#like god. coming into town as the new thing. having unreal season after unreal season

[starscelly]

this fucking. mike heika bennguin article is making me nauseous. in a good way kind of sjfbwnx just reading about tyler having to come to terms with not being The Guy anymore and having to find his new role on the team makes me. disgustingly emotional.

[azzysflowergarden]

(Hello note from me, Azzy. I made this account on June 1st of this year because I felt like making a new one XD so. All 35 565 posts that are mostly reblogs? They're from the past 6 months, not a year XDDD)

I posted 35,565 times in 2022

That's 35,565 more posts than 2021!

92 posts created (0%)

35,473 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@lastoneout

@moonflowero1

@pomodoko

@imfluentinfangirlandgay

@levincias

I tagged 2,745 of my posts in 2022

#keeping for later - 246 posts

#pla - 190 posts

#azzy grows - 97 posts

#posts that made me audibly laugh - 92 posts

#posts i must always reblog - 69 posts

#pkmn - 55 posts

#eyestrain - 40 posts

#unreality - 40 posts

#questionable breaking bad knowledge - 30 posts

#dc resources - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i love being mentally ill its so fun to be screaming and cryong and having a panic attack which makes u whip ur phone at the nearest noises

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

How does one express non-romantic attraction??

Like I'm making a list of hot pkmn trainers but I'm not attracted to them in the crush/romantic/sexual sense. I think it's like... Aesthetic attraction? But I don't know how to express it :(

I'm just like "awooga hot person they r so sexy mwah mwah" but I'm not attracted to them in a crush/rom/sx kinda way!!! And obviously people misinterpret what I mean because of the language I'm using :(

How the heck do ppl verbalize those kinds of feelings properly ( TTⁿTT ) /genq

45 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

#4

Hey yalls, guess who wrote a Danny Phantom one-shot (4k words) that I'm extremely proud of!!! Even if ya ain't into DP, I'd appreciate if you read it & dropped a kudos and commented, because I'm honestly in love with this so much!!!!

Focuses on a confrontation between Danny and Wesley Weston involving Danny's secret identity woooo~

Warning for; panic attacks, descriptions of inhuman appearances (Eldritch!Danny my beloved), & mentions of death!

It's the longest fic I've written to date (I thought a multichapter WIP I wrote in 2018 was longer. I was wrong. That was only 3.5k), and I'm thrilled at the outcome!!

I'm the kind of person who enjoys their own writing (and forgets what I've written after a few days), so when I read it over pre-posting, I was smiling and giggling the whole time. I even screamed from excitement at it (I was on call, and my friends gotta hear me freaking out as I read my own writing XD)!

So, yeah. I really hope you enjoy, because I sure as hell did!

51 notes - Posted September 15, 2022

#3

I just discovered «Ridgeside Village» (a Stardew Valley mod) and oh my gods it looks so good!!! The mod adds so much to explore, both new areas and new villagers!!!

Plus, it's compatible with Stardew Valley Expanded (Expanded edits the existing valley for the most part, while Ridgeside Village adds a whole new map outside of Pelican Town)!!!

(If y'all like SDV Expanded, or mods that do similar things, please check out Ridgeside Village if you haven't already!!!)

52 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

#2

It's kinda sad to know a good handful of people who've played Stardew Valley haven't played (or heard of) Harvest Moon. Maybe it's just a generational thing, but whenever I've gotten my friends into SDV, I always ask if they know Harvest Moon first. Literally always no.

ANYWAYS if you like Stardew Valley, please check out the Story Of Seasons line (the new name for Harvest Moon games), the Harvest Moon games before DS, or Harvest Moon A New Beginning (3DS)

OR if you like the fighting in SDV as well as the farming bits, I've heard the Rune Factory series is pretty good :D

103 notes - Posted June 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Sometimes I wish I could love in the way others could.

To look at someone and just know. To feel the warmth and joy, and desire to be with someone forever.

But my feeling of love comes in different forms.

Sitting outside and playing my ukulele, while the squirrels and chipmunks watch, and the birds chirp along.

The tickle of eyelashes blinking against cheeks, and the fuzzy giggles that brew inside.

Telling someone a secret which you're sure they would never speak to you again over, only for them to tell you it's okay, and that they still care about you.

A stray (or just sassy) cat letting you pet them, no matter how brief the moment may be.

Walking around a night-fallen city with your friend, illuminated by the neon signs, and high on life.

Doodling something that turns out even a little better than you were expecting, brightening up the rest of your day.

Reading a story that overwhelms you with so many feelings that you have to scream, because the world deserves to know how you feel.

Maybe I can't feel love in the way others might. I think that's alright, though, because I notice all the other ways I feel love. And I think I love that even more.

633 notes - Posted July 30, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[rsfannan5]

Day Two: From Terrific Chocolate to Shrunken Heads

Our day did not start early (thank God), so Diane and I were able to enjoy a good nights sleep and a leisurely breakfast at the hotel restaurant. The fresh fruit first course was so good.

Our guide Karla picked us up for a walking tour of the Old Town. The weather forecast was for intermittent rain all day, but it never really developed. We started at the main plaza adjacent to our hotel. It was in the process of getting ready for the Good Friday and Easter Sunday celebrations coming up this weekend. Lots of people and families out and about. Very few tourists. First stop was a breathtaking church, La Iglesia de la Compana de Jesus, facing the plaza. Built from 1605 to 1765, the inside is basically fully covered in gold leaf. Truly unreal. Photos are not allowed, but I will include a couple from off the internet in the picture section of this blog. A little further on is the Church and Monastery of San Francisco, with the huge square that fronts it. The square in past years was the home of the city’s popular outdoor market, which has since been closed when it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Construction of the basilica and convent began in 1537, using the same materials that had been buried after the Spanish Conquistadores burned and leveled the site which had been the Royal Palace of the Inca Huayna Capac. It is now the largest architectural complex within the historical centers of all of South America, known as “El Escorial of the New World”.

Across from this epic church, we took a snack break at Yumbos Chocolate Artesanal, where Diane and I learned how chocolate is made. I has no idea how labor intensive it is to make organic dark chocolate. Very delicious. We settled on the combination of sea salt and red pepper flakes for our purchase. Yummy with a bit of a kick!

After walking around a bit more, Karla drove us to the top of one of Quito’s hills to The Virgin of El Panecillo, at 95 feet, the world’s tallest aluminum statue. The hill it sits upon is in the center of town and the statue is visible throughout the city. At Christmas time, an equally large Nativity Scene is erected around it.

From there, we took a drive across town to the Intinian Museum, a collection of interactive exhibits about the equator. The site is on the equator itself, allowing you, among other things to stand straddling the earth’s southern and northern hemispheres. I would encourage all who are in the area to visit this place. Diane and I learned a whole lot of stuff. There are only two seasons in Ecuador, the rainy season and the dry season. There is not a shortest day of the year and longest day of the year along the equator. Each day is 12 hours, each night is 12 hours. Nicholas, our host, after showing us the line running through the property that was in fact the actual equator, did an experiment where a vat of water right on the line emptied straight down the drain. Moving the same vat about 8 feet south of the line made the water empty clockwise, and moving it 8 feet north of the line made the water drain counter-clockwise. Quite a mind job! An sundial-like contraption showed how ancient civilizations could tell when their planting and harvest times were approaching. A part of this museum was dedicated to the indigenous peoples of Ecuador. There are currently 1.1 million indigenous people living in Ecuador among 14 nationalities. While many live in more populated areas, a great number live in villages far from the modern world and have nothing to do with it. One exhibit explains the phenomenon of shrunken heads. A large mural depicts the stages one goes through produce this rather ghastly product. And for those of us who might have thought that this was a relic of the distant past, it was not until the early 1960’s that the practice was eradicated. When asked about Ecuadorian food, he told us that roasted Guinea Pig is still popular. Not the cute cuddly ones that one would have as a pet, but rather huge ones that are cooked over an open flame either on a grill or on a spit. He says that the skin tastes like pork and the meat resembles rabbit. Hungry anyone? One of the last things we saw was a jar with a candiru floating in some formaldehyde. Nicholas listed it as the animal of the Amazon area that he fears the most. You see this small eel-like fish supposedly is attracted to human urine and when detected swims up the urethra where it uses the spines on its gills to hold itself in place, making removal somewhat difficult, if not impossible without surgery. Some say it is myth. Hmmm…. Anyone up for a swimAs we drove back to our hotel, I asked Karla if Amazon (the company, not the river) was a big deal in Ecuador. Not only is it not a big deal, it is basically nowhere to be found. Yet.

After being dropped off at our hotel, we had a lovely dinner at a local joint near the central plaza, and a traditional hot toddy like nightcap called Canelazo. A perfect end to a wonderful day.

We leave bright and early tomorrow for the Galápagos Islands.

More to come…..

[moodymidnightkitten]

Spark

A/N: Woof, what a busy holiday season, well anyways I’m back and new binging Black Clover, so heres my official fan application, an almost 2k fanfic for Zora Ideale. 

Genre: fluff

w/c: 1939

Synopsis: reader from the real human universe lands herself in the Black Clover Universe (I could describe this more but I’m pulling blanks, feedback on how to make this better after y’all read this, that would be great.)

Pair: Zora Ideale x Reader

Ope heres my masterlist 

Ugh god, what time is it? You asked, rubbing your head, sitting on cold hard ground outside. A completely different place from where you were, napping in a cozy warm bed at home in, reality? You've seen enough anime to know that this definitely not the normal home setting you're used to. But what anime? You looked around, doing a complete 180 and coming face to face with the one and only Black Bulls hideout. 

"No fucking way," you mumbled to yourself. What in the magical hell is this? Also, what the hell are you supposed to do now? 

"Ooooo who are you?!" A memorable voice chimed in behind you. Turning around you came face to face with no other than Asta. 

You scratched the back of your head and gave the most non convincing fake smile you could muster up in this situation. Completely flustered and star struck. 

"Oh, I uhm, my name is y/n," you gave a measly laugh. 

"Are you a spatial magic user? You just fell from the sky?!" He loudly stated. You knew there was only one clear cut way into figuring out your situation. 

"Actually no, I don't even know how I got here, but do you think you'd be able to get me to the Wizard King, he might be able to help.." you suggested. 

Astas eyes lead beyond you through your request, you didn't feel it until now but a towering and looming figure was now behind you, with a voice that most certainly matched the profile, it was Yami, the captain of the Black Bulls. 

"Oi, you'd have better luck with me, Asta, you're to come with us," was all he said as he walked past you and grabbed onto Astas collar and pulled him with him as well. Everything happened so quickly you had to do a light jog to catch up with them. 

"I really appreciate this, thank you," you said in between huff's of air trying to fill your lungs back up. 

"Your clothes are a give away to your difference in upbringing. As well as I watched you just fall, so I also want to know how you got to 'this world'' Yami was short and to the point, as he's always portrayed. 

"Well I appreciate this a lot Captain Yami and Asta," as soon as you said their names Yami stopped walking. 

"How do you know who we are?" He grumbled in confusion. 

"You won't believe me when I tell you but, this place, and everyone here is actually a show, more namely, an anime where I'm from," you probably sounded crazy. Actually not probably, most certainly because the two men looked at each other and laughed the most hearty laugh you've ever heard. And so with everything being said, all three of you continued you way to see the Wizard King.

After meeting with the Wizard King who basically certified that you're from another plane of existence who entrusted Yami to watch over you. Although you're not from here the wizard king ensured that you came here with magic powers. So now you were a part of the Black Bulls. 

But now you were stuck with living with one of your anime men crushes. Zora Ideale. It's not like you've never been around men you were attracted to, but this is just on some whole new level. This was fictional beauty and desire come true. 

Those were the only thoughts going through your head on top of the fact you now had to learn your new magical powers and make yourself an asset to your new team. It's only stressful because it's time and space magic. So what, are you now Doctor fucking Strange? It made your head hurt thinking about it all too much. What's even more intense is the fact you bent realities while SLEEPING. How in the hell were you going to figure all of that out. But hey, at least you have a pretty nice grimoire. Black marble with gold tripping and a dazzling black diamond looking clover embedded on the cover. 

“Ah, finally back,” You heard Yami exasperate as you three came up to the base. Pushing open the doors and allowing you and Asta to walk inside. Everyone else of the Black Bulls was busy doing whatever they usually do as you walked in, Yami stopped shortly ahead of you and yelled. 

“Alright, listen up fuckers, we have a new member today, this is y/n, make yourself acquainted. Finral, bathroom.” Was all he said as Finral rushed over, stars dancing in his eyes upon looking at you.  You smiled back at him as Vanessa wrapped herself around your shoulders, clad in only lingerie with a bottle of cheap wine in her free hand. 

“Oooo where did you get such an outfit?! So cute!” Vanessa said, slowly peeling herself away from you and taking you all in, slowly but surely everyone else introduced themselves and bombarded you with questions, all except Zora, who seemed to be sleeping on the couch across the room very obviously trying to ignore the whole situation. Luckily enough for you Asta made his introduction for him so now it wouldn’t be weird for you to know who he was already. 

“Let me show you around!” Asta exclaimed, eagerly walking ahead of you, you followed him, taking one small peek behind you at the handsome masked man laying on the couch, who was actually peering at you through slitted eyes, causing a blush to paint on your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead of you and pressing your grimoire to your chest. All you heard behind you with a small chuckle causing your small blush into a blazing one. 

You got settled in very quickly and spent most of your days getting along and getting to know mostly everyone on the team. It was nice, you didn’t feel out of place and you’ve actually been able to use a little bit of magic here and there with the help of everyone around you. Of course thoughts of live at home, normal real home crept into your mind but you were practically begging to be in some new reality and experience the unreal, and now look, your sheer will bent the universes and landed you here. Could you really complain? 

At the current moment in time you were sitting on your own reading in the main common area while everyone else was either on a mission or also enjoying their time off. Except Zora, who quite unusually will just chill against the wall or on the couch when he isn't in town or traveling about to mess around with dirty nobles. But right now felt more intense, like someone was staring at you, and not just someone, but Zora, his piercing gaze felt like no other. It was like a scientist waiting for a rat to do something out of the normal. You turned in your seat and to no surprise there he was with his sea blue eyes just peering at you, causing the ever so common raging blush to paint your face, but you weren’t going to let that stop you from confronting him. 

“If you’re going to stare at me you might as well take a picture of me cretin,” you boldly stated, turning back in your seat. Why did you have to call him a cretin? What normal person just calls people cretins? Luckily he must have not taken offense because he was laughing and he walked over and sat next to you. 

“Cretin? Interesting way of flirting with me Cherry,” you looked down from your book and saw him with his head in his hand. His witty comeback against you was very obviously a job at how red your cheeks got when you were around him. 

“Well I wasn’t flirting with you, Match Book,” a stupid jab at has his hair looked also wasn’t the way to go but I guess this classic middle school back and forth flirting was how it was going to go. And it seemed to be the best option available because you now felt more comfortable in his presence and it seemed you two were getting along. 

“What do you want anyways Zora?” You asked, shutting your book and placing it on the table. He raised his eyebrow. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” with that he stood up without waiting for an answer and made his way to the door. Quickly you got up and followed him. You two didn’t speak for a bit as you walked, eventually you two came up to a small lake a few hundred feet from the base, Zora sat down in one of the clear patches, you decided to take up residence a few inches away. 

“This is beautiful,” you smiled, looking out to the peaceful lake glistening in the evening sun. 

“It is, but not as much as you.” Zora said, so blatant and straight forward. And if your face has never been this red and on fire before, well it was now. You didn’t even know you stopped breathing until, well, you needed air. 

“What..?” You looked at him as he was still peering at the lake.

“Oi, I’m not going to repeat myself,” Zora said in the most disgruntled way. 

“You’re different, everything about you, you don’t know what youre doing, you’re clumsy, your cheeks get this cozy red when I’m around, you radiate this positive do good energy and I’m drawn to it, I’ve been watching you since you got here, you’re intriguing,” he kept talking so honestly it made you wonder when he would ever stop flattering you, before you could say anything he said one last thing. 

“I want to get to know you.” He finally looked at you wearing a weak smile with a blazing blush that was so strong it krept a bit up and past his mask. 

“That was a lot, all at once, and to say I don’t feel anything back would be a lie, personally you radiate lawful chaotic energy but it's fun, I want to get to know you better as well.” You smiled and so didn’t he as you two looked back to the lake. You two sat there peacefully before being interrupted by someone gracefully coming through a spatial magic portal, wearing robes you know all too well, braided hair and the obvious facial marking, Licht. 

“Y/n, I see you’ve arrived,” he said calmly. “You probably don’t know who I am, but I know all about you,” dread filled your body like a subzero frost striking your bones. 

“I know who you are. What do you want.” Licht smiled at you. 

“I want to show you why you’re here,” he offered once he got closer but before you knew it Zora jumped in between you two. 

“Listen freakshow, she’s not going anywhere with you,” You could see every muscle in Zoras body tense in front of you, the tip of your nose practically touching his back. Licht chuckled.

“Hmm? I wasn’t offering,” Before you could even blink Zoras body was thrown away and now nothing stood in between you and Licht and before you knew it a force hit your body so hard you blacked out, slowly but surely phasing in and out of sleepy, your name was being yelled and fading out in the background and you felt you body being raised off the ground, the last thing you saw was Zora reaching out to you as much as he could, fingertips grazing upon your own as you slipped out of consciousness.

[writersrealmbts]

Harvest Moon

Description: Halloween! Werewolf!Taehyung x Reader: You live a normal life, in a normal little town, but it’s the Wolf-Harvest Festival, and the moon is full.

Posted: 10/30/2019

Tags: Werewolves, Werewolf!Taehyung

Wordcount: 3,422

A/N: It’s almost as good as the first time I tried to write it and the computer deleted it. 

You grinned as the man breathed fire into the air and his fellow entertainers juggled torches, slowly walking to the next source of entertainment. The smells of food, the cheer of crowds, the all encompassing warmth of the Wolf-Harvest Festival. Your village and the neighboring villages were all excited for this. It’d been a good year, an extra long growing season with extra harvests. Everyone would eat well this winter.

You smiled as one of the children gave you an caramel apple slice on a stick, smiling as they skipped away with the other children.

You ate as you observed a dance performance, interpreting the wolves that once roamed the towns according to legends and old tales. The protectors of children and guides to the lost.

And who would occasionally take a villager as their mate, which was what was being depicted inaccurately onstage. When werewolves chose mates it was more romantic. The villagers were the wolves true-mates, and they would court the villager quite successfully before then leaving with said villager. No one who left with the wolves ever returned, or if they were it was by force and it didn’t go over well.

But that wasn’t nearly dramatic enough for performers.

You shook your head, and continued along, checking the goods at each stall to determine if you wanted any of them, but ultimately loosing yourself in the crowd. Surrounded yet alone.

A hand gently brushed along your shoulder, then down your arm, drawing your hand out until his fingertips barely parted from yours.

Your gaze was drawn to his face, and the seductive smirk he wore as he regarded you. His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and his head tilted ever so slightly, beckoning you to follow him.

You nodded ever so slightly, following even though some part of your mind knew that this was a dangerous thing to do.

But his face was enchanting. Unreal.

The smile fluctuated from amused to alluring, entirely godlike. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his face, even though you could glimpse his gorgeous neck, the golden skin of his collarbone, how his shirt was opened ever so slightly to reveal more of the golden skin of his chest. His eyes glowed in the firelight, drawing you further into his hold over you.

You vaguely noticed that you were entering the forest, drawn away from the crowds.

The light was dimmer, yet his eyes still glowed, turned partially away from you, holding onto you by the fingertips. Trees encompassed you, but you couldn’t keep track of the path you were taking. It was as if every time your mind would start to wander to your surroundings, his touch would grow just a little more enticing.

You could tell the forest was getting denser, trees and branches closer together and blocking what little light was able to permeate the canopy from the sunset.

An eyebrow quirked, head rolling and exposing his neck seductively. His tongue slid along his lips again and then you were staring at his lips.

A deep chuckle came from his throat, and you felt breathless, but it was enough to break the hold on you long enough to realize that the only thing you could clearly see was the man, and his glowing eyes, and you definitely didn’t know where you were despite having explored the woods around your home your whole life.

Then his hand encompassed all of yours, warm and strong.

Your gaze snapped to his hand.

Long fingers. Long, gorgeous, sinful fingers.

His grip tightened and he jerked your through some sort of plant-y barrier and suddenly you found yourself gazing out over a grassland. In the distance you could see the shimmer of a lake and a different forest, and the moon was just peeking over the horizon, opposite of the sun.

You loudly drew in a breath as if you hadn’t been breathing the whole time.

He was standing behind you a little, the fingertips of his right hand brushing over one shoulder while his left hand brushed the loose hair from it. “You’re brave,” He murmured, and gods! His voice! As if he wasn’t already unearthly, his voice just seemed to embody it more. “And beautiful.”

You didn’t know if you would ever breathe properly again, but you slowly turned to him, gaze on the ground at first, but flicking up to his face once his shoes came into your field of vision.

Yeah. Still godlike.

He chuckled again, very close to you, very close to your face. “Do you know what I am?”

You felt a trill of fear and apprehension, but also excitement. And attraction. You swallowed, piecing together your fractured thoughts and answering before you really could acknowledge your own thinking. “A werewolf.”

“Are you still unafraid?” He asked cheekily, long fingers tilting your chin up until you were no longer staring at his smile, but his eyes. Gorgeous, entrancing eyes. “Because you don’t seem to be?”

“I…know the stories….” You whispered, licking and then biting your lips. “And it’s not…that I’m…unafraid….”

His nose suddenly brushed lightly against yours. “Do you know why you’re here?”

You nodded slowly. “I’m…your mate.”

“My true mate,” he whispered, and—gods, could he just give you two minutes to breath? One of his hands rested lightly on your waist. “Is that okay with you?”

“Isn’t it a little late to be asking that?” You whispered.

He shook his head, and suddenly his lips brushed against your eyebrow. “I could return you to your home next full moon, and you could live your life as though this never happened.”

“Except my job would be gone. Can’t run a school without a teacher.” Your mind was starting to catch up. “And where are we?”

“This is neutral territory, space between our land, the witches, and the vampires. Used for festivals. I’m actually surprised that there isn’t one tonight with a harvest moon. Over there, where you that first hill is where pack territory starts, and extends far beyond the lake.” His voice was low, and his lips touched your neck, causing you to gasp. “You’d never be an outcast again, y/n.”

You froze, mind beginning to race. “How do you know my name?”

“The moon has been full since yesterday,” He replied, stepping back only a little, so he could look you in the eyes. “I was drawn to your scent, but I didn’t want to approach you until I could discern your attachment to that place. You have no family, one friend who forgets you in lieu of her own happiness, and though you’re fond and attached to the children, you’re scorned by their parents. Even if you choose not to be my mate, there could still be a place in the pack for you.” The smirk was long gone, and he looked utterly serious. Sober, and compassionate. Sympathetic.

You forced yourself to turn away, unable to think clearly in his presence. “I would have to become a wolf, wouldn’t I?”

“Eventually,” He replied. “The pack is close, we couldn’t bear to watch one of our own age while we stayed young.”

You turned back, confused. “Werewolves don’t age?”

He shrugged. “Not after reaching peak adulthood. Whenever that may be. Packs move around, new packs are formed. My pack is a younger one. Wolves die, don’t get me wrong, but we don’t age. Makes our bonds deeper, more important.” His fingers trailed along your face, filling you with a warmth that had been missing in your life for a very long time.

“Y-you said I could leave if I don’t like it?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll still check on you after, though. I’ll need to.”

You nodded as well. You figured it would be harder on him for the mating to not go over well. “Um, I guess show me to your territory?”

He suddenly grinned, and instead of being super seductive and alluring, it was adorable and playful. “Okay! I’ll be shifting once the moon is fully over the horizon, and then you can ride on me to the territory. It’s farther than it looks and you’ll be safer riding me than walking. Then the others will know that you’re mine and will stay away.”

“Others? Like, other werewolves?”

“Oh, no, they’re probably already waiting for me to return. No, other creatures. Vamps, witches…spriggans….” His gaze drifted out over the valley, as if just remembering the last creature. He looked back to you and smiled, looking amused. “They’ll be out and about soon, but they know not to come between a wolf and his mate. Too much trouble for everyone involved.”

“Should we at least start walking while we wait for the moon?” You asked.

He nodded, offering you his hand, but this time it was with a playful grin instead of that smirk. It was like he’d done a one-eighty. A completely different side of his personality showing, and yet you were still attracted to him and that adorably boxy grin. This side of his personality felt more…human?

He stopped to pick some of the flowers, being particular about what ones he did, and leaving the stem nice and long. He walked along with a spring in his step. “I think you’ll like it with us. We had a good harvest this year as well, so we’re going to eat well. And we had limited hunts for the past couple years so that there’s more prey this year. We’re going to start the hunt soon, so we can smoke the meat and make sausage.”

“When?”

“Two days time,” He answered, looking toward the lake. “I’m sad that it’s happening while you’re with us.”

“Oh, it’s okay. I could help. My father was a butcher. I used to help in his shop.” You watched his fingers twist the stems together, smiling a little as you recognized what he was doing. You taught the girls in the school how to make flower chains like that earlier that day.

He finished the ring, then added flowers to it to look fuller before turning and placing it on your head. “Pretty.” He skipped ahead a couple steps to stoop and pick more flowers.

You paused beside him as he was fiddling with a rather troublesome stem, watching as the moon slipped fully from the hold of the horizon.

Taehyung looked up at it, face blank before he smiled softly. He placed the flower crown in your hands. It was larger than the one you wore. “Here, put it on my head after I shift.” He unbuttoned his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders.

You looked away, flustered.

He made a pained sound, then you heard a low growl that turned into terrifying howl.

You shivered, shrinking in on yourself until you noticed the flower crown draped across both of your hands.

He made a soft sound, and you turned toward him.

He had gorgeous fur, with a couple darker spots on his face that you figured were freckles in his human form. He was sitting, looking at with his head tilted cutely. Tail wagging. He lowered his head a little.

Which would have been cute if he was almost as tall as you were, sitting down.

“Wow,” You whispered, then let out a breath all at once. “You weren’t kidding about being big enough for me to ride.”

His tail started wagging, and his nose touched your fingertips—cold and wet.

You looked at your hands and remembered the flower crown. You carefully draped it on his lowered head, making sure to hook it around his ears.

He stood up afterward, seeming pleased, and nudged his clothes toward you.

You picked them up, folding them carefully and putting them into the bag that he had been carrying.

He crouched down, using his muzzle to nudge you toward it.

“Right, I’ve only ever ridden horses, so forgive me if I hurt you.”

He yipped playfully, rubbing your hip with his muzzle before settling down to wait for you to climb on.

You carefully hopped up, swinging your leg over and then shifting forward a bit to grab onto his scruff to keep yourself in place. “This is probably the craziest thing I’ve ever done.”

He wiggled, then stood when he felt your grip on his scruff tighten. He slowly started walking, then set off in a trot toward the lake, letting you become accustomed to riding him before picking up his pace.

You could glimpse some bats flying through the air and you could swear you heard a cackle in the distance.

But though some of the bats definitely circled around you, they didn’t come within reach of your wolf’s sharp teeth.

He barked once, when a bat came too low, too close.

The bats quickly flew away.

It was only a few more minutes before he slowed to a trot again and the lake was much closer.

Another wolf came running up, silver fur rippling in the orange light of the moon, it stopped when it spotted you, though. It was shorter than your wolf, but only slightly. It seemed smaller since this wolf seemed to have a slighter figure, elegant or graceful.

Your wolf lay down, and you slipped off even though it scared you.

He gently tugged on the bag with his clothing and you took it off and set it down before turning away.

You turned back when he tapped your shoulder.

The other wolf had shifted as well, wearing pants and a loose shirt as well. He had a mysterious and elegant air to him still. “Taehyung?”

“Jiminie! This is Y/n. She’s my mate!” Your wolf grinned at the other man. “Y/n, this is Jimin, he’s my best friend.”

Jimin’s expression softened, and he smiled a bit. “Hello, y/n. Tae-tae, we were worried about you. You ran off without a word.”

“I followed my nose through the portal, sorry Chim.” He gently guided you closer to him with his hand on your shoulder blade. “Where are the others?”

“Near. I’ll go find them and tell them to come…clothed,” Jimin regarded you with an amused smile, then jogged away.

The flower crown Taehyung had worn as a wolf was hanging around his neck now, and his shirt wasn’t quite buttoned correctly.

“Like I said, my pack is a young one. Last year the older members moved on, just the seven of us stayed behind. It’s the our pack has lived for ages, when a new alpha comes that’s ready for a leadership position, either the rest of the pack splits off or the new alpha leaves with those that wish to follow him. Namjoonie-hyung is a good leader though, and it’s nice having more space to roam.” Taehyung picked up the bag, then smiling at you. “You’ll be a little outnumbered, though.”

“Outnumbered?”

“Well, none of the others have mates just yet. I’m actually a little young to have found mine. Usually we can’t tell until we reach complete maturity. Jungkookie is our youngest, he was a little young to stay behind with our new pack, but we’d been raising him ever since his parents were killed when he was…thirteen winters old? He’s seventeen winters old now. He’s our pup.” He smiled lovingly at the thought of his pack-mates. “But none of the others have found their true mates yet. We’re still sort of establishing ourselves. We work with another pack that’s nearby, trading labor and goods where we can. They’re pacifists, and they’re mostly grateful that we’re between them and the witches and vampires and spriggans. They’re popular for those raising pups. A lot of the packs have their moms and pups stay with them until the pups are old enough to consciously shift in and out of wolf form instead of shifting with their moods. Usually around the time they start to really run around. But a lot of folks stay longer, and I’m sure they would love to have a school!”

You had begun smiling again as he sort of rambled, realizing he was doing his best to make sure you’d want to stay. “Sounds like a nice idea that we can look into some other time.”

He looked at you and relaxed a little more, sort of staring at your face in a soft sort of way. “You really are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You looked to the ground. “You’re pretty handsome yourself, you know.” So handsome that it was enchanting.

“Thank you,” He said, beaming happily when you glanced up at him. Then he turned quickly. “Hyungs! Jungkookie! Come meet my mate!”

You stepped closer to your man, feeling a little shy.

They were all different, and yet handsome. Not nearly as handsome as your man, but in their own ways.

“This is y/n! Y/n, this is Namjoon-hyung, our leader—”

Namjoon dipped his head and you returned the gesture, smiling nervously.

“—Then that one is Seokjinnie-hyung, the short one next to him is Yoongi-hyung—”

Seokjin offered you a kind smile while the other just sort of nodded tersely.

“Hoseokie-hyung is the one next to Jimin, who you met, and hiding behind Seokjinnie-hyung is our little Jungkookie!” Taehyung pointed everyone out.

Hoseok had a bright grin.

Jungkook didn’t seem nervous, calmly watching you from behind the safety of Seokjin’s broad shoulders.

“So, y/n, you’re from which village?” Namjoon asked, and he sounded…kind.

You told him the name of your village, darting a glance up at Taehyung.

Namjoon smiled and nodded. “I remember it. They still celebrate the wolf-harvest?”

“Yes, they do. Tonight, actually,” You answered softly, still glancing to Taehyung for reassurance.

He kissed your temple. “You looked so pretty in the firelight. Ah, I should have bought more treats for everyone. I did get some candied nuts, though!” He pulled out a bag of the nuts from his satchel, tossing them to Jin, who immediately opened the bag and started tasting.

The other boys were quick to gather around him and the bag.

You smiled a little. “You all act like you’re starved for sweets.”

“Well, we’ve had to use our sugar sparingly. Haven’t had the chance to trade with the neighboring pack quite yet,” Namjoon explained.

You looked up at the moon, then at Taehyung. “I just realized I don’t even have clothes.”

He glanced toward the moon as well, looking worried. “I don’t think I could get us both there and back before the moon disappears.”

“Then would you go, at least?” You asked. “I don’t need much.”

You swore his face was red.

“Um…yeah…yeah, I can go…um…could someone show her to…where she’ll be staying?” He seemed flustered.

Jimin nodded, stepping forward. “I can.”

Namjoon was looking at the moon. “I better go with you, Tae, just in case. I can open the portal for a few extra minutes if we need to.”

Your thoughts raced and you came to a conclusion before you could stop yourself. “Actually, just…bring whatever you can? I don’t think I need a month to decide to stay here.”

Taehyung seemed to calm instantly, looking like you hung the stars in the sky. “Really?”

You nodded. “I mean, still no promises on the whole mate thing, but I can find a place here just as easily as I could back there.”

He grinned and nodded. “Okay!”

“In that case, you’ll probably need extra help,” Yoongi said, his voice unexpectedly deep. “While Jimin takes y/n to the cabin Seokjin cleaned out this morning, we can go clean out the house. With all of us, it shouldn’t be that hard to get back before the moon sets.”

“And I’ve got some magic bags from my trade with the witches earlier this evening. Apparently, they can’t get their baneberry to grow as well as ours is.” Seokjin grinned and held up a couple satchels that had been slung over his shoulders. “But we should hurry.”

“Right, let’s go,” Namjoon ordered, discarding his shirt.

You glanced at Taehyung one last time before darting to Jimin’s side.

“Oh, welcome to the pack, y/n,” Namjoon called out.

When you glanced back, six wolves were sprinting across the grassland.

One with a ring of flowers around its neck, dark fur tinted orange in the light of the harvest moon.

Yeah, you made the right choice.

 --

Masterlist

[necrowriter]

monday thing: march 23 (apple trees in september/apple trees in march)

when I started up the new Animal Crossing game on Friday morning I reset the game to get an island with apple trees on it.

it felt important.

we went up to stay by the lake the last week of September.

the drive up to Michigan took most of a day. we had to leave the day before and stay in a motel overnight to make the ferry trip to the island the next day.

I remember sitting in the car, crammed between suitcases and pillows, staring groggily at the rain flecking the windshield. we'd gotten up a little early to make a grocery run before heading out to catch the ferry.

"I'm really glad you're feeling better this time," my dad said abruptly. "you didn't enjoy this trip very much last time."

"oh," I said. "yeah. so am I."

last time was two years ago. two years ago when we'd stopped for lunch before getting on the ferry I broke down crying at the table in front of the waitress and everybody for no reason at all.

this, undeniably, was better. but I spent a lot of time that week thinking, is this as better as it's going to get?

it started raining as we got closer to the island and kept on as we got off the ferry and scrambled across the parking lot into the car. we'd brought towels, since the house we were staying in didn't have any. I wrapped one around myself and shivered the whole time we drove out to the house. when we got there we draped the towels over our heads while we unpacked the car.

I hadn't thought to bring a rain jacket, or my muddy-weather boots. I felt silly for it, but it had been dry and hot hot hot at home for so long that it simply hadn't occurred to me. this was the first time I'd felt cold rain in a long while. after a month of watching the grass turn brown in ninety degree heat, here, suddenly, it really was late September.

the air was cool to breathe and the sound of the lake was always present.

there were apple trees everywhere.

two years ago I had been a few months into trying medication and one of the antidepressants had caused a bad reaction.

sad is better than having panic attacks, not sleeping, feeling constantly on edge and always a little like being about throw up. sad is better than feeling as bad as I ever had in my life. I would take sad, hands down.

still.

it was a different kind of sad, though, this. I wasn't sure what to make of it.

it was a very nice house. there was one big main room with huge windows that looked out over the lake.

I spent a lot of time thinking if I lived here--

but I could never go too far down that train of thought. it felt much to greedy. too ungrateful. alright, so you don't have a place of your own, but you've got a place. how dare you complain about your situation when you know it could be so much worse?

so instead I would think about my cat. it wasn't fair for me to ask for more, but I could want more for her. more space. more sunny places to lie in. not having to live with another cat she didn't get along with.

I'd put a window seat there, I thought. and a bird feeder out on the deck, so she could sit and look out and watch the birds. and a rug there where the sun hits, and her food there and her water there, and--

that was alright.

things felt different there.

on spotty wi-fi that my brother rigged up we followed the just-breaking news: Ukraine scandal, promises of impeachment. like something might be about to change. some days it rained and the waves tossed outside the windows. some days it was clear and cool. out for a drive around the island I borrowed a hoodie from my dad, having packed only t-shirts. all around us were trees turning red and gold, and overflowing with apples.

I sat out on the deck and listened to sea shanties and Stan Rogers. like you know anything about sailing anyway, the voice in my head would tease sometimes when I hummed along, but that was never the point anyway. there's more than one kind of stormy weather.

at home it felt as if nothing had changed. like time had stopped. seasons stretched into each other; the summers seemed longer and the winters warmer every year. I began to lose track of how many medications I'd tried, how many psychiatrist visits and phone conversations, how many times I thought maybe this will be the one, and I'll finally feel better, and I can work and live and feel things like a real person--

it did not all go away at the lake. but the week that we stayed there was a brief slice of something different.

the first Animal Crossing game I played was New Leaf, in college, on the 3DS my brother had given me as a birthday present.

college was hard. a few years away from getting any formal diagnosis of anything, I knew I was struggling but would be hard pressed to explain how. I would not have said I am autistic but I would have said everything is too loud and too much here. I desperately missed home, missed being in a place that felt safe and right and comfortable. in my little virtual town I could make everything just right, and have a place that was familiar no matter where I was.

after I graduated and returned home I visited the town less and less often. needs change.

in college I only wanted to go home. there at the lake, I was surprised to find I did not want to go home.

I am routine-bound. I like things a certain way. I am used to thinking I want to go home almost as soon as I spend any considerable amount of time somewhere else. at the lake I did miss my cats, and my own bed, and my kettle, but still I thought--no, I don't want to go back.

oh god, I thought, watching September rain fall. oh god, I need things to change. I need to be somewhere else.

read enough stories and you start to expect things to play out a certain way. properly. satisfyingly. in a good story, this would have been a turning point. in a good story, when we got back and I called my psychiatrist to say once again, "I don't think this one is working either. can we try something else?" that would have been the one that changed everything.

it was not. there have been more prescriptions since then. there will probably be more still.

it rained on the drive back. when we stopped for gas somewhere past nine o'clock at night, we got out of the car to warm and swampy humidity and I felt my heart sink.

things did not turn around. but sometimes still, on the very bad days, I would stand in the shower and sing

turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain

and like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again

a short, hot fall turned to a warm, gray, bad winter that has brought a much worse spring.

I don't know where things are going, or what will happen. every morning I check the news before getting out of bed, and every morning it's harder to get up at all. things have felt hopeless for a long time, but never more so than now.

but what can you do but carry on?

Friday was the latest gray morning in a row of eleven. rain keeps coming, in thunderstorms with hail and in slow afternoon drizzles. the creek is high and the front yard is a swamp of mud. here at the end of the road everything feels far away and unreal.

there is very little point in saying oh god I need to be somewhere else, but then, there never has been.

so instead I made an island with apple trees. I like to imagine it's on a lake and the air is cool there.

you get away where you can. and you keep going. that's all I know.                                                                                                                                     

[aliceslantern]

Heartlines, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 3

Twelve years ago, Xemnas betrayed the royal court of Radiant Garden to his father, Xehanort. Prince Ienzo flees to another city and begins university in the aftermath, hoping the anonymity will protect him from eager eyes with ill intent. The darkness spilling across the country, as well as an individual from his past, cut short Ienzo's new beginning and bring new conflicts to light. Strained between the desires of his magic and his heart, Ienzo's choice will change him forever.

Modern Fantasy AU, Soulmates, Zemyx. Updates Fridays until it's done.

Chapter summary:  Ienzo begins preparing for university, and has an unexpected run-in with another magic user.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

“See, there, now you look like a respectable young man, and not a hoodlum,” Even said. They’d gone clothes shopping, mostly because nearly all of Ienzo’s things were worn, and he needed clothes for school.

School. He looked at himself in the mirror, the gray sweater vest, dark slacks. This was all so surreal. He felt, again, guilty about the money that was being spent, though Even always assured him they were “provided for” and did not need to worry. “It is nice, to pick what I want to wear, rather than costumes or castaways.” Or illusions.

“I agree wholeheartedly--I never want to wear denim again if I can avoid it.” The way he snarled out the word made Ienzo smile. “Come now. Buck up. Lots to do still, and we don’t want to be late, do we?”

His heart skipped a little. “...I suppose not.”

It was odd to move in daylight, uncomfortable. Ienzo had to consciously remind himself not to cast an illusion, to get used to the world seeing his face. To save his energy. Pedestrians’ eyes slid off of him like he was nothing remarkable, and he hoped dearly he wasn’t. After all, if anyone was looking, likely they’d be looking for a princess . He couldn’t even be sure Saϊx had gotten a good enough look at him in his baggy clothes and hat to really discern the… changes. Even seemed to sense his anxiety and patted him on the small of his back.

They took a streetcar across town to the university. The smell of salt and the sea was stronger here, and when they got off at the station, Ienzo could see it, the thin blue band in the distance. The sight of it evoked memories ( playing with Braig in the waves as Father watched nearby, as Even fretted for his safety ) that Ienzo had to swallow down. “They can truly get wards all the way down to the sea?” he asked instead.

Even adjusted his glasses. “Just to fifty kilometers outside the water--then it becomes a legal issue.” He rolled his eyes.

“I should like to meet that magician.”

“More like a team, I assume, but quite. It’s nothing to be underestimated. You know.” Lowering his voice. “You’re capable of such things on your own.”

“...I’m painfully aware.” He exhaled. “It’s a shame I cannot make myself useful without starting international conflict.”

It was meant to be a joke, but Even’s smile seemed fake.

The university was old, one of the oldest in their country, the rolling lawns well-manicured. Ivy climbed up the stern brick buildings, curling in the dully-colored shingles. There was a fountain in the main courtyard, and pre-season students gathered here, drinking coffee, playing frisbee, flirting. Ienzo felt as though he were observing wild animals in their natural habitat; Even granted him a moment. Finally, he turned away.

Some of the buildings were modern, architecturally impractical with their metal and glass. “Is this giving you nostalgia for your own time at university?” Ienzo asked drolly.

Even wrinkled his nose. “Ah--not quite. Moreso… reminding me of that time.”

Ienzo knew Even had met his father at university--the man hadn’t even known Ansem (then only a noble, not a king) was royal. Apparently he was the only one willing to challenge Ansem’s ideas--hence, the pull between the two. “I’m sorry.”

Even smiled tiredly. “No matter.”

In the cramped registrar, Ienzo used his forged papers to enroll, took a rather unflattering photo for his student ID. Signed up for some classes--slim pickings at this point, he ended up with a rather more eclectic schedule than he would have wished--and this settled, they went to buy books, passing a building labeled as the library on the way. Ienzo had not been to a proper library since-- It almost felt as though his heart were crying out.

Even must have noticed this desire. “I suppose we could take a few moments,” he said instead. “I should like to see the resources here for myself. Text me when you’re ready to move on.”

He was being set free. Unreal. Then again, it wasn’t exactly realistic for Even and Aeleus to hover over everything he did. In an emergency… Ienzo was more than capable of defending himself. So Ienzo wandered.

The library was four floors built into a hill, the first of which had a cafe in the lobby, and a checkout and research desk. Pleather armchairs and small tables were scattered across the space, along with banks of computers. Large, long windows let in a lot of the rosy daylight, with chandeliers compensating the difference. He thought he felt the hairs on his arms rise with a sort of pleasure.

Ienzo took one of the staircases down to the second floor, which comprised of nonfiction. He ran his fingers along the spines absently, just to feel them. Aisles and aisles and aisles of books, which for the majority of his childhood had been his only companions. The thrill of being able to read voraciously again had him near tears.

The next floor had more study space, along with study pods and conference rooms for student gatherings, and a small display for so-called “Zines.” Ienzo was less interested in these at the moment. He went down to the last floor, the only one partially belowground, and there it was.

Fiction.

How else had he gotten through what he did without some kind of escape? Without someone else’s story to comfort him? Even before all this desolation, he’d loved stories.

Then the memories, without  warning-- let her enjoy her book, Even. Fiction instills a sense of empathy.

But she’ll fall behind--

Did you spend your childhood days hovering over calculations?

I… suppose not.

Really, Even, sometimes I think you should invest yourself more in stories.

Ienzo was startled from this reverie by a loud bang , which immediately sent a fizz of adrenaline through him, his magic waking up and prickling under his skin.

Another bang, then a growl, and a man’s voice-- “fucking shit. ”

A growl?

Ienzo moved cautiously towards the noise, gripping the small knife in his pocket. He poked his head around one of the shelving units.

A student had been backed into a corner and was flailing wildly with their bag, attempting to drive away the creature aiming for their chest. A creature black as ink, darkness boiling off of it--

A Heartless? But wasn’t this place supposed to be warded against--

“Help me! Oh god--”

Ienzo couldn’t be sure if the student had seen him or was just crying out. Even would tell him to leave well enough alone. But Ienzo could not in good conscience do that--besides, there was nobody else down in this forgotten corner of the library. He pulled at his magic, letting it warm his skin, and then launched a volley of hard light blades through the Heartless’s back. It was a weak one; it vanished instantly.

The student was still crouched against the wall, breathing heavily. Ienzo could see him more clearly now; his blonde hair must’ve been eclectically styled before all this, but in the ensuing scuffle had gotten mussed. The knee of his jeans was torn, and bloody, and he moved his left arm flinchingly, like it hurt. The terror in his sea-green eyes hadn’t faded, however. “Your hair,” he said breathlessly. “It--it’s glowing.”

Ienzo touched it. Stupid. Now he was going to have to wipe this poor man’s memories. “Are you alright?” he asked instead. “Your knee…”

He looked at it, as though startled to discover the blood. “I’m more worried about my hand. I caught myself with it when that thing threw me.”

He’d already come this far. “Let me take a look at it.”

The boy winced when he took a step forward. “You’re a… magician,” he said.

“Obviously.” He had to fight to stop scowling, reminding himself the man was likely in some kind of shock. He took another few steps forward and offered his hand.

Shakily, he placed his injured one in Ienzo’s. Even without a spell Ienzo could tell it was broken, the blood vessels broken and starting to swell.

“Of course it was my fucking left hand,” the man said, and his voice broke a little. “It’ll probably never be the same--oh mother fucker !” His voice hitched in pain as Ienzo set the bone and healed it with another spell.

“I should’ve warned you that it hurts. Sorry.”

The boy flexed his hand. “Huh.”

“A simple “thank you” would suffice.” Ienzo moved to fix his knee while he was at it.

He blinked, smoothing the hair out of his eyes. “No, I… yeah, totally, thanks, I’m just--” He took a quick breath. “You saved my bacon, man. I’d have been…”

“One with the darkness,” Ienzo said dryly.

He furrowed his brows. “Is that what that thing was? A Heartless?”

“Quite.”

“I thought they were… old wives’ tales.”

“I’m confused too.” He began picking up the boy’s papers, which were spread everywhere, to delay the inevitable. He hated doing this; it always made him feel dirty. The papers weren’t essays, but rather compositions. Music. He stared at it, dazed.

“Oh… I’m a musician,” the boy offered shyly. “I’m a Music Ed major. Which is why I was so freaked out when that thing broke my left hand.”

“A stringed instrument, then?”

He nodded. “Not sure if you’ve ever heard of it--sitar. One way to stand out, I guess.”

Ienzo handed over the papers. “I wasn’t sure how to order them.”

A laugh. “I’m sure I can figure it out.” He offered his now-unbroken hand. “Demyx.”

“What’s that?”

“My name?”

Ienzo blinked. He really should wipe the last fifteen minutes from this man’s memory right now. He seemed the chatty type, which was so not good for this situation. “I’m… Ienzo.” Demyx’s hand was warm, the fingertips rough and callused. “I should… get going. I still have to go buy books and whatnot, and I’m sure you’re busy.” He could still do the spell once he’d turned his back. Simple.

“Wait, wait, wait. Hey.” He frowned. “You just saved my life, dude. At least let me buy you a coffee, or something. Or show you around. You’re new here, right?”

“Well--”

“Please? I’ll feel guilty otherwise.”

He wavered. He’d let go of Demyx’s hand, but he could still feel it in his, the magic under his skin prickling in a way he did not know how to read. Accepting this offer would just make him feel worse about the inevitable oblivion, and would be all the more jarring for this man. “I’m not--”

Demyx sighed. “It’s because of the magic, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re scared I’ll go blabbing all about your secret.”

Ienzo blinked.

He reached into the collar of his t-shirt and brought out a small pendant on a strip of black twine. It was the exact color of his eyes, the shape of a teardrop, curving slightly to the left, as though it had been a circle once, halved now. In this poor lighting, Ienzo could barely see a rune. He wasn’t sure what the character meant, but he didn’t need to know, exactly.

Demyx had magic blood too. “But if you have magic, why didn’t you--?”

His expression hardened a little, and he tucked the charm back under his shirt. “It’s a story for another day,” he said simply. “But I won’t tell anyone, Ienzo.”

“I suppose I should say--thank you.” He swallowed. He was feeling something, but he wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t thought he would ever run into another person like him, however faint and dilute Demyx’s bloodline was, for his hair to still be blonde. Most magicians were… if not in hiding, then snatched up by local governments for use, or… depending on where they were… worse.

He chuckled weakly. “So, coffee?”

“...Sure.” He and Demyx walked in silence back up to the cafe. Demyx got them both matcha lattes, and for a moment they just sat drinking. “...So,” Demyx began at last. “You’re a… freshman, or what?”

“Freshman, technically.” Ienzo wrinkled his nose.

“You don’t look like a naive eighteen-year-old.”

He smiled despite himself. “Not quite. Ah--some family trouble derailed my studies for a while.” “Trouble” was putting it lightly.

Demyx nodded. “Do you know what you want to major in?”

“...You think I would.” He shook his head. “My father wants me to go for the sciences. My heart has always been with literature, or library science, but… likely I’ll just eat my table of crow and go for international relations.” He sipped.

Demyx cocked his head. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why go for something you don’t care about?”

“It’s… not always that simple,” Ienzo said.

“Why not?”

He smothered a flicker of irritation and, he suspected, despair. “My family has… certain expectations of me.”

“So? It’s your life.”

He smiled a little. “It is, but…” He trailed off vaguely, hoping Demyx would draw his own conclusions.

“The pressure?” He nodded. “Yeah, I… know what you mean.” For a second, his expression became pinched, morose, before it resumed its previous cheer. “So what do you do for fun?”

Ienzo laughed despite himself. He’d never had much time for fun. “I suppose this sounds rather pathetic… but mostly I read .”

“What do you like to read?”

Ienzo looked into the mouth of his coffee cup. “Fantasy. Science fiction. Anything with good enough worldbuilding to… spirit me away. Though of course I do love the classics in their turn.”

“So you don’t exactly get out much.”

Ienzo felt vaguely naked. He realized this was one of the first times he was having a conversation with someone his age, and felt a blush heat his cheeks. Before he could brush it away with an illusion, Demyx added,

“Hey, no, I get it. Stuffy strict parents. Bet they’ve been keeping you on a short leash. You look so tense .”

He felt another small laugh leave him. ““Short leash” does not even begin to cover it.”

Demyx smiled. Ienzo felt that unnameable feeling again, prickling in his magic. He was fairly sure Demyx wasn’t spellcasting on him, to cause it. Perhaps he was simply reacting to the magic in the man’s blood? Or else… the way this warm light was hitting his green eyes. Perhaps--

“But you’re in college now,” Demyx asserted. “You get to cut loose, have some fun. Really find yourself, and all that crap, you know?” He leaned forward a little. “Listen, if you need some help, I’m happy to be of assistance.”

“What, you’re a party animal?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not really , but… well. I’ve got friends who’d be more than happy to show you how to have a good time.”

Friends. Plural. Ienzo again felt that flash of despair, but kept his face neutral. Would Even ever allow him to go to a party, a nightclub? Would it be too dangerous?

He was here to live a normal life.

Ienzo nodded once. “I’d be willing to give it a try.”

Demyx’s smile sent another current through him. “Awesome.”

---

After this Demyx insisted on showing Ienzo around campus. Ienzo could have easily gotten a campus map, but it was a somewhat useful experience. “Do not ever eat at the Caf if you can avoid it,” he whispered theatrically. “The only edible thing they’ve got there are the chicken fingers, and that’s ‘cause they come frozen in big bags. None of the people there can pass a ServSafe test. My friend Lea worked there for all of ten minutes. Disaster. ”

“Where should I eat, then?” Ienzo asked, amused.

“Most of the cafes have decent soup and sandwiches and shit. The only good place that has anything hot is the Mount.” He gestured vaguely towards some building in the distance. “Every other Thursday they have salmon. Though if you want it you have to be prepared to wait a while. It is to die for.”

“That, or you’re starved of a good meal,” Ienzo said.

“Same diff,” Demyx said, with a shrug. “Anyone who’s smart just buys groceries and cooks for themselves.”

“Sounds like you’ve been here a while.”

Again, that pang of pain on his face, quickly covered up. “This is my last year. After this… I mean, who fucking knows.”

“You said you’re Music Ed. Can’t you follow it up with a Master’s?”

A wry chuckle. “I’m not made of money. Gotta pay the first one off first, you know?”

“...Indeed,” Ienzo said, because he did not know how else to follow that up.

Demyx brought him back to the library. “Hey, give me your phone,” he said.

“What for?”

His expression became a little sly. “You know, Ienzo, when someone tries to give you their number, you’re supposed to just roll with it.”

His heart started a little, and thoughtlessly, he complied.

“...Sweet. Hey, text me any time, alright? I still kind of owe you one.” He winked.

“...Sure,” Ienzo said dazedly.

Before he could really comprehend this, though, he saw Even striding towards him, looking as though he had smelled something sour. “ There you are,” he said. “Why haven’t you answered my calls?” Then he saw Demyx, taking him in with something like disappointment.

“He offered to show me around campus, and I took the invitation,” Ienzo said. “Demyx, this is my father, Even.” It had once felt unnatural to refer to the man as such; in the beginning it had functioned as a cover story. Now, given that he’d raised Ienzo far longer than Ansem had, it was simply truth.

“Nice to meet you,” Demyx said, sticking out his hand.

“...Pleasure,” Even said coolly. “Well, Ienzo, it’s going to be dark soon. We should finish our affairs here and get going.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you around,” Demyx said. “Later.” He saluted once and ran off.

Even scoffed. “Well, I suppose it was nice of him to do that for you. Though that hair is… something.”

“You said yourself “college students do torrid things to their hair.””

“...I know.” He wrinkled his nose. Then, lowering his voice. “Just… be careful who you become friends with, yes?”

“...Quite.”

[hqolympia]

chicago’s very own 𝐎𝐋𝐘𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄 has been spotted on madison avenue driving a chevrolet corvette z06 , welcome ! your resemblance to 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒏 is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your 𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒅 birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 , but being 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒆 might help you . i think being a 𝒈𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒊 explains that .  3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 ,  𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 & 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 . 

hi ,  peachy !  my  name’s  char  &  that  smile  of  yours  is  making  my  heart  melt !  🥺 allow  me  to  introduce  u  to  my  fren  over  here !

full name :  olympia  giselle  hargrove

nickname :  oly ,  pia  (tho, the latter one is reserved for her grandmother)

date of birth :  may  22nd , 1997  (23) 

birth place :  chicago , il

sexual orientation : pansexual

occupation :  competitive diver

labels :  the  crimson  /  the  icarian

𝐢.  𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

one :  picture a little girl with bright blue eyes, pigtails bouncing with every step she takes as a grin makes its way upon her face . she seems happy ---- and in the moment she truly is, despite the fact that the people she needs the most, her parents, are a few thousand miles away and aren’t here to see olympia say her first words or take her first step. she is too young to understand --- honestly, too young to even think about the reasons why they left her.

two :  she is a little bit older now, a full-on eleven years old --- taller, thinner and, most importantly, rowdier. she has quite a few friends, although they all seem to be having picnics with their barbie dolls and sleepovers dedicated to watching princess movies whereas olympia wants to run around and jump all over the place. the girls just don’t seem to match her energy, the boys aren’t exactly welcoming towards her, having this stupid, “ew, but you’re a girl!” mindset. she just wants to find something for herself, something that will keep her interested for longer than three hours ---- that something turned out to be diving.

three :  it’s a few years later, and now she’s standing at the 10m platform. it’s her last dive, and she needs to get it exactly right to win the gold medal. olympia would honestly be lying if she said her legs weren’t shaking because of how nervous she was --- but there’s a camera right in front of her face, therefore she has to keep it together. she turns around, takes one last breath, and then she’s up in the air. fifteen seconds later she’s fully submerged into water ----- and fifteen minutes later she has tears coming out of her eyes. she did it. she’s the world champion now.

four : it’s exactly a year later, and a lot has changed. olympia finds herself in the sunny city of rio de janeiro where she’s come to compete in her first olympic games --- which is exactly what she’s always been meant to do, judging by the name her parents gave her. except this time she’s nervous for an entirely different reason --- she’s now a successful athlete, this season’s leader and the one to watch out for. she’s the reigning world champion, for god’s sake, so she has to prove every single person out there she didn’t win on an accident. a lot of things seem to be going wrong; from oly flubbing her first dive to her coach coming up to her before her final one to say that her parents have showed up at the arena. eventually she finds herself in the same exact position as she did back in Russia ---- her palms are sweating, her legs are shaking, but there’s no turning back. the only way is down, so she has to dive one way or another. a jump, two somersaults, a twist ----- she’s back in the pool, and as she immediately drowns in the roar coming from the audience, tears start coming out of her eyes. she did it again. she’s lived up to her name.

five :  ever since she got back home, her life has completely changed. interview after interview, a campaign after a photoshoot, an event after the other ---- all of that mixed in with her training routine has it ups and downs. her schedule keeps her busy yet there’s something missing. she’s looking everywhere in the hopes of finding that missing piece, and at some point she feels like she’s found it in the face of a stranger who ends up in her bed that night. it brings her a sense of serenity, that lasts a few weeks ---- but olympia knows it’s all too good to be true, and it’s proven to be that way as she stumbles upon a certain page on a random night. it doesn’t seem real at first, but when she spots a tattoo on the girl’s ribcage, a realization hits her ---- she’s plastered all over porn sites, and that particular video featuring her has generated a few million views in a span of two months. she doesn’t remember the night at first due to her drunken state, but she recognizes her bedroom, particularly a personalized louis vuitton gym bag sitting in the corner. details like that help her piece the night together, and from that point on there’s nothing but fear of it all coming out and ruining her career.

𝐢𝐢.  𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀

basically ! this intro is all over the place so here are some bullet points to get u up to speed !

oly was born in chicago but grew up and spent most of her time in toronto with her grandmother, since her parents were setting up their business overseas. they were coming by to visit her maybe once or twice a year, so she isn’t as close with them.

she is a competitive diver (a quite decorated one bc .... why wouldn’t she be 🥺🥺🥺)  representing canada bc of her upbringing despite the fact that she now lives in new york (she moved here in 2017, after the rio olympics)

astrology wise, she is a gemini sun cancer rising .... so sorry to all of u for this

her placements mean that she is quite creative, capricious and may appear manic sometimes --- but really she is just downright STUPID bc she is always trying to get her ass into trouble. like, you can’t even imagine how many times her coach had to drag her out of the mess she got herself into ... 

she is very much about having sympathy for others and helping them and whatnot, but unbeknownst to her, these tendencies can be explained by the “keep your friends close and your enemies closer” mindset. she has to keep her act straight, so getting onto someone’s bad side isn’t in the cards for her --- god knows what kind of shit she may end up in now that she’s a part of ... this world of glamour and fame, u kno?

olympia also really loves to talk, preach, argue --- just do whatever to be heard

in her free time (the time when she doesn’t feel like wreaking havoc tbh) she usually cooks deserts (vegan banana pudding? blackberry sorbet? key lime cheesecake? u want it, u got it!), reads books (painted veil by somerset is her ultimate FAV) and ... drives around town whilst listening to some cheesy music 🥺 

other than that her usual routine consists of training, clubbing and messing shit up due to the chaotic stupid personality !

𝐢𝐢𝐢.  𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

i promise this intro won’t be that long ... after this ! 🤠🤠🤠these are just the few ideas i can get off the top of my head so ... there’s always room for brainstorming ! :-)

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐃 / close friends --- everybody needs some sort of a support system in their life, and oly is no exception to this rule. she’s never really had a big family, therefore she’s always surrounded herself with people in the hopes of filling the empty space in her heart. and honestly, if it wasn’t for these people, she would’ve quit diving right after winning the olympics, moved to the suburbs of toronto and just lived a quiet life --- but the pride for her friends just gives her enough motivation to move further and become better.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄 / best friend --- we all have that someone who’s impossibly close to us; who we cannot imagine our lives without. the bond is so crucial to them both parties that it feels as if there’s never been a moment without each other. the general public and tabloids, though, feel as if there’s more going on and will not stop nagging them about the details.

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐃 / friends drifted apart / exes --- as weird as it is, oly is very much a yolo person. in addition to that, she has a ton of love and devotion for every single person she’s ever had in her life no matter what happened between them or what caused them to drift apart. though, her ever-changing nature is known to drive people away which, tbh, happens to be a blessing and a curse -- it helps oly sort of “filter” through her circle of friends, but then again, if someone enters her life, they leave and undeniable impact on it. therefore, she misses whoever left her life more than they could ever imagine.

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 / rival (?) --- olympia isn’t perfect in any way, shape or form. she knows that, but most importantly, the public knows that and will not stop critiquing every little thing that she does. this person, though, is the exact opposite - the public LOVES them to the point where even olympia’s parents would probably say things like “ugh, i wish you could be more like that!”. this makes the relationship between the two quite ... strained. because as much as olympia may love them as a person, there’s always this lingering sense of jealousy that just enables her petty side.

𝐢𝐯. 𝐎𝐎𝐂

ok so ! if you’ve reached this part of my intro ... i cannot thank u enough bc this ?? this is long as HECK but i wanted to actually try and describe the kind of muse i envision in my head. i love u all a latte & if u feel like plotting w/ my dumb kid, leave a like on this post or feel free to mssg me on discord under futurenostalgias#1692 🤠sidenote tho: i’ll probably get to the mssgs in a few hours seeing as i have a few assignments to complete and i’m sorta braindead ... love u , cannot wait to write w/ u ! xoxo ur friendly neighborhood trash char  

[listenbang]

THE CYMBAL CRASHING CLOUDS

Four years ago today, I started this blog. The blog’s name came from the first track of The Cymbal Crashing Clouds, a full-length solo record by Nashville songwriter and producer Ben Shive. I didn’t know it at the time, but the day I created Listen! was Ben Shive’s birthday! And so I think it would be neat and even appropriate to write today about one of my favorite albums.

1. Listen! 2. EGBDF 3. Sorry, But I'm Yours 4. Someone Is Asking 5. The Fall 6. Shooting the Moon 7. She's Invincible 8. The Fire Pit 9. Your Secret Smile 10. A Last Time for Everything

I remember when The Cymbal Crashing Clouds was released. It was late Summer / early Autumn of 2011, around this time of year seven years ago. I remember that time in my life to be a blur. I was learning a lot. A lot about the gospel. A lot about God. His Holiness, His love. A love so profound that it would chase me to the ends of the world. I was realizing, too, that I was a very weak and needy person (I guess I’m still realizing that). 

I had known of Ben Shive as a writer and producer (Andrew Peterson, Sara Groves) for a while, but had only just discovered his solo work on The Ill-Tempered Klavier, his 2008 release. I loved what I heard there and hoped for more. I remember the weeks leading up to the release of The Cymbal Crashing Clouds. I remember the expectation I felt. I remember my jaw dropping as I heard snippets of the record. In fact, I don’t remember a time where I was more keenly anticipating the release of a record. And my expectations were met and exceeded the night I got the album and listened through it for the first time. I felt then — and feel it even stronger now — The Cymbal Crashing Clouds is a quintessential record.

“Listen!” is the first track on the record (the song this blog is named after!). It opens with dueling train whistles. The train whistles actually sound throughout, as the song’s base (and um, it’s genius…). A shimmering opener, “Listen!” sets the tone for the rest of the record. Vibrant and strong. Brilliant in lyric and composition. The song tells of an encounter with the grandeur of God. It is inspired by Scripture, like many of the songs on CCC. I’ve written more about this song in another post. 

THE LYRICS

OK, let me tell you about Ben Shive’s lyric writing. It is stunning. Wonderful. Captivating. The Cymbal Crashing Clouds is a thematic album, where unconscious, inanimate objects speak eternal truths. A train, a bust of Beethoven, a Nintendo console, the Fall leaves, and a fire pit are just a few of the characters. And they all tell of the God who stepped into our sin-broken world, to bring us truth and grace.

There’s a trend in songs coming out of the church; it’s a trend that’s been gaining traction for the last decade or so. Vagueness. And along with that, irrelevance. Because most of the time, the writers of these songs aren’t even sure what they’re writing about. In CCC I’m not hearing vagueness. Instead, it seems the more I listen, that each song has a message that is intentionally hiding behind a story, an image, a character. This is the way of a parable. But to those looking for truth, the meaning will find them. That’s the beauty of a parable.

For instance, “EGBDF” is a song about Ben’s struggle as a boy to please his piano teacher, only to get fired in the end. And how later on, music came alive for him in a surprising way upon discovering his father’s record collection. That’s the basic drift of the song, and it’s already a great song. But when you find out that the frowning Beethoven bust in the piano teacher’s living room is symbolic of Moses, and the frown of God’s holy law on our imperfection, the song opens to a new dimension, and so beautifully describes the gospel and the work of grace in the heart. I really like the metaphor the second verse makes to describe what God’s holiness requires of us, and how we fall far short:

Mrs. H was unimpressed Though I had practiced religiously Never mind that I was practicing To master Super Mario 3 And soon she put my memory behind her And fired me with the biting reminder that Every good boy does fine

Ben has the ability to paint with his words. Every time I hear “Someone is Asking,” I clearly, vividly see the scene the lyrics are portraying, and I wish the scene could transform into a watercolor painting. But I don’t know if a painting would do justice to the imagery this song creates in my mind. Added to that, the song is a brilliant sweeping celebration of Christ and his love for the church. I’m wowed every time I hear it. Also, I love that it’s pretty much a modern jazz standard. 

The more I listen to these songs, the more I realize the mastery behind their writing. I feel like there’s much more to them than my dull mind can grasp. “A Last Time for Everything” is a heartbreaking and glorious song that Ben wrote for his friend Emmet, who was dying of cancer. Hymn-like, it alludes to the finished work of Christ on our behalf. Ben got to sing it for Emmet before he died. 

You're gonna wake up soon In your lonely room To the sound of a singing bird Throw the curtain back To find your bag's already packed And the cab is at the curb Then like a bad dream Unreal in the morning light So will the world seem When you see it in the mirror for the last time

THE MUSIC

The music of The Cymbal Crashing Clouds is diverse. It draws from pop, rock, jazz, and soul traditions. It’s nostalgic. It reminds me in a way of the sound of Fleet Foxes, who have at times limited their instrumentation and style to a certain musical era or “world,” you might say. And it seems Ben has done a similar thing: set creative rules to go by in his delivery and production of CCC. This almost seems harder to do than trying to sound “modern” and “hip.” But Ben does this in such a natural way. And somehow, the constraining only broadens the creative horizon of the record! There are unapologetic references to the Beatles and the Beach Boys throughout the album — both musically and lyrically. “Your Secret Smile” is about Brian Wilson and the story of an unfinished record called Smile. It wasn’t until listening to the Smile sessions afterward, that I realized how much of an influence those songs were on Ben Shive’s music. 

One thing that Ben gets a lot of requests for is his orchestral arrangement, and there are amazing string arrangements throughout this record. I’m a sucker for seventies-swelling string whimsy, so the string section toward the end of “Listen!” always gets me!! Every track on the album is so well choreographed. The interwoven strings, I would say, are the “cherry on top.”

Looking back, I feel like the reception of this record was not what it should have been; it’s a bit disappointing. And it mystifies me. What happened to The Cymbal Crashing Clouds? Why was it not more eagerly received and appreciated? Especially by the church, where eyes and ears are said to be opened to true beauty. Was it its musical “indieness”? Its lyrical intricacy? Or perhaps it was the owl-man on the front, I don’t know. But I do know there’s good news in these songs, and beauty for those who have ears to hear.

Yesterday I was driving through town and listening to “The Fall” —

The summer sun, once young and wild, Is a little wiser and his eyes are tired; He nods his head mid-afternoon And then he’s off to bed.

So while the days are ripe and sweet We heap them up in baskets at our feet And do our best to use them well, Cause they won’t last.

Leaves are turning everywhere; the days are getting shorter. It’s a beautiful time of year. Yesterday, Ben Shive’s “The Fall” reminded me of something I believe God is telling us through this season: That the year is coming to a close, and so are our lives. The year speeds by, and ends with a sigh, just like a lifetime. O Lord, teach us to number our days. By the way, “The Fall” is one of the most brilliant songs of all time…

Since its release in 2011, The Cymbal Crashing Clouds has probably become my most played album. I always get something new from it. Every time. And it’s plain fun to listen to as well. This album has become the soundtrack for many precious memories in my life. Every time I hear it, I’m filled with gratitude for this collection of songs and for Ben Shive, in opening up and letting us hear them. And I’m still hoping that Ben lets us hear more, because I know there’s more…

As the needle deciphered the song from the vinyl, I went stumbling down halls ever spiraling– Drawn to the center, the strings all ascending, A long chord decaying, a song in a circle unending...

A train passes our house daily. It has the exact same whistle as the one that plays at the beginning of Ben Shive’s album. I hear it most distinctly in the mornings, as it passes through the sleepy countryside and rings its rousing dissonant cry. Now every time I hear it, I hear the cymbal crashing clouds. And I’m reminded that the God of history — the God of the universe — is calling out to me. That in each day, even in the mundane things, there can be an encounter with his majesty. My response, then, is that of the boy awakened in the night by the voice of God — “Here am I.”

The Cymbal Crashing Clouds can be found (at least for now) at the Rabbit Room, and I would strongly (even forcibly) suggest you go there and get it! You won’t regret it! And while you’re at it, you can get the book — did I mention that he wrote a book with the same name‽ Countless times I’ve reread that fascinating little book. And I’ve always gone away inspired (and that’s where I got those awesome drawings from).

[virgogh-away]

It’s Bullshit - Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: You say Steve’s least favorite word and try to make him feel better after.

A/N: I’m obsessed with the bullshit scene from season 2 and had to write something about it so here this is!!

You’ve never been the biggest fan of parties. But, living in a small town like Hawkins, it’s nearly the only fun thing to do on a Friday night. And, since you’re the lucky girl who gets to call Steve Harrington her boyfriend, you almost feel an obligation to show up at these social gatherings. You have a reputation to keep up and if getting tipsy and talking to people you don’t like is what that requires then you’ll do it.

So, when you find yourself at Carol’s house for one of her infamous parties, you roll your eyes and prepare to socialize. You’ve hated Carol (and Tommy by association) for a long time, but Steve was able to get in your good graces and charm you into going on a date with him. Which led to you currently tucked under his arm and pulling him through the house to the kitchen.

Whenever you came across a scene like this, alcohol strewn everywhere and a bowl of some mysterious liquid on the counter, you heard your mom telling you to, “Never take a drink from a stranger and always keep your cup with you.” Despite knowing that she worried too much, you still took her words to heart and poured your own rum and coke.

“You want anything?” you asked Steve as you took a sip from your solo cup. You felt like a stereotypical teen from one of those ridiculous movies you loved and wondered which character you’d be. Sure, you were dating the jock, but you were no Ally Sheedy.

“Nah, I’m driving tonight,” he said as he pulled you closer by your hips, placing a kiss on your forehead. You smiled up at him and kissed his nose, realizing how lovey-dovey and gross you would look to your classmates but not caring in the slightest. They could choke on it.

You pulled on his hand and brought him into the heart of the party: the living room. Too many people were packed in the room, and conversations blurred together, but you made a beeline toward Jonathan and Nancy, who were at the party for some reason. You looked back at Steve to make sure he was okay with it and he smiled back at you, so you trudged on toward the couple.

“Nance! What’s up? How’s the twerp?” you asked as you gave the Wheeler girl a hug and Jonathan and Steve did that weird bro handshake that every guy knew.

“Oh, nothing much. Jon and I were just bored and decided to come here. Oh geez, and Mike, he’s a handful,” you laughed in response, thinking about the party and the new addition to the group, Jane. Her and Mike clearly had something going on but never wanted to talk about it, especially to you older kids, “He keeps denying his relationship with Jane. They’re adorable together, I won’t lie, but they’re definitely dating.”

“I can’t believe he still acts like nothing's happening there. It’s such bullshit!” you nearly yelled in response and watched as Nancy’s eyes widened and Steve went still. You immediately recognized that something went wrong, and it was obviously something you said. But what?

You took another sip as you analyzed what you last said and nearly punched yourself when you realized: bullshit. You weren’t there for the blowout that Nancy had last Halloween, but you had heard about it from Steve. He vented about it to you for weeks after it happened, he had even drunkenly cried about it once, so you should’ve known why he was so stiff beside you.

And, now that you thought about it, Steve’s odd behavior at every party you ever went to made perfect sense. He was worried that the same thing that happened with Nancy would happen with you. So, he kept you close by at all times, never had a sip of anything other than water, and got kind of weird when you said certain phrases, like bullshit. God, you were such an idiot.

“Uh, we gotta split. See you guys on Monday!” you said, excusing both of you and pulling Steve to the spare bedroom. Fortunately, since you were friends with Carol in elementary school, you knew this place pretty well and could navigate it with your eyes closed.

When you arrived at your destination, knocked on the door and didn’t get a moan in response, you shoved in and plopped both you and Steve on the bed. You pulled your legs up on the bed, crossing them and facing your boyfriend.

“Look, I’m sorry about that,” Steve said as he grabbed your hand and prepared to go into one of his long-winded speeches. You wouldn’t let him do that though, since what just happened was really all your fault.

“Hey, no, you aren’t allowed to apologize for that. What just happened is on me, I was careless and didn’t realize what I was saying,” you said as you brought his hand up to your lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. You hated that you were the source of his nervous emotions; unsure of your relationship and bringing back awful memories of the past. You just wanted to kiss him forever and cheer him up in every way that you could.

“No, no, it’s on me for still letting that shit get to me. Me and Nancy didn’t work out and it ended really badly but we’re not like that. We’re stronger,” Steve said as he kissed your hand in response. God, you loved this kid.

Holy shit, you loved him. You had loved people before, your family and siblings, but when it came to romantic flings you had never been a part of anything as serious as your relationship with Steve. You were so excited about your epiphany that you wanted to yell it from the rooftops. Or just tell everyone at the party (in your buzzed state that sounded like the perfect idea).

You tackled Steve to the pillows and straddled him, attacking his face with kisses and preparing yourself for the big reveal, something you assumed he would be surprised by. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t realized sooner. You could be such an idiot sometimes.

“I know you’re worried about this ending like your thing with Nancy did, but it won’t. I promise. I love you, okay? I would never let you down like that,” you said as you continued to litter kisses all over his face, focusing on his cheeks and venturing down to his jaw (because you knew he had a thing for that). You wished he would say something already so you would stop feeling like this. You knew he wouldn’t outright reject you, but what if he didn’t feel the same way you did?

“Y-you love me?” Steve asked as he sat up, keeping you comfortably sat in his lap.

“Yeah, I think I really do,” you said, looking past him at the abstract painting on the wall. The intensity in his gaze right now was unreal and extremely hard for you to match. You couldn’t bring yourself to hold eye contact with him.

“Geez, that’s a relief,” Steve told you as he held your face, forcing you to look into his eyes. The only thing you saw in them was adoration which made you smile back at him. If that meant what you thought it did then this might end up being the best moment of your life to date.

“Does that mean…”

“I love you too, Y/N. I have for a while. I just…I never had the guts to say it.”

“Good thing you got me then, yeah? I can be the strong one for both of us,” you said as you kissed him, refusing to pull apart until you could feel the ache in your lungs. This feeling was the best part of kissing anyone. Sure, the initial connection of lips was nice, but it was the very end. The racing of heartbeats, deep intake of breath, somewhat incessant panting; you lived for it. And Steve’s unreal kissing made you feel it even deeper than usual.

“I think I’m gonna go tell everyone,” you said after you both caught your breath. You were a bit more sobered up now, but you still felt an urge to make sure everyone knew what had just gone down.

Before allowing Steve to respond to you, or stop you in your tracks, you dashed out the door and toward the living room. Where something awful had happened just a few minutes ago, but now something super amazing would be announced and you were sure everyone would love to know.

“Attention,” you shouted into your cupped hands. The speakers stopped pumping music and you almost went back on your plans. Almost, “I just thought everyone should know that I love Steve Harrington and he loves me!”

After a few seconds of silence, the room burst into wild applause and whooping. Even though you both lacked excitement for these things and your school in general, people loved you. They rooted for the two of you and hearing that you loved each other proved to some that love was real.

You felt a tug on your hand and turned to your boyfriend, knowing that he would be the only one to grab you here. Anybody else would know that they’d have to face a pissed Steve and didn’t want to deal with the trouble.

“Hey babe! Everybody knows now!” you said cheerfully, latching your arms around his neck and wanting to finally start partying. You both deserved to let loose after all the weird stuff that never seemed to stop coming here.

He wrapped his arms around your waist in return, pulling you close, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, babe.”

You didn’t know much about love, or relationships at all, really. But you knew that you were in love with Steve and would continue to be for as long as he would let you. And that was definitely not bullshit.

[jack-jupiter]

I was twenty, the first time I hurt someone. I was coming out of the mall, clutching a bag of comicbooks, when I heard my least favorite word thrown at me, like a knive in my back. “Psh. Fruitcake.” I stopped on the sidewalk, but I didn’t dare turn around. I hate using the word “thug”. As a black man, it hurts my spirit. The word crawls, mettallic, over my skin. It gives me goosebumps. But that’s what they were. Not quite “fresh” from high school, but not yet seasoned in life. Twenty year olds, like me, but they wore the clothes of the social elite, the watchdogs of performative masculinity. They noticed that I had froze. And just when I was about to continue on and cross, the same voice cackled. “Nigga, I bet when you shit, fruit loops come out!” My ears began to ring. I became hot. In my homosexual hyperviligance, I tuned into my surroundings. There were two families sitting at nearby tables, watching, not intervening. And why would they? Again, I froze. I was crushing the binding to my new purchases. Anger feels like sleeper pods that were planted throughout your body, suddenly all coming alive, at once. I was losing control of myself. So what did I do? I disassociated. I hovered over my body, feeling nothing, dreaming, and in that dream-like haze, I watched my body turn around.... "What?” he shouted. I don’t remember how I got on top of him. In my astral state, it took me a while to register what was truly going on. But I was breaking his jaw open with the edge of fist, until finally it shattered into three pieces. I don’t know if it was shock that kept his friend at bay, but when my body had finished mashing his disfigured face into spittle, I kept his head forced on the cement with my wet hand and went to town on his ribs -- pounding, pounding, pounding -- waiting for something to break beneath me, to shatter, when the security guard pulled me off. That’s when I learned about the three pieces. He would have to get his jaw wired back together, just like my aunt had. The security guard was talking and I was compliant, but I was still dreaming, wondering if this made me as bad as my uncle, because the feeling of bones breaking beneath my knuckles felt too good. It was too satisfying. I had never harmed someone like that in my life. I was the nice child. The responsible child. The artist.  My dad paid whatever was on the guard’s slip, and eerily, he seemed happy about it, like I had finally made a man out of myself. My whole childhood, I wasn’t allowed to cry. I couldn’t sing Whitney Houston songs without changing the pronouns. And when I came out, he tried to buy me a sex worker, to prove it was “just a phase”. (I was still a teenager.) So when even that proved futile, he resigned himself to the same sentence, the only damn sentence he would say if my homosexuality came up: “If you were really gay, you wouldn’t need my approval....”  Just like that, I was crucified, and now here he was, jolly that I’d broken some kid’s jaw in three pieces. My father wasn’t a stranger to domestic abuse, just like my uncle. He’d struck my stepmother while she was still pregnant, and it wasn’t really that long ago. It made washing the blood off my knuckles feel weird, like I had joined some ancestral mass karma; but I quickly withdrew back to my apartment, back to dreaming. But then, a few years later, someone turned their back on me. I turned them around, forcing them to face me, then after a breath, I punched them in the mouth. I found out that though I had resigned myself to feeling unreal, my violent alter-ego deeply resented being ignored. I didn’t dislodge any teeth, to my comfort and dismay, but I was satisfied. They knew never to ignore me again. I was a rational person. It’s not like I go around pummeling strangers for nothing. I was just making things fair. It wasn’t until I was in my late twenties that I knew I had a problem. I was uncovering all my childhood trauma, and truly unearthing how deeply my childhood emotional neglect had affected my life. I had never had sex with a man. I could count how many men I’d kissed on one hand. I had slept through my own urges, because I didn’t trust anyone with my body. I found myself fantasizing about Paul, wishing to return to simpler times where my sexuality wasn’t so confusing. But the older I got, the more complex I discovered my psyche was. And what was worse, I was getting triggered everywhere I went. I was triggered when people ignored me. I was triggered when men tried to touch me. I was triggered by police brutality. I was triggered by homophobia. I was triggered by any racial discussions, and it was frightening how much rage ebbed beneath my disassociative reflex. When words would crawl over my skin, I could feel my alter-ego being aroused, waiting. So I created a room inside my mind, locked him inside, and became a “nice person” again. I nurtured my relationships, ignored my impulses, and steadied rocked boats like my life depended on it. I had grown wise among my peers for my self-control, but the more I ignored the anger writhing in that room, the more I lost my sense of self. I didn’t know that our anger provided clarity to definitively set boundaries, or that anger gave one agency to make changes in one’s life. I was too frightened to release my alter-ego. I feared what my new family of friends would think. It felt more righteous to suppress such raw, unpleasant emotions in favor of harmonizing the social equilibrium. But it did not help. The rage found its escape from behind my eyes. My gaze became hypnotic and arresting. “It’s like you’re looking into my soul,” they would say. But what I was looking for, were threats. I was projecting the very intensity that I was trying to mask. But if I wasn’t hypervigilant, someone might rouse the other me. So I pre-emptively scanned and scrutinized everyone in my aura, to protect them -- and myself -- from my own other self. When taking over my eyes didn’t work, I started getting tremors and digestive problems. It was as if there was a force inside, thrashing to get out, and sometimes I would forget the cause and wonder why. I tried to fix it with vitamins and exercise. I would soak in epsom salt tanks and get massages. But no matter what I did, everyone would still ask, “Why so tense? You’re usually so laidback.” And that was the secret to my laidback effervescence: it was devoid of polarity. My personality was a half-truth. But even with my alter-ego locked up in my body, there were still coincidences. The co-worker who took my parking spot would suddenly become ill. The restaurant with the racist waitress was forced to close down. Once, while a friend and I were walking toward a supermarket, in the dark, my shoulder collided with someone leaving. “Watch where yer goin’!” he shouted as he continued toward the parking lot. I took a deep breath and kept walking, and before my friend could make a snide comment, the man behind me had doubled over. He was vomiting. My friends began to catch on that bad things happen to people who mess with me, and honestly, I liked the rush. My shadow was protecting me, even within the confines of my mental prison. I had developed a spunky but righteously passive persona, so it gave me a newfound feeling of dignity. Until, I had an argument with my uncle, about Trump, on the internet. I let myself get upset but concluded that I should just block him. What should I expect from my white uncle? When I saw him next, I righteously apologized, but then we argued again, about the US colonizing Mexican land. I decided I just can’t talk about politics with my uncle. It would just end badly. Next time I saw him, I’d just tailor the conversation away from any landmines. But... I never saw him again. He died of a heart attack. To this day, I don’t believe I killed my uncle, but the thought frightened me beneath my bones. I wasn’t close to my uncle, but I still had regrets about our last encounter. I wished that things were different.  It wasn’t until my grandma died that I really became afraid. I used to be my grandmother’s favorite, but I had put some distance between us. I was upset as an adult by how abusive and one-sided our relationship was. So I moved to Oakland and rarely visited. When she called for Thanksgiving, I didn’t call her back. I had gone to the woods, alone. Holidays brought up a lot of trauma for me, so I thought I was practicing self-care by putting myself first.... But Grandma ended up in the hospital, and later died that Christmas. I never got a chance to apologize. She was in a coma throughout her stay at the hospital. After her death, my tremors got worse. My panic attacks became more frequent, forcing me to find private corners to cry in. With my new awareness around mortality, I thought my body was failing me. I thought I was going to die. In a panic, I’d jog around my block, just to make sure my heart kept pumping. I could feel something thrashing inside of me but I’d forgotten what it was. I thought I was alone. So when I turned my jog into a brisk walk, I looked up at the sky, and I cursed God. I demanded answers. While I was walking in the city’s darkness, cursing under my breath, people would walk behind me, friends laughing and making jokes, interrupting my concentration. “Would y’all shut up,” I hissed silently. Then I heard a loud smack, and the rustling of cardboard. They had dropped their box of donuts all over the sidewalk. I kept walking. “So I’m not allowed to get angry, huh?” I seethed toward the night’s sky. “I’m just not allowed to feel anything?” Suddenly, a car’s tire bursted on the other side of the road. The pop echoed through the street like a gunshot. I flinched, then clenched my fists. It was unfair. What kind of life was this, if I’m not allowed to feel anything? I returned to my car, and I broke the handle... Now, I’d had enough. I stormed back down the street, re-entering the night. I was going to get answers. I shouted at the sky angrily. “And tell me in a way that I can understand!” I demanded. “Why is my life so terrible?” What happened next, I can’t really explain. It happened so fast, and there was no threshold for the event, just the clear blue streak of recognition. In that moment, I saw myself. The other me.... I was angry. But I was beautiful. And in that moment, for the first time in years, I felt whole. The door to the room must have come open, for within my psyche, I was confronted with the truth of who I was; and though it was wild, it was also comforting. His eyes were direct and piercing, just like mine. I knew that if I stared too long, I would be hypnotized, that eventually I would be able to see into his world, a world of vengeance and magic. Within him was held all the agency that I had denied for myself. Within him, within me, between us, was true power. In that moment, I felt real; and I realized that by denying my anger, I had not only lost myself, but I had hidden the wounds in my heart from my loved ones, and from all the men who had tried to love me. I was scared to show this new side of myself to people. I was so laidback, wise, and charming to be around. Integrating my shadow side would make me more decisive, more dominate, more mysterious and difficult to read. It meant I wouldn’t be putting up with half the bullshit I dealt with now. Ultimately, my shadow was unsettling. He disrupted all the harmony of the social membrane, and he rocked the boats that I was always so desperately trying to settle. It meant saying what I really felt, doing what I truly wanted to do, and ignoring the rest. It meant committing to myself and the continuity of my story. It meant remaining real. And beyond that, there were secrets, secrets that my shadow side knew, about the world, about people, and about magic. Do I dare? So I began to work with my shadow, but in solitude. The two of us together discussed current events, made art, and deeply harnessed the powers of the occult. As we became one, all my symptoms of illness went away, though the coincidences continued for anyone who crossed me. I felt dangerous, but oddly more whole. In truth, I had always been dangerous. The danger had just been locked in a room.  Over time, I was taught how to contact and make peace with my grandma, and with my uncle. I could finally feel a semblance of peace. I hadn’t revealed my shadow to any of my friends, and definitely not to my family, but I was doing my best, and my shadow understood. Some traumas were healed. Some triggers simply went away. But I was still stuck within certain patterns that I couldn’t escape. I hadn’t hurt anyone, but I wasn’t living the life that I wanted. The dire economic realities of this world were really starting to affect me. I knew that I couldn’t reach my full potential without some kind of stability. And there was the issue of romance. I was nearly thirty, and even without some of the blockages I had cleared, love and sex still seemed elusive. I knew I wouldn’t be able to forge much farther alone. I was going to need a teacher. 

[shuuenmatsuri]

@colored-in-sapphire

HELLO I HOPE YOU HAD A GOOD TIME THE PAST FEW DAYS WHETHER YOU CELEBRATE THE HOLIDAYS OR NOT. i, a person who no longer uses tumblr, am your secret santa here to deliver the ca and db content. sorry i can’t write e-noru or b-ka so i just did this. there’s no were near as much c-ta kicking in this compared to last year, but i hope you enjoy this nonetheless! 

A few weeks before Christmas, C-ta arrived early to the abandoned school building as always. After tossing his bag onto a random desk, he sat down and took out his phone. He had about ten minutes before A-ya would come in. There wasn’t much to do besides respond to some texts from his classmates.

To his confusion, only three minutes had passed when he heard footsteps. A small part of him felt anxious (the stories a-ya tells can get scary sometimes, but he’d take that to his grave), but he didn’t move. Those stories were just that in the end, stories. So, there’s no phantom coming by right now.

As he expected, the footsteps didn’t belong to some apparition. It was just D-ne. She rarely came early, preferring to find B-ko first and walk over together. D-ne only ever came early to mess with him. But when she put her stuff to the side and leaned on the desk, facing the door, C-ta thought that she may just honestly be early for once. Maybe B-ko was busy, and–

“B-ko and I are going Christmas shopping together!”

And right as he thought that, she had to say something. he would’ve ignored her, if it wasn’t for her grin. It was as if she was mocking him—scratch that, it’s D-ne. Of course, she was mocking him. Why else would she come here when no one else was around? This happened every single time.

“Try announcing that to people who would give a shit, and not me, thanks,” he says with a scoff, turning his attention back to his phone. God, why did he ever come here early? Wait, it was so he could be here when A-ya came. Right. He tried not to sigh. Showing weakness in front of D-ne was dangerous, because she’d never stop poking at him about it.

“It’s a date, you know. A date. I’m going on a date with B-ko, and you aren’t going anywhere with A-ya, are you?” she said, her grin never faltering. How did such a small smile look so big and pompous? Were the levels of smugness inversely related to smile sizes?

“As if I’d tell you of all people anything about my plans. I wouldn’t put it past you to show up randomly and ruin everything,” he replied, sending a glare her way. C-ta knew the glare would do nothing to her, but he wanted to send one nonetheless.

Footsteps stopped D-ne from speaking further. They both turned their direction to the door and saw the other two members of their group walking in. Immediately, D-ne went over to B-ko. Now, C-ta was by no means religious, but the relief of not needing to speak to D-ne anymore was strong enough for him to consider thanking some higher power. Whatever that stopped D-ne from talking deserved thanks.

He drowned out the conversation the two girls were having and asked A-ya about any new rumors. That sent A-ya into his usual storyteller mode, calling for everyone’s attention. Did he make any acknowledgement at D-ne’s frown? Of course not. Did it satisfy him immensely? Absolutely. Petty revenge was wonderful.

The four of them spent a little more than an hour conversing about rumors. Somewhere in that hour, A-ya went on a mini-rant about how the holiday season made people even more interested in boring fluffy romance.

“Even more than usual, all people want to hear about are about dates or other mundane things. I can’t even get a word in edgewise to start any rumors, not even when people start asking about B-ko or—”

“Don’t you dare spread more rumors about me, jerk!”

“I just said I couldn’t do anything. Even that chatty classmate of mine didn’t take the bait. It’s annoying. This entire season is annoying.”

Though this kind of topic would make normal people unhappy—speaking negatively of good things tended to upset people, after all—C-ta couldn’t help but smile. It was just so refreshing to see A-ya get worked up over something (though to everyone else, there was no difference from the usual pessimism. but c-ta knew). And when B-ko questioned about any potential Christmas-esque ghosts, A-ya just sighed more.

“None. There’s only the typical movies which sometimes feature ghosts and have zero scare potential. And those aren’t rumors to begin with, so there’s nothing.”

The meeting ended soon after, A-ya having no more interesting stories to tell or things to rant about, and the four of them split into their respective duos. C-ta heard snippets of the girls’ conversation as they left, picking out where to shop in a few days. A-ya heard too, if the blank stare locked onto their retreating figures meant anything.

“Do you want to go anywhere for Christmas, A-ya? With your parents or something?” C-ta asked as they began walking out.

“My parents got off work for once because they wanted to celebrate as a family, so there’s that planned. There’s nothing else besides that, and I don’t really want to do anything else.”

Disappointment made C-ta sag for a second, before quickly bouncing back up. He couldn’t let A-ya see that. But honestly, hearing that A-ya’s parents were off was a shock. For a while, C-ta’s dragged A-ya into spending Christmas with his family instead. Guess not this year. “Oh? No plans for some rumor spreading in the markets?”

“Like I said, everyone’s too focused on holiday cheer this year for that to have any effect.” A-ya made no mention or reference to C-ta’s sad display, thankfully. Instead, all the other boy did was frown.

C-ta used all his willpower to not laugh. A-ya just looked so unhappy, like some frustrated cat! He still smiled though. He smiled all the time, so it wouldn’t seem out of place. Unfortunately, that smile turned anxious at his friend’s next words.

“Maybe I should bury you in snow this year. There’s got to be some sort of spirit summoning that involves that.”

“Please don’t.”

The days after followed a similar pattern, up until the school released them for a break. On the last day of school, the group somehow ended up discussing their plans. This was a surprise for two reasons: one, plans like this were usually discussed earlier than this, and two, C-ta did not anticipate this group having this talk. But here they were, discussing winter plans as if they were like all the other students.

“D-ne and I are going shopping. I thought it’d be nice just going around some malls or plazas and seeing the decorations. Not on Christmas day, of course. Nothing’s open then, and I’m having dinner with my family.” B-ko said, starting the conversation. When she finished, she looked at the others expectantly.

“I’ve been invited to a few parties here and there, and people begged me to at least come, so I have that. I don’t plan on staying at any for more than an hour, though. I doubt any will be fun,” C-ta said, realizing that neither of the other two would start talking first. “I also celebrate with my family, and usually A-ya would join, but…”

“My parents managed to get time off so we’re together for once,” A-ya supplied, giving a light shrug.

Oh, C-ta did not like that smile D-ne had. It was just like the grin she had a few weeks ago. “Oh, so you’re not spending any time with C-ta this break? What a shame. I didn’t think you guys would go anywhere, but I expected something at least.”

“I’m surprised too! Maybe you guys can do something else before or after Christmas? Like playing in the snow,” B-ko said, with considerable less malice than D-ne. Her interjection was fast enough, and idea filled him with enough dread that he couldn’t boil over D-ne’s mockery.

“I do not want a repeat of me getting buried in snow.”

The others laughed at that (a-ya only had a small smile but c-ta will count it as a laugh), despite him finding no humor in this whatsoever. He got sick a couple days after last year’s impromptu snowball fight. Sure, there were some good moments, but he spent the rest of the break sick and miserable. He couldn’t even get out of bed to check on A-ya most of the time. What if something happened? It was a terrible week.

“I think that suited you, though.”

“I don’t acknowledge your opinions, witch.”

The conversation continued with more references to C-ta’s misfortune last year. D-ne spent half of the time smirking at him instead of focusing purely on B-ko, which he ignored. He refused to respond to her taunts (and they were taunts, even if she directed nothing at him). When the meeting finished, B-ko and D-ne left first like usual. Despite the holiday, everything seemed to go by as usual.

Except for the actual holiday, in which C-ta would not be spending with A-ya. Despite knowing for weeks, the thought still brought about a bitter taste in his mouth. Or maybe as the day drew closer, the more it ate at him. He wasn’t angry at A-ya’s parents by any means, but it just felt so… unreal to him. It was only one holiday, and it’s not like the two spent every moment together, and yet…

It felt so off. It felt so wrong. And C-ta hated this feeling. It was like a carpet was suddenly yanked out from under him, or he had no balance.

Even their walk home, filled with their usual banter did nothing to reassure him. Nothing’s changed, they were still best friends, everything’s the same… Like B-ko said, they could plan something else to make up for it. But whatever they planned wouldn’t be the usual Christmas together. It wouldn’t. And maybe that’s why C-ta couldn’t bring himself to ask about it as the two walked into their houses.

A few days passed by uneventfully until the 23rd. Today, D-ne would meet up with B-ko around 1 P.M. and they’d start their trip around town. The plan was to start at the mall, look through all the shops, and then move to some plazas to look at decorations. She brought enough money with her to buy one or two things to not seem suspicious; the idea was to go Christmas shopping, but that was just an excuse to spend time with B-ko.

Thinking about how great it would to be with B-ko alone for several hours and imagining how cute B-ko would be, D-ne arrived at their meeting spot twenty minutes early. There was no way she’d make B-ko wait in the cold! And there was also no way she wouldn’t wave to B-ko as soon as she came, so D-ne just kept a lookout.

To her excitement, she saw B-ko walk over ten minutes before their meeting time. She knew B-ko would come early, but ten minutes early? Maybe she was as excited as D-ne. Just maybe. With a smile, she called out to B-ko and began waving. B-ko smiled in return as she rushed her way over.

“Jeez, I thought ten minutes would be early enough! You haven’t been here for long, have you?” B-ko asked, smoothing her clothes. She looked adorable.

“No, no! I just got here myself!” D-ne said, laughing lightly. Moving closer to knock shoulders, she pointed to the mall. “Shall we go?”

The smile B-ko gave her could melt glaciers. If only she could’ve taken a picture of the moment. “Of course!”

They walked to and through the mall rather close together, partly because it was cramped, and partly because D-ne wanted to brush arms together. B-ko didn’t seem to notice, or care. Hopefully it was the latter. The shops had nothing of interest, especially not when B-ko was with her, but D-ne spent some time away from B-ko in the shops. It’d look a bit too suspicious, a bit too much like a certain boy.

Being separated also meant there were chances for B-ko to find something interesting and walk over to show it to her. D-ne took these as opportunities to take a picture (with permission, of course) under the guise of sending whatever item B-ko picked up to the others. It wasn’t really a lie, since D-ne did send some pictures with mocking captions to C-ta (cropped, so none of b-ko. he didn’t deserve any pictures of her).

Unfortunately, D-ne stopped after a few pictures, because she got too distracted. Whenever B-ko rushed over to here with a cry of “Hey, D-ne!” or “D-ne, look at this!”, she felt too giddy to do much besides pay attention. And sometimes, whenever B-ko handed something to D-ne, their fingers touched. There was nothing else she could do besides go along with B-ko’s pace.

By the time they finished looking through all the shops, several hours passed. It was half past four and the sun began to set. D-ne couldn’t believe that time went by so quickly, but she was snapped out of it when she felt something warm on her hand.

B-ko was holding her hand.

She made out some words like “too many people,” “gotta get to the plazas,” and “might get lost.” But as they walked out of the mall, all D-ne could focus on was B-ko’s hand in hers. She couldn’t even think, her mind was blank. Without realizing, she squeezed.

B-ko squeezed back.

Somewhere along the way, the two girls found themselves on a decorated street. The soft white lights strung around wrapped around lampposts and hovered above. D-ne came to a stop, causing B-ko to look at her with confusion.

“B-ko, the lights are so pretty!”

“Oh, yeah! I’m surprised to see the street so decorated, but it’s nice.

“Hey, let me take a picture of you here! It’d be perfect!”

“H-Huh? Well, if you really want to…”

They had to let go of each other’s hands, but D-ne found it to be a necessary evil. She could always try holding B-ko’s hand after, too. But this was a one-time opportunity for the photo. Taking out her phone, she pointed the shutter at B-ko. With the lights glowing behind her and her smile, B-ko really did look like an angel.

After taking several shots for good measure, D-ne told B-ko she was done. Putting away her phone, D-ne had no idea what the other was doing.

So, her face when she felt B-ko wrap an arm around her waist and heard B-ko go “say cheese!” was one of utter surprise. She heard the shutter go off, but B-ko still didn’t let go.

“Hey, I want one of you smiling too!”

She burst into the biggest smile of her life.

Though D-ne forgot about the pictures she sent because of the rest of her night, the reluctant recipient did not. C-ta was downright pissed at all the pictures she sent, with messages geared to pointing out how he wasn’t doing anything with A-ya. She stopped after six, but it was infuriating nonetheless. And since he wasn’t doing anything with A-ya, there was nothing to distract him from his annoyance.

Hell, he couldn’t even check up on A-ya most of the time! Since his parents were off, A-ya spent his time around them in the kitchen or the living room. It’s not like A-ya was never in his room, but he wasn’t there enough! What was C-ta supposed to do?

Sure, there were the parties his classmates were holding, but he would barely ever go to them normally! And when he was in this shitty of a mood? No. Absolutely not. Instead, C-ta spent his days up until Christmas moping around (but not enough for his parents to think anything of it, oh god no).

And when he woke up to a Christmas day where A-ya wouldn’t be coming over?

It felt like shit.

Reluctantly, C-ta got up before his parents came banging at his door for not being awake on this fine, cheery, wonderful Christmas day. He need time to shape his face into something presentable. Dunking his face into water was a good start.

He came out of the restroom to see his parents setting up the table for three. Three. He felt his stomach sink. This was the fucking worst. And to his horror, his parents noticed his face fall. They reassured him, but he refused to listen, zoning out their words. He put on a smile, of course, but he didn’t want to hear anyone say it’ll be alright and he could spend time with A-ya later. It didn’t change how A-ya wasn’t here now.

The dinner was agonizing. It took all C-ta had to not look at the empty seat, acting as if everything was fine to his parents. They ate slowly while they spoke, and C-ta slowly eased into the same persona he put on in class. He shoved down all his negativity. He’d acknowledge it later, but not now, not now, not in front of others.

When the meal was over with, his parents suggested a movie. C-ta bit the inside of his mouth. He wanted to rush over to his room instead and check if he could see A-ya, but he knew that it was pointless. So, he agreed, and they all sat together on the couch and watched some run-of-the-mill romantic comedy. His parents enjoyed it at least, and focused on the movie completely. It gave him some time to zone out again, and this time he thought of nothing.

Without him realizing, his parents went on a bit of a movie marathon. Did he just waste several hours doing nothing…? Looking at the clock told him yes, yes, he did. God. It was late enough to start cooking dinner, so he offered to help his parents. He didn’t actually want to cook, but he just needed to do something.

He tried not to think while he helped. He tried not to think of when he was a kid and baked Christmas cookies with A-ya. He focused on cutting the vegetables perfectly, on getting the exact amount of liquid in the measuring cups. And when dinner came along, he just ate food and listened closely to his parents. By giving himself enough stimulus, he could distract himself.

But when the day was over, and nothing was to be done, there was nothing he could use as a distraction. When his parents finally decided to turn in, C-ta rushed up to his room. The utter dejection he felt when he couldn’t see A-ya made his throat burn. He thought being sick for weeks last year was bad? He’d take that over this in a heartbeat.

When he threw himself on his bed, he couldn’t fall asleep. It didn’t surprise him at all—he spent today doing nothing, so how could he be tired. With a sigh, he sat up against the wall and took out his phone. He read the texts he got from his classmates, most of them pictures of the parties he missed. There were some holiday wishes, the goddamn pictures D-ne sent…

He got a phone call.

C-ta blinked, doing nothing for a few seconds besides letting the phone vibrate in his hand. He was too out of it to read the caller ID, but maybe it was important. With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes and saw—

“A-ya?!”

“Don’t yell.”

When he realized who it was, C-ta pressed answer as soon as he could. He spent so much time just looking at his phone, and the call could’ve stopped at any moment. Belatedly, he realized he was shaking.

A-ya called him. He called him! This meant something, this meant that A-ya missed him, or A-ya was thinking of him, or something. C-ta felt like he was in space, like he was floating. After a day of not hearing A-ya’s voice when he should’ve been here, he could hear it again. There was some semblance of normalcy again. He could breathe. He was breathing like normal again.

At least, that’s how he felt until he noticed that A-ya wasn’t talking. He did call him, right? So why wasn’t he saying anything? Unless it was a misdial, and he didn’t want C-ta to pick up. That would be embarrassing as hell, but he could manage with that.

But what if A-ya called to tell C-ta that he preferred spending Christmas with his own family and not with C-ta? What if his silence was just him thinking about how to phrase it? What if A-ya never wanted to spend Christmas with C-ta ever again? That can’t be right, but what if—

“It was weird not hearing you talking about whatever today.”

Those words stopped all the fears he had. C-ta laughed, the first laugh he had today. “Oh? Did you miss me? Haha, you’re helpless without me, aren’t you? Should we ask our parents to have a joint dinner next year, if your parents can get off again?”

It was just a passing thought to keep the conversation going, but A-ya answered anyway. “… It wouldn’t be that bad.”

Ah, this was bliss.

[abdifarah]

Match Made In Zion

Those around Zion Williamson quickly dispelled rumors that he might not play in New Orleans next year. Williamson’s father gave an interview to an ESPN affiliate in Louisiana stating that his son is already looking forward to getting settled in New Orleans, and shrewdly not much more has been said. The quiet may signify nothing. But I secretly hope Zion is meticulously engineering a dramatic escape from the Big Easy, which may come as a surprise since I happily live in New Orleans. Perhaps the basketball gods were caught sleeping when the lottery balls bounced in New Orleans’ favor, or, as I like to believe, the outcome will ultimately prove divine providence by forcing a once-in-a-generation talent like Zion to step into his true destiny, which holds more than simply posterizing defenders. As the messiah of the player empowerment movement, it is Zion’s duty to fight his way out of the basketball purgatory that is the Pelicans. In the beginning there was LeBron, who bore the wrath of the public for The Decision in 2010. We had minor prophets in this narrative: Kevin Durant, Kyrie Irving, and Zion’s potential teammate, Anthony Davis, who humbly allowed themselves to be seen as cowards, or ungrateful, or divos, in search of unrealized basketball promised lands. In Zion we have the culmination; a player so significant to the future of the NBA, that he has the power to change how players move throughout the league once and for all. By forcing out of New Orleans Zion will accomplish two things. One, he will force purposeless, mediocre, lukewarm teams like the Pelicans to either gain focus or close up shop for good. And most importantly he will highlight that the draft system, as we know it, is fundamentally immoral.

Despite Mardi Gras and Bourbon Street, New Orleans is a sleepy town. Anthony Davis was rightly criticized this past season for the way he attempted to force his way out of New Orleans. But I understand why a 26 year-old superstar like Anthony Davis, after 7 years in New Orleans, may want a change. And while I personally like living in New Orleans, my heart sank a bit when the city received the the number one pick and the rights to draft Zion Williamson in last month’s draft lottery. As a basketball fan first, Zion, and Anthony Davis for that matter, deserve better. This is less an indictment on the city and more on the team. This is the same franchise that chose to name itself the Pelicans! It is a team inherited by Gayle Benson, the wife of recently deceased Tom Benson, who also owned the much more glamorous Saints, and only half-heartedly agreed to buy the NBA franchise. If James Dolan, Jeanie Buss, and Robert Sarver, the owners of the Knicks, Lakers, and Suns respectively, are any indication, inheriting a team or the money to buy one usually portends terrible ownership. The Pelicans stay under the radar, mostly because of a lack of press, but they have been just as dysfunctional as those more glamorous franchises. Until the recent hire of David Griffin, the team was run by Mickey Loomis who also runs the Saints. I don’t blame Anthony Davis, and other professional basketball players, for not wanting to serve as the red-jerseyed stepchildren to the Saints.

The Pelicans were doomed the day they named themselves the Pelicans. In 2012, I had recently moved to New Orleans for an artist residency in the vibrant and still edgy, and now fully gentrified 8th ward. Television and radio stations spread word that the once-again-nameless New Orleans NBA franchise (formerly the Hornets, formerly the Jazz) was holding a contest to find a new name for the team. I ran immediately to my local coffee shop, The Orange Couch, with sketchbook in hand to brainstorm colors, typefaces, and of course the new name. The concept was simple. New Orleans used to be the Jazz, a top five city/nickname combination. New Orleans is not only the birthplace of jazz but also the home of bounce music; the cacophonous, kaleidoscopic bedrock of so much modern hip hop. Now introducing your New Orleans Bounce! The name pays homage to the bygone Jazz, as well as championing New Orleans’ continued importance to contemporary music culture, and has the double entendre of a bouncing basketball. Without much warning or fanfare news broke that the team had settled on a new name, the Pelicans. Disappointment was expressed by the few die hard basketball fans in the city. Who voted for Pelicans? The name wreaked of Uptown New Orleans: the aristocratic, country club, I have columns in front of my house side of New Orleans, and none of the gritty, flavorful, down-to-earth, downtown charm for which the city is beloved.

A name and subsequent success may be a chicken and egg proposition. What exactly is a Laker? But choosing a bad name reveals an intrinsic laziness by the stewards of the team, and reveals that basketball in New Orleans will forever rank behind the main sports attraction in New Orleans, which is the Saints. Despite producing the second most NBA players per capita, Louisiana will always be a football town. On the New Orleans sports totem pole the Pelicans may be last, behind the beloved Saints, LSU football, LSU Baseball, and perhaps even behind the minor league baseball team, the Babycakes. The Pelicans are the team players come to rehab from injury and rehabilitate their careers. Eric Gordon, who is now thriving on the Houston Rockets, was a shell of his current form in New Orleans. I saw him once at a party in the city. The strangest part of the sighting was how normal he behaved. He and Ryan Anderson, also a former Pelican, awkwardly meandered around the venue like everyone else. In any other city they would have been mobbed by people or sequestered in some roped off VIP section. Similarly, a friend used to own a little lunch spot in a local market. Jrue Holiday and his wife, soccer star Lauren Holiday, would come in and eat. Once again, no one noticed or bothered them. A city where you can make the same millions playing basketball and walk the streets freely like an average joe may entice some. But as much as the money, I believe most athletes hunger for fame. For Zion Williamson, someone who had millions of instagram followers in high school, the level of anonymity that New Orleans offers may be the opposite of what he wants.

More important than the fate of the hapless Pelicans, we need Zion to fix the draft. Recently, NPR ran a story reminding listeners that the Selective Service (the draft) still exists in the US. I, like most modern American men, do not live in dread of the draft, and actually had no idea the draft was still in effect. I know whether or not I am registered like I know my blood type. But for highly prized sports prospects in the major team sports, the draft is less a looming fear and more an inevitability. Further, the hegemony of the sports industry in the lives and minds of athletes makes the draft something that talented prospects are looking forward to, dreaming about even, from a young age. If Zion was a hotshot computer scientist leaving Duke he would have his pick of sexy startups and blue chip firms with whom to join his talents. But as an athlete he has no say. In that same radio interview Zion’s father says, “One thing that Zion has always been taught is that you accept the things that you can’t change.” Historically, most athletes have embodied this passive mentality regarding where they get to play initially, and choose to focus on what they can control on the court or field. But if Zion is truly a transcendent prospect, is it inconceivable that he can transcend even this? Sports conservatives in favor of keeping things consistent will contend that the draft preserves competitive balance. In this recent “Zion” draft lottery the Los Angeles Lakers, which added all-time great LeBron James to their roster last season got the fourth pick, while the Cleveland Cavaliers, which lost said LeBron James and had a significantly worse record, pick after the Lakers. Competitive balance be damned.

As a fan, I will admit that having superstars spread around makes for a more exciting league. A middle ground between competitive balance and more agency for the players must exist. Before the lottery, cameras caught Williamson lingering a little longer around the Atlanta Hawks logo. This choice speaks volumes about Zion. The New York centric media thought it a forgone conclusion that the Knicks were destined to win Zion, and that the attraction to was mutual. But Atlanta presents a truly exciting basketball situation; the chance to run with flashy Rookie of the Year nominee Trae Young within an organization newly acquired by a forward-thinking, new money ownership group within a city that is the epicenter of television (Atlanta), movies (Marvel), and music (Migos, Future, Gucci Mane, Young Thug, Lil Baby...literally too many to name).

When new doctors apply for post-doctoral residencies their exists the National Resident Matching Program and Match Day. A prospective resident makes their list of preferred hospitals, the hospitals similarly make a list of their preferred applicants. The two parties’ lists are processed through an algorithm that makes the final matches. Abolishing the Draft, I propose the NBA Match Program. As opposed to teams possessing all agency and drafting players as they choose, prospects like Zion could submit a ranked list of preferred destinations. Let's say Zion’s list was Atlanta, New York, the Los Angeles Lakers, and so on. Those preferences, as well as the team’s preferences of players−with some weight given to teams with terrible records for the sake of competitive balance−would go into whatever formula and shoot out a match. Zion may not get his first choose, but regardless, he can move into his new workplace knowing he had some say in the result and his future.

In 1999 Steve Francis, a hometown DMV hero of mine, had a look of disgust on draft night after the Vancouver Grizzlies drafted him second overall. He tried giving Vancouver a chance but after an altercation in the Vancouver airport he went about forcing a trade. Francis, a young man who had a tough upbringing in Takoma Park, Maryland, decided, for whatever reason, that he did not want to play in Western Canada. Francis was denounced as difficult, but Francis was not alone in not wanting to play in Western Canada. The Vancouver Grizzlies themselves moved to Memphis two years later in 2001. Billionaire owners are free to uproot a team with players and employees and fans as they see fit, yet a individual player like Francis makes a decision for himself and receives the ire of the public. Zion Williamson may look as intimidating as a real-life Incredible Hulk, but I predict that he will play nice. He will work hard in New Orleans, sign autographs, and kiss babies, all with his megawatt smile. But after some years, like Anthony Davis, he will grow weary and go about making his escape. Better to save time and choose villainy from the start like Francis.

[gossipnetwork-blog]

25 TV Events to Get Excited About in 2018

New Post has been published on http://gossip.network/25-tv-events-to-get-excited-about-in-2018/

25 TV Events to Get Excited About in 2018

New year, new TV to look forward to.

Now that it’s finally 2018, it’s time to cut your losses with the fall shows you’ve already grown tired and make some room on your DVRs for everything the new year has to offer because there’s a lot to get excited about.

Kicking things off on New Year’s Day with the return of Arie Luyendyk Jr. as ABC’s latest Bachleor, we’ve narrowed down the 25 TV events worth getting excited about over the next 12 months from a surprisingly deep pool of worthy candidates. Seriously, there’s a lot of promising stuff coming our way. Read on and start programming your DVR!

ABC/Craig Sjodin

Bachelor‘s Big Winter

Kudos to the Bachelor franchise for trying something new in 2018. First, they went back a few years to the pre-Instagram days to find their newest leading man, Arie Luyendyk Jr., and we’re also being treated to what appears to be an international hot tub party known as Winter Games. It all sounds like exactly the fresh Bachelor air we need, and we can’t wait to see how it all goes down, starting January 1.

Freeform

Freeform Gets Grown-ish

It’s time for Zoey Johnson to fly the coop and strike out on her own…-ish. In this Freeform spinoff of Black-ish, debuting January 3, Yara Shahidi takes center stage as the eldest Johnson child embarks on her freshman year at California University with a diverse group of friends helping her navigate her first taste of adult life. Look out for guest appearances from parents Dre and Bow as Anthony Anderson and Tracee Ellis Ross are set to make occasional guest appearances in the comedy, which hails from the mothership’s creator Kenya Barris. 

CBS

Star Trek: Discovery‘s Return

The spore drive is done for and the U.S.S. Discovery is…missing. The finale ended with Lorca (Jason Isaacs) and his team including Michael Burnham (Sonequa Martin-Green) evading death and destruction at the hands of the Klingons, only to find themselves some place very unfamiliar. Could our heroes be in the Mirror Universe? Whatever happens, beam us up for more adventures on January 7.

VH1

Tyra Returns on Top

Sorry Rita Ora, but Tyra Banks is reclaiming her America’s Next Top Model throne. Banks is returning on January 9 to host the revived series on VH1 after only serving as executive producer on Cycle 23. This year, expect new terms from Tyra and new competitors: there’s no longer an age limit.

Showtime

Showtime’s Trip to The Chi

If creator Lena Waithe‘s Emmy-winning episode of Master of None, “Thanksgiving,” is any indication, her new Showtime drama is, hands down, one of 2018’s can’t-miss debuts. The Chi, premiering January 7, is billed as a timely coming-of-age story that will explore the humanity behind the headlines sensationalizing the South Side of Chicago. Expect this to be an early Emmys frontrunner.

The CW

A New Superhero

Luke Cage may have come before him, but Black Lightning feels like the first superhero series to finally truly speak to the Black Lives Matter movement. The CW’s latest DC Comics adaptation, starring Cress Williams as the titular hero and premiering Jan. 16, feels timely in a way that few of the network’s other comic book offerings have. If nothing else, it’s just refreshing to have a CW superhero who feels like a damn adult.

FX

American Crime Story Goes Glam

People v. O.J. was great, but The Assassination of Gianni Versace brings a new level of glamour and intrigue to one of last year’s most talked about new series with one of the biggest crimes fashion has ever suffered. Darren Criss plays the serial killer we never before knew we needed him to play, and Penélope Cruz is straight-up iconic as Donatella Versace. We are so there come January 17.  

VH1

Mama Ru Gathers More All-Stars

While some of the queens returning for another chance at the crown barely fit in the label of “star,” let alone “All-Star”—Aja, anyone?—our excitement at finally having RuPaul and her glorious queens back is off the charts. RuPaul’s Drag Race All-Stars 3 returns to its new network (VH1) on January 25 to see who will join the ranks of legendary All-Stars and All-Stars 2 winners Chad Michaels and Alaska, respectively. Who are we rooting for? We’ll never tell. (OK, we’ll tell. That crown belongs to Trixie Mattel. Don’t @ us.)

Mindy Tucker/HBO

2 Dope Queens Come to HBO

What’s better than listening to your favorite podcast? Watching it come to life in a series of HBO specials, that’s what! Jessica Williams and Phoebe Robinson bring their acclaimed podcast 2 Dope Queens to the cable network beginning February 2 for four hour-long specials taped before a live audience, tackling topics like “Black Nerds aka Blerds” and “Hot Peen” alongside guests including Jon Stewart and Tituss Burgess. 

Netflix

Netflix Explores Altered Carbon

Netflix is going big with this original series, an adaptation the classic cyberpunk noir novel by Richard K. Morgan. Set more than 300 years in a future where society has been transformed by new technology, consciousness can be digitized, human bodies are interchangeable, and death is no longer permanent, the sci-fi series stars Joel Kinnaman as Takeshi Kovacs, the lone surviving soldier in a group of elite interstellar warriors who were defeated in an uprising against the new world order. Altered Carbon, dropping on the streaming site on February 2, looks expensive and confusing as hell. Count us in.

CBS

Big Brother Turns Celebrity

Already a staple in the U.K., Celebrity Big Brother is finally making its way across the pond for a special edition on CBS beginning February 7. Which of our D-list celebs will sign up to duke it out in the Big Brother house with Julie Chen narrating their every move? We haven’t the slightest idea and we can’t wait to find out.

Lifetime

UnREAL Flips the Script

Did you know that it’s been nearly 18 months since UnREAL signed off for season two? After that creative debacle, you may have pushed the provocative Lifetime series, a fictional account of the inner-workings of a Bachelor-esque reality series, out of your mind. But queens Constance Zimmer and Shiri Appleby deserve better, and it looks like the time off may have helped deliver a third series worthy of their estimable talents. After tackling their first African-American suitor in S2, they’re going the Bachelorette route this time around with Masters of Sex alum Caitlin FitzGerald assuming the role of Everlasting’s (the show within the show) new feminist “suitress.” Could Quinn and Rachel have finally met their match? Tune in on February 26 to find out. 

Good Girls Go Bad

What do you get when you take a Parks and Recreation fave (Retta), a Parenthood breakout (Mae Whitman), and a Mad Men diva (Christina Hendricks), cast them as three suburban moms tired of their lives, and have them rob a local supermarket. Why, the recipe for our most anticipated show of 2018, that’s what. Is it February 26 yet?

Netflix

A Queer Comeback

All things just keep getting better thanks to Netflix’s upcoming revival of the seminal reality series Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Does the new Fab Five (from left to right, Bobby Berk, Karamo Brown, Antoni Porowski, Jonathan Van Ness and Tan France) have what it takes to make us forget about Carson Kressley, Ted Allen and the rest of the OGs? Come February, we’ll find out.

CBS

Round Two of The Good Fight

It’s been a long few months without Diane Lockhart (Christine Baranski) dropping an eff-bomb on our screens. The first season The Good Fight was politically charged and intriguing and the real world hasn’t gotten any less crazy, so Robert and Michelle King have a lot of fodder for new episodes, beginning March 4. Plus Audra McDonald will be a series regular this year, so our hopes of a musical episode just got all the more higher.

ABC

American Idol Returns From the Dead

Did we really want a revival of American Idol so soon after its 2016 (supposed) series finale? Not even slightly. Are we planning to tune in on March 11 to see if Katy Perry was really worth her rumored $25 million salary? You betcha. 

NBC

A New TV Musical Rises

Glee meets Friday Night Lights this spring on NBC, with Moana (Auli’i Cravalho), Ted Mosby (Josh Radnor) and Rosie Perez (Rosie Perez) in the starring roles of this Jason Katims-produced high school drama set (where else) in a working class town. This one could either be one of the year’s biggest successes or biggest flame-outs. Tune in on March 13 and judge for yourself.

ABC

Roseanne‘s Return

Revival fatigue is very real, but we for sure will not be able to look away from the return of Roseanne Barr‘s iconic comedy Roseanne, premiering March 27, for two big reasons: 1. Curiosity about how the show explains away the series finale that had Roseanne Conner revealing Dan (John Goodman) was dead and she made the entire series up as a writer and 2. Laurie Metcalf. Metcalf is one of the best actors working today. Any chance to get weekly doses of her we will take.

Hulu

Handmaid’s Trip to the Colonies

Where do you go after being the most-buzzed about new series and winning a slew of awards? That’s what we want to know, The Handmaid’s Tale! Season two, debuting sometime in April, is already well underway and details are being kept under wraps. We do know there will be more Alexis Bledel—sorry, that’s Emmy winner Alexis Bledel to you—and previously unseen parts of Gilead. “What I can tell you, and I’m not joking one bit, is it’s knocking me out where this story is going,” Ann Dowd told E! News. “I literally read the scripts and I think, ‘Oh my god.’ The ideas are genius and so unpredictable and harrowing,” she said. “Plus you see the worlds that you weren’t exposed to before: the Colonies, what that whole world is; those who make it to Canada, what happens there; the pregnancy, how that is coming along. It’s a phenomenally well-written show.”

Bravo

RHONY‘s Extra Dose of Real-World Drama

Arguably the best Real Housewives series on Bravo (go ahead and try to say another is better), Real Housewives of New York City is set to return with last year’s top-tier cast and you know there’s going to be laughs—and drama. Luann de Lesseps was arrested just before Christmas and charged with battery of an officer, disorderly intoxication, resisting arrested with violence and crimes against another person. She’s now in a treatment center. Bravo’s cameras are just itching to start recording and we cannot wait to see what they capture.

John P. Johnson/HBO

A Return Trip to Westworld

Season one felt like nothing more than a prelude, an introductory course to this world where nothing is as it seems and everyone watching wised up to the twists down the road much sooner than anyone writing expected. But now that the robots have taken over, making the demented amusement park at the center of this HBO sci-fi/western pastiche a true free-for-all, we can’t wait to see what happens next when Westworld finally returns this spring.But it better involve Maeve (Thandie Newton) kicking some ass.

FX

Atlanta, at Long Last

One of 2016’s most surreal and delightful new shows, Atlanta feels like it’s been gone forever. Apparently creator and star Donald Glover was too busy being very famous and employable to give us more in 2017, so we’ll take whatever he can give us in 2018. 

Netflix

Robin Wright’s House of Cards Reign

Robin Wright has always been the best thing about House of Cards and now she gets to truly own the show for its sixth and final season. After allegations of sexual misconduct by Kevin Spacey came to light, the status of the Netflix series was in question. After deliberation, Netflix and Media Rights Capital said the show must go on¬—without Spacey. Wright’s Claire Underwood ended season five in power, now we get to see her wield it triumphantly.

The CW

Sabrina Gets Spooky

Inspired by the success of Riverdale‘s dark take on Archie Comics, WB and Netflix are teaming up to create the show of our teenage dreams. The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (you know, the teenage witch) is already our favorite thing to binge and we know absolutely nothing about it yet. Even if we only get a cast in 2018, we are here for it. 

Sipa

Feud Goes Royal

After Feud‘s spot-on casting for Bette and Joan, we can’t wait to see who Ryan Murphy lands in the lead roles for the anthology’s upcoming second installment, Charles and Diana. We have our thoughts on who will fill the royal shoes of Prince Charles and Princess Diana, among others, but we’re sure that Murphy will still manage to surprise us. 

Which TV event are you most excited about for 2018? Sound off in the comments below!

(E!, Bravo and NBC are all part of the NBCUniversal family.)

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[elitesportsny]

Elite Sports NY

https://elitesportsny.com/2017/12/02/new-york-jets-draft-josh-allen-acquire-eli-manning-get/

New York Jets: Draft Josh Allen, acquire Eli Manning and get after it

Sometimes, the football gods had a plan all along, In this instance, the New York Jets should draft Josh Allen and acquire Eli Manning.

The strong-armed physical specimen and the champion. Wyoming’s boy wonder and the grizzled professional who couldn’t stumble at the height of pressure even if he tried.

Rookie Josh Allen and vet Eli Manning. That combination for the New York Jets in 2018 could be sublime.

Is Manning’s career done with Big Blue?

Vegas is already on top of it. Naturally, once the Giants of new added on to that reputation mirroring the two decades of dread during the early stages of the Super Bowl, speculation surrounding the two-time Super Bowl champ began to erupt.

CHECK OUT the New York Jets Team Center: News, Stats, Standings

According to the boys out west, My Top Sports Books, the Jacksonville Jaguars (circa Tom Coughlin) possess the greatest chance of landing the 36-year-old.

Jacksonville Jaguars: 3/1

New York Giants: 4/1

Denver Broncos: 4/1

New York Jets: 9/1

Pittsburgh Steelers: 39/1

Houston Texans: 44/1

Los Angeles Chargers: 44/1

Arizona Cardinals: 54/1

From a Jets perspective, why not?

Many are still banging the drum for Kirk Cousins—the very strange short-of-elite Skins QB. Should the Jets seek out Kirk, the contract involved would wash away any doubt of anything else other than Cousins touching the center’s ass.

Right now, Cousins is the third-highest paid QB from a per season angle (thanks to that dreaded yet fit for a king franchise tag). The deal he’s most likely going to land this spring will have him cemented as a top-five signal-caller.

 RELATED: Ranking the Jets best QB options for 2017 and beyond 

There’s nothing wrong with paying your quarterback the big money, but when you do, you must be right. Missing on a contract such as that is devastating and in the case of Cousins—a guy who isn’t anywhere near the top five in the league—flexibility involving a youngster and a vet makes tremendous sense.

Franchises literally become ruined when failing with a $20M per year deal loaded with guaranteed money. There’s no flexibility. As much as the spending will continue to go up and salary cap increased, $20M is still a ridiculous chunk of the pie. The backup QB won’t be fully invested in and the rest of the team constructed with far less money to go around.

The combo of Allen and Eli is relatively carefree.

SAN DIEGO, CA – DECEMBER 21: Wyoming (17) Josh Allen (QB) drops back to pass during the San Diego Credit Union Poinsettia Bowl game between the BYU Cougars and the Wyoming Cowboys on December 21, 2016, at Qualcomm Stadium in San Diego, CA. (Photo by Chris Williams/Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)

Why Josh Allen?

It’s simple, really. The 4-7 “better than expected” Jets have already played themselves out of the top three QB race. Barring an arm and a leg (via premium top three draft trade with the San Francisco 49ers), there will be no Sam Darnold or Josh Allen for this organization. If Darnold opts to stay out west, there may not be an Allen, even.

As it stands now, however, Allen is the clear-cut young option.

He possesses the strongest arm in a loaded QB class. His athletic instincts in and outside of the pocket are unreal. He may be equipped with the highest upside of any arm in the class.

Forget the recent reports that Mike Maccagnan and the Jets are interested in Allen. The marriage made sense prior to the news.

Why Eli Manning?

This is the one that’ll have Jets fans losing their minds. Why Eli Manning? Why a 36-year-old QB who’s declined in ability?

Because he won’t be guaranteed the keys to the franchise.

Manning and Cousins are at two completely different stages of their careers. Cousins is 29 and looking for a home—a bonafide place of his own to work out the best chunk of his NFL career. Eli, on the other hand, is flexible (there’s that word again). He’d come while welcoming a challenge. He’ll take the tutelage role under his belt as it pertains to young Allen (or whoever the Jets draft with that first round choice).

Eli can start, be the No. 2, or even both and continue to do the right thing the entire time—as long as his employer respects him.

Think of Kurt Warner, a man closely tied to right arm in question. Warner came to the Jints over a decade ago looking to prolong a brilliant short stint with the St. Louis Rams. He was soon surpassed by the Ole’ Miss product yet didn’t miss a beat. The way he handled himself on the field and in the locker room made waves across the league. Arizona took a chance and he, again, enjoyed another brilliant stint with a second NFL team.

Eli is similar in every way to Kurt in that respect—the business of respect.

Forget $20M a year for Manning. While, yes, he’s still under contract through the 2019 season with a cap hit of $22.2M and $23.2M over the next two seasons, respectively, that’s not the money his next team will be dishing out. The Jints will be taking the majority of the hit here. No other franchise will deal for that situation straight-up, the Jets included.

Manning will either be cut or traded in a way that sees the Giants assume all of the guaranteed money and much of the annual hit.

Why would Manning want to come to the Jets? In an unusual turn of events, why wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t have to uproot his family or move. Simply stay put and wear green. Tom Coughlin will be knocking on his door from down south. There’s no doubt about that.

Why Josh and Eli Together?

In all, Allen (projected to slot in around $4M) and Eli, perhaps ($8-$10M with no guaranteed money) makes for a pretty nifty $12-$14M annual cost for the quarterback position. The best part about it is there are two options.

He can be had, and for little cost. Just imagine it: Manning receives the starting nod from Todd Bowles after the first preseason week in August of 2018. Josh Allen is turning heads, but will sit to start the season in favor of the vet.

In Week 6, the change is made and Eli Manning is all for it. He becomes an integral part of the New York Jets franchise as the No. 2 quarterback for the best football team in town.

That flexibility with the strong-armed phenom and the grizzled veteran champ is a match we could curate from the football gods alone.

 NEXT: Jets need to present a clear and concise 'no' to Kirk Cousins 

[njawaidofficial]

'American Horror Story: Cult' Premiere Recap | Ryan Murphy on Election Night

http://styleveryday.com/2017/09/06/american-horror-story-cult-premiere-recap-ryan-murphy-on-election-night/

'American Horror Story: Cult' Premiere Recap | Ryan Murphy on Election Night

[Warning: This story contains spoilers from the premiere of FX’s American Horror Story: Cult.]

The first moment of American Horror Story: Cult is chill-inducing.

“I am running for president of the United States!” announces Donald Trump.

“I am running for president of the United States!” echoes Hillary Clinton.

No matter what side of the aisle, the flashback footage of the actual 2016 presidential campaign is an eerie place-setter, a reminder of how far away that moment in history feels in today’s divided America.

As promised, the seventh season of Ryan Murphy’s FX anthology series kicks off with a minute-long ramp up to 2016 election night. Using real footage of then-candidates Trump and Clinton, highlights down memory lane include mentions of Trump’s wall, Clinton’s emails and a growing “palpable fear” as protestors on both sides clash. “I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose any voters, OK? It’s like incredible,” Trump says. The statement, so attacked at the time, now serves as a reminder that hindsight is 20-20. 

Cult opens on Nov. 8, 2016.

Kai Anderson (Evan Peters) is sitting on the edge of his basement couch listening to Fox News as the chuckling anchors declare Trump the 45th president of the United States, winner of the most “unreal” and “surreal” election America has ever seen.

“The revolution has begun,” Kai says softly. He then humps his big-screen TV, his blue hair thrusting in the air. “Fuck you world!” he screams before chanting “USA! USA!” 

Over at the Mayfair-Richards’ house, Ally (Sarah Paulson), her wife Ivy (Alison Pill), young son Oz and their liberal-leaning friends are holding out hope, glued to MSNBC. “I won’t believe anything until I hear Rachel Maddow say it, she’s the only one I trust,” says Ally before Pennsylvania is called. “It’s the politics of fear, it always works,” says her stunned friend, the Asian-American head council member in the show’s Michigan set town, population 10,000. 

When MSNBC announces Clinton’s concession phone call, Ally watches with tears in her eyes as Trump takes the stage, horror music at full swell. “Go to hell Huffington Post! Fuck you Nate Silver!” screams Ally as she falls, debilitated, to her knees. “Oh God, how could they have been so wrong about this!”

But 10,000 is also the amount of votes Clinton is losing to Trump in their swing state. “You want to know who to get mad at for this? Our own state of Michigan. She’s losing by 10,000 votes. That’s the size of this town. And who is at 40,000 votes and counting? Jill Stein.” (In Michigan, Trump defeated Clinton by 10,704 votes, while the Green Party candidate took in 51,463 votes.)

Later, it will be revealed that much to Ivy’s dismay, Ally quietly voted for Stein — Murphy shining his season-seven spotlight on one parcel of American voters forced to face their own complicity in the election results. The council member also screams at his wife for not voting: “Look at our friends on the couch and tell them that they might not be able to maintain their rights as a married couple because you were too busy playing on Etsy to go vote!”

Kai, meanwhile, is busy mashing up bags of Cheetos in a blender, using the crumbs as orange makeup while he practices his “yuge” impression of Trump in the mirror. His sister, Winter Anderson (Billie Lourd) devoted her college semester to campaigning for Clinton. “She was supposed to win, is this really happening?” the depressed co-ed tells a friend before being interrupted by Kai. He then asks her to link pinky fingers. “I’m just so scared now,” she says. “Everyone is,” he replies with a smile.

Then comes the opening credits sequence — the mashup of phobias, Trump and Clinton masks and the franchise’s theme song with a patriotic twists ends with two hands, pinky-swearing, in handcuffs — and Cult truly begins.

“How the show begins on election night, pro or con, I think everybody can relate to the feeling of that evening, and that was the launch of the season,” Murphy said at a recent press event, attended by The Hollywood Reporter. On Sept. 1, when Clinton was the presumed winner, Murphy decided to use the election as a jumping-off point to explore how the cult of personality and leaders such as Charles Manson rise up within a disenfranchised community. After Trump’s stunning win, when Murphy and his writers began to plot the season in December, they changed the opening scene. “It was very easily switched because pro or con, either candidate, Evan’s character, who plays somebody who rises up because of anger in our country, was always the same.”

Murphy went on to explain that despite what many people may think — including the show’s conservative fans who have tweeted at Murphy that they plan to quit watching — Cult is not about Trump, or Clinton.

One thing the season is about is a “growing sense of anxiety in our culture,” something Murphy explores through Ally’s range of irrational phobias, which are re-triggered after the traumatic election night similar to when she was nearly crippled by her anxieties after 9/11. She has a fear of clowns — triggered by her son reading a Twisty the Clown comic book — blood, holes and confined spaces, to name a few. Later in the episode, when Oz sees a gaggle of clowns murdering their neighbors, the council leader (Tim Kang) and his wife, it’s unclear if he suffers from the same phobias as his mother, or if a Purge-inspired gang of killers is truly on the loose in this idyllic suburb. [At the end of the episode, Ivy reveals the name of their neighbors to be the Changs. Roanoke viewers will remember the Chang family — providing an Easter egg and perhaps the second clue, in addition to Freak Show‘s Twisty cameo, that Cult is indeed within the AHS universe.]

“One of the things that I personally experienced after this election was a wild increase in my life in anxiety,” said Murphy. “I think a lot of people can relate to that, no matter what side you’re on, because there seemed to be such a painful discourse going on, and everything seemed to be at Mach 4 level. You could feel it in the news. You can feel it now when you watch it. We’re on the brink of nuclear war one week, and then, the next week we’re on to something else equally extreme. I want to lean into the escalation of fear in our culture.”

That escalation is embodied in Kai, who delivers a verbose speech to his town’s council on why fear and chaos should reign. His interpretation is deemed delusional by the council. “I’m glad you 4Chan guys feel empowered to join the rest of us in civil society now that Papa Bear Trump is telling you it’s OK,” says that same councilmen from Ally and Ivy’s house, laughing at Kai’s emergence from his “parent’s basement.” But Kai has indeed tapped into the pervading fear surrounding them. He baits a group of Mexicans into beating him up, so he can use the scenario to his own political advantage. And he throws a drink on the lesbian couple he encounters on the street, Ally and Ivy.

As the restaurant owners and their white privilege become a target of Murphy’s satire, they also represent the Americans who long for the days of President Barack Obama. “For the first time I was included in the discussion, in the world,” Ally tells her shrink, played by Cheyenne Jackson.

“Our feeling is that everybody lost their shit after the election — Republican or Democrat — and everybody’s still losing their shit, and nobody’s really figured out from either side where to put those feelings,” Murphy explained. “[This season] is about somebody who has the wherewithal to put their finger up in the wind and see that that’s what’s happening and is using that to rise up and form power. Using people’s vulnerabilities about how they’re afraid and they don’t know where to turn, and they feel like the world is on fire.”

Though the season has plenty of satire on both sides — “I think that we’ve been very careful to be fair,” said Murphy, who laughed at Ally fighting her clown demons with bottles of rosé — the showrunner said he wanted Kai’s Cheetos-happy reaction to the election to represent the blindness many in this country had leading up to Trump’s election. (And yes, those were real Cheetos.)

“Evan really put real Cheetos on his face, but it was also meant to be a little bit deeper,” Murphy explained. “The idea that you can make fun of Trump all that you want to, and you can claim that he’s absolutely a ridiculous figure, which many people do, but there is some anger in the country and passion in the country that he has tapped into that elevates him from a cartoon figure to someone to be taken seriously, in my book.”

That anger and how it has the power to manipulate is truly what the season is all about.

“Evan’s character was making that statement and rubbing it into Billie Lourd’s face, that she really was looking in the wrong direction,” he explained. “You felt it leading up to the election with all the liberal news. The laughter and cackling that all of the liberal news shows would have about that group of people in our culture, making fun of them, talking about then in a negative way, which led to the shock of, ‘Oh, they haven’t been taking these people seriously. They’re not jokes. There’s something go on there.’ That’s what that scene is about.”

The premiere sets the stage for Ally and Kai to again cross paths, as the couple hires Winter as a nanny for Oz. Winter and Kai will also continue to reveal themselves in mysterious ways, but after screening the first three episodes, it’s unclear how the characters will seemingly be joining Kai’s yet-to-be-revealed cult.

Throughout the season, Peters will portray six different cult leaders through flashbacks, including Manson, David Koresh, Jim Jones and even Andy Warhol. And Trump supporter Kai elevates himself from running for city council to running for the Senate. “I think he’s really a young genius,” said Murphy. “He has really taken the part seriously, and done a lot of research about cults and the rise of fascism, and what does that take, and how do you speak to crowds, and how do you manipulate people?”

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