an honest explanation for each of them. He didn’t know why she could see through the mist, nor if his brother was involved in any of the suffering she had gone through. The only question that had remained unanswered was her inquiry about his presence. He didn’t want to lie to her and say he didn’t know, he knew well enough why he had decided to dwell in the mortal world for so much longer than he allowed himself these past couple of decades. He knew that every time she leaned on him he could feel the same spot she had rested herself burning that very night back in his palace. He knew that every time she looked up at him he felt as if he had found something that had been missing for a long time. Every smile and laugh that he brought out of her presented him with a deep sense of satisfaction that he was the one able to make her react in such a way. 

He knows why he is here. And he thinks that she knows to. 

Day 35

They’re drinking and he can imagine the jibes that Dionysus would be sending his way if he could see him. He prided himself on not overly indulging himself at parties and gatherings on Olympus, leaving that to Dionysus and Apollo or even Aphrodite if it was a particularly good party. 

The party he was at currently did not even begin to scratch the surface of extravagant. However, what this party had that others in the past had lacked was Sally Jackson. 

When Sally had invited him to the bonfire party he hadn’t really expected much. That second time he had seen her he had gotten the gist of what it would entail. But he was weak around her and couldn’t reject the opportunity to spend more time with her. When they arrived she introduced him to a couple of people as the mystery guy they had been hearing so much about. 

“So what’s your name mystery man?” Sally’s blonde friend asked while handing him a plastic cup that smelled a bit too strong to be simply a coke. He took a sip and tried not to grimace. Definitely too strong to be just a coke. 

“Does it really matter?” he asked. “It’s not like anyone here will be sober enough to remember it.” 

Sally gave him a look while the blonde girl blinked at him before letting out a laugh. Next to her, the boy with his hand around her waist was also laughing at his remark. 

“Oh man,” the boy smiled. “I understand why Sally likes you so much, you’re hot and snarky.”

“I’m not meaning to be snarky,” he replied. “I’m simply stating the truth.” 

He downed the rest of his cup while the blonde and boy laughed some more over his words. He couldn’t tell if they actually thought he was that funny or if they were just that intoxicated. Luckily, he didn’t have to ponder that thought for long, as Sally had grabbed his arm and was steering him towards the fire where the music was considerably louder. At some point during their short walk over there he had accumulated another drink courtesy of his escort who now also held a plastic cup of not-coke in her hand. 

“Come on Fish Boy,” she said while knocking back the rest of her drink before tossing it on the sand. “Dance with me.”

“I hope you plan on picking that up,” he answered as she put her arms around him. “Litter and pollution are some of my biggest problems right now and I would hate to be seen with someone who so carelessly disregards the environment.” 

“Don’t worry Poseidon, I’ll clean up all of my garbage if you do me the honor of dancing with me.” 

She smiled and began to move inviting him to place his hands upon her hips as she moved to rhythm. He hoped that the light of the fire and the alcohol made it so she wasn’t able to see him flush at the sound of her using his name. Taking a breath he quickly chugged the rest of his drink before tossing his own cup down on the ground. He placed his hands on her hips and guided her closer to him. He let out a laugh of his own as Sally took his hand and made him twirl her.

Day 36

Dionysus would definitely be laughing at him if he could see just how much a drunken fool he was in this moment. The party was technically still going on but somehow he had drunk enough to make himself tipsy, a goal not so easily obtained by a god. Sally was also slightly intoxicated but not so much that she needed to be carried back to the cabin she had rented out for the summer. Still, she didn’t hesitate to take him up on his offer of steadying her as he walked her home. 

“Such a gentleman you are,” she smirked when he had asked. 

She fumbled with her keys when they arrived but was able to unlock the door without any assistance. He tried not to let his curiosity shine as he took in the place that she had made her home for the past month. The kitchen was small and there was no table to eat at. There was however a small, dingy looking couch and television. Scattered around the kitchen counters and couch were a handful of books that he recalled Sally mentioning to him on a couple of occasions. 

“It’s not much,” she said. He noticed that she looked a little bit bashful as she noticed him taking in everything. “It’s all I have at the moment but I’ve done my best within the renting parameters.” 

“I think it’s perfect,” he said. He guessed it was the right thing to say because she quickly turned around and moved toward the kitchen, trying to hide her blush in the process. 

“Can I get you anything to drink? I’m not familiar with what gods need to do to sober up.”

“Some water would be nice,” he said. He moved on over to the kitchen. Sally didn’t seem to notice his change in location and so when she turned to walk back over to him she jumped, causing some of the water to spill out of the glass she had poured for him. 

“Crap, I’m so sorry,” she apologized. “I swear I didn’t mean to spill something on you.” 

He chuckled and took the glass from her hand, drinking the remaining water left in the cup. Without saying a word he lifted his free hand and ever so slightly summoned the spilled water back into the glass. He put the glass down on the counter and met her eyes which had finally started to look like what he was used to seeing out of mortals. 

“So,” she whispered. “You really are a god.”

“Did you not believe me?” he asked, his voice softer than it had been before. 

“I believed you,” she sighed. “But still…”

“Still?” he asked. 

“It’s still crazy,” she explained. “I mean, I go my whole life having all this weird stuff happening around me and then you show up and offer an explanation for it? What do you gain by doing that?”

He could hear the unspoken question in her words. Why are you here?

“I didn’t offer you an explanation to gain anything,” he said. “I offered you one because you deserved it.”

“Why are you still here then? I have my explanation, the gods are real. Monsters are real. They’re real and powerful and have been following me my entire life.”

“Do you want me to go?” he asked in a whisper. He could tell that she was getting frustrated and confused. He knew that performing parlor tricks with the water brought that out in mortals but he hadn’t been thinking. He was with her and he was slightly tipsy and it had been so long since he had allowed himself to feel this way about a mortal. A mortal that could see him clearer than anyone had ever been able to. But if she wanted him gone he could do that. He could leave for her. 

“I don’t know,” she confessed after a moment. “You’ll have to leave at some point right?”

“Yes,” he said. He would not sugar coat anything for her and she was correct in her assumption. He would have to leave at some point. 

“When?”

“I don’t know.” 

(And he didn’t.)

“But I can stay right now.” 

(And he could.)

She looked up at him and studied him for a while but he didn’t stop to question it. He could see her brows furrowing while trying to figure him out and process their entire fucked up situation. He was a god and she was a mortal. He would have to leave her and it would pain him to do so. He was not meant for the land and she was not meant for the sea. 

“Stay,” she whispered as her brows unfurrowed. 

He nodded his head before leaning downwards and pulling her face to his. He no longer cared about the agreement or the prophecy that threatened Olympus. All he cared about was how soft her lips felt against his and how perfectly she fit into his arms as he lifted her up.

Day 57

The sound of the rain softly hitting the roof of the cabin was muffled by the sound of her laughter. 

“You mean to tell me,” Sally laughed. “You mean to tell me that all these years you have lived you have never, not once, made pancakes?”

“I didn’t think it would be that hard!” he scoffed. 

“It’s not!” she exclaimed in between her giggles. “Only you could somehow find a way to make the simplest meals turn into rocket science.” 

“Well excuse me for trying to be romantic,” he huffed, now embarrassed by the situation. He turned away from her but felt her touch on his arm. 

“Hey,” she said. He turned to face her and her expression had gone from shifted from amusement to fondness. He felt that familiar sense of pride deep in his chest out of the satisfaction that he was the reason for those softened features. 

“Why don’t I teach you how to make some pancakes,” she offered. “That way the next time you want to be romantic you won’t ruin the kitchen that I’m renting.” 

She took his hand and led him into the kitchen so that they could clean up his mess together. All the while his mind kept whispering, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” 

Day 64

Nevermind a confession of love, this was the dangerous part. 

The way her body writhed underneath his and how her nails scratched down his back as he pushed into her. The sound of his name leaving her lips in-between the tiny moans and pants she let out as he did his best to pleasure her. 

“Fuck,” she moaned. 

And she was fucked. And so was he. The two of them were utterly and completely fucked because despite the pleasure and the want of being wrapped up in her, he knew that this was dangerous. He knew that if he truly loved and cared for her he would have left that night after the bonfire before they got past the point of no return. 

But as she called out his name again and he looked down and saw how utterly wrecked she looked because of what he was doing to her he was able to quell his worries. In front of him was a woman more beautiful than any mortal or god or nymph. Here in this old and used bed was a woman worthy of breaking an oath for. 

Day 75

“I have a wife,” he confesses one night, long after they had finished pleasuring each other. She was curled around him and running her fingers up and down his chest as he played with her hair. 

“Amphitrite, right?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he whispered. He was so afraid of her judgement but it did not come. Instead she shifted herself closer to him. 

“Do you love her?”

“I do,” he said. “But differently than how I love you.”

She hummed and nuzzled her face into his side. He knew that this was an invitation to continue on if he wanted to but knew she would not hold it against him if he failed to speak anymore on the matter. 

“She,” he began. “She’s like me. Immortal. She has been around long enough to see the world change and progress. She’s a constant reminder of my own godliness, a reminder that I have a role and duty to fulfill. Part of me is thankful for that, she grounds me in the godly world and is there when I need a reminder of what I am. Eons ago, when I was much younger and full of rage, she was the only one who would be able to calm me down to stop the ocean from spilling out.”

Sally was looking at him now, her head perched up and no longer half-asleep. He was so nervous telling her this but she made no protest at his admissions. 

“I think that when I leave she will be the only person able to quench the rage in me for not being able to stay with you,” he confessed. “I love you so much Sally and it’s going to hurt so much when it’s time for me to go but know that the type of love I have for my wife is a companionship. And that when the ocean rages and then calms it is her stopping me from putting you in any more danger.” 

“Does she know about me?” Sally asks after a long moment of silence. So long that he had begun to think she had fallen asleep. 

“I think she does. I think she suspects. And if she suspects then my brothers may start to suspect.” 

“What aren’t you telling me Poseidon?” she whispers. “Why is it so dangerous?”

And so he tells her about the prophecy and the measures that his brothers and the rest of the gods would go to in order to make sure that it doesn’t come to fruition. He tells her about the oath and the fact that he is the only one to have broken the oath which puts her in so much danger. No other mortal had been able to tempt them, only Sally Jackson. And that power is dangerous. 

Day 84

He can’t find it within himself to be upset when she tells him. He can’t find it in himself to be anything but absolutely ecstatic. He takes her into his arms and twirls her around on the shore and it’s so much like the start of their time together. The weather has gotten colder and Amphitrite has already confronted him about his time spent away from home. He knows what this means if she has had to step in. He knows that the others are conversing with her and that she has loyally covered for him despite being so undeserving of that loyalty. 

But when Sally tells him that she’s pregnant, her expression unreadable because of her own lingering fear of his reaction, he can’t help but to take her into his arms and kiss her. It’s only after seeing his own joy that she allows the smile he loves so much to unfurl and lets out a joyous laugh as he whispers how much he loves her into her ear. 

He ignores the slight rumble of thunder in the sky. 

When they get back to the cabin that night they celebrate by eating breakfast for dinner and having a contest to see who can create the most extravagant ice cream sundae. They kiss and have sex and tangle themselves up together in a way that they both have grown used to over the weeks spent like this together. He tells her stories of heroes and skillfully omits the unhappy endings from their stories. He knows that she is well-versed in myths and most likely knows the information he leaves out. He tells her that these demigods all received training and that they’re still able to.

“The camp protects them,” he whispers in her ear as they drift off to sleep. “It trains them and prepares them for the rest of their life.” 

Day 92

“You could come with me,” he offers. “I can build you a palace and we can raise our son together, away from the eyes of my brothers and away from the prophecy.”

They stand on the beach, his feet touching the water and hers touching the sand. The hippocampi had come to him that morning, delivering a message from Amphitrite. 

“Husband,” the note read. “Things are looking bad here. While I understand you have...business in the mortal realm that we can discuss later on, the kingdom grows suspicious of your lack of presence. Triton inquires about your whereabouts and he is not as understanding as I am. Please, I believe it would be in the best interest for everyone if you were able to wrap up your business and return home. Reinstate the fact that you're their king and prevent any more surprise visits from the other Olympians.”

He offered the note to Sally earlier but she shook her head and gave it back to him. She told him it wasn’t her place to read it and that she understood that it was time. 

“I prepared for this, remember?” she smiled. “When this started I knew you had to leave one day.”

“I knew that too,” he said. “But there’s still a way-,” 

“No Poseidon,” she said firmly. She offered no explanation but he understood. When this whole thing started between them he knew that she was never offering to follow him back to the sea. He was agreeing to stay as long as he could with her and when the time for him to leave came she would let him go. 

How is he supposed to do the same with her?

“Sally I love you so much,” he said. “And I love our child so much. Make sure they know that.”

He had told her that he probably wouldn’t be able to visit either of them. He saw the hurt in her eyes when he had told her but it had to be said, he would be honest with her one last time before leaving. 

She nodded her head and he cupped her face in his hands for one final time. He leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead and pretended not to hear the shaky gasp she let out at the feeling of his lips on her skin. He wouldn’t indulge himself in her lips. He wouldn’t do that to them, when their parting was already so hard. 

He whispered one last declaration of love before separating himself from her and turning towards the sea. The waves crashed down roughly on the sand, betraying his outrage at the entire situation. But he knew that Amphitrite would be there to help him through this and knew that as long as he walked into the water both Sally and their child would be safe. And that was enough for him. 

[makistar2018]

Why ‘Lover’ Is the Ultimate Taylor Swift Album

Taylor Swift just made her career-capping masterpiece and it’s not OK at all

By ROB SHEFFIELD August 23, 2019

Why is Lover so much more than just another great Taylor Swift album? Because it’s the one where she’s trying to make all the great Taylor Swift albums, at the same time. She’s closing down her twenties, which she spent making five of the decade’s best albums — Speak Now, Red, 1989, Reputation and now this one — all released before she reached the age when Leonard Cohen made his debut. (Here’s betting Taylor keeps writing great songs into her 80s, just as L.C. did.) So overdramatic. So true. It’s her career-capping masterpiece: She touches every place she’s ever visited along her musical journey, and makes them all sound new. So overdramatic. So true. She’s had you for 13 summers, honey, but now she wants them all, and she wants to make you fall in love with this magnetic force of an album. It’s a ridiculously excessive demand, but what other kind would she ever make?

It’s the first time since Red she’s attempted to gather together all the Taylors and sit them down for a summit. But Red was seven years ago, and there are a lot more new Taylors in the mix. All over Lover, she’s in touch with her younger self — “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince” revisits the high-school girl she was on Fearless, just as “Daylight” updates the six-months-sober young-adult romantic of 1989. The girl who sang about making her mom drop her off a block away from the party is now driving her mom to the hospital. The teenager with teardrops on her guitar is now a woman with guitar-string scars. Yet on Lover she wants to show why all these girls are authentically her. 

In Prince terms, if Speak Now was her 1999 and Red was her Purple Rain and Reputation was her Parade, this is her Sign o’ the Times, the one where she shows she can do all her best tricks on one album. Her goopy guitar ballads, her new wave electro-pop, her Southern accent, her English accent, her brilliant ideas, her terrible ones, every corner of her borrowed and blue heart — it’s all here. Practically every song is saturated in her personal mythology, packed with tiny musical and lyrical details for only hardcore fans to notice — love the way she adds a lost glove to go with the lost scarf from “All Too Well.”

For a songwriter who tends to fall in and out of love on a roller-coaster rhythm, Lover is an album about being in love, which is both scarier and harder to write songs about. “The Archer,” “Lover,” “Cornelia Street,” “Cruel Summer” — these are the kind of disruptively, devouringly hyper-emotional ballads Taylor used to write about her fleeting crushes, but it’s a totally different song when it’s about trying to hold on to a real human being (and trying to stay one).

You could call Lover her “Saturn’s return” album, as people are fond of saying these days. But “Saturn’s return” is too good a word, babe, so I’ll just say, “getting old.” Great songwriters always tend to get introspective when they’re facing 30, whether it’s David Bowie on Low, Joni Mitchell on Hejira, or Al Green on The Belle Album. When I was a little boy, I’d look at Carole King’s wise eyes on the cover of Tapestry and ponder all the adult pain she sang about — but Carole was only 29, the age Taylor is now.

My favorite Lover song as of right now — it will keep changing for weeks to come — is “Cornelia Street.” It’s basically the same plot as “Holy Ground” — a girl in New York City, surrounded by a city that reminds her of a boy she misses before he’s even gone. But it’s from a totally different emotional perspective. “Holy Ground” has always been a fave because it sums up Taylor’s zero-to-60 heart — she goes off the deep end about her latest crush, all the private jokes they share, the poems she writes about him, their deep soul connection. Then she delivers the punch line: “And that was the first day!” (Never accuse Tay of lacking a sense of humor about herself.) What a surprise: the “Holy Ground” romance falls apart in the usual way. Probably on the second day.

But in “Cornelia Street,” it’s not the first day anymore. She’s trying to hold on and make it real before it burns out. How do you keep your holy ground when you actually have to walk on it and live there? That’s the question she’s asking all over these new songs.

“Lover” begins with her trademark Sad Taylor guitar in the Mazzy Star mode, then turns out to be not sad at all, but a ballad of a long-running ever-evolving adult relationship, without any compromise of her extra extra-ness. When Taylor sings, “I swear to be overdramatic and true,” her vow is extremely believable. “Lover” has sent me back to all her Mazzy Swift ballads over the years, which means “Last Kiss” has been currently re-ruining my life on an hourly basis. (Seriously: how the hell did a 20-year-old write the hook “I feel you forget me like I used to feel you breathe”?) It’s the perfect autobiographical title song, for this most nakedly autobiographical of Swift albums.

She goes back to country with the Dixie Chicks in “Soon You’ll Be Better,” a poignant sequel to “The Best Day” about her mom’s battle with cancer. (She sings about Jesus for the first time since her long-forgotten juvenilia ditty, “Christmas Must Mean Something More.”) On the other side of the spectrum, she enlists Idris Elba for “London Boy,” a roll call of Brit stereotypes that achieves the ultimate in blimey-sploitation. (“Brixton” is the new “therein”? Discuss!)

The lead single “ME!” turned out to have basically nothing to do with any of the music on the album, which — in case you’re late to this game — is the way she always does it. Her lead singles tend to be camp one-offs. But “You Need to Calm Down” holds up well after months of airplay, from the New Romantic synths (play it next to Elvis Costello’s “Green Shirt” for the full effect) to the grand joke of Taylor calming anyone down, which is like the Human Torch advising you to chill. “The Man” is the righteous feminist bombshell Reputation could have used, and Taylor picked the absolute perfect moment to compare her self-image to Leo DiCaprio. As the little girl in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood would say, poor Eazy Breezy.

And for old times’ sake, there’s the obligatory dud, just because it wouldn’t be a real Taylor album without one moment that goes off the rails. So step right up and shake hands with “I Forgot You Existed,” which sounds like it was left off Reputation for wise reasons. I don’t plan to listen to it again, yet I’m glad it’s there because the album needs it to be emotionally authentic — just as the Beatles knew Abbey Road wouldn’t be complete without “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer.”

She still zooms into emotional extremes, like in the hilarious way she begins “Lover” by boasting about how she’s wild and carefree enough to leave her Christmas lights up until January, which is (if my math is correct) a week. It’s just like she ended her last album singing about cleaning up the morning after her New Year’s Eve party, which means she didn’t spend New Year’s Day nursing her hangover with an eight-hour Love After Lockupbinge like a normal person. Like Reputation, Lover has plenty of acerbic “therein lies the issue” moments, but she dials down the Therein Factor a couple notches to make room for a whole avalanche of emotion. When she takes that vow of eternal devotion in “Lover” — with every guitar-string scar on her hand — the soulmate she’s really embracing is her chaotic self, and it’s an overpowering moment from an overpowering album. All the Taylors, all the time.

Rolling Stone

[theunboundkiwi]

Ocean Man

When you grow up somewhere and have lived in the same spot for 14 years, you never really appreciate what’s always there and not anywhere else. 

I lived on the Kapiti Coast (pronounced cap-uh-tee) in Wellington, New Zealand in a big house with a big family. I lived a mere 15-minute walk from the ocean (pictured below), though to be honest I hardly went there. On a small, isolated island like NZ, the ocean is just there. Most people there don’t understand just how fortunate they are to be living so close to such an insane natural phenomena as the ocean. In fact, you’re never more than 120 kilometers (75 miles) away from it when your feet are touching Kiwi soil. My newly found appreciation for the ocean didn’t actually happen when I moved to Wyoming, but rather while I was leaving it.

I wasn’t too phased by the landlocked-ness of Wyoming initially, I mean at the very least I could see the northern horizon from Casper College. There are eastern and western horizons as well, but no southern one - the Rocky Mountains in Colorado make sure of that. These horizons were made of dirt, dust, and more goddamn dirt. Did I mention that there’s dust everywhere here? Anyway, rant over - I actually wasn’t too bothered by the lack of water, not until I was flying back to New Zealand to see my family over Christmas. I was travelling with my brother Davis, who heard me literally gasp aloud when we flew out of San Francisco and I saw the big blue Pacific for the first time in four months. I see plenty of shades of blue every day, but there’s no words to describe the blueness of the ocean. I hadn’t seen such a deep blue in over 120 days, so my eyes essentially forgot what that color looked like. Seeing it again hit me, or rather hit my eyes, like a semi-truck. I almost wept; I had realized exactly what my parents meant those many times they told me I had no idea how fortunate I was, being able to live so close to something as invigorating and alive as the ocean.

I’ve met people in Casper who have never seen the ocean, people in their 30′s or older. Just do it. One way or another, get to California or Florida or Oregon... or hell, even leave the country! No photos or videos do justice for the ocean, you really have to be there to experience it. Life on this planet began in the ocean, we all have a connection to it. There is a spiritual link between us and it. If the opportunity arises, do not turn down a visit to the sea. We all started there, and we were always meant to return to it. ~ Dev

[dweemeister]

2017 Movie Odyssey for-fun awards

The 2017 Movie Odyssey Awards are being posted sometime soon, but, as is tradition on this blog, here are some for-fun honors and dishonors based on a year of watching 200+ films that were new to me this calendar year.

Actor I wanted to smack most in the face: Mark Wahlberg, The Happening (2008)

Good lord, he was AWFUL. “Planning on murdering me in my sleep?” “WHAT, NO!” Here’s Wahlberg talking to a plastic tree.

Attempted political messaging, but says less than it wants: State of the Union (1948)

Frank Capra, you are better than this!

Attempted religious messaging, but says less than it wants: Conflagration (1958, Japan)

Best Film Title: What Dreams May Come (1998)

Best individual cue from an original score: “End Titles” from Independence Day (1996), composed by David Arnold

Best lyrics passage from an original song: From “No Wrong Way Home” from Pearl (2016 short)

One blue-green world, round as a pearl, doesn’t matter which road you take, you’ll wind up in the same place. That’s not philosophy, it’s geometry, and if things don’t look the same, well it’s only you who’ve changed.

There’s some interesting messaging and rhyming going on here. Damn.

Best Moment: An act of sportsmanship, followed by a grandstand finish, Akeelah and the Bee (2006)

If you have kids and they haven’t seen this movie, find this movie. If you haven���t seen this movie, find this movie.

Best Montage: Body-switching and “Zenzenzense”, Your Name (2016, Japan)

Best Movie Dad: Raymond from My Life as a Zucchini (2016, Switzerland)

The first non-biological father to win here, I think. It matters not, though. He is wonderful here.

Best Movie Family Member, non-parent: Aunt Mattie (Clara Blandick), A Star Is Born (1937)

For supporting Esther’s dreams of going to Hollywood without fail. You go, Aunt Mattie. She really is not in this movie long enough.

Best Movie Mom(s): All of the Boatwrights (Queen Latifah, Alicia Keys, and Sophie Okonedo) and Rosaleen (Jennifer Hudson), The Secret Life of Bees (2008)

Again, a first in that these are adopted parents. Thanks to a good friend of mine for introducing to me the book.

Best on-screen friendship: The friendship between all the orphans in My Life as as Zucchini

Best use of non-original music (and best musical callback to a past movie): The many uses of “You’ll Never Know” from Hello Frisco Hello (1943) appearing in The Shape of Water (2017)

Hello Frisco Hello remains on my watchlist… we’ll get there someday!

Best dance segment (for two): Rita Hayworth and Fred Astaire in “I’m Old Fashioned”, You Were Never Lovelier (1942)

Best dance segment (solo): Donald O’Connor in “A Man Chases a Girl (Until She Catches Him)”, There’s No Business Like Show Business (1954)

Best sword fight: Errol Flynn v. Basil Rathbone, Captain Blood (1935)

Yeah, sorry folks who expected Rey and Kylo Ren v. Praetorian Guards or Kylo Ren v. Luke here.

Bestiality: The Red Turtle (2016, France/Belgium/Japan)

SPOILERS!!!

Biggest Disappointment: Marnie (1964)

Oh god, this may be the first Hitchcock movie I truly loathed (nor do I think it will be the last… I’ve basically seen all the greats by now).

Biggest (pleasant) surprise: Pear Cider and Cigarettes (2016 short)

I was worried about the explicit content for this Oscar-nominated short film, and that it might meander around its topic a bit. But no it didn’t. Well done, well deserved nomination.

Biggest (unpleasant) surprise: Detroit (2017)

It becomes torture porn in the final third. The black victims are not nearly developed enough here as they should be.

Bloodbath: Logan (2017)

Is it the movie with the highest body count? Maybe not, considering I saw both Independence Day movies this year. But it was certainly bloody!

Bravest: Parvana, The Breadwinner (2017)

Going full-out Mulan to help her family survive in pre-American invasion Afghanistan? I was astounded by Parvana’s resilience.

Don’t take opiates, kids: Pink Floyd - The Wall (1982)

Greatest Discovery (Actor): Pierre Étaix, Yoyo (1965, France)

Greatest Discovery (Actress): Brooklynn Prince, The Florida Project (2017)

Greatest Discovery (Director): D.A. Pennebaker, Don’t Look Back (1967) and Monterey Pop (1968)

Hardest ending to watch: The Coward (1965, India)

Satyajit Ray pulling no punches here.

Hypnotic: Notes on a Triangle (1966 short)

A beautiful experimental animated short film. Someone’s going to connect it to the Illuminati or some vast Canadian conspiracy somehow.

Kept me on the edge of my seat: Seven Days to Noon (1950)

A Cold War thriller at the very beginning of the Cold War has so much going for it than so many modern thrillers can never hope to achieve.

Kick-ass moment: This riding scene from The Man from Snowy River (1982)

I’d like to see a chimpanzee with dual-wielding machine guns do that! Make it happen, 20th Century Fox!

Laziest (not worst) film title: Summer Magic (1963)

I mean, the songs are decent and Hayley Mills is, too. But come on, Disney!

Least funny comedy: That Funny Feeling (1965)

Least likely to deserve my negative review 10 years from now: Justice League (2017)

Because you know Zack Snyder will find a way to screw the DCEU up even more.

Least likely to deserve my positive review 10 years from now: I have a hunch it’s gonna be Star Wars: The Last Jedi (2017)… but I don’t want that to be official here.

Line I will repeat the most down the years: “Apes. Together. Strong.”, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014) and War for the Planet of the Apes (2017)

Made fashion designers compelling: Funny Face (1957)

Most Inspiring: Swim Team (2016)

A documentary that follows three members of a New Jersey Special Olympics swim team. All those kids have autism, and it is fantastic to see them learn, grow, and live over time. It isn’t a Hoop Dreams, but it doesn’t need to be.

Made me laugh the most: Blackbeard’s Ghost (1968)

And I’m not ashamed to say that. It’s not the best comedy by any means, but I got more laughter and mileage out of this one than anything else.

Most Memorable Use of an Icepick: Scarlet Street (1945)

Don’t spoil if you know!

Most Overrated Picture: Manchester by the Sea (2016)

Casey Affleck had no business winning that Academy Award.

Most Underappreciated: The Great Man (1956)

In our world of “fake news”, this movie - which also comments on how we idealize our heroes - has many echoes on today. It’s a good journalism/news media movie, even if it’s concentrated on early TV and especially radio.

Most Underseen: Bardelys the Magnificent (1926)

A good, entertaining adventure-romance silent film with John Gilbert and Eleanor Boardman. The reason why it’s underseen was because it was considered a lost film until recently, when a near-complete print turned up in France.

Movie I most wished to write on, but wasn’t able to (because I ran out of October to do it): A retrospective on Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2011) and regular reviews for Dawn of the Planet of the Apes (2014) and War for the Planet of the Apes (2017)

Movie that I’m most eager to rewatch: Castle in the Sky (1986, Japan)

There was so much going on, and so many departures from Nausicaa that I need time to do a Retrospective review on this some day. It’s a gorgeous film.

Nearly resulted in someone killing me in a theater: In This Corner of the World (2016, Japan)

Yeah, if the main character had gone to Hiroshima, I would have been a goner (and it wouldn’t have been by my own hand).

Raunchiest: Destry Rides Again (1939)

Holy hell. There are so many entendres in here, and Marlene Dietrich is going all out on the sexuality! How did this get pass the Hays Code?

Sorry, I didn’t get it, and I still don’t get all the love for David Lynch (even though Mulholland was great): Eraserhead (1977)

Sounds most like a porno (other than Octopussy because that’s too easy): Peeping Tom (1960)

With apologies to Michael Powell.

Star Trek alumni award: Patrick Stewart, Logan (2017)

Surprisingly relevant political commentary: They Won’t Forget (1937)

Northern-Southern attitudes in the United States? Even a touch of racial relations? Now if only Warner Bros. kept the defendant in the movie Jewish, as he was in real life.

Underrated: Lonely Are the Brave (1962)

One of the best neo-Westerns you are likely to see.

Worst film title: The Hound That Thought He Was a Raccoon (1960)

For chrissakes, Disney.

Worst Moment: All the rapey-ness of Revenge of the Nerds (1984)

It reminded me why the 1980s is in contention for my least favorite decade of filmmaking.

Stay tuned, the 2017 Movie Odyssey Awards will be up shortly! Thank you all for following. Thank you all for being here for as long as you have. Thank you for supporting all this blog does.

[williammarshal-blog]

Just a Scratch

Prompt: Clarke returning to Arkadia, Lexa visiting months later but is attacked on the way and seriously injured plus Abby figuring out Clarke loves her

I apologise this is about ten years late, but I tried! man, it’s difficult getting back into writing clexa when it’s been a while. I hope it’s okay.

AO3 link.

It had been on Lexa's insistence. All of it. And it began a few weeks ago.

"You should take Midnight," Lexa said, barely looking up from her table. She was frowning at a letter she'd received as Clarke reclined on Lexa's bed. She didn't want to think too crudely (sometimes she still suspected Lexa could read minds) but she'd just had a hot bath. Lexa's maids had pampered her. Even her hair was clean. Hells, even her fingernails. And Lexa was not taking advantage. Instead, she was fiddling around with her quill, thinking of something to write.

Clarke yawned. "Take Midnight where? Wait—do you want me to leave you for a bit?"

"Don't be silly. You're only in a nightgown." Lexa blinked, and finally looked up as if she realised what she'd just said. The nightgown was...translucent to say the least. Lexa flushed, and stared furiously at the desk. "I meant for your ride to Arkadia."

"My what?"

"...Aden didn't tell you?"

"That boy doesn't tell me anything except your favourite flower."

Lexa laughed. "And what is that, may I ask?"

"Nightshade, because it's dangerous, poisonous and deadly, like you."

"He said that?"

"Yes. He's usually right. You're practically his Bible."

"My favourite flower is a carnation."

"Oh."

Clarke decided to cover herself with the furs, ignoring Lexa's self-indulgent snicker. She couldn't shake the thought from her mind. When had it been decided she was going back to Arkadia? She knew her mother and Lexa had been in frequent correspondence, since winter was coming and supplies had to be transported. But she deserved a say in this, and she suspected Lexa knew a storm was coming for her. She loved Lexa, yes, but that didn't mean Lexa could just ferry her about.

"I'm guessing it's a letter from my mother," Clarke said eventually.

"It's...heartfelt," Lexa said awkwardly. Eventually, she gave up and sighed, shrinking back into her armchair. Clarke's heart sank. Lexa didn't give much away, not even when her audience consisted solely of Clarke. It was not like the Commander to give much away anyway. Her guidance in the form of Titus had gone, and Lexa hadn't said a single word about it. Clarke had tried asking Aden, only to receive an uncharacteristically stony response of "I don't know" in return. It was code for "it's none of your business"—but Aden was too polite to say so.

Lexa said it the next day anyway.

"My parents never saw me to adulthood," Lexa lamented from her chair, which seemed all too big on her slim shoulders now. "I was taken to Polis as a child, trained to be the Commander." Trained to be a killer. "I...The closest I felt to parenthood was with Anya. But I cannot imagine or empathise what it must be like to be leagues away from your family. I want you here, Clarke." Lexa did not point to the room, or even mention Polis. When Clarke looked at her, Lexa's fist was clenched over her heart, so hard the whites of her knuckles looked on the verge of exploding from her hand. "Only a monster keeps a daughter hostage from her mother, so far away. You should go."

"You're not keeping me hostage," Clarke said defiantly. "And this is my decision. You can't just send me about as you wish, and neither can my mom."

Lexa fell silent, sufficiently scolded. Clarke didn't need to guess the letter came from her mother as soon as Lexa set the quill down, and gave the empty space that look. It was the kind of despondence she hated seeing on Lexa's face. She was usually so confident and bold, emblazoned by her war-paint. Tonight she was stripped of that, her beauty hidden in the dimness of the room. Without thinking, Clarke crossed the room, shuddering in the slight breeze the open window let through. They had fallen into quite the domestic routine since all hell broke loose following Lexa's shooting. Lexa being Lexa hadn't died; Ontari being Ontari had decided to come kill them all. Polis being Polis defended their Commander until their dying breaths, and Lexa nearly died a second time, of a heart attack, when Indra proudly presented Ontari's head in a box.

Clarke proceeded to be sick on Aden's new boots.

"I want you here." Lexa's voice lowered to a murmur as Clarke nodded. Lexa shifted so Clarke could sit on her lap, and wrapped both arms around her neck. "I want you with me."

"I'm here."

"For now."

"Are you gonna talk about until you die, or something?"

"No." Lexa buried her laugh against Clarke's neck, her hand sneaking up Clarke's night-gown. Her thumb idly traced up her spine, feeling Clarke's skin prickle at her touch. "Clarke, you've got to listen to me." Lexa rested her chin against the crook of Clarke's neck, and peered over her shoulder at the piece of paper. Clarke could already see her mother's name on it, and she read a few sentences. A few was all that was needed to understand. "I didn't want to hide it from you—"

"I do miss her," Clarke said. Her voice was croakier than expected. "I do. I miss all of them." But she'd gotten so used to Nyko and his lessons; she'd gotten used to sparring with Lexa, or Indra if she was unlucky. She'd gotten used to Aden bringing up breakfast every morning just because he knew she wouldn't finish it all and he'd get to eat the leftover bread. She closed her eyes and leant her head back, exposing her neck which Lexa did not waste time in pressing a soft kiss to the skin. She kissed her again, this time gently on her collarbone, and pecked kisses and kisses up the column of her neck. Her arms wrapped around her waist and squeezed, like she would never let go. "This is my home, Lexa. Now it is, anyway."

Lexa hummed against her skin, her teeth grazing gently. Clarke sighed happily. This was her home now. Arkadia was nothing except a few of her friends, but things had changed drastically. She wasn't sure if she could even face seeing someone like Bellamy again.

"I'll still be here," Lexa promised, shifting her face so her nose brushed against Clarke's ear. "I have my people to look after. You have yours."

"I know what this note says, Lexa. My mom wants me to spend months in Arkadia."

"It's good for your people to see you."

"And what about you?"

"I have my duties."

"And after your duties?"

"Excuse me?"

Clarke grinned and twisted to face her, grabbing Lexa's face by both hands. The look of surprise on Lexa's face was surely enough, but the surprised and frankly embarrassing "mmph" she let out when Clarke kissed her made her laugh in Lexa's face. Lexa laughed back and fumbled with Clarke's nightgown, unsheathing her dagger and unceremoniously shredding it to pieces. Clarke groaned in disapproval and then in pleasure as Lexa sucked on her bottom lip, shucking upwards so they staggered to their feet. Clumsily, and feeling like it was their first time all over again, they stumbled towards the bed.

"How," Clarke said lowly, as Lexa's hands traversed up her sides, squeezing her breasts, "will you survive months without this?"

Lexa sunk her teeth into Clarke's neck, eliciting a loud groan from her. I guess I deserved that. "I have hands," Lexa murmured, and Clarke shuddered, trying to erase the image of Lexa touching herself like that. "Lie down. Let me show you what you won't get in Arkadia."

"The winter supplies will be sufficient," Kane said, resting his hands on the table. As the Chancellor now, he'd been focusing on growing their own vegetables—only to find the land a little too radioactive, still, for their taste. According to Miller, one of their potatoes had turned purple. "The Commander has sent more wagons of grain for the space we have to store it. She..." Kane looked down at the letter in front of him, and quietly snorted to himself. When he'd first stated Lexa was a revolutionary, he'd meant it. He hadn't realised he kind of liked the young woman on a personal level, too. "She has promised us casks of Southern red wine, and apologises for the delay."

Abby, seated beside Clarke, laughed. "Marcus—"

"It says it right here," Kane insisted, holding the letter up. "She is genuinely transporting wine. It's dated weeks ago, though, so liquor could be on its way." He tried to sound merry.

"It's better than the piss ale the City Guard lives off," Clarke piped up, and Kane laughed awkwardly.

Nothing had been right since her return. Her mother's embrace was her mother's embrace. It was all-encompassing love and relief. She'd asked several times if Clarke had intended to say permanently, and every time, Clarke had said no. Yet here she was, two months later, still in Arkadia. Her friends had been normal, to say the least. Octavia was civil, which was about as much as Clarke could hope for. She was still mourning Lincoln, and Clarke suspected she hadn't forgiven her for TonDC yet, either. Raven was different. She'd taken it upon herself to be Clarke's unwanted tour guide. The biggest change was her bed. Gone was the luxurious furs of Lexa's bed, and gone was Lexa's smell. In its place was a shabby double mattress in a grey room with blank walls.

They saw her more as a Grounder than as one of them, and Clarke supposed they were right. She still wore Grounder clothing, she spoke about Aden, about Ontari, about Lexa—and guiltily, it had taken her an entire week to catch up with her mother and ask her if everything was okay. She felt like a guest, not like someone who'd just returned home.

Though she could tell Kane wanted to speak about it like an itch that wouldn't go away, they never asked about Ontari, Titus' fate, or Lexa's gunshot wound. What happened in Polis would stay in Polis. Clarke felt as if she'd already infiltrated everyone's lives with enough Grounder-ness. She could tell by the look on her mother's face. It wasn't that Abby didn't understand; it wasn't that she didn't approve of her relationship with Lexa. She did understand. She didn't mind at all. But there'd always be the slight discomfort in the back of her mind. This was still the Commander who'd betrayed her daughter an inch away from certain death. Those thoughts, no matter how Lexa made amends, would stay with a mother. It was not pettiness. It was motherhood.

After the meeting, Raven, who'd clearly been standing outside the door the entire time, wrapped her arm around Clarke's shoulder.

"Not another tour," Clarke groaned. "I've seen enough of the walls."

"Nope. Wait—hey, Dr. Griffin!" Raven called her name about three times until Abby finally turned around. "Any, um, news on finding any painkillers? Any plants of interest?"

"I'm not a botanist, Raven," Abby said patiently. "There's still that other option—"

"Come on, I'd take opium at this rate—"

"Raven."

"If you'll excuse me," Raven said, a little coldly, "I'm showing your daughter around."

"You've been doing this every day," Clarke muttered. "Can you show someone else around?"

"No."

So they walked around the compound, with Clarke careful to slow the pace down just in case Raven's leg tired. Raven, for the most part, made no complaint. She hobbled—that was obvious—but she did not mention the pain. A part of Clarke just wanted to tell her to take Abby's advice. She was the medical professional after all. But there was a silent understanding between them: Raven was just as stubborn as Clarke. The only reason Raven latched herself onto Clarke upon her return was because she knew Clarke would be the only one who understood. Octavia had been distant lately, and Raven's constant presence was not a sign of pain but loneliness.

"We never really talked about it, you know," Raven said idly when they reached the gates.

Clarke fiddled with the iron. "About what?"

"You know, girl stuff." Raven scowled at Clarke's snort. "C'mon, spill. How's sex with the Commander of the Coalition?"

Clarke sputtered, and Raven doubled over laughing, dodging Clarke's misjudged slap. She missed completely.

"Does she say shit like, 'I united the clans!' when she comes?"

"Raven!"

"What?"

Clarke laughed, and then crooked her finger for Raven to come closer. Intrigued, Raven hobbled over and Clarke rested a hand on her shoulder. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. She closed her eyes, and thought of Lexa's calloused, beautiful hands racing up her skin, caressing every inch with her fingers, her mouth, her tongue... She thought about Lexa's full lips, and the gentle way she kissed. She thought of the rough way she kissed, impassioned and sometimes heady with wine; she thought of the way she bit Clarke's lip, and the way her fingernails raked down Clarke's back as Clarke fucked her at night. She thought about the time Lexa yanked Clarke up by the hair as her fingers pumped inside her, and she groaned and gasped and came, her mouth eliciting ungodly sounds into Clarke's ear as she shuddered underneath her.

"One time," Clarke said hoarsely, feeling that familiar ache rise in her again, "we went until the sun rose."

Raven withdrew, mouth agape. "Griffin," she said in wonderment, "I'm so fucking happy for you."

Red came weeks later, but it wasn't in the form of wine.

The gates opened immediately as the Commander of Thirteen Clans fell off her palfrey, deathly still. An audience had already gathered, a stunned Kane among them, but it was the Griffins who rushed to the Commander's aid. Indra and Nyko, flanking either side of her, did not look much better. They'd suffered gashes that ripped through their armour, but Lexa had been hit the hardest. Unable to get herself to her feet again, she flopped against the ground, groaning in agony. Gunners immediately fetched a makeshift gurney, but blood was already trickling from Lexa's mouth—and everywhere else.

"Clarke," she rasped, a flailing hand reaching out. Clarke grasped it as the gunners gently tried to lift her. Abby was tearing her armour open, attempting to assess the injury. Clarke needed no medical training to deduce it was bad. "Clarke."

"I'm here," she promised, her voice catching in her throat. "Lexa, stay with me. Stay."

"What did you call them?" Lexa's voice was surprisingly steady. "Guns?"

"Guns attacked you?"

"No. Titus' weapon."

"Yes—yes, a gun."

"When he had a gun to me, I died. But I stayed with you."

Clarke couldn't take much more. Abby's medical instructions to the gunners and Jackson were simply background noise. Her vision blurred as tears took over, trickling helplessly down her cheeks. Lexa's grip on her wrist was strong, but she was as pale as a ghost. "Yes, you did," she said, desperate to keep Lexa talking. Lexa smiled softly at her, and she wanted Lexa to keep smiling. "You stayed, because you're the strongest person I know. You'll stay."

"I made you a promise. I told you that when you returned to Polis, I'd be there."

"Lexa..."

"If I don't, Clarke, promise me you will return. Just for me. Then you can come back here—"

"We're not talking like it's the fucking end of the world," Clarke said sternly, ignoring her mother's scandalised 'Clarke!' "You're the Commander of the Coalition. Act like you united thirteen clans, and stay alive, or I'll kill you myself."

Tough love, she supposed.

Lexa chuckled, and nodded. It was a promise, she knew. It was just the way Lexa worked. As the gunners took Lexa away on the gurney, Jackson and Raven supported Clarke on either side as they traipsed towards medical. Like a disinterested crowd, everyone dissipated, bar the Grounders, who awkwardly set up camp at the gates. Indra was helping Nyko unload boxes and barrels of supplies, Clarke supposed, but she didn't pay too much attention. Abby's words were fading in and out as she spoke to Lexa.

"Multiple cuts, a deep gash to the abdomen—we'll need to re-stitch that—and—do we even have any antibiotics? Just suppress the bleeding—yes, put pressure on it—and—Lexa, can you hear me? Nod? Yes? Yes, okay, we're going to press down hard—it'll hurt, yes—can you—"

A loud yell that sounded angrier than pained pierced the air, and Clarke closed her eyes. She peered through the window to see pure white sheets drenched in red, and she felt sick.

"Talk to me, Lexa. Keep talking. Tell me what happened. Take your time. Take your time. We're here. Clarke's here. You made it."

"I made it," Lexa's voice was weak.

"Yes, you did."

"Outlaws," Lexa said. "I guess. I don't know. No furs. We fought them."

"Okay. How many of them were there?"

"Too many. I wanted...I wanted—"

"What did you want, Lexa? Just—I know this hurts, so just stay with me—"

"I will speak plainly," Lexa said quietly. "Old English."

"You can speak Trigedasleng for all I care, Lexa. Just stay with me."

"Why do you care?"

Abby smiled wryly at her. "Because you broke my daughter's heart and you fixed it again."

"I broke..."

"When your body system comes under attack, your body fights back," Abby said, as she made sure the bleeding was slowing. Jackson entered the medical ward, a handful of anticoagulants ready. "Your body comes back stronger."

"And mine?"

"Not yours. Clarke's."

"Oh."

"It does also mean bodies can be broken." Abby said this kindly, as she administered Lexa the painkillers. She took out the equipment to stitch Lexa's wound; luckily, they were surface wounds. The most worrying one was the gash on her stomach, and Clarke couldn't help but stare at it. Lexa had ridden out for her, and she hadn't even asked. "So if you break my daughter again, I will break you, Commander. Respectfully."

Lexa chortled, wincing in pain as she did so.

Abby soothed her. "Easy, easy. Try not to make too many sudden movements."

"Are you threatening me, Abby Griffin?"

For a split-second, Abby turned to face the window and smirked at Clarke. Disapprovingly, Clarke shook her head. A friendship between her lover and her mother was not something she wanted right now. She knew Abby would prod around their...intimate life, and Lexa would be earnest enough to say something like "yes, we have had bed-breaking sex numerous times".

"Is that treason, Commander?"

"It depends. Will you let me love your daughter?"

Abby's face softened, and surprising both Lexa and Clarke, she reached out to cup the Commander's pale face. The painkillers had kicked in sufficiently so her eyes drooped, but Abby smiled all the same. "You would love her without even asking."

"Southern Red," Indra grunted to Kane as she rolled the last barrel off the wagon. Kane stared in silence. Just moments before, the Commander had dropped dramatically off her palfrey and wheeled off to medical. Indra behaved as if the Commander was immortal. "By Heda's command."

"Are you joking?" Kane asked, aghast.

Indra shrugged. "Clarke Griffin does not like our ale. Blame her."

[thevenaserah]

8-16

I’m not gonna lie: if you were to open my brain and search for the word “college” you would end up with a long, confusing string of events that look like one of those old fashioned murder yarn diagrams that all connect to the big bad guy. (Or in this case, where I am today)

When I was in high school I thought I was unstoppable. I was taught that I was sitting in a room with all of the future leaders of the world; that my class (and generation) were going to make a difference and it was up to us to lead them because we were the “gifted ones.” I know. It sounds like it’s straight up out of a science fiction novel, but this genuinely happened. As such, it gave most of us big heads. We thought we couldn’t be touched because we were in the harder classes. We developed complexes. We gained anxiety over always being in the top percentage (like Joey’s ratatta) and were afraid to fall. We fought depression when we didn’t quite reach the extreme goals we set for ourselves daily. I know I had more meltdowns in high school than I’d like to admit. I worked as much on homework in high school than I did working at my own full time job now and slept about as much.

Why anyone would think pitting a bunch of teenagers against each other academically would be a good idea still baffles me to this day. I ended up graduating 84th out of 674 students…and that was after I missed three months of school for an illness and lost my rank at #12. You know what I got? A sticker on my diploma. It doesn’t say anything, but it’s supposed to mean I graduated with honors. The blue honors cord I received I only got because we paid for it. We busted our asses and got nothing in return for it except a “welcome to the world” speech by my grandparents.

This story has a point, I promise.

Fast forward a few months and my anxious, unstoppable self is standing at the doors of my dorm at Georgia Southern University. I had decided on the college on a whim because, being 18, I didn’t put much thought into where I wanted to go to school. I’m the only one of my family to go to a traditional college, and I thought that meant all that needed to be said about it. I knew my goal was to be better than my family and not repeat their mistakes. I was stubborn and determined to carve my own way in my life, so when I found the first trace of comfort at that school and knew I could have a piece of home there with me I went for it.

And then everything changed when the fire nation attacked.

No, seriously though, I was introduced to the reality that high school and my family had sheltered me from for so many years, and I received a not so gracious fall back to the earth. The reality was that I had a lot of growing up to do and that I needed to accept myself for who I was. After a dark moment in my life I dropped out and moved back home and stewed in pathetic-ness , to put it bluntly. I ended up staying in bed all day for weeks on end, not eating or sleeping…just crying. My friends were gone, so I didn’t go out. I had no job and no car. All I had were video games and my family, which at the time were 7 other people at the house that kept me away from shelling up entirely.

Why was I so depressed? Well, on top of personal reasons I had going on, I was fighting with the fact that I had dropped out and became a statistic: the one thing I was afraid of the most besides repeating my family’s mistakes. I couldn’t stop thinking that I was going to end up stuck here in this little town, at a dead end job with no degree and no way to get out and enjoy my life. I was afraid I’d end up like my family. They’re miserable, and I didn’t want to become that, so it hit me right down to my core and didn’t let go of me. It took me four months of this for me to get tired of it and start fighting for myself. I had to make myself love me, mistakes and all. I started a cheesy routine where I’d wake up every day and write a positive saying on a sticky note, then I’d look in the mirror and say “its okay that you aren’t going to graduate with your friends, you’re not a failure and you won’t be forgotten about or left behind. You’ll make something of yourself. you’re great no matter what, you’ll be okay.” This is a routine that molded me into who I am today.

I also became deeply connected to the Avatar: The Last Airbender world and kind of used it as a guide line for my life. One of the quotes I follow every day is “ If you look for the light, you can often find it. But if you look for the dark, that is all you’ll ever see. ” from Korra. I can honestly say that show helped me beat my depression and anxiety. It gave me hope, and that is why I will never regret getting the water tribe tattoo on my shoulder.

Because of the fact that I rebuilt myself from the ground up, I was able to see aspects in myself I never saw before, and I started to appreciate the little things. My entire perspective on life changed.

This brings me back to the beginning of this post, where I discuss the yarn board. Once I got ahold of myself and was able to start my path to self love I decided the first step was to get out of the house, so I got a job at a company where my mom worked. It was fine for a few weeks, but ultimately I knew I wanted to go to school following the next semester and that became my major goal. So, I applied to the community college, then I applied to several other schools just to get accepted ahead of time. I had so many letters and financial aid packets flying around my house it looked like a tornado had come through. I was dead set on moving forward, but I still didn’t have a clear head and they all fell through because of me being irrational.

By this time a year had passed and I once again was unemployed and not in school. A good friend of mine had decided not to go to college until she had a purpose to, so she was home finding herself as well. We both ended up taking core at a college on base together and from there things started getting better. We were in similar majors so we had almost all of our classes together. It felt right. Life had a light to it again and I felt like I wasn’t wasting money at a school I didn’t want to be at. I wasn’t paying to be miserable. I wasn’t miserable at all anymore. To me, my life had meaning again.

After freshman year ended I had a set path on how I wanted to go about finishing my degree up and I’ve stuck to it since then. I got a job that summer going into sophomore year and I am still at that job today at the beginning of my junior year. In that year I’ve acquired friends that are basically family now, gotten promoted at this job, have more freedom and flexibility with money, and have an overall better mindset.

I have big plans in my life and great people around me to help me out, and even though there’s still a lot of darkness following me around I know that everything will turn out okay in the end as long as I don’t give up on me.

So, my point with this long spiel is that it doesn’t matter how long it takes you to figure things out, as long as you are happy with yourself and your decisions then you’ll be okay. If it takes you six years to graduate college that’s okay. It doesn’t make you any less of a person than someone who did it in four. Every person’s situation is different, and if we treated each other better and made everyone’s day slightly happier (even for just one moment) then imagine what we could do on a bigger scale. Life is too short to be stuck with negative people, or in a situation that spews unhappiness. We have to make the best out of our situations. I don’t know if I’m saying this to the audience or just trying to remind myself of this at this point, but the principle is the same no matter what. It’s okay to fall down sometimes too, as long as you get back up. This is like my other favorite quote from Korra: “When we hit our lowest point, we are open to the greatest change.” Had I not of hit rock bottom I honestly don’t think I would’ve gotten my life together…but look at me now. Three years later and I’m still fighting along.

Things will get better. You just have to stick around and become part of the change.

[andrewdburton]

Five short anecdotes about money

What a long, strange couple of months it's been for me. On the blog, things have been quiet. Behind the scenes, I've been as busy as I've ever been.

The good news is that this busy-ness will (eventually) lead to a number of interesting articles. I've been reading Cal Newport's Deep Work, for instance, and have some thoughts on it. I've been thinking about the concept of “no speed limits”. Shocking but true: I'm going to write an article about my primary credit card. And I've been reading and writing a lot about “doing nothing”.

Today, though, I want to clear my head (and my inbox) by sharing five short financial anecdotes.

In the past month, I've had probably twenty deep discussions about personal finance and personal values. While some of these conversations lead to bigger things (like the three articles I mentioned above), most don't. But they still produce intertesting concepts and ideas. They sometimes lead me to make changes.

Here are a five money-related topics that don't (yet) warrant articles of their own, but which I still find interesting (and worth sharing).

Going with Google

During my ten days in Portugal for the FI chautauqua, cell phone service was a common topic of conversation. Some folks didn't have any. Others were paying a small fortune just to get a tiny bit of data from their provider.

There were two types of people who didn't have any trouble with their cell service in Portugal: those who use T-Mobile and those who use Google FI.

“What's Google FI?” I asked. I'd never heard of it.

“It's Google's cell service,” Owen said. “It's cheap and has lots of features, but you can't use it with Apple phones.”

“Actually, you can,” Bill said.

“But the website says it doesn't work with iPhones,” said Owen.

“The website is wrong,” said Bill. “I've been using it with my iPhone for months with no problems — even here in Portugal.” He showed us his phone and explained how much he liked Google FI.

“I'll look into,” I said. And I did. Here's what I learned:

Kim and I currently spend $117 (plus taxes and fees) for our shared T-Mobile plan. This gives us a limited amount of high-speed data (although plenty for normal needs), plus service for my Apple Watch. (When the watch dies, I don't plan to replace it, so eventually that'll save us ten bucks per month.)

If we were to move to Google FI, it'd cost us $120 per month (plus taxes and fees). That's roughly the same price, obviously, with no real advantages. (We'd have access to more high-speed data, although we rarely need that. Plus, we'd get Google One, whatever that is.) And it doesn't include service for my watch.

My conclusion? For T-Mobile customers like us, moving to Google FI doesn't make much sense. But I suspect many people ought to consider their service.

Meanwhile, we've been struggling with our wireless network here at home. Although Apple no longer makes wireless networking equipment, our network is built with routers from when they did sell the stuff. Some of these routers are now a decade old (or possibly older). We have four of them.

For whatever reason, our network is constantly going down. It's frustrating. It's quite common that three of the routers will be up while a fourth will arbitrarily decide to stop working for a few days. (And when we changed the network name last spring? Nightmare!)

While visiting MMM HQ last weekend, I noticed that Pete uses the Google Mesh system to provide service in his co-working space. “Do you like it?” I asked. “I've heard other people rave about Google Mesh, but I don't know anything about it.”

“It's awesome,” he said. “Totally trouble-free.” So, I've ordered a starter set of Google Mesh devices. They'll arrive tomorrow. I have high hopes that this will cure our wifi headaches.

Taming the Email Beast

After returning from my nineteen-day trip to Portugal, Wisconsin, and southern California, my email inboxes were swamped. (I have five separate gmail accounts. Crazy, right?)

Naturally, I complained about the situation on Facebook. My friend Charlotte sent me a private message: “Do you have time to hop on a video call?” she asked. “I'll show you a way to tame your email.”

Charlotte spent twenty minutes walking me through an email system she recently adopted. It effectively divides your gmail inbox — and yes, you have to be using gmail — into five different inboxes, each of which is themed. Once a day, you tackle your main inbox, routing messages to sub-inboxes. Then, when you have time, you work through the other inboxes.

This is a minor change to the way I do things (and admittedly it mostly delays messages to later), but it's effective.

I send myself email twenty times each week. It's my note-taking system. It's how I offload things from my brain. This is great…except that my inboxes tend to get flooded with book recommendations, article ideas, and reminders of upcoming events. It's a mess. Using this system, I can still send myself messages, but I'm now able to flag these messages so they're routed to the appropriate sub-inbox.

I've been following Charlotte's advice for two weeks now, and I like it. It hasn't solved my email woe, but it's mitigated the problem substantially.

Dozens of Credit Cards

Last weekend, Kim and I flew to Colorado to celebrate the birthday of a certain mustachioed friend. While there, I had several memorable conversations.

For instance, I chatted with Amy from Go With Less about how she and her husband play the credit-card game. They have an insane number of cards — 34? 43? I can't remember the exact count — and over three million credit-card points.

While our conversation touched on topics like manufactured spending (a concept that blows my mind and angers card issuers), I was more interested in how and why Tim and Amy juggle dozens of credit cards. Doesn't this hurt their credit score? Turns out: No. Because they pay bills on time and never cancel cards, they have nearly perfect credit.

Here's a video in which they address this topic:

I wanted to ask Tim and Amy more about their crazy credit-card fueled lifestyle, but I didn't have the chance. I look forward to picking their brains more in the future, though.

Health Shares for the Non-Religious

Last weekend, I also had a conversation with Ben, who famously gets his cars for free. Ben is super smart and doesn't accept the status quo. He's always looking for ways to challenge the system in order to make the most of his money.

Lately, he's been doing this with healthcare.

For many people who have retired early, health insurance is thorny issue. It's expensive. Take my case, for example. I pay $403 per month for shitty coverage. This year, I've met my $7900 out-of-pocket max, which means I'll have spent $12,736 (plus co-pays and prescriptions) when the dust settles. I hate the U.S. healthcare system. It's insane.

Well, Ben too thinks it's insane. Rather than complain about it, though, he's been seeking creating solutions.

“Have you looked at health-sharing ministries?” Ben asked me on Sunday morning. “They can be a great way to cut costs.”

“I have,” I said. “But they all require a statement of faith, which I'm not able to give.”

“I had the same problem,” Ben said, “so I searched for alternatives. I found Sedera. It's basically the same as a health-share ministry. You still have to agree to abide by certain principles, but they're not based on a religion.”

“Is it affordable?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I'm paying $200 per month per person for my wife, my daughter, and myself.”

“That's not bad,” I said.

“But here's the thing,” Ben said. “Sedera is designed to work with a direct primary care physician.”

“A what?” I said.

“A direct primary care physician is just what it sounds like. It's a doctor that you work with directly without a third-party intermediary. That means the doctor bills you directly, not an insurance company. When you combine this with a health-sharing program like Sedera, it's a cost-effective alternative to traditional insurance.”

“Kim and I have an appointment to talk with an insurance broker next week,” I said. “I'll have to look into this as an alternative.”

“Do it,” Ben said. “You won't regret it.”

Downgrading My Motorcycle

Lastly, here's a topic that comes from several different conversations and a lot of soul-searching on my part.

When Kim and I started dating, I was surprised to learn that she was a motorcycle enthusiast. After she bought her father's bike from him, I decided to learn to ride myself.

I started with a low-power Honda Rebel, which was perfect for my needs. Then, a couple of years ago, I made an impulse purchase: I upgraded to a Harley-Davidson Street 750. The new bike gave me the power to keep up with Kim on long trips. (The little Rebel was always falling behind on the highway.)

Turns out, though, that for day-to-day riding, I wish I had my Rebel. Kim and I don't make many long trips — about one per year. And when we do, I'm fine falling behind. I'd rather have a quick and easy bike for running errands or zipping downtown. My Street 750 is not the right bike for this. It takes a long time to gear up and get the Harley ready to go.

I've spent the past year trying to figure out my best move. I've talked with a lot of friends and considered several options. Do I just stick it out with the motorcycle I have? Do I buy a new Rebel? Do I do something else?

After much thought and contemplation, I've decided that my best plan for the motorcycle situation is three-fold:

Sell the Street 750. Use the proceeds to purchase two replacements.

Buy a (used?) scooter to use for errands and running downtown. Kim plans to sell her motorcycle, so long trips are no longer an issue. I want something quick and easy to ride. I want to be able to get on the bike and go.

Buy an electric bike for use around home. I already own a bike, but as I've mentioned before, I don't ride it. For one, I am fat. For another, we are surrounded by hills. MMM has urged me to look into Rad Power electric bikes.

Making this move — which likely won't happen until the spring, when people are looking for motorcycles — is much more aligned with my values and lifestyle. Currently, my motorcycle mostly gathers dust. I ride it maybe 1000 miles per year. I'd ride the scooter more often, and the electric bike would get me out slicing through these hills for exercise!

What about you? What financial conversations have you been having with your friends? What minor money moves are you making in your life?

The post Five short anecdotes about money appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

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[boozedancing]

After our beautiful 24 hours on Islay, the Spring Break 2018 trip to Scotland continued from Glasgow as we headed north to Ballachulish. Exiting the airport in the rented Land Rover was… challenging. We weren’t on Islay anymore. There were other cars to tailgate, pass, ward off and not hit. Yet, no cows or sheep which was a big plus. I think.

The screams of “STAY TO THE LEFT!” from my co-pilots (Mrs. Satellite Engineer, Teenager Daughter #1 and Teenager Daughter #2) were taken a bit more seriously this go around. The rumor is true. Everyone really does drive on the other side of the road in Scotland. I thought maybe it was a cute little Islay thing from days long ago when horse and buggies ruled the world. I was actually hoping that was the case. And speaking of go around… ROUNDABOUTS! 

The nice British lady stuffed into the dashboard alerted me with “At the next roundabout, take the second exit” which was very kind and almost didn’t scare me. She sounded very nice, yet a tad authoritative for my liking. We’d battle for days as she nagged and nagged.

The drive was gorgeous with a variety of greenery abounding from the road up into the hills as we trekked the A82 through the western side of the Loch Lomond and The Trossachs National Park. Snow covered mountains were upon us before we knew it.  Snow?!  This was going to be a great drive as long as I STAYED TO THE LEFT. And it didn’t snow.

Ballachulish

The goal on this day was reaching Ballachulish. We were staying in the Craiglinnhe House, a bed and breakfast, on Loch Linnhe’s southern side. Built in 1885, this Victorian home is across the road from the loch and was a splendid and comfy place to rest our weary heads for a few nights as we explored the Glencoe and Fort William areas. Owner Lawrence Hughes is the nicest of hosts offering help of all sorts, tourist tips, and tasty full breakfasts with warm and and pleasant attention. The bedrooms were quaint and warm.  The sitting room was cozy and, much to my delight, stocked with a table of spirits, wines and mixers to pour oneself to relax with. And after a day of driving, I warranted, daresay deserved, some relaxing.

Our stay in the area led us to a gondola ride up Ben Nevis (recommended by Lawrence) where there was still a fair amount of snow. The Beast of the East had played havoc with Scotland in much of January and February so it’s not certain if the white stuff we tromped around in was remnants of that bizarre storm pattern or just normal for the country’s tallest hill. At over 4,000’ it’s tough to call Ben Nevis a mountain where it would barely make the top 50 highest in California. But it was majestic overlooking the Highlands valley below, and shocked us as a ski and snowboarding destination.

We also had a couple nifty views of The Castle of Aaaaarrrrrrggghhh, i.e. Castle Stalker situated in an inlet of Loch Linnhe.  It looked rather menacing at 600 years old.  But who wouldn’t?  A long guided hike in Glencoe’s Highland Reserve got us out into nature.  And in the little village of Banavie we took a pleasant walk up Neptune’s Staircase, the longest staircase canal lock in Britain, showing us a fascinating industrial side of the area as well as (and more importantly) many dogs!

After our second day’s breakfast at the Craiglinnhe House and our goodbyes to Lawrence, we headed again up the A82 north towards Inverness. A stop at Urquhart Castle was a chilly and breezy one along Loch Ness. A busy place with tour buses and visitors from all over with Germans leading the numbers, Urqhart was interesting as our first “touristy” stop (we happily avoided any of the Nessie stops).  The ruins are intact enough to see how the Scots and English lived at the fortress. My guess is that it was no 13th century version of the Craiglinnhe House.

Mrs. Satellite Engineer and I get a kick of ruins and she had more interesting ones in mind. The daughters would have to deal with it. Corrimony Chambered Cairn is west of Loch Ness outside of Drumnadrochit which is just fun to type. Corrimony is a burial cairn site, oh, about 4,000 years old for those of you scoring at home. A domed construction made of rocks and out in the middle of nowhere, it’s a place I’d like to be buried if you can keep the sheep out and guarantee that some joker won’t take the rocks as souvenirs. Bastards. All three women in our party climbed into the small passageway towards the middle never to be seen again…uh, I mean, and were heard laughing and shrieking scaring the nearby sheep as I walked back to the car pretending not to know them while apologizing to the sheep on the way.

A bit more driving via Inverness and we were in Speyside. Brown Malt Whisky Trail roadside signs popped up and I knew we were in a good place to be on our planet.

Rothes

On the recommendation of a friend who we will meet in a bit, we made our way to the small town of Rothes. It could well classify as a village but I’m not sure what the Scottish definition is. Night skies were upon us as we parked at the Station Hotel on the side street adjacent to the hotel. There was a small parking lot right across the street that was interesting since it had a large copper still in it looking like a monument of sorts. Hmmm. As we unloaded the car to check in, it was hard not to miss the factory behind the hotel not a few steps from where we parked. Forsyths was the name on the sign. Yeah, that one. The one that makes the majority of the copper distillation vessels for the whisky industry. Huh. Right behind our hotel. Go figure.

At the registration lobby and our brief look into the hotel, copper seemed to be a “theme”. And a Forsyths company brochure laying on a table brought more head scratching. The Station Hotel was beautiful and our two room family suite was roomy and quite elegant. After a quick unpacking we headed back to the hotel pub, Toots Cafe, for some dinner. A lively group filled the tables. Football on the big screen. It was like any bar at home almost. The menu was full of many choices but the whisky list was…heavy on the “many”. Oxford Dictionary heavy but with bigger font. This was going to take awhile to peruse. Order some food, family!  I’m reading!

The hotel’s whisky bar, The Spirit Safe, a few turns aways from Toot’s has 500 or so whiskies and…a spirit safe made next door at Forsyths. A unique drinking space, the front of the bar is adorned with a copper silhouette of a still for each Speyside distillery. Speyside has 60 distilleries. That’s a lot of silhouettes.  As we learned that night, the Forsyth family owns the Station Hotel. An old hotel in need of repair, Richard Forsyth and his wife took it upon themselves a few years ago to restore it back to its former grandeur. And they have. The food, drink and accommodations were superb. Five star in my book. This was not a sleepy roadside motel. There was a quiet elegance to it and a highly recommended stop by us.

Glen Moray Distillery

The next morning after a delicious breakfast of oatmeal, salmon, eggs, toast and tea in the hotel, we headed back to Elgin about 20 minutes away. First stop: the Glen Moray Distillery.  On my last trip to Scotland with the Single Cask Nation boys, they took us to Glen Moray for a fun visit that included a tour led by Master distiller and distillery manager Graeme Coull, a blind tasting to choose a cask for The Jewish Whisky Company, and then an entertaining dinner out with our group, Graeme and his wife, Faye, and their visitor center manager, Iain Allan. I’ve kept in touch with the Coulls and after various exchanges, a visit again was in order.

The drive to Glen Moray is a bit of an eye opener and a wee bit confusing. Did this woman in the dashboard know where she was going? Why are we in a neighborhood? With houses. And trees. And frontyards. And rubbish and recycling containers. We all know neighborhood bars but Glen Moray is a neighborhood distillery. Faye and Graeme actually live on the premises in a house next to the distillery shop. 

The lovely Faye met us in the shop and it was like seeing an old friend. She welcomed the family with open arms asking all kinds of questions about our trip to date. She was a trove of information too. And truth be told, she recommended the Station Hotel (thank you, Faye!). She also gave us great ideas for lunch that day and dinner later on (keep reading).  

Iain then Graeme made their way into the visitor center and it was just great to visit again with them. The boys as affable as I recall. The shop is half whisky-centric and half cafe. But I found the cafe area almost more interesting. As we stood and chatted, the cafe slowly filled up. It was 10:00 am. A stream of locals were making their way in for their morning tea, scone, or whatever was on the menu. Yes, there was potato leek soup (The National Soup of Scotland). We weren’t on a desolate piece of farmland or in an industrial strip of warehouses. The Glen Moray Visitor Center is a hangout for the neighborhood which made it feel hyperlocal and even more welcoming. 

The distillery has been undergoing a wealth of construction and upgrades to increase capacity. And much like here, the wheels of progress grind to a halt waiting for permits from the local government offices. Graeme had his hands full this morning so he put us in the vary capable hands of Ionna to lead us on a private tour of the distillery. This “special” treatment didn’t go unnoticed by the girls who like their mother was agog at the industrial science on display. After a tour of the “hardware”, Ionna led us to a warehouse that was undergoing a roof replacement – bit breezy and chilly in there with the blue skies above. She popped opened a few casks so we could put our noses in.  Mmmm.

Back inside the visitors center, it was tasting time (and shopping). Since I had driving to do, Ionna and Faye kindly packed me some to-go samples for later while Mrs. Satellite Engineer sampled at the counter. We spent a “few” pounds in the store of course on whisky and stuff because we’re very good at spending money in foreign countries on stuff. We’re pro-globalism and the economic “benefits” of it. We did our best to prop up the Elgin economy. A bottle of the Glen Moray cream whisky liqueur that I’ve been jonesing for since my last visit, a 100% Chardonnay cask expression; a 22 year old that spent the last six years in an Islay cask from an “L” distillery (you guess which one); and a 13 year old bourbon cask pour-your-own which I poured and the teenagers labeled and sealed under Iain’s guidance. I sense internships in their future.

As I expected, the good folks at Glen Moray were simply kind, wonderful hosts and great ambassadors for Speyside. The neigborhood is lucky to have them and we’re lucky to have Graeme, Faye, and Iain as friends.

Elgin Adjacent

Next stop on the Old Ruins Tour (without Ozzy) was Duffus Castle between Elgin and Lossiemouth. Built around 1150, this ancient motte and bailey style castle is but ruins now, and one of those landmarks that seemingly doesn’t get many visitors if the size of the car park is any gauge. Atop a big grassy hill in the middle of somewhere with the North Sea in the distance, the ruins are desolate, breezy, and peaceful. There were a few informative signs of what this wall or that wall were long ago, just enough to fill one’s quest for some answers. It’s a vast property that takes some imagining to wonder about how the castle looked and functioned centuries ago. On this day it functioned admirably as a dog park as we met a couple walking their two retrievers, Sam and Frodo. The two hobbit dogs were much like their owners; as friendly as can be.

The quiet of the visit was interrupted every five or ten minutes by a very loud blur in the sky. The Royal Air Force’s Lossiemouth airbase lies between the castle ruins and the North Sea. Lossiemouth is home to the RAF’s Typhoon fighter squadrons responsible for intercepting Russian aircraft per Sam and Frodo’s master. I wasn’t doubting him since breakfast was whisky and eggs, not borscht and vodka. The jets took off and landed in easy sight distance.  Scorching across the skies with regularity, the nearby sheep barely cared obviously feeling very protected from enemy foreign rustlers. We drove by the airbase that was built in the late 1930’s and could see the castle not far back in the rearview mirror. Bet those kings would have liked to have these flying machines at their disposal.

Lossiemouth

Off to the quaint coastal town, again a suggestion from Faye at Glen Moray, we found ourselves mesmerized by the homes overlooking the rough North Seas. We could have driven up and down every little street all day. Moray Golf Club hugged the sea and duffers battled the winds on this links course. This was golf in the traditional Scottish way, no doubt, and for a bit, was played under no sunshine either. We made it to “downtown” Lossiemouth and walked the small streets by the ocean and harbor as waves crashed over the break walls. It was lunchtime so we headed into Harbour Lights Bistro & Cafe (highly recommended by Faye). We brought the average age down a bit as this place catered to the senior set. Canes and walkers (which is the name of my future distillery) were the transportation aid of choice. But the well dressed crowd were pleasant only staring at the Southern California contingent occasionally.

Lunch was delicious and highlighted by soup! No, not potato leek. Don’t you wish. A hearty bowl of Cullen skink was intoxicating with all the its aromas. Thick and chunky, creamy and a bit salty, this was a soup that pulled you into its depths and to the folks sitting around you. The haddock was fresh and was locally sourced from the sea. Duh. The vegetables were firm and from the earth nearby. This tasted like Scotland and the people seated around us. This was a working class albeit retired crowd who no doubt worked hard through their lives weathering good and bad days, and harsh winters by the sea. This was a soup that spoke of the sea and their Speyside people. And a few crusty rolls and a dram of BenRiach made it all the better.

Before leaving Lossiemouth, we stopped a few blocks away from where the buildings ended. The bluff there was covered in long grass and edged towards the rough North Sea. We were a long 9-iron from the rocky beach below. The short tromp across the bluff put us pitching wedge distance in rough that would be challenging enough for Rory, Justin, or Tiger. The battering waves were mesmerizing even as birds ducked in and around the puffs of wind flitting above the shore. To the west the Typhoons jetted towards the cloudy horizon barely visible from this spot. The sea air was chilly and damp, the wind was no friend here. Turning to look at back at the buildings of Lossiemouth behind, it was hard not to envy the locals and their particular spot on the map.

Downtown Elgin

Next stop was Elgin Cathedral. This 13th century series of remaining structures is impressive in scope, size, and sheer age. A self-guided tour takes one up the cathedral towers and the many levels they have. Each landing has a well organized display of artifacts and historical data. The climb up the narrow  spiraling staircases is a bit dizzying but well worth the spin. And the view of Elgin, River Lossie, and Cooper Park, from the roof is spectacular as well as the bird’s eye view of the Cathedral’s expanse. Each parent explored with one daughter. I got the 15 year old who was more than happy to lead me up and down the staircases, through the chapel ruins, and amongst the centuries old cemetery plots. Again, there were a scattering of folks walking the ground leaving us relative quiet aside from the riding lawnmower chugging along the property tidying up the grass.

Before heading to dinner, we stopped in “downtown” Elgin proper. The Gordon & Macphail Shop was on the list to see. The front part is more of a foodie shop with deli options, various jams, honeys, cheeses, and the like. The back of the store is the whisky room with full walls of G & M offerings of all ages.  There were almost as many non G&Ms but by and large nothing noteworthy. There was a top shelf with unreachable bottles in the thousands of pounds. Port Ellens, Broras, Macallans, et al. The gentleman behind the desk was nice enough and let me peruse the list off offerings. The sheer size of the list was more impressive than the actual shelves. I’m not sure what I was hoping for but I felt a bit disappointed. I did add to my mini bottle inventory with a few purchased there though.

Craigellachie

The twenty minute drive south on the A941 took us through Rothes and onto Craigellachie. A tiny burg on an elbow of the Spey, Craigellachie was our stop for dinner. Fay Coull (thanks again, my dear!) suggested that night’s choice and called ahead to get us reservations at the Copper Dog located on the ground level of the Craigellachie Hotel. The hotel’s exterior has an old world charm but the Copper Dog has a new world ambiance. Small part pub, large part restaurant, it was quite the fun experience. Regulars populated the pub, football on the telly, pints poured. We sat in a quaint dining room that was adorned with plenty of wood and repurposed furniture. It was casual, not trying too hard to be cool or hip. Our redheaded server seemed more of manager than server and took great care of us, laughing with us at just about everything we talked about. My Glencairn never went empty for long with the long list of choices. The dinner choices were not simple pub fare. This was a sophisticated menu that was difficult to choose from. Meats, fish, veggies, all locally sourced (within a 40 mile radius) and prepared without fault tempted us in so many directions. A delicious evening and highly recommended. After dessert (of course), we walked up Victoria Street past the noted Highlander Inn. The chilly air felt good as did the short jaunt with our full bellies.

Back to the Station Hotel, the missus and I headed to the The Spirit Safe for nightcaps. A long day filled with food, whisky, history and the best of Speyside’s beauty.

Before breakfast in the hotel the next morning, Teen #1 and I took a walkabout Rothes. We started south along the main street passing ancient building and store fronts, the Church of Scotland, the pharmacy and the road to the Glen Spey Distillery, with Glenrothes a bit farther west. Heading back through the neighborhood to the east, we met various locals, humane and canine, all pleasant and friendly. River Spey separated Rothes Primary School from Mackessack Park, a large triangular public green space and home to the Rothes Football Club. We made our way along the river spotting several pooches on their morning jaunts before turning back towards the A941 from the north. We passed a driveway into the Forsyths plant and saw many stills at some point in production possibly awaiting to be loaded up and delivered or shipped. The stills were a tad blinding with the sun beaming off their reddish skin.  Teen #2 found a new friend in a little black cat from a house next to the factory. Back to the main drag and were we back at The Station. 

It was time to pack the car and head south. Speyside struck a chord in our hearts. Its villages and people had grown on us over the last two days. It’s a special place with an ancient heart from sea to valley, from hills to Spey.

Part II of @AaronMKrouse + his Clan's #SpringBreak travels in #Scotland takes us to #Speyside. @VisitScotland @TheMWT After our beautiful 24 hours on Islay, the Spring Break 2018 trip to Scotland continued from Glasgow as we headed north to Ballachulish. 

[theuniverseofhiphop-blog]

9th Wonder - Dream Merchant, Volume 2 (2007)

Released: October 9, 2007

Length : 1:07:23

Label : 6 Hole Records

Producer: 9th Wonder

In Tuesday, October 9th, 2007, Patrick Denard Douthit, better known as 9th Wonder, released his sophomore compilation album, The Dream Merchant, Vol. 2, the sequel to Dream Merchant, Vol. 1 (2005). As the former member of the critically acclaimed North Carolina hip-hop trio, Little Brother, 9th Wonder hasn’t lost his touch on the boards with those smooth, soulful samples, snappy drums and groovy sub-bass lines. The album is entirely produced by 9th Wonder himself. The album has guest appearances by his former group, Little Brother, his fellow Justus League members, Sean Price, Big Dho, L.E.G.A.C.Y., Chaundon, Skyzoo, Keisha Shontelle, Big Treal, The A.L.L.I.E.S., Jozeemo, Tyler Woods, Joe Scudda, Buckshot, Sean Boog, D.O.X., O-Dash, Buddy Klein & Median, also outside performers (including some who 9th worked with) including Torae, Mos Def, Memphis Bleek, Jean Grae, Royce Da 5’9, Vandalyzm, Naledge (½ of Kidz In The Hall), Saigon, Camp Lo, Ness (of Da Band), Strange Fruit Project & Natural Born Spittas. The album is also marks the debut of then-unknown MC, Rapsody.

I. “Mr. Dream Merchant (Intro)”

9th Wonder welcome you all to the sequel of Dream Merchant, with the sample of “Mr. Dream Merchant” by Jerry Butler.

II. “Shots”

Let the game begin, with 9th Wonder flipping a Teddy Pendergrass joint on this ferocious, crazy ass beat. The song starts off with Big Dho (remember, I mention him on the review of The Minstrel Show and Sleepers), who just apparently fucks the song up with his wack ass verse. But, thank god, Sean Price saved the song with his ill ass verse. Then, after this, enter the first Rapsody freestyle interlude.

III. “The Merchant of Dreams”

9th Wonder y’all done did it again with this horn, powerful sample and them snappy drums. The song starts off with Chaundon (now known as Finian St. Omer II, I forgot to tell y’all that on The Minstrel Show) spits that heat with his Bronx style and his distinct voice. Next up, enter the Brooklyn brawler, Skyzoo killing it, then, 9th’s fellow Justus League solider, L.E.G.A.C.Y., kills it and another NY emcee, Torae, kills it. It sounds like a dope ass posse cut, shit, all four of them should’ve form a quartet, cause this track, sounds so badass.

IV. “Brooklyn In My Mind (Crooklyn Dodgers III)”

The lead single off this album. With them snappy ass drums, this crazy ass Curtis Mayfield sample, 9th Wonder got Mos Def, Jean Grae & Memphis Bleek (who happens to be Sean Price’s cousin, SHOCK!!!) on this dope ass beat to do a third part of Crooklyn Dodgers. I like how DJ Premier scratched up them vocal cuts on the joints and you got 9th’s fellow Justus League solider, Darien Brockington, singing in the background. Now, Mos Def and Jean Grae kill their verses, but Bleek, I’m not saying he wack, but he shouldn’t been on this song, 9th should’ve got some like GZA, AZ, Buckshot (who appeared on the original Crooklyn joint) or Sean Price.

Here’s 9th’s story on the song :

I finally got to work with Mos Def. I was at Baseline Studios, and Mos came in one day, and just got in the booth and started rapping. This was around the time we were mixing The Minstrel Show. Jean Grae was actually there, so she did her part. Bleek did his stuff later. I called it ‘Crooklyn Dodgers Vol. 3.’ I actually asked Primo for permission, and he said, ‘Yeah.’ He even did the cuts on it. I just listened to the original and Primo’s version a lot before I went in and made it. I didn’t feel any pressure to top Primo’s version or anything like that. Once I got the ‘okay’ from Preme, I felt like it was good.

V. Sunday!

The second single off this album, 9th Wonder chopped up this Michael Jackson sample on this groovy ass beat, with Keisha Shontelle singing about the beautiful Sunday with her unique, baby voice, it sounds sexy af, and here comes the underrated Chaundon, (who appeared on the third track on this album), with his punchlines and rapping about the fun times about Sunday. Once again, here comes another freestyle interlude by Rapsody.

VI. Baking Soda

9th Wonder got this gangsta, down-south beat with fellow North Carolinian MC, Big Treal (who appeared on Little Brother’s 2006 mixtape, Separate But Equal) rapping with his strong, southern style and them drug dealing bars. To be honest, I love this track right here, too bad, that he never got any recognition.

VII. “Reminisce (Take Time)”

9th Wonder got this jolly, soulful sample beat with them snappy, crunchy drums with The A.L.L.I.E.S., which consists of Big Remo (who was signed to 9th’s Jamla record label) and Novej the Great, rapping about reminiscing their old days in their hood. Once again, after the joint, 9th brings in Rapsody freestyling on another interlude.

VIII. “No Time To Chill”

Awwww shit, it’s Phonte, Big Pooh & 9th Wonder, y’all. With this crazy ass, badass beat produced by 9th, Te & Pooh got at it with them eight bars on two verses. I like that catchy ass hook by Pooh, “Yo, it’s time to live, and a time to die/It’s a time to laugh and it’s a time to cry/It’s a time to break, and it’s a time to build/But no time to waste, no time to chill”. It’s sounds so gangsta. I wish they made a music video for this joint.

IX. “It Ain’t Over”

With this gangsta ass beat by 9th, and singing background vocals by Tyler Woods, Durham, NC representer, Jozeemo, spit that animalistic, beast, savage style on this joint. I like his gutter style, his behemoth bars, I don’t understand why 9th never put him on, I always thought that Jozeemo was going to be a big star.

X. “The Last Time”

9th Wonder got three Midwest MCs in this joint right here. The hook is gangsta, the beat is gangsta, their bars is gangsta. The first verse is by Detroit MC / Slaughterhouse member, Royce Da 5’9″, the second verse is by Chi-town MC / 1/2 of Kidz in the Hall, Naledge and the third verse is by St. Louis producer/MC, Vandalyzm. After the song finish, Rapsody freestyles another interlude.

XI. “Saved”

9th Wonder chopping up the Joe Simon sample, (I think Kanye used the sample before), on this beat and got Saigon and Joe Scudda on this beat. Remember, I told y’all that Saigon was supposed on Little Brother’s “We Got Now”, well, his original verse is on this joint.

XII. “The Milky Lowa”

HOLD THE FUCK UP, Camp Lo spittin’ on a 9th Wonder beat? Yoooo, this is crazy. I’m not surprised that this song would be lit. Shit, it’s Camp Lo, it’s 9th. Besides, 9th got that organ-driven sampled, funky, groovy, gangsta shit. Camp Lo spits their wordplay bars about milk and cereals, which was funny, but still was hard-knockin’. After the song finish, here’s the last Rapsody freestyle interlude.

XIII. “Backlash”

9th Wonder got his partner/Brooklyn legendary MC, Buckshot, and his fellow Justus League solider, Sean Boog, (who happens to one-half of the Away Team, along with producer, Khrysis) on this smooth ass, soulful, chill, laid-back beat. I like how Sean spits his high-energy flow and Buckshot spits his calming, relaxing, yet-hardcore flow on this 9th Wonder track.

XIV. “Thank You”

With this bangin’ ass Broadway-sampled type beat by 9th Wonder, D.O.X. and O-Dash, (who appeared on Big Pooh’s ’05 debut, Sleepers), get together and rapping about thanking the haters, the record labels, the support they be getting in their careers.

XV. “Let It Bang”

With this gangsta, soulful, hardcore beat by 9th, Brooklyn MC, Skyzoo (who appeared on the third song of this album) and Philly MC, E. Ness (from Da Band, from MTV’s Making The Band) going at it on this bangin, hard-knockin joint. The reason why Ness said “2005” on one of his verses, because this joint was on one Skyzoo’s mixtape, The City’s Favorite, which was released in the late 2005.

XVI. “What Makes A Man”

With this James Brown-sampled beat, 9th Wonder got his former Little Brother member/fellow Justus League solider, Big Pooh and Buddy Klein (who appeared on A Man Apart soundtrack) going at it on this beat, right here. This is the perfect closing track on this album. To be honest, vocally, Pooh and Buddy sounds like they could be twins.

Final thoughts: The album is 100% production perfection. I wish 9th put Jay, T.I., Jeezy, Fabolous or Jadakiss on this album and it would’ve been more badass. 9th, GREAT JOB.

Favorite tracks on the album : “Brooklyn In My Mind”, “Baking Soda”, “No Time To Chill” and “Let It Bang” including the Rapsody interlude. Oh yeah, 9th, yo ass should’ve made some music videos to these joints.

[richardshaver1955]

The Best Ab Workout for Brides!

Okay or anyone else who loves flowers, pastels, and pretty things while working out :) We just launched the Blogilates Bridal Bootcamp and I could not have been happier with how everything turned out!

For a long time, you guys had been asking me about making some type of a Bridal series but I never felt comfortable doing that because well, it didn’t feel right – I wasn’t a bride yet! But FINALLY! This year Sam and I are getting married in the Fall! We have a date, a magical venue and are HARD CORE vendor interviewing right now! I thought wedding planning might get overwhelming but to be completely honest, I am enjoying it very much. I love visualizing, getting creative, making things look beautiful, and planning unique experiences so that people can have a good time! I am so on top of it that I have to send followup emails to vendors and planners to make sure they’re on top of their game. HAHAHA.

And to be clear, there is no sense of “Bridezilla-ness” here. I’m a freakin’ B.E.O. Bride Executive Officer! I know what I want and I will get it done. Add that to your vocab ladies!

Anyway! Here’s a GIF by GIF breakdown of the 10 moves in the first Bridal Bootcamp video, “Happily Ever After Abs”! It’s a 10 minute timed workout with NO BREAKS and NO EQUIPMENT. So set your timer and let’s go!

  #1. Sit Up Heel Taps x 1 min

Notes: Keep your elbows wide as you crunch up! Keep your lower back on the floor as your heels go out.

#2. Alternating Single Leg Jackknives x 1 min

Notes: To modify, bend your knee and left halfway.

#3. Sprinter x 1 min

Notes: Try to touch your elbow to your knee! Make sure to alternate sides.

#4. Half Leg Lift and Drop x 1 min

Notes: Press your arms into the floor for stability. Switch sides at 30 seconds!

#5. Ballerina Sit Up x 1 min

Notes: Keep your heel lifted as your perform your sit up! Switch sides at 30 seconds.

#6. Eagle Crunch x 1 min

Notes: Try to touch your knees to your elbows.

#7. Candlestick Dipper Left x 1 min

Notes: Keep your chest facing forward! Do not look down.

#8. Candlestick Dipper Right x 1 min

Notes: Straighten the leg that you’re dipping away from and plant your foot into the mat for stability.

#9. Super Side Planker Right x 1 min

Notes: Cross your top foot over your bottom foot.

#10. Super Side Planker Right x 1 min

Notes: As you reach over your head, lift your bottom hip as high as possible!

If you feel like you want some company for these 10 minutes, then click on the video below and do “Happy Ever After Abs” with me on YouTube and make sure to subscribe so that you can be the first to know about each new workout release!

Also, big thanks my friends at Lovesome Blossoms and DJZ Productions for the INCREDIBLE floral display and draping you see in the backdrop! It smelled AMAZING while I was working out. I wish I could have bottled it up and uploaded the scent to YouTube for you click and smell. Hahaha. Anyway, check them out if you need creative designers for your wedding! They are located in Southern CA!

The post The Best Ab Workout for Brides! appeared first on Blogilates.

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[voodoochili]

My Favorite Albums of 2017

Thanks to the magic of Spotify Premium, I was able to listen to over 150 new albums this year. Most of them were pretty good! It took weeks, but I was finally able to piece together a list of the year’s best that I’m happy with! Here is the list of my favorites, spanning several genres and countries of origin. Hopefully, you enjoy the read and maybe find something you’ll love!

And, oh, while you’re here, check out In Itinere, the new EP by my band The Chordaes: https://open.spotify.com/album/79kKlk7OYfu1G62AjD3nlk

Check below for the Top 20, plus a ranked list from 21-50, and honorable mentions. I’ve included Spotify links for each of the top 20. Happy New Year and Happy Listening!

The Top 20:

20. Future – HNDRXX: Departing from his usual dark-night-of-the-soul-trap aesthetic, HNDRXX shows another side of Future—the unapologetic pop star. Packed with potential hits, (none of which, obviously, connected at actual radio), HNDRXX paints a glorious picture of a future (no pun intended) where pop, R&B, and rap meld into an invigorating hybrid. The stretch from “Damage” to “Fresh Air” represents some of the most accessible, emotional, and best work of Future’s prolific career.

19. Björk – Utopia: People often lament that the influence of the smartphone has driven people to isolate themselves from the physical world. Not Björk. On Utopia, which she describes as her “Tinder album,” technology has the power of bringing people closer together—“I literally think I am five minutes away from love,” she warbles on “Features Creatures.” Moving beyond the harsh, metallic soundscapes of Vulnicura, written and recorded at the end of a decades-long relationship, Utopia is a blissful and pastoral record, populated by flutes and bird sounds and overflowing with joy.

18. Smino – Blkswn: Powered by future funk production courtesy of Monte Booker, Smino’s first proper album makes good on years of promising SoundCloud singles. The perfect antidote of the flat-voiced rap-n-b perpetrated by Drake and PartyNextDoor, Smino’s voice has an underlying bluesiness and soul that grounds Booker’s soundscapes and paints a picture of the rapper’s life as a St. Louis transplant in Chicago. Highlights from Blkswn include the sweetly sung, romantic “Netflix & Dusse,” the unconventionally lustful “Anita,” and the gorgeous “Glass Flows,” a duet with frequent collaborator Ravyn Lenae.

17. Playboi Carti – Playboi Carti: Dancing on the perimeter of his own cavernous cloud-trap, Playboi Carti is hip-hop’s pre-eminent wave-rider Blessed by the wizardry of producer Pi’erre Bourne, a master of counter-melodies whose beats are as danceable as they are sonically absorbing, Playboi Carti might be mindless ear candy, but rarely has that candy been this sweet.

16. Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever – The French Press: A Melbourne-based five-piece with three distinct singers and lead guitarists, Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever overwhelm with a veritable avalanche of jangly guitars.  With overlapping lyrics and guitar lines that evoke a conversation with constant interruptions, The French Press is a decidedly Aussie take on guitar pop—an album-length exploration of the guitar tornado from The Velvet Underground’s “What Goes On.”

15. Tyler, The Creator – Flower Boy: Ditching the shock tactics and abrasive sonics of his earlier projects, Tyler, The Creator creates a vibrant, pastoral, even peaceful, jazz-influenced soundscape on Flower Boy. As you can possibly tell by the tongue-in-cheek title, Flower Boy is Tyler’s “sensitive” record, and the one that feels more in-touch with Tyler Okonma, not the monster he Created. Whether exploring his loneliness on “911,” existential ennui on “Boredom,” or casually revealing his fluid sexuality on the album’s hardest rap track “I Ain’t Got Time,” Tyler manages to subvert rap tropes even on his most mainstream release.

14. Ulver – The Assassination of Julius Caesar: Straight outta Norway, where the sun shines for approximately 5 minutes in the winter, erstwhile Black Metal band Ulver’s latest is a goth-industrial epic, foregoing noise for Depeche Mode-esque orchestral pop. The songwriting is as ambitious and accomplished as the music, imbuing important events in modern history (the Battle of Dunkirk, the death of Princess Diana) with the grandeur and majesty of Greek (or Norse) myth. It’s easy to get lost in the band’s world as it lights up the sunless sky with cascading falsetto harmonies, sweeping strings, and massive drums.

13. Bedouine – Bedouine: Born in Aleppo, Syria, raised in Saudi Arabia and three of the United States before eventually settling in California, Azniv Korkejian is as nomadic as the tribe that inspired her name. Her gentle, gorgeous debut album as Bedouine reflects the sunshine of her adopted home, but retains a lived-in melancholy that reflects her turbulent past. Evoking the big names in singer-songwriter-ing in equal measure (Bob, Joni, Carole, and especially Leonard on the single “Solitary Daughter”), her best track is her most atypical: the mournful, haunting sound collage “Summer Cold,” about the transformation of Aleppo from a vibrant city to a horrific war zone.

12. Algiers – The Underside of Power: Cataloging hundreds of years of oppression in one densely-packed fusion of DC hardcore, post-punk, and southern soul, The Underside of Power is a tough, but invigorating listen, explaining our nation’s bitterest conflicts with a beat you can dance, or at least mosh, to.

11. Oxbow – Thin Black Duke: A heavy, and loosely conceptual album, Thin Black Duke is a theatrical blend of noise rock, avant-jazz, and blues, dominated by frontman Eugene Robinson’s inimitable baritone, which gurgles, bellows, and stretches out syllables like taffy.

10. Mozzy – 1 Up Top Ahk: The game’s most reliable purveyor of starkly honest and soulful slaps, Sacramento rapper Mozzy had a prolific 2017, releasing five projects in the year’s first eight months. Though they were all worth a listen, the strongest and most substantial of these releases was 1 Up Top Ahk, his “official” album. Somehow only 30-years-old, Mozzy has the presence of a grizzled vet, relaying empathetic and violent street tales, flashing internal rhyme, and stacking syllables with the most pronounced NorCal accent in modern hip-hop. Despite the glistening mob instrumentals from frequent collaborator Juneonnabeat (don’t shoot him in the street) and other Bay Area mainstays, Mozzy’s life is not glamorous—the violence he depicts is not stylish, just an ugly fact of life about providing for his family. Featuring appearances from kindred spirits like Boosie, Jay Rock, and (in one of the project’s highlights) the late The Jacka, 1 Up Top Ahk proves Mozzy’s worth as a successor to the struggle rap throne.

9. Moses Sumney – Aromanticism: Dripping with emotion and otherworldly sexuality, Moses Sumney’s voice might be the purest and most versatile instrument in modern music. On Aromanticism, Sumney stacks, loops, and manipulates his voice to create an unclassifiable hybrid of art rock, neo-soul, and cosmic jazz. The songs on the album generally follow a similar structure, with Sumney’s angelic falsetto rising above plaintive piano chords or a snaking guitar line or rippling harp, gradually opening up into an orchestral tapestry at the song’s climax. But the lush beauty of the arrangements, coupled with Sumney’s emotional songwriting and unique voice, ensures that the album never grows stale. There’s no need to tinker with a formula that works as well as Sumney’s—after all, Monet never got tired of painting water lilies, did he?

8. Migos – Culture: It’s hard to believe when you think about it now, but in Summer 2016, Migos was an afterthought--an act that despite its youth seemed to be past their peak of popularity, latching onto the “Dab” craze as if their career depended on it. That changed in October 2016, when the trio dropped “Bad & Boujee,” a titanic banger that built enough momentum to reach #1 on the Billboard charts. How could Migos possibly live up to the massive expectations they built with “Bad and Boujee”? Well, an easy way is to make an album where “Bad & Boujee” is only the 4th or 5th best track. Culture was the most consistently replayable and enjoyable rap album of 2017, overflowing with infectious ad-libs and an impressive arsenal of distinct flows (not just the triplets!). The highlight of the album, and possibly of human civilization, is “T-Shirt,” a lurching drug dealers’ anthem that showcases the individual talents of the three-headed monster: Quavo’s smooth melodicism, Takeoff’s blunt-force bars, and Offset’s chameleonic and charismatic combination of the best qualities of the other two.

7. Alex Lahey – I Love You Like a Brother: Combining the dry witticism (and Aussie-ness) of Courtney Barnett with the bubblegum overdrive guitar riffs and emotional sincerity of Weezer, Alex Lahey’s I Love You Like a Brother was my biggest surprise of 2017. Shamelessly layering her tracks with unstoppable melodies, “whoa-ohs,” and “wee-ooohs,” Lahey has the acuity to make those massive moments feel earned. Even if you don’t normally go for pop-punk (which I don’t), Lahey’s debut is insanely fun, with sing-along anthems like the surprisingly literal title track, the grungy “Lotto In Reverse,” the plaintive vocal standout “There’s No Money,” and the standout, generation-defining “I Haven’t Been Taking Care of Myself,” highlighting the hookiest rock record I heard all year.

6. King Krule – The OOZ: On The OOZ, Archy Marshall piles trip-hop, lounge jazz, rock-n-roll, and beat poetry into a blender and arrives at the most evocative imagination of the grimy underworld of the soul since peak-era Tom Waits. Though they have similar low, scratchy, bellowing voices, King Krule doesn’t sound like Waits (except on “Vidual” which is a dead-wringer for the first side of Rain Dogs), but The OOZ is an engrossing, hour-long trip through the 23-year-old’s mind. The album wallows in an unconventional sort of beauty, with Marshall airing his anxieties with his ungodly growl over clean, snaking guitar lines, creating an unforgettable ambience that sounds like the late-night act at the last jazz club standing after a nuclear apocalypse. Explained Marshall, “The Ooz for me represents … your sweat, your nails, the sleep that comes out of your eyes, your dead skin. All of those creations that you have to refine.” It’s a perfect title and a great metaphor—The OOZ synthesizes Marshall’s ugly thoughts and disparate influences and refines them into a style that is all his own, topped off with his striking, evocative, and poetic lyrics: “She sits as dust, with an earthly pus in a capsule on my tongue/And I think of what we've done and sink into where she sunk.”

5. Susanne Sundfor – Music For People in Trouble: When I first heard Music For People in Trouble, I was slightly disappointed. Ten Love Songs, the last album by Norwegian pop artist Susanne Sundfør, was a gothic masterpiece—a maximalist pop epic that resembled the lovechild of ABBA, Siouxsie Sioux, and Johann Sebastian Bach. Music For People in Trouble, on the other hand, is a relatively simple record, eschewing the grandiose arrangements of Ten Love Songs in favor of sparse recordings that feature only one or two accompanying instruments. As I spent more time with the album, however, I began to focus more on the songs on their own terms, and marvel at the power of Sundfør’s quivering soprano. Few living songwriters can write a melody like the classically-trained Sundfør; they lilt one moment, soar the next, and always reach unexpected, yet natural resolutions. If Ten Love Songs was an ode to the turbulent heart, Music For People in Trouble offers serenity for the aggrieved with gorgeous folk songs like “Mantra” or “Reincarnation,” pop power ballads like “Undercover,” and the pastoral dirge “No One Believes in Love Anymore.”

4. Sacred Paws – Strike a Match: An erudite indie pop group that uses African polyrhythms and snaking guitars to explore the intricacies of modern life—where have I heard that before? While Vampire Weekend is a great band, they often seemed like dilettantes when dipping their toes into African waters; not so for Sacred Paws, the muscular brainchild of guitar/drums duo Rachel Aggs and Elidh Rodgers. On Strike A Match, the duo adds a horn section to the revue, imbuing bouncy, skeletal pop songs like “Nothing” and “Everyday” with an added grandeur, in the process creating the most invigorating and danceable rock album of the year.

3. Slowdive – Slowdive: The most melodic and majestic of the English bands that comprised the Shoegaze movement’s late ‘80s/early ‘90s heyday, Slowdive reunited after a 21-year absence to deliver their second magnum opus. Filled with buzzing guitar riffs and heavenly harmonies, Slowdive is enveloping and engrossing, a triumph of atmospheric dream pop. Foregoing the ornate space operatics of 1996’s Pygmalion, the group’s self-titled 2017 album is a proper follow-up to 1993’s classic Souvlaki, one of my all-time favorite albums. Couching gorgeous, soaring melodies within circular bursts of noise and distortion, the band augmented their signature strain of shoegaze with tighter songwriting and a broader palette of musical ideas, whether embracing Glass-like minimalism on “Falling Ashes,” incorporating massive ‘80s drums on “No Longer Making Time,” or schooling imitators with dream-pop classics like “Sugar For The Pill” or “Don’t Know Why.” A master class in emotional dynamics, Slowdive establishes the band as not just genre stalwarts, but as uniquely gifted in the realm of sonic world-building.

2. Big Thief – Capacity: Last year, Big Thief drew national attention with the album Masterpiece, a cathartic and intelligent set of songs. Turns out, they might have used that title a year too early. Delicate and devastating, Capacity is a leap forward for the young band—a mature and varied collection of stories and moods, and an intimate exploration of human emotion. Led by Adrienne Lenker, with her literary gift for finding the extraordinary in mundane moments, the album derives its strength from its simple, yet note-perfect arrangements that augment and provide emphasis for the lyrics. Make no mistake, Capacity is a heavy album—the gorgeous “Mythological Beauty” embodies the point of view of a mother during a child’s graphic near-death experience, and the astonishing “Haley” finds Lenker in the bargaining stage of grief—but it’s buoyed by the inventive arrangements, the power of the band, and the winsome fragility of Lenker’s voice. But beyond all that, Capacity feels necessary, like if Lenker didn’t write these songs, the emotional weight would have been too much to bear. As a listener, I’m eternally grateful she decided to grace us with her music.

1. Kendrick Lamar – DAMN.: Ladies and gentlemen, the artist of the decade. I listened to well over 200 new albums in 2017, but this is the one to which I kept coming back, the one that never left my rotation. Only Kendrick could make three (four if you count untitled unmastered) straight albums of rap tracks deep and innovative enough to satisfy critics, while also landing at #1 on the Billboard 200 year-end chart. It’s so haaaard to be humble…

2015′s To Pimp a Butterfly was an insanely ambitious future jazz odyssey, with Kendrick Lamar looking outward, trying to find a universal theory of race relations in the United States, but never quite coming up with a satisfactory answer. On DAMN., Kendrick looks inward, reckoning with his own rising star and asking a simple question: is it possible to live the life of a rap star and still be accepted into the Kingdom of Heaven? With songs with titles that tackle the multitude of feelings, values, and desires we all contain, DAMN. paints a vivid portrait of the artist as a 30-year-old man, expertly rendering Kendrick’s inner conflict into his most “traditional” rap album to date. There are plenty of themes and lines that repeat throughout the project (Kendrick, like everybody else, really hates FOX News), but there is no overarching storyline or unifying concept. Instead, Kendrick gives us the clearest glimpse yet into his personality and what drives him—his love for his high school sweetheart-turned-fiancé on the gorgeous “LOVE,” his fear of death on “FEAR,” (man, these titles really spell out the themes, don’t they?), and the difficulty of remaining level-headed despite being so goddamned dope that it should be illegal on the smash hit “HUMBLE.” And it all ends at the beginning with “DUCKWORTH,” a superhero origin story (or more accurately, a prequel) that explains how small decisions can have life-altering consequences. 

Best of the Rest:

21. Nick Hakim – Green Twins 22. The Clientele – Music for the Age of Miracles 23. Cornelius – Mellow Waves 24. Anna Wise – The Feminine: Act II 25. Young Thug – Beautiful Thugger Girls 26. Broken Social Scene – Hug of Thunder 27. SZA – Ctrl 28. Kelly Lee Owens – Kelly Lee Owens 29. Nadine Shah – Holiday Destination 30. Guerilla Toss – GT Ultra 31. Jens Lekman – Life Will See You Now 32. Deem Spencer – We Think We’re Alone 33. Jay-Z – 4:44 34. The Mountain Goats - Goths 35. Forest Swords – Compassion 36. Ty Dolla $ign – Beach House 3 37. Run The Jewels – Run The Jewels 3 38. Ibeyi – Ash 39. Daniel Caesar – Freudian 40. Charly Bliss – Guppy 41. Sinkane – Life & Livin’ It 42. Kamasi Washington – The Harmony of Difference 43. Bicep – Bicep 44. Rexx Life Raj – Father Figure 2: Flourish 45. Vince Staples – Big Fish Theory 46. YoungBoy Never Broke Again – AI Youngboy 47. Jason Isbell – The Nashville Sound 48. Do Make Say Think – Stubborn Persisent Illusions 49. Pile – A Hairshirt of Purpose 50. Fred Thomas – Changer

Honorable Mentions: Jay Som – Everybody Works Kelela – Take Me Apart Blanck Mass - World Eater Drab Majesty – The Demonstration Caddywhompus – Odd Hours Talaboman – The Night Land Kelela – Take Me Apart Lowly – Heba Jidenna – The Chief Landlady – The World is a Loud Place J Hus – Common Sense Miguel – War & Leisure