#his two best players off the court? the man is distraught

[karasunology]

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ THE MIYA TWINS & BOKUTO KOUTARO AS YOUR OLDER BROTHERS ! ❞

╰─ ─ ﾟheadcanons of the best twins & ace of my heart being your older brothers.

✐ . . . BIG BROTHER HEADCANONS.

[ OIKAWA TOORU & KAGEYAMA TOBIO VERSION. ] [ SUNA RINTAROU & KITA SHINSUKE VERSION. ]

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ bokuto koutaro, miya atsumu & miya osamu <3

[ trigger warnings ━ slight manga spoilers !! ]

-ˏˋ ✉️ REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

⇣ please read the RULES before requesting.

MIYA TWINS.

➜ oh my goodness, i pray so hard and dearly for your parents because y'all are WILD WILD

➜ when you guys were young, you know those videos of twins confusing their baby on who's their parent??

➜ yeah THESE TWO TRIED IT WITH YOU

➜ it was probably atsumu's dumb idea

➜ he watched it a few days ago in youtube

➜ so he suggested it to osamu which begrudgingly accepted, curious on how you would react

“ c'mon, come to big brother 'samu ”

➜ atsumu says as he stretches his arms out to you while you're oblivious poor innocent ass was doing the grabby hands to him

➜ ngl you looked so cute he felt a little guilty for what's to come

➜ while osamu sits next to him with a monotonous expression

“ no, i'm big brother 'samu ”

➜ your head spun to his direction

➜ and you're just like 👁👄👁

➜ while switching left and right in confusion as you dropped your arms down so fucking fast LMAO

➜ while atsumu was trying so hard, really he promised he won't laugh so soon, that osamu keeps pestering him to shut his bitch as up

➜ until the faintest of sobs were heard, forcing their mini argument to a halt

“ will you stay quiet ─ ”

“ ─ oh no no no, please don't cry ”

➜ osamu is in distraught because he actually doesn't know how to take care of a child crying

➜ while astumu is trying to carry you

“ hngg i ─ hic ─ want big brother 'samu ─ hic ! ”

➜ bitch almost wanted to drop you right then and there honestly

➜ he's like ??? DOES THIS BITCH EVEN KNOW I EXIST EYE??

➜ and when osamu heard you calling out to him, something in him snapped

“ i knew this was a bad idea ─ ”

➜ as he shoved atsumu off of you, hugging you as he tries to coo you, whispering “ shh . . don't ya worry, yer big brother 'samu is here ”

➜ this MANS OHMYGOD

➜ your cries seemed to have ceased as atsumu is standing there like ??

➜ i'm thEIR BROTHER TOO !!

➜ bb boy held a grudge on you for a few weeks ngl

➜ but then you grew up and now you know that you actually have two (2) big bro 'samu

➜ but more annoying & bitchy

➜ you're their favourite victim to bully

➜ well, atsumu

➜ but they won't let their teasing lead to you crying because they actually can't stand the sight of their younger sibling crying

➜ contrary to popular belief, when you realized there was another big bro 'samu, you were now attached to atsumu while he's similing smugly and triumphly at osamu

➜ atsumu would 100% be very competitive for your attention though he makes you hate him whenever he bullies you

➜ but we all know osamu hates losing

➜ so there was definitely a time of your life that their fighting over who was the best big brother

➜ ugh y'all cute cute

➜ while you're helping osamu around the kitchen, atsumu would just watch from the side lines because the kitchen is kinda yours and osamu's thing

➜ though while in his earlier years, he'd get upset because he wants you to hang out with him too :(

➜ while you have the cooking thing with osamu, you have the baking thing with atsumu

➜ shh hear me out

➜ osamu is actually not good at baking shit

➜ the first time he attempted baking was when you joined a baking club & now you're obsessed with making cupcakes and all that good good

➜ and he wanted to also try and back

➜ and how and what did he do to make your cupcakes look like dog shit was beyond you

➜ and while smelling something burning, atsumu ran to the kitchen and after realizing what osamu did

➜ he'd try and make your next batch of cupcakes presentable

➜ because he's?? actually?? good at it??

➜ and now you guys have your baking sessions and brother 'tsumu bonding time

➜ but even though you guys have other things with the other person, you guys LOVED doing chores together

➜ like, your guys' mom would make the boys clean the bathroom and before you knew it, LIKE YOU WENT THERE JUST TO TALK TO THEM WHILE THEY CLEAN, you find yourself cleaning the toilet necause atsumu ain't doing that shit

➜ washing dishes?? that as well

➜ you and atsumu would be the ones washing while osmu would do the drying

➜ 11/10 of the time would leave you guys a damped mess

➜ while cleaning the kitchen, i absoloutely headcanon, like STRONGLY

➜ that you guys would just talk either about random shit, talk shit about someone honestly, or quote reality tv shows

➜ like one thing you would be sweeping the kitchen floor,  and while sweeping, you accidentally hit the trash bin hard that the contents flew out of it as it fell down the floor

➜ and atsumu's like : “ pooja what is this behaviour?? ”

➜ then something clicked in you that made you remember that one show bigg boss something

➜ and you'd be like : “ i'm sorry i kicked it ny mistake ”

➜ osamu would roll his eyes before joining you two :  “ you can't kick it by mistake ”

➜ “ then pick it up if it bothers you ”

➜ ugh y'all aRE ICONS

➜ y'all would be at the pool and atsumu would shout “ oh no my diamond earing is gone ”

➜ and osamu would reply “ kim, there's people that are dying. ”

➜ you'll be their biggest fan in the court

➜ whenever they play with you on the sidelines something in them just snapped and they'll be scoring points by points in a row

➜ they lowkey love to show off

➜ if you're a girl, every fangirl of they have would be wary of you at first, but then realized that you were just their little sister

➜ and to their bisexual fans, they would ngl have a huge ass crush on you too

➜ and if you're a boy as well, oH MY GOD WOULD THEY HAVE FALLEN AMD CAN'T GET UP

➜ LIKE BITCH THE MIYA GENES ARE THRIVING IN THE THREE OF YOU

➜ you bet they'd be throwing hands if someone decided to break your heart

➜ though, osamu would be the more rational one

➜ if they ever meet your s/o, atsumu would want to rile them up while osamu is just being calm but the scarier one of the two?? but he knows you don't need any protecting because you know how to do it yourself & you don't have any need for that

➜ 12/10 would recommend as brothers

➜ in conclusion, you guys may not always get along, but you know damn well they care about you and would apologize right away if they did something too far. and you guys are such good sibling goals😤

BOKUTO KOUTARO.

➜ definitely know how to deal with his emo mode

➜ since you guys grew up together

➜ and sadly, you didn't have an akaashi to help you out with it while you were young

➜ like he'd be the older brother but you would probably be the more mature one

➜ but while you guys were young, he was your knight & shinning armor

➜ like when you scraped your knee while trying to catch him, he'll do a 180° and bitch has never ran faster to you than that time

➜ & if you were crying because of it, he'll make stupid jokes but it'll always make you forget about the pain in your knee

➜ and it's one of those times that you could really see that he was actually older than you

➜ then he'll piggyback you back to your house

➜ homeboy be reliable even while he was young wow

➜ and even 'till now

➜ if you ever got sick or injured

➜ or god forbid, HEARBROKEN by someone

➜ a bitch will throw hands

➜ but before that he'll make you laugh & do his best to take your mind off whatever is causing you to hurt

➜ ngl you would always look up to him, even if he may seem childish

➜ he'll hang out with you the rest of the day, he doesn't care if it's a school day, he'll drag akaashi with him

➜ my boy here GIVES THE BEST ADVICES

➜ though he may reword them differently, but his advices never seemed to fail you

➜ fights don't usually happen, and if they do they're probably serious

➜ he's the type of brother that lets you sneak out the house

➜ he'll usually back you up in everything

➜ and this bitch would take the fall for your faults

➜ ugh WE STAN

➜ but also if you sneak out the house to your significant other, bb boy has to know their number, address, occupation etc.

➜ because he ain't having a broken hearted sibling

➜ and he just wants the best for you

➜ and in the future, though he may be busy with being a professional volleyball player;

➜ he'll always have time for you

➜ he'll cLEAR OUT HIS SCHEDULE JUST FOR YOU

➜ you're that urgent to him

➜ your his first best friend before volleyball

➜ speaking of volleyball, if you aren't found in the stands in his matches ─ he'll go TO EMO MODE Y'ALL

➜ because you're usually always there in his games and it makes him give all his 120%

➜ since he's usually busy, he'll ALWAYS have those covey sisters movie nights

➜ if ykyk

➜ he's a sucker for family bonding time ogey

➜ the type to binge watch all the hsm movies & know all the lyrics to all the songs

➜ the type to defend sharpay with all his might

➜ and you guessed it right

➜ sharpay is his favourite character

➜ no one tell me otherwise

➜ THE TYPE TO DUET SONGS WITH YOU

➜ HIS FAVOURITE?

➜ EVERY SHARPAY & RYAN SONGS

➜ HE'LL BE SHARPAY AND YOU'LL BE RYAN

➜ AND THAT'S ON BOP TO THE TOP

➜ hates horror movies

➜ so if you ever watch it with him, he won't leave your side for the rest of the night & will have a sleepover on the living room

➜ f o r t s

➜ loves doing ridiculous challanges

➜ your phone would be BOMBARDED with crackhead videos of him

➜ probably broke a bone or two ngl

➜ 100/10 would recommend as a brother

➜ in conclusion, he may not always be there, and would be a bit childish & needy at times; but you know that he would step up as a big brother for you ANYDAY, ANYNIGHT, ANYTIME. because how could he want the best for you when he's not being his best on his part?

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . tumblr won't let this post show on the tags now i have to repost them all over again phew chile. watch me throw hands😤

[lesbianlovelanguage]

Origin of Love

I heard it’s someone’s birthday, so I wrote a thing for @yikesharringrove. I remember seeing that you really liked Origin of Love from Hedwig, and considering it’s one of my favorite songs too I thought this would be a cool take. I hope you like it!!! 

Read it below or on ao3 here.

*****

Steve had always been clumsy. No one could figure out why, but it was like he was missing half of his body somehow. He fumbled footballs so much they kicked him off the team and had perpetually bruised knees from falling over nothing. At first it was cute, how clumsy little Stevie was, but after the age of 9 his parents started to be concerned. They went to the doctors, but there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him, he was just clumsy. He was supposed to grow out of it.

Middle school was rough to say the least, kids calling him Spaz Steve and purposely tripping him at the worst moments. Now, not only were his knees bruised but his elbows, back, shins, and chest from falling or being bashed into lockers.

He finally got away from it freshman year of high school, when he proved to be amazing at keg stands, adopted the new title of King Steve proudly, and found he was able to focus enough to not do anything too clumsy during school hours. It did mean his grades suffered a little, but once he scored a place on the basketball team and started rising in popularity, his father forgot all about the mediocre grades. He eventually forgot about his son altogether. But who needed parents when instead he could have parties and booze and any high school chic he wanted? He was living it up as King Steve, and life was good.

And then Billy came to town.

Billy Hargrove was cocky and arrogant beyond belief, but it wasn’t his attitude that stopped Steve dead in his tracks during basketball practice two days after Billy’s arrival to Hawkins. They were playing shirts and skins, and without a care in the world, Billy ripped off his shirt. Along with revealing miles of tanned skin and firm muscles, Steve saw a faded red mark right above Billy’s navel that seemed to resemble the sun. While it wouldn’t seem unusual to anyone else, Steve couldn’t take his eyes away from the little red splotch. That is, until he heard Tommy’s hyena cackle in his ear and felt someone slam into him from behind.

He fell onto his knees, holding out his palms to stop the fall, before looking back behind him to see Tommy winking at Billy.

When the hell had they become friends?

Steve waited for Tommy to walk away and then stood up, brushed his hands off on his gym shorts, and headed to the opposite side of the gymnasium. The rest of practice passed without another incident, and Steve was able to duck into the locker room before any of the other guys in his class. He was on his way out of the shower when he caught sight of Billy’s mark again. It was just a glimpse, but it was enough for him to confirm that it looked exactly like his own mark right above his navel.

He didn’t have time, or really the brain capacity, to fully think about what their shared sun mark could mean at that moment though. He had a girlfriend to calm down after what had been a truly disastrous dinner with Barb’s parents. Steve still wasn’t really sure what had set Nancy off, but he knew she had left even more distraught about Barb’s death than she had been before visiting. She hadn’t said a word the entire ride home, hadn’t even looked at him. She was distant and cold all day, but during lunch he had gotten her to agree to a study date at the library.

It seemed to help, he got her to agree to the halloween party at least. One night of being a normal teenager.

-

The halloween party had been nothing less than a disaster . Not only would he never be able to unhear Nancy say he was bullshit, and that everything about them was bullshit, but he had to deal with Billy fucking Hargrove again.

He had successfully avoided thinking about their shared sun mark right up until he couldn’t possibly ignore it anymore. Until Billy Fucking Hargrove was standing above where he sat on the curb outside Tina's house, no shirt and opened jacket, absolutely reeking of cheap beer and expensive cologne.

“King Steve!” He was slurring his words, not to the point Nancy had been at but enough to let Steve know this was not sober Billy talking. “How’d you fall so far, Pretty Boy?”

“Fuck off Hargrove. I don’t need your machismo act tonight, I’ve had enough bullshit thrown my way already.” The word felt like chalk in his mouth, practically choking him as he spit it out. Billy just chuckled and plopped down next to Steve on the curb. “Don’t act like that, Stevie Baby. I’ve seen you eyeing me up, just wanted to see if you were interested in more than just undressing me with your eyes.”

“You’re delusional. I have a girlfriend.”

Billy rolled his eyes and leaned back on his palms. “Pretty sure I saw your girlfriend walking out of the party and into the car of another man. Tough break though.”

Steve saw red, stood up and glared down at the drunk blond below. “I don’t need this shit, especially from you. You look like a drowned rat, buddy.” He threw over his shoulder a quick and snarky, “Have fun with that hangover tomorrow,” and walked to his car.

-

Sleep was difficult that night. Not only did it take forever to actually fall asleep, but once he was unconscious he had the weirdest dreams.

What started as possibly jumps through time, all centered around the same brunette and blond who both looked startlingly familiar, ended with a truly bizarre scene.

Steve was standing in an empty rock land, mountain peaks in the distance and the sky lit aflame from the brilliant sunset. He felt oddly at peace, felt as if some empty part of him was filled finally. It wasn’t until he went to go exploring the empty world he was in that he noticed he was larger, with two more arms and legs. Again though, looking at the extra legs and arms felt natural and whole.

“Where we going, Pretty Boy?” came a voice from behind him, but it also seemed to come from within him. Without consciously deciding to speak, he responded.

“Anywhere we want Billy Babe.”

As they were roaming the land, Steve wondered at the peace he was feeling, and the beauty of the sunset above him. But just as he felt the calm settle into his bones, a great sense of panic overwhelmed him, and a giant flash of light shattered the sunset.

And then all Steve knew was agony as the lightning split him right down the middle, leaving him panting and staring down at his two hands and feet. The peace, the calm, the whole feeling he had gotten to expect had been ripped away from him, left him groaning and gripping at his stomach where the pain seemed to center. He looked down to see a sun shaped scar, pink and raised and fresh.

His head shot up and he frantically searched the area around him. There, sprawled about five feet away from him, was a prone figure staring up at the sky. Some deep part of him, right behind the new scar, reached out and out towards the figure, pulled Steve towards the man. It was his other half, the half that had been so crudely ripped from him, now separated and too distant. Once Steve arrived next to the man, he fell to his knees and began to weep. Through his tears he could only make out the curls of blond hair and bright blue eyes stare at him, hands moving closer before tugging Steve into a firm chest where he curled up and wept until his tears dried out. Once his sobs quieted down, he could hear the soft voice whispering comforting words into his hair. Steve looked up from where he had buried his face, and saw Billy look down at him with the most tragic expression clouding his face.

Just as they bent together to share a tear stained kiss, rain began to pour from the heavens and wind whipped around them. Steve was blown from Billy’s lap almost instantly, and as the rain grew thicker he couldn’t see his lover anymore, could barely see his own hand.

He lost him. His lover, his other half, his soulmate. Gone, lost to the storm.

Steve shot up in his bed, sheets pooling around his waist and skin clammy. He was panting harsh, and his hand flew up to grip at his sun mark so tight it almost hurt, just as it did when we were ripped apart.  

But it was just a dream.

Right?

-

Steve didn’t get anymore sleep that night, plagued with a sense of restlessness and the carnal need to see Billy again. The hours between when he had jerked awake to when he would head to school seemed to pass rapidly and achingly slow. By the time his BMW pulled into the school parking lot, he was a mess fueled only by anxiety and a crushed granola bar he forced himself to eat.

But the blue Camaro was glaringly absent amongst the plain sea of beige and silver beater cars. Billy wasn’t there.

The school day passed in a blur, and practice was sure to be the same. Steve headed onto the court in a daze, head foggy until he looked up to see Billy dribbling a ball and wagging his tongue at the girls in the bleachers. It was as if the storm had passed, and that strange sense of wholeness and peace that Steve had felt in the dream washed over him again at the sight of the California Rat King.

And then he was promptly reminded of Billy’s attitude problem.

He was a monster on the court, managing to knock people over without getting fouled and snatch balls from even the best offensive players. Despite posing a threat, Steve couldn’t help but being a subtle tease. For some reason, he felt sturdy and more centered around Billy, and he used the focus he would have had to dedicate to staying balanced and applied it to some simple tricks he had seen from NBA games. He was headed straight for the basket when Billy met him straight on. Steve felt the press of a sweaty, sculpted torso press against him and hot breathe blow into his ear.

“Hey Pretty Boy. Harrington right? Used to run this school before turning bitch for an ice princess?”

Steve couldn’t believe he was getting this shit again.

“Why don’t you just shut up and play the game?” He panted. Instead of a verbal response, Billy snached the ball and drove through to score another basket for his team. He turned around to wag his tongue at Steve this time, but before they could go at it again, there came a quiet “Steve?” from the corner of the gym, and he had to go deal with the other headache in his life.

-

He skipped the rest of practice. After finding out Nancy remembered nothing of last night, he couldn’t stand the thought of facing Billy and his wagging tongue anymore. He needed sleep.

Apparently the coach had the same idea of ending practice early though, because halfway through his shower, the other guys on the team funneled into the locker room, with Billy leading the pack. He was standing at his locker, fiddling with the lock, when Steve walked over to get dressed.

“Awe, leaving already Pretty Boy?” He leered, eyes slowly rolling down Steve’s body, leaving a tingling hot path in their wake, all the way down to the red mark right above Steve’s navel. He could pinpoint the exact moment blue eyes met red lines by their widening size, and Billy’s jaw beginning to work overtime, like he was chewing on some leather. He clearly recognized it as an exact match to the one adorning his own body, and he knew exactly what it meant, probably knew more than Steve from the face he was making.

Steve barely opened his mouth to comment, ask a question, anything to prove it wasn’t all in his head, before Billy abruptly slammed his locker door and slung his bag over his shoulder, leaving the locker room still dressed in his workout clothes and sweat leaving his hair matted and sticking to his neck.

Steve almost fell over in his rush to get dressed and follow after Billy. He practically sprinted out to the parking lot just in time to see Billy pull open the door of his Camaro. In a last ditch effort, Steve jumped in front of the Camaro as Billy turned the key and made the engine roar.

“Out of my way Harrington,” he yelled out of the driver side window, where he had popped his head out.

Steve shook his head and shouted back, “I just want answers Billy. What is this?”  He angrily raised his shirt just enough to make Billy bear witness to the mark again. Sighing, he pulled his head back inside the car and rubbed his eyebrows for a moment. Steve took the opportunity for what it was and walked around to the side of the car.

“Fine. Quarry, 6 o’clock. Don’t be late Pretty Boy,” and with that Billy pressed his foot on the gas and zoomed out of the parking lot.

-

Steve was going to go to the quarry, but he had to make one stop beforehand. He needed to break up with Nancy, felt the urge deep in his bones that it had been headed south for a long time and last night was just the breaking point. But stopping in front of the Wheeler’s somehow ended up with him and Dustin searching for a lizard, and then a whirlwind of Oh Shit, the Upside Down is back.

It all led to him, camped out at the Byers’ house with a pack of angry little brats trying to convince him to do some more dangerous shit, as if almost becoming alien chow at the junkyard wasn’t enough. He was going toe to toe with Nancy’s little brother when the random red head jumped away from the front window to say that her brother was headed down the driveway, and he was gonna kill them. Her claim was backed by a   familiar engine revving in the driveway.

Billy Hargrove was here.

Steve calmed the brats down and then slowly walked out the front door, closing it quickly behind him.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you Harrington?”

“Yeah it's me, don’t cream your pants.” Billy huffed out a laugh and dropped his half-smoked cigarette to take off his leather jacket.

“Something doesn’t sit right Pretty Boy,” he said as he stalked across the yard towards the house, “You miss our date, my sister goes missing, and you all wind up here? Gives me the heebie jeebies man.”

“Sorry Bil, don’t know what to tell you. Shit happens.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, trying to play off how annoyed at himself he was for missing the chance to get his questions answered. Like hell he was getting answers now. Billy was right in front of him now, silver necklace glinting in the full moonlight. He swore he could even hear Billy growl before he replied.

“That’s not good enough. What’s my shitbird sister doing here with you? What’s going on Harrington, and don’t make me ask again.”

“Well, I’m babysitting the Byers kid and your sister isn’t here. Just me and a little kid, none of your concern.”

Billy pulled out his Marlboro pack and stuck one between his lips before looking up and locking eyes with Steve.

“Then who,” he said, pausing to light the cigarette, “is that.” He plucked the cigarette from his mouth and used it to gesture at the front window where a flash of red hair was disappearing behind the curtains.

Fucking hell.  

Left grasping for straws, Steve wasn’t prepared for the fist that came sailing towards his face. He fell to the ground in a heap, and by the time he was able to untangle, Billy was already in the house and yelling at the kids.

Fuck their connection. No one threatened Steve’s kids.

He ran back into the house to witness Billy push Lucas up against the wall of the living room. Just before he could punch the frightened kid, Steve tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around, Steve socked him in the jaw and sent him tumbling into the kitchen. He recovered quickly though, and they were quickly locked in a wrestling match that only stopped when Billy reached out for stability and flung open the fridge door.

Out tumbled a dead demi-whatever, right on top of Billy’s chest. He didn’t scream, but it was a close call. Steve rushed over and pushed the dead thing off of him. He reached out a hand to help Billy up, and once they were both upright, Billy actually did growl.

“Answers. Now.” Steve nodded along before ducking closer to Billy and whispering his response.

“Okay, sure. But first, we make a deal. I’ll tell you what’s going on here if you tell me what this,” he gestured to Billy's mark, which was on display under his opened shirt, ''means and why we both have one. Got it?”

“Fine.” Billy nodded and then moved to sit on the couch. “Explain it to me.”

-

After a full crash course in what was going on, including what they had all been arguing about prior to Billy’s arrival, his only response was to stand up and head toward the front door. When he got to the door though, he looked over his shoulder.

“Well, are we going or not?”

-

They did it. They fucking did it. The Gate was closed and the Upside Down banished for good.

The tunnels had been pure nightmare fuel, but somehow Steve knew it would have been worse if Billy hadn’t gone with. Whether it was because of their strange connection, or it was simply because he had another grown human with him, Steve was nothing short of grateful for the support.

After returning to the Byers’ house, Steve and Billy and the kids waited anxiously to hear from the others. Slowly, everyone mixed up in the Upside Down mess returned back to the Byers’ home, and once everyone was confirmed safe and the sun was beginning to rise, they dispersed. Steve dropped off Lucas and Dustin, and then went to the quarry. It felt like the better option, than going home to a cold and empty house.

He had parked the BMW and gotten out to sit on the hood of his car not very long before the rumble of another engine grew closer. A blue camaro pulled up right next to his car and parked, the absence of the engine and music that had been screaming from the windows was deafening in its silence, and Steve watched with a mix of nerves and anticipation as Billy climbed out of the driver’s seat. He walked up to the hood of the Camaro and fiddled with his lighter for a few moments.

“I think I, uh, I made you a deal Pretty Boy. Answers for answers and all that shit.” He sighed and finally lit his cigarette. Steve let him get in a puff before responding.

“Yeah, I just thought you might know more about the,” he had to cough before finishing his sentence, the awkwardness of the encounter starting to get to him, “the mark thingie,” he finished lamely.

“What do you know?”

“Not much. I guess. He started listing on his fingers, “I know that we both have identical marks in the same place somehow, I’ve had mine since birth so I figure you had yours forever too?” He waited for Billy to nod before continuing. “I also had this, um, this dream? About, uh, us?”

“Oh, yeah? Dreaming about me already, Bambi? Was it fun? What were you wearing?” Steve instantly flushed and started sputtering, trying to form a reply. Billy’s smirk grew bigger the more Steve fumbled for a response.

“Not that kind of dream Hargrove.” Steve finally answered. He paused and then added, quieter, “Not exactly I mean.”

“I’m sure it was, Pretty Boy. What was the dream about?”

“It was us, kind of? Like they looked like us, and it was like we were mashed together until we weren’t and then I lost you in a storm.” Steve was expecting teasing or maybe another punch to the face, but instead Billy let out a sharp bark of laughter before doubling over and pushing the heel of his palms into his eyes, the cherry of the cigarette shockingly close to his golden mane.

“You okay there Hargrove? You look a little…” Steve trailed off, unsure how exactly to describe Billy’s appearance.

“A little freaked? A little fucking scared? What is it Harrington? I look a little what over the fact that my fucking soulmate is a dude and my dad is the biggest fuckhead? This is fucking bullshit man.” Billy’s voice slowly rose until he was screaming the last sentence.

Where did Steve even begin processing what had just happened? It was full of landmines, from being fucking soulmates to Billy having serious daddy problems. He decided to focus on their joint issues.

“What do you mean, soulmates?” Billy’s head shot up and he pushed off the Camaro hood to come stand directly in front of where Steve was sitting crossed leg on the hood, hands on either side of his lap and face close enough for Steve to count the light freckles spattered across Billy’s nose.

“I think you know exactly what I mean Pretty Boy. Soulmates, destined to be together, forever entwined, that kind of shit.”

“And you know so much about this because…”

“It ran in my mom’s family. It's like a genetic thing or some shit. Listen, all she told me is that I would meet someone one day who had the same mark as me and would share my dreams.” Billy took an aggressive drag of the cigarette before continuing. “Take a wild guess of what I dreamed about Princess.”

“Me?” Steve squeaked out.

“Bingo amigo. Spot on.”

“So, so what? We’re soulmates or whatever. What does that mean? ” Steve pushed. Why did he feel pulled towards Billy, why did he feel so settled?

“It means jackshit, Harrington. Just forget about it okay?” Billy started to pull away, and something inside Steve flinched at the thought. Before he knew what he was doing, his hand shot out and fisted in the other boy’s shirt, yanking him back into place.

“Not a chance, Hargrove,” Steve whispered before continuing to follow his instincts. He flicked one last glance at blue eyes before focusing on plush lips and leaning in.

Their first kiss was a firestorm, filled with heat and rage and passion. Billy ran his tongue over Steve’s bottom lip and Steve tangled his hands in golden curls to hold Billy that much closer. They only broke apart because Billy tugged at Steve’s beltloops and accidentely pulled him off the fucking car.

They both landed in a heap in between the two cars, Steve on top of Billy and giggling up a storm. He was high on endorphins, and for some reason found himself working a hand down Billy’s body to find the sun mark that started this all.

As soon as his fingers grazed the edge of the sun, he felt a rush of heat and love and want shoot through him and Billy let out a broken moan. The heat was starting to overtake everything, the overwhelming need to be as close to Billy as possible, but once again Billy proved to be stronger than this soul bond thing they had. He ripped himself away from Steve, not very far but just enough for the haze of need to dissipate a little. The absence left both boys panting, breath intermingling and foreheads touching.

“Holy fuck,” was the most eloquent thing Steve could think of to surmize the feelings he had just experienced. Billy hummed in agreeance, leaning in to nip once more at Steve’s swollen lips before pulling away fully and standing up. He pulled Steve up and into his space again. They looked at each other for a minute, just taking in the moment as Billy held onto Steve’s biceps and Steve wrapped his arms around Billy’s torso.

“I am never forgetting this.” Steve whispered finally, and Billy chuckled before shaking his head.

“No, Bambi, I don’t think I will either.”

[dorkery]

I manifest, briefly, to write about this miniseries WHICH I HAD EXTREMELY HIGH HOPES FOR, and it disappointed me so much I’m compelled to write an actual review about it. In summary, of course. If I did it in-depth, it would probably have to be on my proper blog (oops shit I haven’t updated that in ages).

INTRO ABOUT JAPAN AND WWII (skip this to get to actual review of series)

TOKYO TRIAL. Ah. The Asian parallel to Nuremberg. Media about Japanese war crimes and the subsequent actions (the trial, the rehabilitation of criminals, the adoption of Unit 731 research by American forces, the conflicts between the Japanese Imperial Army and its victims) is not as extensive as the war in Europe. In fact, the Tokyo Trials themselves were not as punitive as the Nuremberg Trial (for a host of bureaucratic reasons, but also the lack of systematic eradication of Japanese citizens, but this is a very simplified explanation). And most media about the Japanese occupation is usually Chinese or Korean (understandably) even though the Japanese did a good job fucking up the Philippines, Malaya, the Dutch East Indies and so on. Also, much media about the Japanese occupation, I find, tends to be about the overall general existence of the Japanese occupation force, rather than specific historical figures (I am making a blanket statement here, I’ve watched limited amounts of Korean and Chinese language media on the Japanese occupation). There’s nothing wrong with this, of course, but the lack of quantity then leaves a viewer chomping on the bit for some good historical drama. 

Part of it, probably, is due to the relative mystery of the Japanese occupation when compared to the Nazi occupation. Nazis, the Holocaust, the Third Reich are everywhere in media and have been researched and shared to death. Not so for the Japanese invasion (well, probably in English). The Rape of Nanking (book) was probably THE thing that shone a spotlight on Japanese atrocities, but it’s a drop in the ocean compared to the overall Japanese action in Asia (newsflash: the Japanese ALSO tortured the people in countries that were not China, even though yes, I will readily admit they especially tortured the Chinese populations in countries that were not China). 

There is so much Good Shit TM from a edutainment perspective on stuff you can squeeze out of the Japanese invasion. DID YOU KNOW??? THE JAPANESE ARMY CYCLED - ON BICYCLES - FROM THE KINGDOM OF SIAM TO SINGAPORE OVER 2 MONTHS, CAPTURING ALL THE TERRITORY THEY CYCLED THROUGH (because the locals supported the Japanese invasion at the time - Asia For Asians! was the propaganda they put out which was total bullshit, the locals would eventually discover), AND THEN ACCEPTED A BRITISH SURRENDER. THE KING OF SIAM AGREED TO LET THE JAPANESE USE THEM AS THE BIKING ENTRY POINT IN EXCHANGE FOR “DON’T INVADE ME BRO” AND ALSO “can I have some northern malayan territory”. THE JAPANESE AGREED. You can’t make this shit up. And this is the non-atrocity part of it. The atrocity part is as vicious, but differently so, from the Holocaust (which I would prefer not to get into as that’s an entire essay in and of itself - summary: the Japanese bayonet everything - EVERYTHING - and also Contest to kill 100 people with actual Japanese swords as promoted by Mainichi and Nichi Nichi Shimbun and also soap water drinking stomach bulge boot step interrogation technique ok let’s stop this here)

You get what I’m saying. It’s an entire period of history that has not been harvested for good quality drama. And I don’t need fabricated romantic bullshit (I’m looking at you, Embun (even though you were damned good, you’re STILL BULLSHIT)). I’m talking Schindler’s List-type films, with history and gravitas and nuance. Most historical movies have immature script-writers who basically paint the Japanese occupiers as monsters (not necessarily inaccurate, but painfully one dimensional). (Digression: Recently I watched Kanang Anak Langkau which was about a Malayan (and then Malaysian) Ranger who helped fight off the Communists after the Japanese occupation ended and, man, the entire movie was flat... except the Communists??? Like, they were clearly terrible but they were well-portrayed and had great actors. So. Opposite problem. Asians are really bad at war films that aren’t Classic Period Dramas.)

As a citizen of a Japanese-occupied country, with YEARS of history textbooks dedicated to the Japanese occupation, and a generation of Japanese war survivors either dead or unwilling to discuss their experiences, in a region with... pretty bad recording of this sort of history, I think you get my interest and fascination with this entire chapter. And since I’m in a country that isn’t the centre of the Japanese invasion (i.e. China and Korea) it makes even more sense that I’m interested in the occupation and action in countries like the Philippines, Malaya and so on.  

ACTUAL REVIEW OF TOKYO TRIAL MINI-SERIES

OK. Sorry. I had to get that off my chest. SO. Tokyo Trial.

This is actually the second piece of media about the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal on video that I’m aware of (that’s been dramatised). The first one was a movie, also called TOKYO TRIAL, and it was a Chinese production (in English) from a Chinese perspective. The protagonist was the Chinese judge on the bench, Justice Mei. Tokyo Trial the Movie (TT(M) from here on out) was heavily dramatised and abridged in order to make for (well, attempted) excitement, action and historical legal thrills. It gets bogged down at times with some typical pacing problems (typical for Asian films). Like a good historical legal thriller, it focuses on victim testimony and the arrogance of the accused and of course it culminates in the feel good moment where you can watch outraged/distraught Japanese war criminals reacting to their sentences. Overall not a bad movie to watch, but not really great. Made interesting only by the righteousness of the protag and the severity and outrageousness of the subject matter. But it suffers from some stuttered pacing and an extremely narrow Chinese POV (understandable, given the protag and the production). 

Now. Tokyo Trial (Mini-Series) (TT(MS) from here on). 

Pros: Very beautiful. Decent Actors. VERY BEAUTIFUL.

Cons: Literally everything else.

HOW. HOW DO YOU CREATE A MINI-SERIES ABOUT THE JAPANESE WAR CRIMES TRIAL WITHOUT FEATURING JAPANESE WAR CRIMES????? 

Astounding. I’m truly astounded. Where to even begin.

1. The protagonist

GUESS WHO IT IS. No really, guess. In a movie about the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal, guess who the main character is. I guarantee you won’t get it.

It’s the Dutch Judge.

WHY? 

The Judge, btw, doesn’t even have any kind of personal or professional link to the Japanese occupation. Even when the protag is asked by a stranded German diva about how he must have suffered during the Nazi occupation, he admits that he didn’t have it as bad as others. His family is entirely intact although they were in the Dutch East Indies when the Japanese invaded.

2. The focus of the series

can you fucking guess

it’s the goddamn judges

the entire series is about the trials and tribulations (pun fucking intended) of the GODDAMN JUDGES

DURING SERIOUS TESTIMONY OF VICTIMS AND THE ACCUSED, THE SHOTS ARE OF THE CONCERNED/CONSTIPATED FACES OF THE JUDGES

The mini-series, 4 episodes long, opens with the Dutch Judge writing to his wife and giving some decent introduction to all the major players. And then it brings into focus the various justices from around the world who will be partaking in this historical undertaking. 

The President of the Tribunal is Sir William Webb, Australian. He looks great but suffers from terrible lines and staging. BTW all the characters are extremely one dimensional WITH TWO EXCEPTIONS: The British Judge (who veers between an ally, a one-note antagonist, but is then redeemed as an anti-hero - clearly the deuteragonist) and the Chinese Judge, who is soft-spoken, well-mannered, firm but not unyielding, a clear contrast to the fiery and righteous protag of TT(M). Honestly, I think he would be the best portrayal except... halfway through, Irrfan Khan appears as the Indian Judge, and honestly Paul Freeman was so good as the British (Scottish) Judge. 

The entire series is about the judges politicking amongst one another and trying to argue about whether crimes of aggression (or crimes against peace) are valid grounds for a case, as these crimes have never existed before (cue arguing about the precedent set by Nuremberg). 

Our intrepid (barf) protag intersperses the tense boardroom confrontations (really can barely be called that: a serious point is brought up in court, they adjourn to their chambers, they START to argue, and then the Tribunal President immediately says ok let’s all go retire for the day before any interesting or insightful conversations can begin) with one-on-one interactions with (1) a German pianist diva whom he admires as he plays violin (their duet sucks btw) (2) a Japanese intellectual who hangs out at the beach (they have zero onscreen connection and exists only to instill doubt in the Dutch judge’s mind as he contemplates the trial) (3) various judges as they begin gossiping over the latest judge to pose drama in the chambers. 

That’s all. Honestly. That’s the content of the mini-series in a nutshell.

3. The pacing and the script

god it’s so 

MEALY

Every scene, EVERY SCENE, is played as grave and solemn

You think this isn’t bad? Every single scene begins with thoughtful pauses and long poignant looks, even over such lines which you can picture your grandpa and uncle just quipping at each other (”The marathon begins” “I’d rather hope it would be a sprint”).

Mealy = the actual script is so awkward. It doesn’t sound like human beings talking. It’s a mouthful. ugh.

Pacing = Example: in episode 3, probably, literally 3 scenes side-by-side, 2 judges talking to each other as they walk down a path. Each scene is: A asks B about C. And then it is immediately followed by D asking C about B. CAN YOU IMAGINE??? They don’t intersperse the shot at all. It’s just 3 conversations in a row gossiping. 

Pacing 2 = time passes but badly. Suddenly a year has passed, but we don’t get a sense of it unless we’re told; there’s no difference in appearance or speaking manner among the judges. there’s no real development at all, except for the position of the Dutch Judge whose position on crimes of aggression changes as he gets pulled in several ways by several people, and you end the series without any feeling of resolution or satisfaction. AT ALL. I feel like you end where you start in terms of the arguments and everything.

4. Reflections

I’ve discovered that this mini-series was nominated for an emmy in 2017 for best series. I’ve also discovered 2 reviews (ONLY) online for this series, one on a blog and on one iMBD, both praising the series for being good for history buffs that showcases an unknown part of history.

i) That is not accurate. It is a terrible series that showcases the politics and drama of the tribunal judges, and not of the japanese war crimes. literally nobody needs to know, or care, about the judges of a war crimes trial (british, canadian, US, NZ judge conspire to get the president replaced, he leaves, US judge is chosen as his replacement, HE COMES BACK, NOBODY CARES) (aside with Blakely the US lawyer and what he’s trying to accomplish in court with his controversial and it’s not explained and ignored later)

ii) Historic footage is interspersed, meaninglessly. This includes the footage of the accused and 2 victims giving testimony, I believe. It is THE MOST INTERESTING part of the series. The footage used is minimal. And it just doesn’t gel with the whole series as a whole.

iii) This show was made by a Japanese crew and NHK so. 

All in all, from an entertainment perspective, Tokyo Trial failed to be compelling, interesting or noteworthy. The actors were bogged down by a bad script and weak direction. If you want to watch a show about the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal, watch the older Chinese movie - less accurate but way more entertaining, and it ACTUALLY focuses on Japanese war crimes.

[galaxygerm103]

An Unpopular Opinion + an Analysis

Hello Be More Chill fandom, today I'm gonna share a very unpopular opinion that's probably gonna get me killed, but it proves self awareness and that's good.

My opinion? Boyf Riends is low-key toxic.

Now you're probably gonna be like "no it's not? It's cute and soft and-" yeah, yeah, I know. Everybody and their mom seems to stan this ship so… this is gonna get me killed.

But hear me out. I'm gonna actually explain why I think this.

So, to show that their romantic relationship would be toxic, we gotta look at their friendship first.

So, we'll start with the first interaction they have in "More Than Survive". It starts out basic enough, Michael shows up listening to music, Jeremy predicts exactly what it is he's listening to, and then the song ends. Michael proceeds to tell Jeremy he "looks like ass" which is something friends do so that's not bad. Then Jeremy brings up the backpack thing. He's clearly upset about it, but instead of trying to cheer him up, Michael doesn't even seem to notice he's upset, and laughs off the whole thing. The topic changes and one of the most iconic lines in the musical shows up aka "there's never been a better time in history to be a loser". Now this line seems harmless but in one rehearsal video, Jeremy's response is a dry "thanks" because this isn't the mindset he has. He doesn't want to be a loser but Michael doesn't understand that. It's kind of the foundation of the problem. Michael isn't noticing his best friend's feelings, there is a lack of communication here. Also, he should be telling Jeremy he's not a loser, not that he should embrace being one, because what Jeremy needs isn't what Michael needs.

Okay, interaction 2, right before "I Love Play Rehearsal". This one's short but it boils down to Michael low-key(very low-key) manipulating Jeremy into continuing his effort to talk to Christine. By telling Jeremy that he'll make fun of him forever if he doesn't go into the auditorium, which I know sounds like playful teasing and maybe it is but that doesn't matter, by saying that, Michael gives Jeremy an ultimatum. And I doubt Jeremy wants to be teased about being a coward forever by his best friend. That just doesn't sound fun. So to avoid even more teasing in his life, he opens the auditorium door.

Interaction 3 is "Two Player Game" so this is gonna be a long one. Now, the first line of verse 1 is I think the nicest thing Michael really says to Jeremy, because he actually calls him cool, which is validating to our self hating protagonist. Then it falls downhill when Michael says "you're just a nothing in this highschool scheme" because that's only gonna make Jeremy feel worse. The rest of the first verse is just Michael tryna explain to Jeremy that they'll be fine if they stick together. The chorus is kind of once again ignoring Jeremy's feelings because he doesn't want to wait to be a loser anymore. He wants to be able to love himself and be liked by others in the present day. He's been waiting since he was little for the chance to be liked it seems. The next verse gives us Jeremy's insight on the whole situation, and he says he "wants to move on" which implies that he's sick of being a loser in the eyes of everybody, including both himself and Michael. Michael seems to completely ignore the fact that Jeremy is upset once again because when Jeremy points out they're not in college, Michael shrugs it off like "it doesn't make any difference". The only part of the song where we see any open communication between them is the third verse. Jeremy's pretty vulnerable here because, in context, he's worrying about his future if he doesn't stop being a loser. The "favorite person" part is probably the sweetest moment these two share through the entire musical, and it's the closest we ever see them, although I'm starting to think Michael means more to Jeremy than he realizes, which is why he asks Jeremy if he's really his favorite person. Jeremy has nobody else so of course Michael is the one person he tells everything but Michael doesn't really seem to get Jeremy's feelings so Jeremy stopped telling him all the things he feels(aka the things he talks about in "Loser Geek Whatever"). The rest of the song is just a reprise of the beginning of the song so it's not entirely important to this argument.

Interaction 4 is the mall scene and this has a pretty telling moment in it. Ignoring the Payless part, the food court scene has more to unpack than you'd think. So Jeremy takes the Squip and when it "doesn't work" he's upset. He needs comforting clearly, although he pretends he doesn't("leave me to mourn in my chili fries forever"). Michael, instead of providing comfort to his clearly distraught best friend, sees this as a chance to go grab some discontinued soda that he could get later. He could take five minutes to comfort his best friend but instead he goes off to do his own thing. He's ignoring his best friend's needs for his own wants. It's actually selfish.

The next interaction is short and one sided, in which Jeremy sees Michael twice during "Sync Up" and is saddened when he doesn't see him. He would've seen him by now, so he's confused when they haven't seen each other all day. This probably made Jeremy think Michael was avoiding him, which we find out isn't true.

Interaction 6, the beginning of the maybe end. The end of act 1. Jeremy and Michael are both confused by the fact they haven't talked all day. Michael is quick to blame it on Jeremy avoiding him, but Jeremy figures out that it was the Squip pretty quickly. Of course, during this interaction we get Jeremy's solo("Loser Geek Whatever") in which we see one of the most telling things about their relationship. "Michael thinks that weird is rad but feeling weird just makes me sad". This sums up their relationship pretty well, Michael is comfortable with himself but doesn't realize that Jeremy isn't comfortable. This interaction ends with Jeremy blocking out Michael. He's sick of having his feelings ignored by his only friend, and maybe he can have his feelings noticed and validated by other people. He's done being in Michael's shadow, because there's more to him than just being Michael's player 2.

Interaction 7, the bathroom intervention scene. This scene has a LOT to go through so let's get into it(using the new version here). Jeremy runs into the room panicking and when Michael reveals himself, the first thing he gets on about is how Jeremy left him. He stops when he sees Jeremy smiling because Jeremy missed him. He's happy to see him but then Michael gets on about the Squip and is talking about how there are consequences to it. Jeremy points out that Michael said technology isn't dangerous and the two of them get into their fight and Michael says he's looking out for Jeremy. Jeremy says for once in his life he can look out for himself, then the scene continues like the original and Jeremy calls Michael a loser. Jeremy isn't in the right state of mind in this scene, he was almost raped and he's scared. You'd think Michael would ask him what's wrong but he doesn't. He gets pissed at him without even being concerned about his emotions. Yet again we see that Michael is bad at recognizing Jeremy's feelings. I'm not saying he doesn't care about Jeremy, because he does(or else he wouldn't be here in the first place to warn him about the Squip), I'm saying that Michael is bad at recognizing Jeremy's emotions to a point where he ends up accidentally making the situation worse. Michael's actually the one who started the argument because he brought up the Squip without realizing how scared and upset Jeremy was. Not saying Jeremy's to blame, he could have handled the situation better but Michael started the whole argument. As for Jeremy calling Michael a loser, I think this may be Jeremy projecting. Because Michael is explaining every doubt Jeremy had about the Squip. Jeremy was even scared to take it("what if it's dangerous?"). Jeremy finally has more people to talk to, he finally isn't alone, he isn't in a healthy place and he's clearly not happy, but he's seemingly convinced himself that he is. He's convinced himself that the Squip is the only thing that can help him so when Michael warns him about it he lashes out, calling Michael the same thing that they'd both been called for years. Michael's reaction is probably due to shock and the realization that maybe he low-key drove his best friend away. Although he doesn't think he did anything wrong so who knows. We know Jeremy feels bad about this the next day though because he says this: "I didn't wanna hurt Brooke! I didn't wanna hurt ANYONE! Now Rich is in the hospital, my best friend thinks im a jerk, and Christine, you were supposed to make her like me!"

Now the next isn't an interaction but it's something Michael does that's extremely petty. Michael gives up on Jeremy completely. And he admits to it by the end of the musical("oh I was ready to watch you suffer"). It took Mr. Heere's convincing and low-key cheesy methodology to convince Michael to save Jeremy.

The next interaction is the fight during the play. In which Jeremy isn't in control of himself and is fighting the Squip internally while fighting Michael physically. The Squip seems to have been putting negative thoughts about Michael into Jeremy's mind but Jeremy knows it's not true. Also Michael was being extremely selfish during this scene by not letting Jeremy have the MDR when he knows the dangers of the Squip. (Like c'mon man Jeremy could be shocked so much he'll die. Stop being petty.) I mean yeah Michael is high but I'm pretty sure he's high during every scene except for the Halloween party(weed helps with anxiety and Michael's anxiety clearly got the best of him there, so-) and the other scene is coming up. This scene just shows Michael's pettiness.

Final interaction, right before "Voices in my Head". Jeremy asks Michael why he came back and Michael reveals that he was gonna let Jeremy suffer until Mr. Heere came by. Michael just admitted to his pettiness, and I think, maybe, he realizes that he was a shitty friend. Also I don't think he's high in this scene because his giggles are gone and, from what I've heard, he is a lot more awkward this scene.

So now, why do I see Boyf Riends as low-key toxic? Well, taking into consideration the conflicts between the boys' needs and wants, and the lack of communication, and the sheer amount of petty behavior Michael shows, plus his quick blame of Jeremy after "Upgrade", Michael wouldn't be the best partner for somebody like Jeremy, who needs validation and needs somebody to listen to and understand his problems, and help him through them. If time is given to them both, yes sure it could work(a good example of this is the Boyf Riends breakup comic by @Artistic.Hoarder on Instagram), but with the canon and nothing else, Boyf Riends couldn't work without some level of toxicity. (This is only referring to Broadway.)

Thank you for reading. Feel free to kindly express your opinions. This isn't ship hate, I don't hate Boyf Riends, I feel if done right it can be a good ship.

[kaiju-z]

DnD 5e One Shot - The Dragon and The King

So, last saturday our group had our second one shot. I’m writing this up first, because the first One Shot was a Winter Solstice one that takes place in the near future of our party and stuff happens in it (will write down an episode on that once we catch up).

Our ranger @unholysavior​ was the DM for that one, so our regular dm @lozwithasideofcheese​ got to play with us again as a player.

Our party consisted of:

Reed, the Firbolg Ranger (as played by our Goblin Barbarian player Hayden) and his companion, the mountain lion and BEST GIRL Ginger;

Kit, the Changeling Rogue (as played by our DM);

Gamin Steak the Eldarin Necromancer (as played by our Half-Orc bard @langsty-mc-langstface​);

Nemo Olzien, te Aasimar Paladin (as played by our Air Genasi Monk, @kittehr​);

and lastly Esteban “Ban” Carrera, the Halfling Cleric, as played by me.

We started at 5th level and were called to the court of King Adavier (a rather empty court as we found out later on). He tasked us with the job of arming ourselves in the town of Greenburrow/Greenborough (I’m not sure on how it’s written), climb a nearby mountain and fight a 500 year old tyranical red dragon atop the Stone’s Peak of the mountain.

He will pay us “handsomely” 40 gold pieces each for the task and immediatelly we should’ve figured something was wrong with the job. It felt off. But I think we were mainly distracted with Gamin’s shenanigans. Gamin was a bit unhinged (and by a bit, I mean a lot) and almost dove out of a window.

He also secured himself bones from the royal catacombs??? I don’t think we ever followed up on that.

After some shenanigans (for some reason I wrote down that the king sleeps commando style?! Gamin was great, XD) in the court and introductions to each other outside the king’s castle, we made our way to GB. On the way there we avoided a fight with highwaymen?? I think that was a thing that could have happened. But we were too perceptive to be caught by surprise, so they never made their move.

Ban, after some reluctance, ended up riding on Ginger’s back along the way to GB and Reed talked to some horses to get their take on how they were doing in the service of rent horses (Tap once for doing ok, tap twice for nah).

Kit basically robbed Gamin in plain sight, but we all rolled low enough to where we didn’t see her pull that off.

We learn that Gamin doesn’t remember where he lives, but he wants to go home. He wasn’t always like this, the insightful Ban understands from his rolls (It felt so nice to play a character, who doesn’t roll low on wisdom checks X’D). And before we reach the outskirts, everyone but Kit flexes. Yep. Even Ginger.

In the outskirts of the town we meet a black dragonborn named “Dennar” (or Donnar? I’m not sure on the pronounciation), who lives outside of town in a barn, painted black. Gamin adopts him immediatelly.

From Denar’s snoot to our ears, we learn that Sleekclaw isn’t a baddie. In fact, he’s the protector of these lands. Kind and wise. Which gets us to start questioning the king’s motives. (Us not being locals, but travelers from our own paths, we don’t know much about the local lore).

It seems that ever since the king took the throne, he has been a tyranical ruler, who would wreck any town within his kingdom??? He held hostility towards all the non-humany races (Dragonborn and Tieflings included).

We comfort the troubled DB and he basically joined the party from that point (cue the dm making a sheet for Denar, while we have a break).

We continue on the way to the town and find a sword amidst burned buildings. But not from above, which corroborates Dennar’s story to us. We learn, through Nemo, that the sword is cursed and that diamonds are growing from it. According to Reed, the sword is infused with Conjuration type magic. After some more shenanigans between Ban and Gamin (They have a very Order vs Chaos dynamic developing here), Gamin uses a clever way to carry the sword, as it may be useful for later.

The king took power 5 years prior and since then things have been going bad. My favorite quote from the one shot came next. “ It’s like a royalty card! You need to punch a card in corruptness.”

We reach the town, which is covered in diamons of various sizes. It’s disconcerning as we enter town. Greenborough is a small town with a few shops. But that doesn’t really matter, because it’s overrun by these black, red and purple diamonds that have grown all over the place.

Further north in town is the castle of the Lord and Lady, who run the township. Gamin looks at a tree and starts crying after a trip to the secret chat. My heart 8(  Dennar taps him. “You ok?” Gamin: “Peachy!”

Big oof.

Gamin suddenly decides to run for the castle and we end up following him inside. Once in, we all make will saves and for all we know, we all pass. We find the lady, a green tiefling with heart shaped horns,curled up close to the staircase, looking traumatized. There’s blood up the staircase.

Ban tries to comfort the woman, while upstairs, Gamin finds a door blocked by diamonds. And starts magic missiling the shit out o the diamonds. Once he hears a faint cry for help from the other side.

After a perception check (we made SO MANY in this one shot, amazing), Ban noticed that diamonds were slowly growing on the woman’s wrists and throat. It seems that some kind of diamond plague had reached this town???

Gamin shatters a diamond and sees a red tiefling, stuck under diamonds inside the room that was blocked by the diamonds.

It’s at this point that things go bad. Dennar’s legs are petrified to the ground because of diamonds, growing on him (I guess he failed his save D: )

Through quick thinking on everyone’s part we managed to save the Lord and Lady AND Dennar, thanks to Kit’s swing with the greatsword, taking out the crystals on the lady, Reed bringing the Lord to Ban and Ban using some spells to restore both the Lord and Dennar to a non-plagued state.

The couple embrace and we learn more about what happened.

Yep, the king’s a piece of shit and needs to go down. We discuss a gameplan and ultimately agree to talk with Sleekclaw for back up. (I mean, come on. You give us a dragon, we gotta talk to the guy at least!) Ban promisses to keep Kit safe, as she doesn’t want to die before becoming an adult.

Also further developement happens between Gamin and Ban. Ban explains his faith (He’s a Life Domain cleric to Lady Istus). and Gamin is not impressed. Ban understands.

The party go to Aurora’s peak, where Sleekclaw’s cave is. We have a Proclaimers montage. It’s great.

After a callback to when Gamin befriended Dennar, Sleekclaw joins the party and flies us to the king’s domain, where he disguies himself as a person. Kit stealths like a boss and basically becomes a backpack for Nemo.

Before entering town, more shenanigans happen between Gamin and Ban. Ban gets frustrated to a point where he has an outburst at Gamin and asks him to “MAKE SENSE! PLEASE MAKE SENSE!” and I think he cured him (if temproary?!)  of his madness?!

Because Gamin rolls a history check and suddenly remembers EVERYTHING O_O!!!

In tears, on his knees, he reveals his story. His name is Simon Everwinter. He was married to a man named Luke, who tragically died. Simon tried to bring him back through necromancy, but things went wrong and his mind was taken away. (PAIN!!!!)

Simon begs the party to help him remember this, should he forget it. Ban swears to him that he will do his very best to help him remember.

And so, we enter town and meet with the king. We bluff well enough and Reed ends up stabbing the king, initiating a fight that lasts less than two rounds of combat.

Simon ends up with the HDYWTDT for the game, much to Ban’s chagrin.

An argument starts between Ban and Simon over what to do next. Simon wants to raise the king as a zombie, Ban wants to revivify the king and have him stand trial for his crimes against the kingdom. Ginger bites a chunk off the king in the meanwhile (holy shit). The time for Ban’s revivify passes and he ends up distraught over the situation (god, the feels of the whole ongoing narrative between Ban and Simon. Big oof </3).

With the king slain, we have our wrap up. And learn that this game takes part in the same universe as Seon Adventures. But on a different continent. And through a mirror we see our characters from the main campaign.

And that’s how the game ends.

[classyfoxdestiny]

Jahangir Khan: A champion who lived up to his name | Sports

Jahangir Khan: A champion who lived up to his name | Sports

The word Jahangir means ‘Conqueror of the World’. The Pakistani squash legend Jahangir not only conquered the world but then held onto his empire for an unprecedented five years and eight months, during which he won 555 consecutive matches without a single defeat. This is a record unmatched in the annals of any sport, and it puts Jahangir in the rarefied air of a shortlist to choose the greatest sportsman that Pakistan, or perhaps the world, has ever produced.His domination was complete and relentless. Week after week he would put his reputation on the line testing it against all comers and overcoming them. Jahangir had all the classical 6 S’s required to be a squash champion, strength, stamina, style, sense, suppleness and speed. When, to this mix, you add an unquenchable desire to win and a huge sense of pride in his family’s record and tradition, you create an unbeatable superstar, ‘unsquashable’ was the epithet used by his coach and mentor Rahmat Khan. In his prime it was said of Jahangir that he would simplify the travel arrangements of those who came up against him in the draw of any tournament for they knew that they would be heading home after playing him.

Jahangir did not start out as a likely champion. He was a sickly child, born with a bilateral or double hernia. He was advised to refrain from strenuous physical exercise and like a dutiful son he obeyed parenteral instructions.

Jahangir’s father was the great squash champion Roshan Khan and he was the squash professional at the Pakistan Navy’s Fleet Club. His elder brothers Torsam and Hassan were both keen and budding squash players as well. Jahangir had his first hernia operation when he was five and received a squash racket with a shortened shaft as a gift toy from his father on his eighth birthday. However, the young boy saw it differently, he used the racket to practice his grip for various squash strokes and learnt how to execute them. It became his constant companion, cementing his love affair with the sport.

When Jahangir turned ten, Roshan started taking him to the Fleet Club for a short weekly playing session. The doctor still wanted him to be cautious and no one really thought that he would have a career as a sportsman, and that too in a sport that required extreme physical fitness. However, unknown to Roshan, on returning from school Jahangir would sneak back to the Fleet Club when it was closed for the afternoon break, and then again after dusk. Ignoring his doctor’s advice, he pushed himself hard, practicing the strokes he’d seen his father play. At the age of twelve, after a successful second hernia operation, Jahangir soon began to train with greater rigour, building his strength and stamina. Seeing his interest and committment, Roshan was also won over and started tutoring Jahangir himself.

Jahangir made rapid progress, honing his skills under his father’s tutelage. In November 1978, at the age of just fourteen, he became the Pakistan National Junior Champion defeating the title holder Ramshaid Gul in the final in Peshawar. A few months later he made waves in the National Open Squash Championship in Karachi, where he ousted the top seed Mohammad Saleem, before bowing out to Saleem’s brother Maqsood Ahmed in the quarter finals.

Jahangir was chosen to tour the Scandavian countries with the National Juniors team. At the tour’s conclusion he flew to London to visit his brother Torsam and cousin Rahmat, who were both living there. Torsam persuaded him to stay on and took him under his wing, focusing on toughening Jahangir up mentally and tactically for major tournaments. It was an idyllic time for Jahangir, spent improving his squash, acquiring better English speaking skills and enjoying the company of his brother and cousin.

In April 1979, Jahangir participated in the British Junior Open Championship where his power and speed ensured him a place in the final. Though he lost to the much older Australian Glen Brumby, Jahangir had made a strong imprint in the squash world, confirming a prediction made by the world number four Hiddy Jahan in 1977, that Jahangir “would be dangerous within two years.”

The next tournament was the World Amateur Championship in Melbourne in October 1979. Jahangir, who had been training in England, was called for trials, being held in Peshawar, to select the Pakistan national side. Due to jet lag he was unable to play at his best and could not make the team, though he would still be competing in the individual event. Much to his surprise, on reaching Melbourne he found that his name was not included in the qualifying draw. Fortunately for him, another player withdrew and Jahangir was drafted in to replace him. He progressed through the qualifying rounds to find a place in the main 64 man field.

All his training and hard work now began to pay off. He steadily made his way through the early rounds and straight games victories in the quarter and semifinals over John Leslie of England and Frank Donnelly of Australia landed him in the final.

Jahangir’s opponent in the final was Phil Kenyon of Great Britain, who won the first set 9-2. In response, Jahangir extended the rallies, kept the ball deep, and applied unremitting pressure that sapped his opponent’s stamina and strength. He won the next three sets 9-2, 9-2 and 9-5 to secure an unexpected victory. He was now the world amateur champion at the incredibly young age of fifteen, the youngest ever to achieve this distinction. All through the tournament Torsam had been guiding him on the phone from London, helping him to analyze his opponents and draw up a strategy for each match.

While accolades flowed in to greet this new star on the constellation, tragedy was lurking in the background. Jahangir’s brother Torsam suddenly collapsed and died in Adelaide during a match in the Australian Open tournament.

Jahangir was totally distraught and even contemplated giving up the game but decided to continue as a tribute to his brother’s memory. Rahmat sensed Jahangir’s utter devastation and decided to step in and take over Torsam’s role of coaching his young cousin. Jahangir moved into Rahmat’s house and immersed himself in a punishing training regimen as an antidote for his grief. His day would begin with a 10 mile run in 60-120 minutes, followed by a series of 400 meter laps and short bursts of timed sprints with just a brief respite between each. In the afternoon there would be weight training in the gym before finally cooling down with a swim in the pool. This was his unrelenting routine for five days each week. The sixth day was devoted to match practice, where Rahmat had developed innovative methods to strengthen Jahangir’s backhand and forehand drives, his drop shots, his lobs and boasts, as well as his cross-court play. The seventh day would be one of rest, allowing Jahangir to unwind and recover. Rahmat’s message was unambiguous, concentrate on developing fitness, ball control and the will to win. The effort made Jahangir the fittest sportsman of his time.

In the 1980 season the sixteen year old prodigy turned professional and made it to the final of the Irish Open where he was beaten by the great Jonah Barrington. With mixed feelings, he also entered the World Open, being played in Adelaide on the courts where his brother had died the previous year. Overcoming the sixth seed Maqsood Ahmad, he met the Pakistan number one Qamar Zaman in the quarter final. In a grueling match Qamar had to play at his best to win a close five setter. Jahangir followed this up by winning the New Zealand Open, before facing Qamar again on home ground in the final of the PIA Masters in Karachi. Qamar’s magical strokeplay gave him a two set lead before Jahangir hit back ruthlessly to win the next three sets and the match for the loss of only nine further points.

Jahangir next won the British Under-23 Open and followed it by lifting the Belgian Open. He now fixed his sight on the reigning world champion and legend Geoff Hunt. His first opportunity came in the Canada Club Open held in Munich. Jahangir was supremely fit and confident. Much to everyone’s surprise he beat Hunt 3-1. However, Hunt retaliated almost immediately, overcoming Jahangir in straight sets just ten days later in the 1981 ISPA Smirnoff Masters in Northern Ireland. Jahangir’s third encounter with Hunt was in the final of the Patrick Chichester Festival final. Both men played at their peak form with Hunt using every skill in his vast repertoire to unsettle an opponent half his age. He led by two games to one and was 4-1 up in the fourth game, when the sheer effort of keeping pace with Jahangir’s speed and relentless ball retrieval began to tell. Jehangir won eight points in a row to take the game and soon shot into a 5-1 lead in the fifth and deciding game. A desperate fight back from Hunt brought him level at 6-6, but the effort completely drained him and Jahangir won the remaining three points and the match, which had lasted a record 2 hours and 11 minutes.

Next was the Audi British Open in Bromley and Jahangir fancied his chances. Scything through his half of the draw, which saw him securing wins over Sherren of Zimbabwe, Sohail Qaisar from Pakistan, the Australian Dean Williams and two illustrious Pakistani compatriots Hiddy Jahan and Qamar Zaman, Jahangir reached the final where Hunt awaited him. Hunt won the first two games but Jahangir came back by taking the third and leading 6-1 in the fourth. In his eagerness to close out this game Jahangir became impatient and Hunt pounced with a fierce burst of brilliance to win the game 9-7 and with it the tournament. The match lasted 2 hours and 14 minutes, surpassing the record set at Chichester.

Jahangir was shaken but there was still the World Cup in Canada in November. On the way he won the Welsh Open, where Hiddy Jahan took him to five games, the last time this would happen for many years. This win was also the start of his unprecedented unbeaten run. He next won the Asian Masters in Karachi beating Qamar Zaman in straight games, the German Open, winning 3-1 against Hunt, and the World Masters in Newcastle against Zaman, again in straight games. Toronto was the venue for the World Cup where he sailed through the earlier rounds to meet Hunt in the finals. Incidentally Jahangir had hurt his shoulder during the semis but decided to play the final anyway, which happened to coincide with the second anniversary of Torsam’s death. A brutal opening game took 50 minutes and Hunt prevailed 9-7. However, it sapped his energy and Jahangir coasted ,through the next three games 9-1, 9-2, 9-2. He was the new World Champion having reached the summit at the age of seventeen, the youngest ever to do so in the history of the sport.

Over the next five years and eight months Jahangir would reign supreme in the squash world defeating everyone he met and winning every tournament in sight. His records include winning the World Championship without dropping a game, and also one for the longest squash match in history, when he beat the indefatigable Gamal Awad of Egypt in 2 hours and 46 minutes in the Chichester Festival tournament in 1983.

His triumphant streak, the longest in the history of any sport, was finally ended by New Zealand’s Ross Norman in the World Open in Toulouse, France, in November 1986. Jahangir extracted immediate revenge in the following tournament and went another nine months without defeat. His aura of invincibility had, however, been punctured and a fresh bunch of challengers emerged in the form of the Australians Rodney Martin, Chris Dittmar and a new rising star from Pakistan, Jansher Khan. Though Jahangir got the better of Jansher initially, the latter soon began to prevail and won the World Championship in 1987. Jahangir regained his title the following year but it would be his last world crown. He continued his winning run at the British Open into the nineties, finally retiring from squash in 1993, after losing in the World Open final to Jansher, but helping the national team to win the world team trophy.

The record Jahangir left behind is formidable. His multiple tournament victories included 6 World Open titles, 10 consecutive British Open crowns, winning 13 Pakistan Opens and leading Pakistan to the World Team Championship title on 5 occasions. He also tried his hand at the hardball American version of the game, winning the US title thrice. For 94 months he was ranked as the number one player in the world, 72 of them in succession. On retirement from the game he served as the President of the World Squash Federation from 2002-2008 and has subsequently been its President Emeritus since 2008.

Jahangir was the best player ever to step onto a squash court. He did not merely dominate his opponents, he demolished them, both on the court and psychologically. His arrival coincided with other changes in the sport like the glass court and the graphite racket. It also corresponded with the advent of ‘corporate’ squash and Jahangir was it’s first mega-star. A legend in his own time, the frail child from a modest background who became an awesome sportsman and a global icon, his story is one that dreams are made of.

– Dr Salman Faridi is a senior surgeon, poet, sports aficionado and an avid reader with a private collection of over 7000 books.

[email protected]

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[brerediddy]

more than survive - chapter 3

“You said you were fine. You told me not to worry.” Michael’s voice sounded oddly strangled, and Jeremy sat up against his headboard. He could make out the other boy in the soft light coming in through the window, and he immediately realized that this meant Michael could see everything, too. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off. "Jeremiah Heere, what the fuck happened to you?” The taller boy looked to be on the verge of tears and, shit, this was the exact opposite of what Jeremy wanted. He became aware of a feather-light touch against his neck. His best friend was tracing the bruise with a horrified expression on his face.

“Michael-”

“Why would you lie to me?” He pulled his hand away sharply and made direct eye-contact. He was sitting on his knees, looking smaller than ever.

“I’m sorry,” Jeremy said. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I-I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Really?” Michael said, giving a disingenuous laugh. “Jeremy, tell me why I shouldn’t be worried. You-You-You stop hanging out with me all the time, which is fine, like I get it, but then, then you show up last week with that bruise. You told me you fell but, like, I haven’t even seen you so much as trip once in the past month. You’re exhausted all the time. Honestly, since when do you go to bed at nine o’clock? Then, you lie to my faceand say you’re fine. But I wake up to get some water and you look like a goddamn human punching bag! So, please, tell me why I shouldn’t worry!” At the end of his rant, he was breathing heavily and he crossed his arms in a huff. Softer, he added, “I thought I was your best friend.”

“You are,” Jeremy agreed meekly. He was at a loss for words. He just wanted Michael to stop looking so distraught. The early morning light streaming through his window seemed much too soft for the current situation.

Michael threw his hands up and exclaimed, “So why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong?! So I can help you! Like best friends do!”

“Michael, I…” He bit his lip and suddenly, an excuse popped into his brain. He wanted to tell Michael the truth. Really, honestly, he did. But it was too dangerous. Anyone could come after him, anyone could hurt him to get to Jeremy. Removing Michael from the situation was his only option. He would tell him—really, he would. After crime in the city had died down for a while and he was sure that he could keep the other boy safe. But he didn’t trust his abilities enough for that yet. He couldn’t. “Michael, I was mugged.” He was disgusted by how easy it was for him to lie, but it was for the best.

“You... what ?” Michael immediately softened, his face seeming to pale in the small stream of sunlight. He looked away from Jeremy for the first time, choosing instead to pick at his fingernails.

“Yeah. I was walking home from school and l picked the wrong time to stop in an alley. That’s all.”

“That’s all? They beat the shit out of you!” The other boy looked up at him again, but his former anger seemed to be gone. It was a new type of anger, one that wasn’t directed at Jeremy. “What did they do?”

Jeremy shrugged. “They threw some punches. I ran as soon as I could,” he said. With his next breath, Michael appeared even closer to him. He lightly guided Jeremy’s chin up, investigating the mark.

“What’s this?”

“A. Um. Crowbar,” Jeremy responded. He felt Michael tense once more. “They got my wrist, too. I don’t think it’s broken, though.”

Michael seethed, “I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell me .”

“I’m sorry.” Part of him was thankful that Michael knew about his injuries, at least, even if not the true cause. He had longed for his comfort, for his concern. For someone to care.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” Michael pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long breath. “Please just tell me.” He reached for the other boy’s good hand and rubbed small circles into his palm.

“I will,” Jeremy lied.

“The thought of you hurting and me not knowing about it sucks, Jeremy.” Michael paused and glanced at the bruises once more. He shook his head in frustration and said, “We have to go to the police, Jer.”

The aforementioned boy’s eyes widened and he rushed to say, “No, no, it’s fine. I didn’t get a good look at them and my dad said that it would be useless.”

Michael didn’t seem convinced, but he let the matter drop. He knew that Jeremy had a point. The cops in their town were useless, anyway. That was why superheroes existed in the first place. He stood up slowly to pace around the room. “I’ll go. You need to rest. I’ll see you-”

“Don't leave. Please,” Jeremy interrupted. He felt pathetic. He shouldn’t need someone to take care of him—he was Spider-Man. But this was Michael. Michael who had saved him a million times before: from being friendless in the first grade, from bullies in the fourth grade, from bad school lunches on multiple occasions, from heartbreak when his mom left, from everything.

Michael nodded, his eyes not leaving the mark on Jeremy’s neck. “Jeremy, you could have died. What would I do?”

The injured boy couldn't help but become aware of the lump in his throat. That was a question that could become relevant sooner than either anticipated, and Jeremy didn't want to know the answer. He cleared his throat and said, “You'd get over me, I hope. Go to college and find another player two.” He couldn't meet Michael’s eyes, knowing the look of utter betrayal that would be present.

“Shut up, no I wouldn't,” Michael responded immediately, moving to loop his arms around Jeremy. He was careful of the injuries as he buried his head in the other boy’s chest. “Let's not think about it.” The sound was muffled by t-shirt material and he let out a shaky breath. “Just please never do this again. In general. I can't stand to see you like this.”

Jeremy was silent as he closed his eyes and simply tried to find warmth in the embrace. He wondered how Michael would have reacted to his gunshot wound from last week or his broken rib from a month ago or even his concussion from his first ever fight. As he considered these things, he became vaguely aware of some pressure on his injured knuckles. He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Michael sitting up once more and holding his hand gently, like he was afraid that the smallest touch would break him. He held Jeremy’s hand to his lips and slowly pressed kisses to each mark, tender and soft. Jeremy wanted to cry. Michael deserved better. Michael deserved the world. And Jeremy couldn’t give that to him; he couldn’t even be honest with him. How shitty was that? He pushed his mind onto other matters and said, “You don’t hate me, right?”

Michael paused, his hand still securely on the other boy’s. “Of course I don’t. How could I ever hate you? You’re my best friend.”

Jeremy nodded at that and steadied himself. “What time is it?” He inquired after a comfortable pause of silence.

“Uh,” the other boy hesitated, pulling out his phone. “7:43. Too early.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep?” Jeremy asked, watching his best friend’s face closely.

Michael mumbled, “Not tired,” but yawned as if on cue.

“C’mon,” Jeremy prompted. His slender fingers wrapped around the other boy’s wrist and tugged lightly. He reclined completely against the mattress and pulled Michael with him. The bigger boy fit into his side carefully.

“Is this okay? Am I hurting you?” Michael nervously questioned.

“No, dude, you're fine. Don't worry. Just go to sleep.”

He nodded, pushing his head onto Jeremy's chest. Michael breathed out a sigh, the anxiety trying to leave his mind. Jeremy lifted the arm that was wrapped around his best friend and began to lightly stroke Michael’s hair. He moved his fingers through the strands, letting his eyes fall shut and humming as he did so. He had missed this. Eventually, the two boys fell into rest.

-

The following week was pretty uneventful. He’d stopped a robbery or two, but didn't have much to do. Throughout the course of each day, Jeremy decided that he was going to tell Michael the truth. They’d spent the entire weekend together, playing games and ordering pizza. The other boy was so gentle with him the entire time, so earnest, so good, that the thought of continuing to lie made him feel sick. Sure, he was still worried about his ability to protect his best friend, but Michael wasn’t defenseless. Just because he didn’t have superpowers didn’t mean he couldn’t protect himself to some extent. He was going to tell him. As soon as the time was right, he would do it.

They were at the mall on a Wednesday night, waiting on Michael’s dealer to meet them. School had been called off the next day due to some pipe leaking in the gym which mostly meant that two boys were going to get stoned in Michael’s basement and let off some steam. As Jeremy took a bite of his food-court pizza, he couldn’t help but notice his best friend’s eyes wandering elsewhere.

In the dinky t-shirt design shop across from the food court hung an entire row of Spider-Man themed shirts. Tank tops and baseball tees and, hell, even crop tops all had his signature design on them. Rows of red and blue disillusioned Jeremy and he had to blink a few times to adjust his eyes. What the hell?

“Have those always been there?” Jeremy asked, trying to keep his food down.

“I don’t think so,” Michael responded, bringing his attention back to the boy sitting across from him. “Must be a new shipment.”

“Why ?”

“They were probably in demand. Dude, I know you have some weird vendetta against Spider-Man, but you’re the only one. Tons of people would love to have a shirt like that.” He took a sip of his blue-raspberry slushie and shrugged. “I’d probably get one if I didn’t refuse to step foot in that store.”

Jeremy let go of a nervous breath to laugh and say, “Listen, I know you’re pissed that they replaced the fabric store but-”

“I have to get my patches online now, Jeremy. Online.” Michael threw a glare at the fluorescent sign bearing the image of a simple outline of a shirt.

“Anyway,” Jeremy spoke. “I just don’t get what the big deal is. Dude can’t even handle a spider bite.”

“What, like you could?”

In that moment, Jeremy was unbelievably close to saying it. Just laughing and saying, no, I couldn’t . He wanted to sit in the middle of the food court, the two of them in their own little world, and tell him everything. He wanted to come clean about all the late nights and bruises and weird cover-ups. He wanted to tell him about every villain he’d faced, even the ones that weren’t on the news. He opened his mouth to do exactly that, to tell him everything, but was interrupted by Michael’s short tone.

“There he is. I’ll be right back.” He smiled as he stood up. God, what Jeremy wouldn’t do for that smile. He watched as his best friend moved to the corner of the room to collect his purchase. Within the next moment, Michael had returned to their table, shoving something around in the pocket of his hoodie. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, slightly crestfallen. What was he thinking? Michael would worry. It would ruin the whole night. He repeated, “Yeah,” more for his benefit than anyone else’s. It wasn’t the right time.

“You good?” Brown eyes focused on him intently. They seemed to be doing that more than ever recently.

“Perfect,” he nodded.

The ride home was comfortable, windows down and music blasting. Jeremy stared out into the passing blur of buildings, wondering why his life couldn’t feel like this all the time. Why it had to be so complicated. When they arrived at the Mell residence, he got out of the car and wandered up to the front door. He entered the security code from memory as Michael trailed behind him.

“What do you want to start with? I hear Mario Kart is, like, ten times more fun when you’re high.” Michael threw his backpack down by his coffee table and began the descent downstairs. He mused, “Although, last time, you were hilarious, man. I could just sit and listen to you for hours.” Not that Michael needed to be high to do that, but it was easier to compliment Jeremy this way. Keep the facade up, nothing more than friendship here,no way .

Jeremy gave a small laugh and shrugged. “I say we smoke first and then decide. Up to you, though.” They crossed to their respective beanbags and the smaller boy fell back against his with a small sigh. It felt good to lay down. To just rest for a moment. Keeping his GPA high enough to avoid a grounding, hanging out with Michael and occasionally some people from his theater class, and fighting crime all within the same week really took a lot out of him. He was vaguely aware of Michael rolling a blunt next to him but he had never really paid attention to that part of the process anyway. Jeremy rubbed at his eyes and as soon as he pulled his hand away, Michael was offering the cleanly-rolled object to him. He smiled softly and accepted, breathing it in a time or two and then passing it back. He stared up at the ceiling, going over everything in his mind. He really needed to get some things out of his head; Jeremy hadn’t actually killed that man on that boat, he’d just won the fight. He didn’t do it with his own hands. Right? Like that made any difference. Jeremy shook his head and reached out for another hit.

“Stop that,” Michael said, his voice soft.

“Stop what?”

“You’re thinking too much. This is a night for no thinking,” he explained. He glanced over and pointed to the crease between Jeremy’s eyebrows. “See? That. None of that.”

Jeremy slowly let his face relax and he leaned back once more. “I don’t know how to not think.”

“I’ll help,” his best friend responded. He took another puff and reached out an arm to tug on Jeremy. The shorter boy let himself be moved until he found himself on his side with his head in the other boy’s lap.

“Uh, Michael?”

“Shh,” Michael responded softly. “It’s fine.” He began to comb his fingers through the other boy’s hair with his free hand. He lifted the blunt to his lips again before moving and holding it up to Jeremy.

The two boys stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, for far too long. But it didn’t matter. No one was around to notice them. No one was around to care. About two hours into this endeavor, Michael realized that they were almost out of weed. He cast a disappointed look down at Jeremy and said, “Dude, we’re done for.”

“What?” Jeremy asked, finally sitting up. His head felt light but better than it had in a while. There was, for once, no weight on his shoulders. Figuratively and literally. He glanced at the bag and said, “Man, that sucks.” He stared at the joint in the other boy’s hand. “Is that the last one?”

“Looks like it,” he nodded. Michael stared between the half-smoked blunt and the boy next to him. “We could...share.”

“There’s hardly enough there to share. You can have it. It’s cool.”

“There’s plenty to share if we do this right,” Michael shrugged. He rolled up the sleeves of his hoodie and said, “We could shotgun it.”

“Dude, what does that even mean?” Jeremy laughed.

The taller boy said, “Let me show you.” He inhaled a good amount of the drug before closing his mouth and holding his breath. Jeremy had no clue where this was going. He stayed in place as his best friend slowly got closer to his face. This was... odd. He’d had dreams like this but he was pretty sure that this was real life. Michael leaned in, tilting his head. He placed a hand against the back of Jeremy’s neck, his touch so light that it almost wasn’t there. As their lips came closer, the other boy instinctively let his mouth fall open and his eyes fall shut. Smoke poured in through his lips and he focused on that sensation instead of the fact that Michael’s lips were so close to his. The fact that it would be so simple to close the last few inches of distance between them and...yeah. Jeremy let the smoke trail over his tongue as he finally made eye contact with his best friend. As soon as their eyes met, both boys were blushing and turning away from each other. Michael immediately moved back into his previous position on his own beanbag chair.

Michael asked nervously, “Was that okay?”

“It was good, yeah. Good,” Jeremy nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to slow his heart rate. The weed should have been calming him down but, god, how was he supposed to be calm after that? He let out a long breath and fell back against the cushion. “Michael, you’re cool.”

“Thanks, Jer. You’re cool, too.”

Jeremy smiled at that and gave a small, embarrassed giggle. He said, “What’s on your mind, Michael Mell?”

“I have a secret to tell you,” Michael said eagerly. He sat up and leaned towards Jeremy once more, only this time it was from a suitable distance to keep both of them from cardiac arrest.

Jeremy sat up and met his eyes. “Okay. Hit me. I’m ready.”

“I’m gay,” he said suddenly.

The other boy watched Michael’s face closely and said, “Um, I know? You told me in, like, the sixth grade. You called me homophobic yesterday because I was blocking your car door. Remember?”

He nodded. “Oh, that’s right.” Michael hummed for a moment, his brows knitting together. “Oh! There was another part that I was supposed to tell you. I forgot.”

“Spit it out.”

“Don’t laugh,” he demanded. At Jeremy’s nod, he added, “I have a massive crush on Spider-Man.”

Jeremy suddenly felt much more sober. “You don’t even know the guy. He could be a creep.”

“He’s cool,” Michael defended. “And he’s hot. I mean, have you seen him?”

Hot? Where did that come from? Jeremy was so far from hot. Even if he’d developed some more muscle after his spider-bite, he was still just Jeremy Heere. “Michael, I think you just like him because he fights crime.”

“Don’t kinkshame me,” he said. With that, both boys dissolved into laughter. Jeremy figured that it didn’t matter if Michael had a crush on Spider-Man because, well, if he knew the truth then that crush would go away instantly. He did, however, let himself revel in it for a moment. He let himself believe that Michael truly liked him for him, not Spider-Man. It was nice to dream. He was pulled from his thoughts as the other boy stood up rapidly and announced, “I want to make waffles,” before holding out a hand to help Jeremy up.

As they moved upstairs and into the kitchen, Jeremy considered his wording carefully and said, “Hey. If you like Spider-Man, then that’s cool. I’m happy if you’re happy. Promise me you won’t stop hanging out with me when your cool new boyfriend is a masked vigilante?”

“I promise,” Michael said solemnly. He reached out for Jeremy’s hand once more and tangled their fingers together. If they didn’t let go of each other for the rest of the night, then it didn’t need to be brought up. It was just Michael and Jeremy being...Michael and Jeremy.

[ihavealavalamp]

TELL ME ABOUT WALTER I DONT KNOW HIM VERY WELL BUT I LOVE HIM

WELL

Walter Goodmen, previously known as Gormadon Onkmetaryttis, is a silver dragonborn bard who favors the lute. He comes from the Onkmetaryttis family, which is a long line of dragonborn warriors that live atop a snowy mountain overlooking a town called Frostvale. He has an older sister named Siarick, and a younger brother named Velerin. From the start, Walter was much more emotional and weaker than what was expected of a Onkmetaryttis child, and it took a long time to even separate him from his mother. He had a tendency to wander off a lot as well, which led to an incident where he got separated from his parents while in Frostvale, and encountered an older human named Willard (human fighter/paladin, played by elijah) who, while he held a grudge against the Onkmetaryttis family for not assisting in a goblin attack that led to his wife’s death, gave young Walter ice cream and helped him find his way back to his parents.

Walter’s childhood was far from happy. His natural gentleness wasn’t seen as proper by his family and led to them being tougher on him, bordering on abusive towards him. When he was around 3 (dragonborn age weirdly, to humans he was abut 10ish) he messed up badly during a training session, and to avoid his inevitable punishment, he ran away into Frostvale. He wandered around the town for hours, unwilling to go home, until it grew dark out. Eventually he came across a moon elf busking on the dark streets, and Walter was immediately enamored by his music. The moon elf, Ellar, noticed Walter as his only audience and offered to teach Walter how to play the lute. He sat there with Ellar for hours playing the lute, and by the end of the night Ellar decided to give Walter the lute, making him promise to return it in the future once he became a successful musician. Walter eagerly accepted, said farewell to Ellar, and returned home.

Now that he had something positive in his life, Walter became determined to be the best musician in the world, and to find Ellar again someday and thank him for the gift. At first, he would sneak out into the woods at night to practice in secret. Then he started sneaking down to Frostvale, and with support from Willard who he reconnected with (at one point Willard was at a very low point in his life, but after hearing one of Walter’s songs, he decided to carry on), he started busking on the streets and playing in bars. Wanting to not be associated with his family, and to prevent them from finding out about his musical career, he started going by the alias ‘Walter Goodmen’ instead of Gormadon. He became well-known amongst the residents of Frostvale, and well-loved for his friendliness and talent.

However, when Walter was around 20, his father found out about Walter’s secret, which led to a confrontation. His father broke the lute in front of Walter, causing him to fly into a rage. They got into a huge fight, with Walter somehow ending up as the victor. Leaving his father badly injured, Walter gathered up the remains of his lute and ran off. He managed to use magic to mend it back together, but the guilt of the fight eventually caught up to him, so he found himself in one of his usual performing bars that night. He vented to the bartender, who at this point was a good friend, and talked about his fight with his father. However, he was unknowingly overheard by a group of suspicious folks who were at the bar as well that night. Knowing that the Onkmetaryttis family was rich and that they were at a disadvantage, they decided to go and ransack the place while the family was in such disarray.

Eventually Walter decided to come back home, but arrived to disaster; the estate was ransacked and partially destroyed from the fight, his family was injured, and his father, who had already been weak from his fight with Walter, was dead. Horrified, Walter tried to help, but his sister attacked him. She had overheard the bandits mention Walter, and believing that he had sent them to the estate to attack them, she threatened to kill him if he ever showed his face in Frostvale ever again. Terrified of his sister, Walter grabbed the few important belongings he had, and fled the estate. In a bad mental state and scared to go alone, he ended up at Willard’s door at 3am, and asked if he would at least accompany him to the nearest town. Despite Walter giving next to no explanation behind his injured state and his exile, Willard easily agreed, and the two left before dawn. Walter didn’t look back.

Willard ended up staying with Walter on his journey, with Walter travelling to spread his music everywhere, and eventually find Ellar again to return his lute. Two months pass as the two travel, and the events of the campaign begin. After a lovely performance in a bar in the town they’ve stopped in, Walter and Willard discuss their route to the next city, and plan to go through a dungeon rumored to have treasure, since it’s along the way. They are overheard by Ahlosse Tuckfish (high elf rogue, played by simone), who makes a career out of swindling and lying to travelers. Ahlosse offers to help them through the dungeon, in exchange for a portion of the treasure they find. Willard is immediately suspicious of Ahlosse, but Walter is quick to trust him, and accepts his offer. The next morning they find the entrance of the dungeon and encounter a man named Monty (human rogue, played by josh. at first he was gonna be a temporary player, but eventually became full-time). With Monty’s silver braided hair and instrument, Walter mistook him as Ellar from a distance, but quickly realized his mistake. The three found out that Monty was also going into the dungeon, and he became a part of the party as well. Willard and Ahlosse were wary of him, but Walter being Walter, he trusted Monty immediately.

After many dungeon shenanigans, the party eventually finds out that the dungeon is actually the tomb of a starved archlich. Despite Walter trying to befriend and reason with it, the archlich takes most of the team down with no problem, with Walter being the first to go down. After Monty successfully takes it down on his own, everyone else comes back to full health, and inspect the ruins. They find an immense amount of gold that is evenly split between them, and also a strange book regarding liches. While Willard takes the book, he awakes to find it gone, taken by Monty who is also gone by the time morning comes around.

Ahlosse, for some reason, decides to stick with Walter and Willard as they continue their journey, and eventually forms an odd friendship with Walter, with Willard slowly starting to trust him more. Eventually Monty returns as well, and sticks with the party with the sole intention of finding them interesting to be around.

A few sessions go by, and Willard is revealed to be of the Murkblood family, a long line of paladins. They also find out that the government consists mostly of liches and is filled with corruption. Walter learns that Monty has heard of Ellar, but has no idea where he may currently be. At one point, while under the influence of Zone of Truth, Walter references to the fact that he has caused a death before, but refuses to talk about it once confronted about it. Monty was sent by the government to retrieve the lich book from the first session, and had known about the lich government the whole time. He warns Walter that things are going to get chaotic soon, but he has to trust him, even if Ahlosse and Willard don’t. Walter is hesitant about this, stating that he’ll decide who to trust when the time comes. They befriend a halfling lich named Maurice, who they pretend to kill in a fight, while secretly keeping his phylactery safe as they wait for him to come back.

In the last session, the party finally made it to the capital. However, they’re almost immediately attacked by soldiers in the street, and kidnapped. When Walter awakes, he finds himself in an interrogation room of sorts, and meets Danny Mcgrass, the president (i made him up as a joke but now he’s a real serious character. im in hell). Danny requests for Walter to play a particular song that he had played with Ellar way back when they first met. After stalling for time and realizing there was no way out of the room, Walter finally played the song. He then found out that Ellar was also captured by the government, with Danny saying “Don’t worry, we won’t hurt Ellar,” then leaving without explanation, leaving Walter devastated and distraught that he was so close to his goal, but couldn’t do anything about it.

Eventually Walter is escorted out of the room, and as he’s walking amongst other rooms, he sees through the window of one of the rooms, and sees that it’s Ellar in the cell, the same as the day he met him. Walter struggles to get to him, calling his name, but Ellar can’t hear him and Walter is easily restrained by the guards.

As he’s escorted into a court room, the party learns that Danny plans to have the three (Walter, Willard, and Ahlosse - Monty is nowhere to be seen by them at this point) accused of treason and ‘executed’ so that their deaths can be faked, because Danny has some sort of ulterior motive involving mostly Walter and Willard. Monty is tasked by Danny to act as their defendant in this court, but to manipulate the situation to make them seem guilty.

As Walter and Ahlosse sit next to each other, they discuss how they’re pretty much fucked and will end up executed. Ahlosse tells Walter that he’s innocent and doesn’t deserve to be in the situation, while Ahlosse believes that he does. However, Walter tearfully tells Ahlosse that he doesn’t want Ahlosse to die, and that he cares about him. As they lose hope in the situation, Walter tells Ahlosse that he does deserve to be in this situation, and finally tells Ahlosse about the killing of his father, believing this to be their last opportunity to talk. Ahlosse tells Walter that it wasn’t his fault, and Walter isn’t sure what to say, as he has been blaming himself for it for over five months at this point.

However, Monty suddenly betrays Danny, using a magical item to remove the restraints on the rest of the party. Chaos ensues as they try to flee, with Walter making a beeline for where he had seen Ellar. Danny does everything he can to stop their escape, but his plan goes to shit when, unexpectantly, Maurice awakens from his phylactery in the nick of time. Maurice creates a portal for the others to escape, the location of where they’ll end up depending on whoever has the strongest will. I happened to roll the highest for this decision, so when the team comes out the portal, they end up in Ellar’s cell. In the matter of seconds they destroy Ellar’s restraints, and with his help, break out of the building and eventually find themselves in one of Monty’s safehouse, finally able to take a breather after all that.

Walter approaches Ellar nervously, unprepared for this situation and in shock that his goal is finally before him, returns the lute. Ellar is surprised and seems uncomfortable with meeting Walter again after all these years. He’s shocked that Walter only searched for him for “the lute thing”, and seems reluctant to reveal the other reason as to why Walter would have been looking for him. With a sneering prompt from Monty, he hesitantly reveals that he is actually Walter’s biological father, and that he is actually an ancient silver dragon that prefers his elf form. And that’s where we ended last session.

Basically Ellar is an ancient silver dragon, but his good looks as an elf caused him to really get around. Eventually he ended up impregnating an elven maiden, and upon birthing a fucking dragonborn child, she threw the baby at Ellar and left in a huff. Unsure of what to do with the child and having next to no parenting abilities, Ellar tried to raise young Walter, but realized that he was no good as a father. He eventually left Walter at the steps of the Onkmetaryttis household, hoping that he would do well in a household of fellow silver dragonborn.

Years later Ellar returned to check up on Walter, and being particularly not observant, assumed that everything was fine in little Walter’s life. He left Walter with the lute to give him a goal, which he was lacking at the time. Not long after, he was captured by the government and kept for about 10 years now, with the intention of using his immense power for some sort of ulterior motive that Danny is planning.

So long story short, Walter spent his whole life looking to thank Ellar for making his life not so miserable, only to find that it was Ellar who put him in said miserable situation in the first place. And oh boy I can’t wait for the next session, cause Walter has some things to say about that.

[hammeraction07-blog]

Bulls Start Strong But Fall To Talented Thunder

We’re heard so much about fighting with these Bulls that you almost wonder if the films they are watching involve Mike Tyson. And then Monday in their 121-96 loss to the Oklahoma City Thunder it moved into the basketball ring, at least with some shoving and glaring, four technical fouls and a bug eyed Robin Lopez eventually ejected.

"To be honest with you, it’s really not that big of a deal,” said Bulls coach Jim Boylen, who did some refereeing duty in holding back provocateur Jerami Grant. “Those things used to happen all the time. Now they happen and it’s like a major deal. It’s not that big a deal. Everybody moved on.”

And the Bulls finally back home after a week on the road in two countries, three cities, more than 4,000 miles and more than a dozen traveling staff cases of, well, some ugly not feeling well.

“We continue as a travel party to kind of fight some type of bug,” Boylen acknowledged in saying that Jabari Parker took sick Monday and was inactive. Of course, the way the rotation has gone he wasn’t playing, anyway. Well, maybe with G-league two-way player Rawle Alkins making his NBA debut in a lineup with Cristiano Felicio and Antonio Blakeney after the Bulls trailed by 30 points with four minutes left.

Yes, it can make you sick, too, though not all that surprising a result considering the Thunder loss in Chicago last week, Zach LaVine still out injured and players perhaps fatigued from the nightly sprints to the toilet.

“I liked our start,” said Boylen (15-10 Bulls lead, though trailing 31-22 by the end of the quarter). “I thought we were in control of the game a little bit. And I felt they made some shots, some tough shots, and we didn’t respond very well. Then, the game got away from us.”

The Bulls were led by Lauri Markkanen and Bobby Portis with 16 points each and Markkanen with 15 rebounds. Kris Dunn had 12 points and seven assists and Cameron Payne with 11 points and six assists. Russell Westbrook had a triple double with 13 points, 16 rebounds and 11 assists with five steals. The Bulls committed 25 turnovers, though the Thunder had 20.

But the last half of the second quarter pretty much ended the Bulls hopes with a 25-7 Thunder rumble led by Paul George with 23 points in the first half. That left the Bulls trailing 64-44 at the half — there was no Spurs Saturday night massacre and comeback this time — as the principal second half discussion was the pushing and shoving and Boylen’s headlock on Grant with 4:27 left in the third quarter and the Bulls trailing 82-61.

It hadn’t been a particularly rough or dirty or angry game, though Westbrook always appears a bit unhinged.

This time as Cameron Payne just ahead of him on the sideline was fouling Terrance Ferguson, Westbrook pushed Dunn. Dunn, back for just his fourth game this season and often playing with an angry edge and painted on glare, immediately pushed back.


“Things just got out of hand,” said Dunn, who has been terse in interviews.

“I was just trying to stand up for KD,” explained Lopez, who also joked, as he is wont to do when not snarling on the court, about the officials misunderstanding his trying to help them when he later drew his second technical foul. “I saw somebody flying out of the corner of my eye from the other side of the floor and I was just trying to stand up for my point guard right there.”

That was the charging Grant, who seemed to come after Dunn and shoved Lopez, the latter who tumbled into the high roller row of seats. Lopez came up gesturing and apparently suggesting something other than the good manners of Jerami’s uncle, Horace. Boylen helped lead Grant away in an embrace.

“Obviously, we don’t want to back down,” said Payne, who previously played for the Thunder. “KD felt like he got pushed, so we got to ride with our team.”

Lopez, historically, wasn’t about to be present for much longer and rode his way out later in the quarter with a well-timed drop of the ball on Grant after a foul with played stopped. Thunder center Steven Adams was getting a good laugh out of it as Boylen escorted Lopez from the game.

“He’s (Lopez) a competitive dude,” said Boylen. “He cares about the team and he’s not going to back down. He’s got a great soul and a great spirit. He’s a Bull. Kris Dunn’s a tough kid. He’s going to stand his ground. He’s a very respectful kid, but everybody has a trigger point. I thought he felt he needed to do that.”

The Thunder, 19-10, led 88-69 after three quarters and then finished off the 7-24 Bulls with Westbrook running back to back fast breaks to close off a 13-4 spurt and 107-81 Thunder lead midway through the fourth quarter.

“We’ve just got to take everything we can and learn and grow,” said Boylen. “We’ve got to continue working on our poise, not turning it over, make simple plays. We’ve got a willing group in there. They want to please. They’re trying to do the right things, and we just need to play better.”

Speaking of those fast breaks, however, is the difference with these Bulls under Boylen. They fell into nine points that way Monday (27 for Oklahoma City), but the Bulls are certainly not trying to very often.

It seems apparent, and perhaps understandable with their best scorer sidelined, that Boylen has opted for a slowdown style of play. Which did work well against the Spurs because it was coupled with aggressive defensive play. Which is why Ryan Arcidiacono remains the starting point guard — Dunn actually is, but sort of starts off the ball — Shaquille Harrison is a regular and Lopez plays more.

It’s not a new theory in the NBA, if not exactly old school.

It’s the thinking that if you don’t have as much talent as the opponent, you slow the game down, walk the ball up, play half court, cut the number of possessions and stay in the game and maybe you can make some shots in the fourth quarter and steal a close game. Then if you defend aggressively, which has been Boylen’s prime directive, you can win some games. Like the way the Bulls turned around the Spurs game in the third quarter with steals.

But it’s challenging to score 100 points that way, and it’s difficult winning games in this more free flowing NBA without scoring 100 points. Plus, a team has to make more tough shots that way because of fewer open court opportunities. And it’s a change from the theories of former coach Fred Hoiberg, who emphasized passing ahead and running out.

Plus, you mostly need someone to break through with a big scoring game, or, at least, timely shots like Dunn did Saturday. There was no one for that against the Thunder, though Portis had a bit of a third quarter run before the commotion.

That’s when a player like LaVine can keep a team in the game now that Parker has been banished. Which is probably why the Bulls have to begin playing through Markkanen more. Markkanen did get 17 shot attempts Monday, but too many were quick perimeter jumpers. Markkanen was effective several times on the boards keeping balls alive and finishing. He has an inside edge being quicker than a big man like Adams and bigger than the backup Nerlens Noel. But the Thunder, like most NBA teams these days, do constant switching. That left smaller players too often on Markkanen. It’s an issue that’s been nothing new for these Bulls.

Markkanen is quicker and stronger than he seems and a better passer. He’s really the one player with LaVine out who draws the most defensive attention. Dunn got off to a quick start with six points and three of four shooting in the first seven minutes. But he attempted just four more shots the rest of the game. Though defenders go under Dunn on screens because of his weak three-point shooting, Dunn has developed a nice knack for his elbow jumper and getting through the defense to the basket. He needs to get to the free throw line more, as well.

But Markkanen has the best overall offensive game among the group with an ability to get his shot off in a crowd and get to the basket. Plus, he’s unselfish and will make a play. Until LaVine returns, he needs to be more in the middle of things.

The Bulls were ahead for a while early behind Dunn. Oklahoma City then had a 12-0 run as the Bulls went to the bench. The Bulls made their last effective run early in the second quarter with some nice moves from Payne to draw within 39-37 with 5:50 left in the half. Then it was the tornado named George who came roaring in for five straight scores, the last a pair of threes and the Bulls were looking for shelter.

Rookie Wendell Carter Jr. had just two fouls in the first half with six points on some nice rolls to the basket on Dunn assists. But Carter drew three fouls in the first five minutes of the third quarter and left the court clearly distraught. He also could be employed more given he’ll finish and has good hands and a nice shooting touch. But he likely been flustered again by the surfeit of fouls.

So the Bulls did push back. But more when the game wasn’t going on this time.

Source: https://www.nba.com/bulls/gameday/bulls-start-strong-fall-talented-thunder

[skinnedhearts]

and so, he begged

Wamu convinces Anzu to join his band for a quick practice in hopes of landing a permanent (and highly needed) guitarist. Anzu is just really gay.

The mask on his face felt uncomfortable. Nimble fingers toyed with the thin straps tight against his skin and the outer shell of his ear. Anzu fumbled with the cloth, two minutes later, he accepted defeat. Thin mask lowered and tucked under his chin, Anzu leaned back against the school's bricked wall and slipped three gummy worms into his mouth. Slowly, he chewed the candy. From his spot (an emergency stair case smacked between the chemistry lab and the music room) Anzu had the perfect view of the outskirts of the baseball field and the complete layout of the school's fancy tennis courts. 

A practice session was in play. 

Anzu doesn't care for the sport, he found it dull and quite pointless…His eyes are glued to the first court where a player rolled his shoulders and fixed his stance. Green curls of hair hugged his face, his unreadable expression made Anzu frown. The distance blurred the details and it would continue doing so until Anzu gathered the courage to infiltrate the tennis' benches. For now, he settled for hard to distinguish actions and ant sized scenes. 

Picking a red and yellow gummy from the plastic bag in his hands, Anzu chewed on the worm's head and promptly slurped it down like a noodle. Absorbed in his daily activities, he hardly noticed when a skinny boy waltzed up the stairs and plopped himself down two steps below. It wasn't until the boy cleared his throat that Anzu lowered his head, a green gummy hanged from between his lips. 

"Hello! My name is Wamu!" Wamu eagerly greeted, "You don't know me! But I know you!" 

Anzu arched an eyebrow. A row of dreadlocks slid from his shoulders and hugged his handsome face once he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "Do you now?"

"Yup!" nodded Wamu, "I've seen you around and er-" Wamu's forehead wrinkled in hesitation, "…Heard things about you."

Intrigued, Anzu's lips twitched upwards, "All good things?" 

"Not entirely." Wamu solemnly admitted before he perked up and beamed from ear to ear, "But I'm not here to talk about shitty rumors!" 

Scrambling closer, Wamu scooted up a step, and then another, until he was seated besides Anzu, who blankly stared at the flamboyant boy. Once he was settled, Wamu stretched his short legs out, tipped his head back and basked in the warm sun. 

Silence filled the space between the two boys. Above their heads, the limbs of a tree trembled and as it swayed in the breeze, sunlight slipped between the leafs and branches. Illuminated spots of light danced across their shoulders, legs and shoes. The chirps of an army of cicadas drifted through the warm, summer afternoon and there they sat, in a shared, short-lived silence. 

Unbothered by the newly (and unfamiliar) obtained company, Anzu slid another gummy worm into his mouth, frowning slightly when he noticed the plastic packet running low on candy. Savoring his last gummy, he found his attention drawn back to the courts. The green haired tennis player stood surrounded by teammates and Anzu didn't have to be near by to know he was joyfully laughing. 

"Where's your guitar?" Wamu finally asked. 

"Home." Anzu dryly answered. 

"You always have it with you though!" 

"Not today."

"Why not? You practice up here, don't you."

Anzu would've found Wamu's extensive knowledge regarding his personal life troubling if it weren't for the rumors circling their school, because really, Anzu had heard them all before: He's a drug lord, a thief, a murderer, a low-life, dirt-poor bastard, a part-time model, a homeless bum, a playboy, a plagiarizer…The rumors go on and on, most gravitate around fear or admiration and some held more truth than others. 

While he could speak out and address the hushed whispers, Anzu preferred not to. Clearing his name meant acceptance and acceptance led to unwanted friendships. Of course, every once in awhile, Anzu would cross paths with red-cheeked girls, who shyly bowed their heads as they bashfully twisted their fingers through their hair and unloaded heart felt confessions of love…All which Anzu would turn away with a simple word: Nah. 

After, came the bomber jacket cladded jocks, with their toothy grins and worn out insults, all which were ignored by Anzu. His brother, Kiel, had said it was borderline harassment, something Anzu had dismissed with a shake of his head.

The ugly words, dirty glares and mocking laughs didn't bother him; the world is much too loud, they're all so small and Anzu's head is stuck in cotton candy clouds. Half of the time, he's swimming in a lake of drugs, the smoke drips from the point of his teeth and the edge of his tongue, it's thick and blinding when pressed against his skin…His peeling skin, or at least, Anzu felt his skin recoil and later expand like the shedding of a snake. It's partly the drugs and when it's not, it comes down to his fragile immune system and aching body. He's always in pain, it always hurt, it always stung…

"Anzu?" Wamu's bright, pink eyes blocked his view. 

Though Wamu's face was uncomfortably close to his, Anzu kept his distaste under wraps.

Next, came the weirdos, the over-the-top, friendly, weirdos. Besides Wamu, there was a blue haired boy who loved to shove plates of food in Anzu's empty hands. The blue haired boy would giggle as he cheerfully explained his mistake: Oh, I made too much food again! It's really good! You should try it! 

Anzu saw right through the boy's white lies, he knew what the other was up to, he could almost taste the pity and sympathy leaking from his wide smile…Anzu accepted the food with a nod and moved on. 

However, Wamu wasn't here to offer him food. 

"I practice when I have time." Anzu said.

"Aaaaand…You're busy right now?" Wamu sang.

"Yes." 

He's not busy. His favorite past time involved the soft hum of his guitar, the vibration of chords under his fingers as he fully focused on the green haired tennis player in the distance. There's inspiration behind Micah's fluid movements…There's art behind his curly hair, freckled skin and skinned knees…There's a song hidden on his bottom lip and there's untold lyrics in the dip of his hips. Perched on the stairs, those far off stairs, Anzu watched as his crush bared his teeth and ripped his heart apart with a swipe of his racket, because at some point, the tennis ball was replaced with Anzu's bleeding love.

"You don't look busy to me." Wamu insisted with a lopsided grin. 

Finally, Anzu forced his gaze away from the tennis courts and onto Wamu's eager face, "What do you want from me kid?" 

"Kid?" Wamu wrinkled his nose, "We're in the same grade!" When his question was met with a bored stare, Wamu cleared his throat and continued onto business, "I know you're really good on guitar!"

Anzu shrugged, "That's just a rumor."

"But I've heard you play at the tattoo shop, you-"

A growl vibrated in Anzu's throat, "How do you know about the tattoo shop?"

Completely unphased by Anzu's sudden display of emotions, Wamu carried on, chipper as ever, "My older brother has loads of tattoos! We recently made an appoint at The Heartstained Room, don't you remember me?" he asked, wide eyes as round as buttons, his head fell to the side, "We talked for a bit!" 

Again, Anzu shrugged, "Shop's always packed."

"You were cleaning your other guitar, the electric one, and I asked if you'd ever be down to play in a band and you, um…Shrugged." 

"Sounds about right."

Wamu puffed out his cheeks, "Well," his voice shook and slowly, it regained its confidence, "Join my band!"

"You're…In a band?" Anzu asked, disbelief lacing the question.

"Yeah!" Bouncing to his feet, Wamu fist bumped his own chest and posed, "Don't I look like your typical lead singer?"

No, Anzu had not bothered to take in Wamu's appearance when his vision was filled to the brim with crispy clean, white, tennis uniforms and brand name sneakers. As Wamu stuck his leg out and stretched his arms above his head, Anzu's eyes skipped from Wamu's dirty combat boots, his ripped, skinny jeans to his faded, black leather jacket with too many buckles and rounded studs to count. His hair was decorated in bright, streaks of pink which made him look too much like a colorful skunk. 

Anzu leaned back, his uninterested tone tore through Wamu's sparkling aura, "I ain't into the techno bizz."

Wamu's mouth fell open, he gasped and stomped his foot, "We are NOT a techno band! We're a rock band! The best of the best!"

"What's the name?"

"..Huh?"

"The name of your band." 

"Oh! That's…" Wamu hanged his head in shame, "We don't have one…YET!" The 'yet' was said with an excited shout as he brought his fists to his sides and hopped about, "We'll have one soon though!"

"Sounds real fuckin’ messy."

"It's not!" Wamu reassured Anzu with a big, dazzling grin, "We're really good! We just can't decide on a name."

Anzu nodded, "Cool."

Wamu's smile broke into a pout, "So?"

"So what?"

"Will you join us." Wamu hopefully asked.

"Nah." 

"Pleassseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee….Pretty pleaseeeeee, join us for one practice! You can judge us yourself."

Anzu collected the empty plastic bag, now void of gummy worms, and threw it into his bag, "I ain't got the time to be playin' made believe rock bands with you and your friends." 

With the simple rejection out in the open, Anzu collected his belongings and stood, but before he could take a step, Wamu wrapped his arms around his left leg. Like a drowning man, the small boy clung onto him, head angled upwards as distraught inked his pleading face, "Anzu…pleaseeeeeeee we need you!"

If Anzu had doubted it before, there was no question about it now: Wamu was one-hundred percent one of the weird ones.

"I ain't bullshittin' when I say I don't have the time-"

"It won't take long! Just a couple of songs!"

"I don't-"

"ANZU PLEASE!" Wamu exclaimed, "PLEASE I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!"

"I don't want anythin'." Anzu calmly replied.

"PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEE. I'll hold on for as long as I have to!"

"I have to get to work kid. Can't be late for that."

"Guess I'm coming along!" Wamu said as he hugged Anzu's leg tightly.

Anzu rolled his eyes, "…You’re actin' like a brat."

"…I know but…" Wamu's eyes twinkled with tears, "This is important to me. Come on, there must be something I can do for you in return."

Tugging his mask over his mouth, Anzu then cursed his weak body…Wamu was a small boy and if Anzu wasn't currently aching and coming down with the flu for the 3rd time that month, he would've picked Wamu by the collar and placed him aside. Seconds away from kicking Wamu off, the distance glee of a cheer caught Anzu's attention. In the tennis courts, Micah celebrated the end of perfect practice game. The tennis player threw his shirt off and used it to wipe his sweaty face. Anzu's skin burned. Swallowing down an awkward hitch in his voice, Anzu then addressed Wamu.

"Are you friendly with the tennis team?"

"Yes, I know most of them." Wamu blinked his innocent eyes, clueless to what Anzu had in mind. Anzu previously noted how oblivious and stuck in his own world Wamu tended to be and while it was annoying, it had it's charming strides. 

"What about their captain? You know him?" 

"Micah!? Of course I know him! He's pretty good pals with my best friend!" 

"Your best friend?" 

Wamu nodded, "He's our drummer! You'll like him!"

The drummer, all he needed to do was talk to the drummer…A plan fell into place inside Anzu's head. 

"Cool. What time do you want to meet up?"

Wamu's eyes nearly popped out of his head, "A-are you serious!?" Much too caught up in the moment, Wamu didn't question why or what had made Anzu sing a different tune, "W-whatever time works for you! We practice every night after school so we're all free whenever you want to drop by and-"

Anzu cut Wamu off, "How about tomorrow?"

"Yes! Yes! Tomorrow is perfect!" Wamu released Anzu's leg and instead hopped up to wrap his arms around Anzu's waist, "Thank you! Thank you so much!" 

Anzu allowed the boy to squeeze him tightly before he lightly shoved him away,

"Aight, knock it off or I won't show up."

Not having to be told twice, Wamu stepped aside and continued spewing a storm of thank yous. Even when Anzu made his way down the stairs and disappeared around the corner, Wamu continued to drown him in gratitude.

[karasunology]

YOUR BROTHER HEADCANONS ARE SO UNDERAPPRECIATED, I'M ENRAGED !1! may i request older bro headcanons like the one you dod for oikawa & tobio? but with bokuto & the miya twins? thank you lots. hope tumblr doesn't eat this ask i'll cry

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ THE MIYA TWINS & BOKUTO KOUTARO AS YOUR OLDER BROTHERS ! ❞

╰─ ─ ﾟheadcanons of the best twins & ace of my heart being your older brothers.

✐ . . . BIG BROTHER HEADCANONS.

[ OIKAWA TOORU & KAGEYAMA TOBIO VERSION. ]

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ bokuto koutaro, miya atsumu & miya osamu <3

[ trigger warnings ━ slight manga spoilers !! ]

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . hey bub! omg i have my first anon, thank you so much for loving my older brother headcanons! i love the concept and everything about. and glad that u do too <3 anyways here's your request !

-ˏˋ ✉️ REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

⇣ please read the RULES before requesting.

MIYA TWINS.

➜ oh my goodness, i pray so hard and dearly for your parents because y'all are WILD WILD

➜ when you guys were young, you know those videos of twins confusing their baby on who's their parent??

➜ yeah THESE TWO TRIED IT WITH YOU.

➜ it was probably atsumu's dumb idea

➜ he watched it a few days ago in youtube

➜ so he suggested it to osamu which begrudgingly accepted, curious on how you would react

“ c'mon, come to big brother 'samu ”

➜ atsumu says as he stretches his arms out to you while you're oblivious poor innocent ass was doing the grabby hands to him

➜ ngl you looked so cute he felt a little guilty for what's to come

➜ while osamu sits next to him with a monotonous expression

“ no, i'm big brother 'samu ”

➜ your head spun to his direction

➜ and you're just like 👁👄👁

➜ while switching left and right in confusion as you dropped your arms down so fucking fast LMAO

➜ while atsumu was trying so hard, really he promised he won't laugh so soon, that osamu keeps pestering him to shut his bitch as up

➜ until the faintest of sobs were heard, forcing their mini argument to a halt

“ will you stay quiet ─ ”

“ ─ oh no no no, please don't cry ”

➜ osamu is in distraught because he actually doesn't know how to take care of a child crying

➜ while astumu is trying to carry you

“ hngg i ─ hic ─ want big brother 'samu ─ hic ! ”

➜ bitch almost wanted to drop you right then and there honestly

➜ he's like ??? DOES THIS BITCH EVEN KNOW I EXIST EYE??

➜ and when osamu heard you calling out to him, something in him snapped

“ i knew this was a bad idea ─ ”

➜ as he shoved atsumu off of you, hugging you as he tries to coo you, whispering “ shh . . don't ya worry, yer big brother 'samu is here ”

➜ this MANS OHMYGOD

➜ your cries seemed to have ceased as atsumu is standing there like ??

➜ i'm thEIR BROTHER TOO !!

➜ bb boy held a grudge on you for a few weeks ngl

➜ but then you grew up and now you know that you actually have two (2) big bro 'samu

➜ but more annoying & bitchy

➜ you're their favourite victim to bully

➜ well, atsumu

➜ but they won't let their teasing lead to you crying because they actually can't stand the sight of their younger sibling crying

➜ contrary to popular belief, when you realized there was another big bro 'samu, you were now attached to atsumu while he's similing smugly and triumphly at osamu

➜ atsumu would 100% be very competitive for your attention though he makes you hate him whenever he bullies you

➜ but we all know osamu hates losing

➜ so there was definitely a time of your life that their fighting over who was the best big brother

➜ ugh y'all cute cute

➜ while you're helping osamu around the kitchen, atsumu would just watch from the side lines because the kitchen is kinda yours and osamu's thing

➜ though while in his earlier years, he'd get upset because he wants you to hang out with him too :(

➜ while you have the cooking thing with osamu, you have the baking thing with atsumu

➜ shh hear me out

➜ osamu is actually not good at baking shit

➜ the first time he attempted baking was when you joined a baking club & now you're obsessed with making cupcakes and all that good good

➜ and he wanted to also try and back

➜ and how and what did he do to make your cupcakes look like dog shit was beyond you

➜ and while smelling something burning, atsumu ran to the kitchen and after realizing what osamu did

➜ he'd try and make your next batch of cupcakes presentable

➜ because he's?? actually?? good at it??

➜ and now you guys have your baking sessions and brother 'tsumu bonding time

➜ but even though you guys have other things with the other person, you guys LOVED doing chores together

➜ like, your guys' mom would make the boys clean the bathroom and before you knew it, LIKE YOU WENT THERE JUST TO TALK TO THEM WHILE THEY CLEAN, you find yourself cleaning the toilet necause atsumu ain't doing that shit

➜ washing dishes?? that as well

➜ you and atsumu would be the ones washing while osmu would do the drying

➜ 11/10 of the time would leave you guys a damped mess

➜ while cleaning the kitchen, i absoloutely headcanon, like STRONGLY

➜ that you guys would just talk either about random shit, talk shit about someone honestly, or quote reality tv shows

➜ like one thing you would be sweeping the kitchen floor,  and while sweeping, you accidentally hit the trash bin hard that the contents flew out of it as it fell down the floor

➜ and atsumu's like : “ pooja what is this behaviour?? ”

➜ then something clicked in you that made you remember that one show bigg boss something

➜ and you'd be like : “ i'm sorry i kicked it ny mistake ”

➜ osamu would roll his eyes before joining you two :  “ you can't kick it by mistake ”

➜ “ the  pick it up if it bothers you ”

➜ ugh y'all aRE ICONS

➜ y'all would be at the pool and atsumu would shout “ oh no my diamond earing is gone ”

➜ and osamu would reply “ kim, there's people that are drying. ”

➜ you'll be their biggest fan in the court

➜ whenever they play with you on the sidelines something in them just snapped and they'll be scoring points by points in a row

➜ they lowkey love to show off

➜ if you're a girl, every fangirl of they have would be wary of you at first, but then realized that you were just their little sister

➜ and to their bisexual fans, they would ngl have a huge ass crush on you too

➜ and if you're a boy as well, oH MY GOD WOULD THEY HAVE FALLEN AMD CAN'T GET UP

➜ LIKE BITCH THE MIYA GENES ARE THRIVING IN THE THREE OF YOU

➜ you bet they'd be throwing hands if someone decided to break your heart

➜ though, osamu would be the more rational one

➜ if they ever meet your s/o, atsumu would want to rile them up while osamu is just being calm but the scarier one of the two?? but he knows you don't need any protecting because you know how to do it yourself & you don't have any need for that.

➜ but he will step up if he needed to

➜ 12/10 would recommend as brothers

➜ in conclusion, you guys may not always get along, but you know damn well they care about you and would apologize right away if they did something too far. and you guys are such good sibling goals😤

BOKUTO KOUTARO.

➜ definitely know how to deal with his emo mode

➜ since you guys grew up together

➜ and sadly, you didn't have an akaashi to help you out with it while you were young

➜ like he'd be the older brother but you would probably be the more mature one

➜ but while you guys were young, he was your knight & shinning armor

➜ like when you scraped your knee while trying to catch him, he'll do a 180° and bitch has never ran faster to you than that time

➜ & if you were crying because of it, he'll make stupid jokes but it'll always make you forget about the pain in your knee

➜ and it's one of those times that you could really see that he was actually older than you

➜ then he'll piggyback you back to your house

➜ homeboy be reliable even while he was young wow

➜ and even 'till now

➜ if you ever got sick or injured

➜ or god forbid, HEARBROKEN by someone

➜ a bitch will throw hands

➜ but before that he'll make you laugh & do his best to take your mind off whatever is causing you to hurt

➜ ngl you would always look up to him, even if he may seem childish

➜ he'll hang out with you the rest of the day, he doesn't care if it's a school day, he'll drag akaashi with him

➜ my boy here GIVES THE BEST ADVICES

➜ though he may reword them differently, but his advices never seemed to fail you

➜ fights don't usually happen, and if they do they're probably serious

➜ he's the type of brother that lets you sneak out the house

➜ he'll usually back you up in everything

➜ and this bitch would take the fall for your faults

➜ ugh WE STAN

➜ but also if you sneak out the house to your significant other, bb boy has to know their number, address, occupation etc.

➜ because he ain't having a broken hearted sibling

➜ and he just wants the best for you

➜ and in the future, though he may be busy with being a professional volleyball player;

➜ he'll always have time for you

➜ he'll cLEAR OUT HIS SCHEDULE JUST FOR YOU

➜ you're that urgent to him

➜ your his first best friend before volleyball

➜ speaking of volleyball, if you aren't found in the stands in his matches ─ he'll go TO EMO MODE Y'ALL

➜ because you're usually always there in his games and it makes him give all his 120%

➜ since he's usually busy, he'll ALWAYS have those covey sisters movie nights

➜ if ykyk

➜ he's a sucker for family bonding time ogey

➜ the type to binge watch all the hsm movies & know all the lyrics to all the songs

➜ the type to defend sharpay with all his might

➜ and you guessed it right

➜ sharpay is his favourite character

➜ no one tell me otherwise

➜ THE TYPE TO DUET SONGS WITH YOU

➜ HIS FAVOURITE?

➜ EVERY SHARPAY & RYAN SONGS

➜ HE'LL BE SHARPAY AND YOU'LL BE RYAN

➜ AND THAT'S ON BOP TO THE TOP

➜ hates horror movies

➜ so if you ever watch it with him, he won't leave your side for the rest of the night & will have a sleepover on the living room

➜ f o r t s

➜ loves doing ridiculous challanges

➜ your phone would be BOMBARDED with crackhead videos of him

➜ probably broke a bone or two ngl

➜ 100/10 would recommend as a brother

➜ in conclusion, he may not always be there, and would be a bit childish & needy at times; but you know that he would step up as a big brother for you ANYDAY, ANYNIGHT, ANYTIME. because how could he want the best for you when he's not being his best on his part?

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . i'm sorry but i JUST HAD to write this out before anything else. to anyone waiting for their request to be posted some of them will be posted tomorrow, i promise aHhh. anyways check out my other big bro headcanons that i absoloutely love here.

click the link down below !

also, requests are still open; one requests = one more reason to stay sane

[flauntpage]

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers

A few seasons back, in my capacity as an occasional reporter, I was covering the Portland Trail Blazers’ first-round playoff matchup against the Los Angeles Clippers for the Willamette Week. In case you don’t recall that 2016 series, the Blazers were supposed to slip into the lottery, having lost LaMarcus Aldridge, Nic Batum, Wes Matthews, and Robin Lopez the previous summer. Instead, they snuck into the playoffs behind Damian Lillard’s excellence and a breakout year from C.J. McCollum. They were decisively happy just to be there.

The Clippers, on the other hand, were on their like, fifth straight year of being a playoff team that missed the conference final, and so they wanted to win very very badly. After they took a 2-0 series lead, it looked like they were heading for a confrontation with the 73-win Warriors.

But then, out of nowhere, Blake Griffin and Chris Paul, the team’s best two players, both went down to injuries, leaving the squad to depend almost entirely on DeAndre Jordan and the playmaking ability of Austin Rivers to bring the series home. They did not manage to do this, and lost the next four games.

After Game 6, I watched Rivers, who had a 21-point, eight-assist performance that night, give a press conference. He had 11 stitches in his face and an insanely nasty black eye (the video doesn’t come close to doing the swelling justice) after taking an elbow from Al-Farouq Aminu in the first quarter.

Seeing Rivers on that stand, clearly distraught over the result of the series, over his own limitations in the face of the Blazers, pus swelling up in his eyeball, I felt bad. Because, and there’s no way around this, I had written some awful things about Austin Rivers for money, made fun of him on Twitter, dragged him and his family for his continued presence on NBA courts, and generally afforded him no respect as a professional or as a person. In that moment after Game 6, I quietly said to myself, “Never again.” This was a human being, a vulnerable vessel with feelings and hopes and dreams, just out here trying to live his best life. Was he maybe a substandard player who only got a second chance because his daddy helped him? Sure! But he’s still a human, he bleeds, he hurts, he deserves my…

...eugh boy. That’s the thing, man. I try to separate myself from the moment of watching him botch something or other on court and not get yanked by his daddy. I try to recall when I saw him broken and depressed and victimized by fate, to see this dude as a human being and spare him the small boot heel of my mockery and disdain and I JUST. CAN’T. DO. IT.

Via NBA

I mean, watch this over and over. Let it burn into your brain. Picking up J.R. Smith in transition is CLEARLY Rivers’s responsibility here, even if Smith isn’t his specific cover, and he shirks that duty to, quite literally, wipe his nose at half-court while his team is down one with three minutes remaining in overtime. Watch him slowly realize what’s happening. He sees J.R., assumes he is someone else’s cover, wipes, spins around to jog back on defense—which is when he realizes that, right underneath his nose, J.R. has managed to beat him off the dribble, even if he wasn’t totally sure he was in a position to GET beaten off the dribble. He juts his hands up into the air, fully aware of his gigantic fuck-up, and boom, there goes 32-year-old J.R. Smith streaking across the court, past Lou Williams and Griffin and right to the rim for two points.

The Cavs announcer loses his shit: “SOMEONE TELL THE CLIPPERS WE’RE STILL PLAYING IN OVERTIME!” The camera catches Rivers in the wake of his embarrassment, his hands rising for a second, as if to say, “This appears to have been my fault,” while also maybe not really KNOWING that fact.

Via NBA

And he’s probably right? Surrendering a late-game layup in transition when half your squad is past the half-court line really is a colossal team fuck-up, the kind of mistake that, truly, only a village could manage.

But Austin Rivers’ curse—and his blessing, I suppose—is that no matter what happens behind him, he’s still the dude wiping his nose, the Duke malcontent who was going to wash out of the NBA until his career was saved by, quite literally, his daddy. No matter what he does, he will be a magnet for blame. His humanity, his struggle, his unluckiness—none of that shit matters when you’re watching. Nature and God themselves have conspired to make him an eternal scapegoat. Denying their providence just because you sometimes feel bad is, simply, not what we are designed to do.

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[amtushinfosolutionspage]

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers

A few seasons back, in my capacity as an occasional reporter, I was covering the Portland Trail Blazers’ first-round playoff matchup against the Los Angeles Clippers for the Willamette Week. In case you don’t recall that 2016 series, the Blazers were supposed to slip into the lottery, having lost LaMarcus Aldridge, Nic Batum, Wes Matthews, and Robin Lopez the previous summer. Instead, they snuck into the playoffs behind Damian Lillard’s excellence and a breakout year from C.J. McCollum. They were decisively happy just to be there.

The Clippers, on the other hand, were on their like, fifth straight year of being a playoff team that missed the conference final, and so they wanted to win very very badly. After they took a 2-0 series lead, it looked like they were heading for a confrontation with the 73-win Warriors.

But then, out of nowhere, Blake Griffin and Chris Paul, the team’s best two players, both went down to injuries, leaving the squad to depend almost entirely on DeAndre Jordan and the playmaking ability of Austin Rivers to bring the series home. They did not manage to do this, and lost the next four games.

After Game 6, I watched Rivers, who had a 21-point, eight-assist performance that night, give a press conference. He had 11 stitches in his face and an insanely nasty black eye (the video doesn’t come close to doing the swelling justice) after taking an elbow from Al-Farouq Aminu in the first quarter.

Seeing Rivers on that stand, clearly distraught over the result of the series, over his own limitations in the face of the Blazers, pus swelling up in his eyeball, I felt bad. Because, and there’s no way around this, I had written some awful things about Austin Rivers for money, made fun of him on Twitter, dragged him and his family for his continued presence on NBA courts, and generally afforded him no respect as a professional or as a person. In that moment after Game 6, I quietly said to myself, “Never again.” This was a human being, a vulnerable vessel with feelings and hopes and dreams, just out here trying to live his best life. Was he maybe a substandard player who only got a second chance because his daddy helped him? Sure! But he’s still a human, he bleeds, he hurts, he deserves my…

…eugh boy. That’s the thing, man. I try to separate myself from the moment of watching him botch something or other on court and not get yanked by his daddy. I try to recall when I saw him broken and depressed and victimized by fate, to see this dude as a human being and spare him the small boot heel of my mockery and disdain and I JUST. CAN’T. DO. IT.

Via NBA

I mean, watch this over and over. Let it burn into your brain. Picking up J.R. Smith in transition is CLEARLY Rivers’s responsibility here, even if Smith isn’t his specific cover, and he shirks that duty to, quite literally, wipe his nose at half-court while his team is down one with three minutes remaining in overtime. Watch him slowly realize what’s happening. He sees J.R., assumes he is someone else’s cover, wipes, spins around to jog back on defense—which is when he realizes that, right underneath his nose, J.R. has managed to beat him off the dribble, even if he wasn’t totally sure he was in a position to GET beaten off the dribble. He juts his hands up into the air, fully aware of his gigantic fuck-up, and boom, there goes 32-year-old J.R. Smith streaking across the court, past Lou Williams and Griffin and right to the rim for two points.

The Cavs announcer loses his shit: “SOMEONE TELL THE CLIPPERS WE’RE STILL PLAYING IN OVERTIME!” The camera catches Rivers in the wake of his embarrassment, his hands rising for a second, as if to say, “This appears to have been my fault,” while also maybe not really KNOWING that fact.

Via NBA

And he’s probably right? Surrendering a late-game layup in transition when half your squad is past the half-court line really is a colossal team fuck-up, the kind of mistake that, truly, only a village could manage.

But Austin Rivers’ curse—and his blessing, I suppose—is that no matter what happens behind him, he’s still the dude wiping his nose, the Duke malcontent who was going to wash out of the NBA until his career was saved by, quite literally, his daddy. No matter what he does, he will be a magnet for blame. His humanity, his struggle, his unluckiness—none of that shit matters when you’re watching. Nature and God themselves have conspired to make him an eternal scapegoat. Denying their providence just because you sometimes feel bad is, simply, not what we are designed to do.

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers syndicated from http://ift.tt/2ug2Ns6

[thatgirlinthephilippines]

Playing Nice

    Sports….uhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggggg. Am I right? I don’t get it. I know that’s a pretty generic statement, but it’s my reality, and it is insane how much people don’t understand or accept that conceit. It’s something that baffles and confuses sports fans to the point of indignant anger. “But its America’s pass time!” “ This only happens every four years!!!” “It’s the super mega championship sports extravaganza festival to which you are contractual obligated to care about!!!!!!!!!!!!! USA. USA. USA. USA.” Barf. My lifelong lacking of national pride aside, I think for most sports fans what’s frustrating is that there’s no real reason why I’m not interested. Some people look at a ball and see a world of possibilities, I see potential embarrassment and exertion. Put a professional display of athleticism in front of me and I will watch diligently, for a few moments. Inevitably though, I will drift away to distant thoughts, occasionally being snapped back by the inordinate amount of screaming and jovial movement of the crowd around me. It’s just how my brain works. I can’t focus on humanities various interactions with a ball.

     This lack of obsession was not loss on my father, who, for all intensive purposes, is an American Football fanatic. His team: The San Francisco 49ers. His god: Joe Montana. Highly despised traitor and disgrace to the game of football: Jerry Rice. Offense: moving to the ever despised and vile rival The Oakland Raiders. I was raised with the simple truth that we were a Niners family and with that came certain expectations. Game day is sacred, burgundy and gold is the greatest color combination known to man, and The Oakland Raiders and all of their fans are horrible people. (I suspect this last credo is a little racial tinged, but I’ll save that gem of social commentary for another post.) Regularly, my birthday was postponed so that we did not have to disrupt playoff season, and one special year I got a birthday / Superbowl party. Every 8 year old girls wildest dreams come true! If you think that’s sad, you should have seen the collective toddler scale tantrum thrown when is was revealed my cousin’s engagement party, planned months in advance, would be on the same day as a playoff game, determined essentially the day before.

     It may seem insane, and it one hundred percent is, but that’s just the way things are in our family. This is also incredibly mild compared to some. If you want to understand real fanaticism look to football (AKA soccer, and yes I am going to be the pretentious American that uses the name literally the entire rest of the world uses.) Being in Chile for the world cup was a next level sporting experience. I grew up going to games, and despite my short attention span for ball maneuvering, there is something very fun about the fury of a game day crowd. I have seen people cheer, scream, fight, and even riot over their team, but I have never experienced the level of emotional investment that Chile showed me during the World Cup. After a win, the streets were filled with songs and insanity, but after a loss I was shocked to find grown men listlessly wandering the streets straight up sobbing. The only time I had ever seen that level of emotion over a game was the last time the Niners lost The Superbowl and I honestly thought I would see my dad cry for the first time in my entire life. It didn’t help that he had installed 7 new TVs for the event and had to witness the crushing defeat from every possible angle.

     I am usually pretty good at comforting people in pain, but I honestly have no idea how to console someone distraught over their team not getting a ball past a line more times than their competitors. It’s just not in my wheel house. Weirdly, this is a pretty large disadvantage, as many humans seem to be of the opposite end of the empathy spectrum when it comes to strategic ball movement. It’s particularly crushing when, as a teacher, I am expected to engage with my students athletically. As you can tell, I don’t like watching sports, but I fucking hate playing almost all of them. I enjoy two sports, swimming and yoga. One of those is not a sport, and both of them involve me alone, cut off from the world, and zero balls. So, when my coworkers came to me and said we were going to put on a two day sports tournament you can imagine my full on ass clenching terror. This is essentially my worst nightmare. For two days I would have to summon the strength to endure HOURS of people bouncing, tossing, and smacking balls for points. Insert epic eye roll. I am a professional however, and I endeavored to complete this task with respect and gratitude.

     So, now that we’ve made it this far, I feel I should talk about the inherent sexism of sports. YAY! The fact is there’s little respect for female athletes and certainly none on par with the reverence men receive. Professional sports industries were created for and are dominated by men. There is not a single women’s professional sports league that comes even close to the level of fame and respect that any male league receives. Its shitty, and sexist, and not really a reason I hate sports, but it certainly doesn’t incline me to give them a little slack. Everyone else might be inclined to let this slide with a slight shrug and a what can we do about it attitude, but to me they’re all buying into the same patriarchal bullshit we’re always fed. I joke a lot about balls and fanaticism, but I need to point out that this is a real sticking point for me. This is the lens through which I view the world and it’s very hard for me to ignore that view just to let go and have fun.

     It was with all of this swirling in the back of my mind, and after nearly a full day of sports overload, that I sat down to watch the girl’s basketball tournament. Or, I should say, the one and only girls basket ball game we were going to get because the boys took too long. So, all the girls teams were combined into two that would face off for the revered title of champion. (smile and nod at the totally logical lack for respect for female athletes.) So ok, Basketball! Woooo. With the basket, and the ball, and dribbling and …free throwing? I have no idea how this game works, but I didn’t know how American football worked for the first ten years of my life and I still managed to enjoy going to games. How hard could this be?

     Very. Fucking. Hard. See, basketball is not really considered a girl’s sport here. It’s very popular but primarily as a pass time for boys. They take it very seriously, and are very good at it. Girls, on the other hand, rarely ever play, and that was the case for every single one of our female learners on the court, save one. A tomboy. Or trans man as we would say in the states. She (preferred pronoun) was amazing. ( I assume, she was amazing because she is male presenting and her outward masculinity gave her access to the boys club and thus the court. Fascinating, but this post is about me and my unyielding judgement of the world. So, I’ll  leave my conjectures on trans culture for another day.) One awesome athlete, however, does not distract from the spectacle of a bunch of girls trying their best, but inevitably being really bad at basketball.

     While the boys were playing there was a seriousness in the room, and apt attention was payed to every play. Once the girls took the court, however, the room was filled with waves hyena like cackles and insult tossing. To be clear, majority of the players were absolutely terrible at basketball, and I understand how that can be funny. I was left with this nagging feeling though that it wasn’t just that the girls didn’t know how to pass a ball well, or dribble properly. Rather, I felt that the sight of females on a court was such an absurdity that it could never be taken seriously. I know I am probably projecting a lot of my world view on all of this, but I guess that’s my trigger. I know that the boys were laughed at for every one of their sports blunders, and while that should ease my tension I think it only adds to it. Why is failure so funny? Why do we need to acknowledge that failure so intensely, and with mockery? And knowing that girls are never really afforded the opportunity, let alone encouraged to play basketball, why do we find it acceptable to mock their every blunder with such gusto? It’s maddening to me and it left me so angry I was ready to grab the ball and punt it out of the gym, despite years of blunders and embarrassment that proved I would never be able to complete such a task. So, I seethed. For 20 minutes I just tried to let it go, and I think that’s the hardest part of working in another culture. Letting it the fuck go. On a daily basis I have to tell myself, “Not my culture, not my call.” It’s so difficult sometimes to set aside what you truly believe are injustices and accept the world your in not as flawed and broken, but different and evolving.  

    At around minute 15, my fist were clenched in fury and I was moments away from grabbing the mic and making a teenage movie level declarative speech about inclusiveness and accepting one another, but with more screaming. Despite my rage lens though, I came to realize that while they never get to play elsewhere, and they may not be as revered as the boys for their efforts, my school was giving these girls an opportunity to throw a ball at a hoop. Also, this was a qualifying game and the winners would move on to throw that ball at another hoop, in a district tournament. That there were two trans students on the court and no one questioned or mocked their involvement and cheered just as loudly for their achievements as the rest. Most importantly, maybe I was being a bit of a judgy bitch. Everyone around me was having a blast and captain downer over here, sitting alone carefully outlining her verbal assault, was probably overreacting. Or maybe I’m right and the world sucks and people are terrible. It’s a toss up really.

[flauntpage]

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers

A few seasons back, in my capacity as an occasional reporter, I was covering the Portland Trail Blazers’ first-round playoff matchup against the Los Angeles Clippers for the Willamette Week. In case you don’t recall that 2016 series, the Blazers were supposed to slip into the lottery, having lost LaMarcus Aldridge, Nic Batum, Wes Matthews, and Robin Lopez the previous summer. Instead, they snuck into the playoffs behind Damian Lillard’s excellence and a breakout year from C.J. McCollum. They were decisively happy just to be there.

The Clippers, on the other hand, were on their like, fifth straight year of being a playoff team that missed the conference final, and so they wanted to win very very badly. After they took a 2-0 series lead, it looked like they were heading for a confrontation with the 73-win Warriors.

But then, out of nowhere, Blake Griffin and Chris Paul, the team’s best two players, both went down to injuries, leaving the squad to depend almost entirely on DeAndre Jordan and the playmaking ability of Austin Rivers to bring the series home. They did not manage to do this, and lost the next four games.

After Game 6, I watched Rivers, who had a 21-point, eight-assist performance that night, give a press conference. He had 11 stitches in his face and an insanely nasty black eye (the video doesn’t come close to doing the swelling justice) after taking an elbow from Al-Farouq Aminu in the first quarter.

Seeing Rivers on that stand, clearly distraught over the result of the series, over his own limitations in the face of the Blazers, pus swelling up in his eyeball, I felt bad. Because, and there’s no way around this, I had written some awful things about Austin Rivers for money, made fun of him on Twitter, dragged him and his family for his continued presence on NBA courts, and generally afforded him no respect as a professional or as a person. In that moment after Game 6, I quietly said to myself, “Never again.” This was a human being, a vulnerable vessel with feelings and hopes and dreams, just out here trying to live his best life. Was he maybe a substandard player who only got a second chance because his daddy helped him? Sure! But he’s still a human, he bleeds, he hurts, he deserves my…

...eugh boy. That’s the thing, man. I try to separate myself from the moment of watching him botch something or other on court and not get yanked by his daddy. I try to recall when I saw him broken and depressed and victimized by fate, to see this dude as a human being and spare him the small boot heel of my mockery and disdain and I JUST. CAN’T. DO. IT.

Via NBA

I mean, watch this over and over. Let it burn into your brain. Picking up J.R. Smith in transition is CLEARLY Rivers’s responsibility here, even if Smith isn’t his specific cover, and he shirks that duty to, quite literally, wipe his nose at half-court while his team is down one with three minutes remaining in overtime. Watch him slowly realize what’s happening. He sees J.R., assumes he is someone else’s cover, wipes, spins around to jog back on defense—which is when he realizes that, right underneath his nose, J.R. has managed to beat him off the dribble, even if he wasn’t totally sure he was in a position to GET beaten off the dribble. He juts his hands up into the air, fully aware of his gigantic fuck-up, and boom, there goes 32-year-old J.R. Smith streaking across the court, past Lou Williams and Griffin and right to the rim for two points.

The Cavs announcer loses his shit: “SOMEONE TELL THE CLIPPERS WE’RE STILL PLAYING IN OVERTIME!” The camera catches Rivers in the wake of his embarrassment, his hands rising for a second, as if to say, “This appears to have been my fault,” while also maybe not really KNOWING that fact.

Via NBA

And he’s probably right? Surrendering a late-game layup in transition when half your squad is past the half-court line really is a colossal team fuck-up, the kind of mistake that, truly, only a village could manage.

But Austin Rivers’ curse—and his blessing, I suppose—is that no matter what happens behind him, he’s still the dude wiping his nose, the Duke malcontent who was going to wash out of the NBA until his career was saved by, quite literally, his daddy. No matter what he does, he will be a magnet for blame. His humanity, his struggle, his unluckiness—none of that shit matters when you’re watching. Nature and God themselves have conspired to make him an eternal scapegoat. Denying their providence just because you sometimes feel bad is, simply, not what we are designed to do.

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[flauntpage]

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers

A few seasons back, in my capacity as an occasional reporter, I was covering the Portland Trail Blazers’ first-round playoff matchup against the Los Angeles Clippers for the Willamette Week. In case you don’t recall that 2016 series, the Blazers were supposed to slip into the lottery, having lost LaMarcus Aldridge, Nic Batum, Wes Matthews, and Robin Lopez the previous summer. Instead, they snuck into the playoffs behind Damian Lillard’s excellence and a breakout year from C.J. McCollum. They were decisively happy just to be there.

The Clippers, on the other hand, were on their like, fifth straight year of being a playoff team that missed the conference final, and so they wanted to win very very badly. After they took a 2-0 series lead, it looked like they were heading for a confrontation with the 73-win Warriors.

But then, out of nowhere, Blake Griffin and Chris Paul, the team’s best two players, both went down to injuries, leaving the squad to depend almost entirely on DeAndre Jordan and the playmaking ability of Austin Rivers to bring the series home. They did not manage to do this, and lost the next four games.

After Game 6, I watched Rivers, who had a 21-point, eight-assist performance that night, give a press conference. He had 11 stitches in his face and an insanely nasty black eye (the video doesn’t come close to doing the swelling justice) after taking an elbow from Al-Farouq Aminu in the first quarter.

Seeing Rivers on that stand, clearly distraught over the result of the series, over his own limitations in the face of the Blazers, pus swelling up in his eyeball, I felt bad. Because, and there’s no way around this, I had written some awful things about Austin Rivers for money, made fun of him on Twitter, dragged him and his family for his continued presence on NBA courts, and generally afforded him no respect as a professional or as a person. In that moment after Game 6, I quietly said to myself, “Never again.” This was a human being, a vulnerable vessel with feelings and hopes and dreams, just out here trying to live his best life. Was he maybe a substandard player who only got a second chance because his daddy helped him? Sure! But he’s still a human, he bleeds, he hurts, he deserves my…

...eugh boy. That’s the thing, man. I try to separate myself from the moment of watching him botch something or other on court and not get yanked by his daddy. I try to recall when I saw him broken and depressed and victimized by fate, to see this dude as a human being and spare him the small boot heel of my mockery and disdain and I JUST. CAN’T. DO. IT.

Via NBA

I mean, watch this over and over. Let it burn into your brain. Picking up J.R. Smith in transition is CLEARLY Rivers’s responsibility here, even if Smith isn’t his specific cover, and he shirks that duty to, quite literally, wipe his nose at half-court while his team is down one with three minutes remaining in overtime. Watch him slowly realize what’s happening. He sees J.R., assumes he is someone else’s cover, wipes, spins around to jog back on defense—which is when he realizes that, right underneath his nose, J.R. has managed to beat him off the dribble, even if he wasn’t totally sure he was in a position to GET beaten off the dribble. He juts his hands up into the air, fully aware of his gigantic fuck-up, and boom, there goes 32-year-old J.R. Smith streaking across the court, past Lou Williams and Griffin and right to the rim for two points.

The Cavs announcer loses his shit: “SOMEONE TELL THE CLIPPERS WE’RE STILL PLAYING IN OVERTIME!” The camera catches Rivers in the wake of his embarrassment, his hands rising for a second, as if to say, “This appears to have been my fault,” while also maybe not really KNOWING that fact.

Via NBA

And he’s probably right? Surrendering a late-game layup in transition when half your squad is past the half-court line really is a colossal team fuck-up, the kind of mistake that, truly, only a village could manage.

But Austin Rivers’ curse—and his blessing, I suppose—is that no matter what happens behind him, he’s still the dude wiping his nose, the Duke malcontent who was going to wash out of the NBA until his career was saved by, quite literally, his daddy. No matter what he does, he will be a magnet for blame. His humanity, his struggle, his unluckiness—none of that shit matters when you’re watching. Nature and God themselves have conspired to make him an eternal scapegoat. Denying their providence just because you sometimes feel bad is, simply, not what we are designed to do.

NBA Dunk of the Week: J.R. Smith and the Eternal Shame of Being Austin Rivers published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv