#maybe they felt it was too similar to their last entry in terms of mood?

[eurovision-del]

EMA is happening this weekend, and while we still only have snippets, I decided it was worth trying to rank them:

Inmate - The Salt

Gaja Prestor - Verjamem vase

Simon Vadnjal - Nisi sam

Ana Soklič - Voda

Parvani Violet – Cupid

Imset - Femme Fatale

Tinkara Kovač - Forever

Saška – Še kar lovim tvoj nasmeh

Božidar Wolfand Wolf - Maybe Someday

Lina Kuduzović - Man Like U

Manca Berlec - Večnost

Klara Jazbec - Stop the World

I’m gonna start by saying I find it really hard to rank snippets, the way a strong is structured and how it builds or doesn’t is really important to how much I enjoy it, and for all I know the rest of the songs could be exactly the same for 3 minutes or do some really interesting stuff elsewhere in the song. I also find it a lot harder to really get into a song when you’re thrown into it. Still, I enjoy some sounds and styles more than others so I could rank based on that. For me there is one clear winner. Inmate had my favourite song from all the national finals last year with Atma, so more of the same is absolutely what I was after, I just love those heavy guitars and getting some pure metal is so great! The snippet lacks any climax and feels a little less intense than their last entry, but I really hope the full song brings it, and even with just the snippet I know this is my favourite song by a long way. I like the next two in my ranking a fair bit, they just about stand out from the others. I really like the beat in Verjamem vase, and both songs, especially Nisi sam have an anthemic quality to them, which I think works well in both. It’s also always nice to hear something other than English. Voda and Cupid both ranked quite high for having really good voices at least in the studio cut, Femme Fatale is nice enough, but after that I really struggle to feel anything much about the rest of the songs. Overall I find most of the snippets pretty mediocre, but I can’t call a selection that produces a song I love a bad one, so I’m mostly happy with EMA this year. It’ll also be a lot easier to judge how good it is as a whole once I’ve heard the full songs. The one thing I’ll say is that I have absolutely no clue who could win this, all the songs feel at a similar level once I discount my personal tastes, so it feels very open.

[natsspammityspamspamham]

Dino Watches Anime (Dec 21)

Happy Holidays! I've been spending my winter break watching anime like a loser. Some things never change...

I will be updating some stuff from my previous entry on this list (which was at the beginning of the season I think).

Series (mostly seasonal)

Wandering Son

This anime felt like a manga preview, and I'm not complaining. I just think they left it unfinished. Unfortunately, I don't think we would ever be able to get a continuation with this considering that it was allegedly "not well received" (although winning some awards). Alas, I enjoyed my time watching it and being called out during a few (a lot) of parts regarding puberty and gender identity. Its incredibly slow pace and pastel-like art style were very fitting. I would recommend it, but you do need to be in a certain mood to watch it (as it has very little comedy).

Spy x Family Season 2

Yeah, it's very good. I don't think I liked the tennis arc nearly as much as everyone else, but I still like this season a lot. I feel like everyone is either planning on watching or is watching it, so I won't spend too much time on this one.

Chainsaw Man

I do get the hype. This is a great show, but I honestly think this show is an 8/10. I think a lot of the supposed relatability of the main character is lost on me (aroace). It's a cool world with very interesting characters. The morally gray atmosphere and characters are refreshing to see from a Shonen Jump manga (where friendship is always the answer), and the art is absolutely amazing (yes, even the CG is pretty good). But I think something is missing for me (can't figure out what it is).

Akuyaku Reijou nano de Last Boss wo Kattemimashita

Yeah man, this show is sh*t. I already talked about it at length, but I also gave it a 5.5/10, so I think my friend's comment about me being a clown is incredibly realistic unlike having a structured magic system in this anime. Oh well, I guess if you like Yuichiro Umehara doing ASMR cringy lines, this show will definitely be on your list, but I was shaking my screen and cringing 70% of the time while watching this show.

Cool Doji Danshi

This show made an appearance on my "take" on the portrayal of social anxiety and pretty privilege in anime, but I feel like I'd need to watch it and finish it in a really specific mood where I wouldn't think even puddle-deep.

Pop Team Epic Season 2

That last episode was literally a 19-minute buildup for one punchline that was... alright. Yuuichi Nakamura dubs live-action actor Yuuichi Nakamura. Besides that, the episode doesn't hold any value to people who haven't watched the type of show it's parodying (me). The rest of the show is incredibly niche in terms of humour, but at least this show is aware that it's sh*t. There were a few moments that made me smile and maybe let out a chuckle, but watching Pop Team Epic is pretty much like buying a huge bag of trail mix just for the M&Ms.

Mob Psycho III

This is an absolute masterpiece. I didn't think the show could top the previous season, but here we are. I rated it a 10/10 even if Bones didn't animate a few things (it still felt incredibly cohesive). The only thing that brought it down was the Sakurai scandal, but that isn't any fault of the anime.

Bocchi the Rock!

You know, I really should've watched this before writing that post on social anxiety in anime because "she's just like me fr fr". Despite being over-the-top (this is anime), I find this interpretation, while drawn for comedic value, still incredibly realistic for its subject matter. Not only that, but it's got some good tunes and is like the antithesis to K-On (guys, these shows aren't remotely similar when you look beyond the superficial traits). Anyways, there's an incredibly good video about why it's good on YouTube already. I relate to Bocchi a lot (almost too much), so I'd highly recommend it for that alone, but I wouldn't blame you if you ducked out because she was too relatable. Also, I'd like to give a shoutout to the seiyuu who make this anime so much fun, especially Yoshino Aoyama who made that glitch scream.

Movies

Omoi, Omoware, Furi, Furare

This movie looked incredibly promising because of its creator, Io Sakisaka, who also wrote Ao Haru Ride. Despite not actually liking the Ao Haru Ride anime, I figured it was definitely worth a shot. What I got was a manga recap that was incredibly rushed and poorly paced (one summer festival lasts maybe 3 minutes before it abruptly changes setting). The character motivations make little sense, and they seem very shallow in terms of development, which makes their relationships feel incredibly half-assed. These things are crucial for shoujo romance anime, which are built on empathy and connections between characters. Although the genre can feel melodramatic at times, when given the proper time and care, the melodrama is far more palatable. However, even if the proper time and care were given, part of the plot is just a common p*rn plot. No joke. They even have the step-sibling trope, which is yikes. Overall, it was a very mediocre movie that did not meet my expectations at all.

Umibe no Etranger

When describing this movie, my friend said it sounded like "a cry for help." That's not inaccurate, and I would be lying if I said that this movie didn't annoy me at times. This movie is incredibly short and fast-paced, and at first, I thought this was caused by a similar issue to the previous entry, but surprisingly, the manga follows a very similar structure and pace. However, there were a few lines that were cut that didn't make sense to exclude (but it doesn't heavily impact the main storyline). The rating system also lied to me calling this PG-13 when there is an explicit scene in there (between two adults). I don't like how they make some BL characters incredibly whiny (especially when we're supposed to believe they're consenting adults). I feel like this movie really lacked proper development and time. The side characters were only given names and maybe one trait each, and I feel like they really could've done more with this story. Alas, the soundtrack was great, which helped elevate it, and the setting (Okinawa) looks great and full of life. There is a sequel manga, but I feel like making this film entailed that we would be more attached to these characters by the end so we would be encouraged to go read the manga.

Summer Ghost

This is another very short movie, and it really ain't that deep. Everything in this movie is predictable. Every single plot twist is like Dora the Explorer and didn't shock me, and ironically, I think they should've closed one of the plots better because it arguably looks like MC did not report something he was supposed to and may have just incriminated himself by putting his hands on evidence that should've been at least shown to eventually be in police possession. Anyways, the soundtrack carries this movie to no end, and the voice acting was also good. This is revealed early on, but MC is not explicitly mentioned to be close to death unlike the other two characters, so his ability to connect with the titular Summer Ghost makes less sense than it needs to.

Eve no Jikan

Technically, this has an ONA and a movie version with both being nearly the same minus a few scenes that should've just been included in the movie version (it would've added less than 10 minutes overall, I think). Because of this, you are kind of required to watch both to get the full story. Some comedic moments in this anime feel out of place since the story tells a tale similar to Hal (another movie about an android). It tells little tidbit tales of androids and how they get along with the humans they have been purchased by. There are a few episodes that stand out to me (4 and 6 of the ONA). It's the best watch out of this category (although that isn't saying a whole lot). It was thought-provoking and had some great voice acting, but I would've really liked a continuation. It felt like a passion project through and through (it's an original with no source material), so if you're interested in human-android relation like the previously mentioned Hal or Plastic Memories, give this package a shot.

[shhhlikeme]

Hello! I want to start off by saying you’re really pretty and your writing is amazing 🥺👉👈 Could I request a oneshot where the s/o of either Yamaguchi or Suga (which ever you prefer they are both my babies) get into an argument and the s/o ends up flinching out of habit during it, and maybe some cute fluff at the end?

Sugawara Koshi x Reader Angst Fluff !!!!

———————————

A/N: Hello! EYEEE want to start off by saying im blushing thank you angel💖💖💖 of course you can. Request anytime I’m all ears and keyboard taps!

This is super fluffy so I hope you like it!!!!

Yams is my favourite but I haven’t written a Suga story yet and I have a little crush on him so I’ll pick him, yay! (Also, Suga’s voice actor in the dub sounds so attractive to me ugh)

———————————

“Hey baby!” You walked into your boyfriend’s room that his parents let you into. You flicked the lights on.

can we all collectively agree that Suga’s parents are some Queen Elsa & Jack Frost looking mfs?!

Surprised because you didn’t tell him you were stopping by, Sugawara’s eyes lit up when he saw you

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” He scrambled off his bed to you, giving you a chaste kiss.

You can’t tell anyone this, but Suga’s parents secretly invited you because they have been worried about their son

From their perspective, Suga came home everyday seemingly drained and depressed

He would mutter a hello to his parents, go straight to his room and lock the door

You didn’t know this, because your boyfriend was completely normal with you and with his friends from school

He was his regular cheeky self that you loved

But you couldn’t deny his parents anything and you wanted to see your baby so you agreed to come over one night after school to kind of “catch him in this act” that his parents described

You scanned your handsome boy’s face and it made you frown

He did looked drained. That’s not normal considering school had been out for maybe an hour and you just saw him during last period looking chipper.

He had lines under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped/lower than usual. Not to mention his eyes betrayed him because they looked like someone who was really going through it, even though you could see that his spirits lifted with your entry

You didn’t say anything, opting to poke his stomach instead and smile up at him

for someone’s whose weak spot is his ticklish tummy, the joy from his laugh didn’t reach his eyes whole heartedly like they normally did

You tested one last time.

“I made you tempura, just the way you like it,” You placed the wrapped dinner plate you bagged on his dresser, gauging his reaction.

Koshi appeared like he was a stage actor when he gave you a big smile and said thanks.

Your heart immediately sank then, because you knew his parents had been telling the truth.

There was something wrong with your Koshi. Very wrong.

Ok. Here goes.

You turned around to lock his room door and took his hand

You gestured for him to crawl back into bed which he seemed genuinely happy about.

You straddled his waist, sitting in a position where he couldn’t hide his face from you nor could he escape when this questioning started

“Uh oh. You only sit on me like this when you want “to talk.”

You nodded. He knew.

Your boyfriend liked talking about his feelings but not when they could potentially bring down the mood of others.... and with this specific circumstance where he was able to hide his sadness from you so well, you had no choice but to jump straight into playing hardball.

“Shishi.” You used the embarrassing pet name you made for him and he slightly blushed.

Marry him, aight?

“Yeah? You okay? I’m listening baby tell me.” He looked at you with his shining eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Suga didn’t miss a beat. He was well rehearsed. “Wait—me? This talk is about me? Nothing. Why do you ask?”

“Well why are you laying in your bed with the lights off at 4pm? You’re usually doing your school work at this time. That’s what you text me.”

Suga sighed. “I was just tired today, that’s all.”

“Shishi.....”

“Y/N, baby. trust me I’m fi-“

“Is it about volleyball?”

Koshi sat up quickly, cradling your back to make sure you were safe. He scooted backwards, making it so his back was leaning on his headboard.

“Can I please put you next to me?” He asked.

You mentally noted that he didn’t answer the question.

And that he wanted to get out of this “truth spell” position

So it was about volleyball. You ignored his question back and pushed forward.

“Did something happen? Is Daichi injured again? Or is Ukai quitting—“

Suga locked his jaw, looking away from you. “No no. It’s not that— I’m fine. I’m good.”

You couldn’t tell who he was trying to convince more: you? Or himself?

You pushed a bit further.

“Tomorrow is your Senior game, right? You, Asahi, Daichi and Kiyoko will be awarded for the years you put in, right?”

Suga, looking pained, gently moved you off his lap to sit next to him. He got out of bed and paced the room. You knew you were about to crack him but you weren’t too concerned because he needed to let whatever this was out. It’s bad enough that your baby was having such internal conflict like this. It was depressing him and he was dealing with it all by himself.

You stared at him and moved to sit up on your knees, prepared to deal the final blow.

“Are you sad about not playing, Shishi?”

The volcano that Sugawara had been trying so hard to keep in finally erupted at your words.

“SAD?! Am I sad?!” He practically roared at you loudly.

You flinched because it was the first time you have ever heard your boyfriend raise his voice in anger, let alone at you. You remember that he told you he’d only shown his team that side of him once during a game and they were shook, rightfully so. He was kind of scary like this.

“YES I’m sad! But mostly, I’M PISSED! EVERYONE expects me to walk on stage tomorrow and accept an award I had no part in contributing to?! I have been on this team for 3 years, 2 of those years as a starting setter and those two years accounted for bullshit seasons for Karasuno. The one year I sat my ass on the bench is the year we WIN! The year the crows got their wings back I AM SITTING OUT! No one wants to admit it but what the fuck does that tell you, me, and everyone, huh?! It tells us that I was the problem. I was the broken part: the gear that caused the machine to malfunction. The gear that Kageyama came in and fixed—2 years my junior. I’m pathetic, you know?! How many captains sitbon the fucking bench while I watch my best friends play the sport we all love equally? Then I have to walk around all day pretending I don’t feel this way because I am too busy stopping Kageyama and Hinata from pummelling eachother, telling Tsukishima to stop being so mean, mitigating Yamaguchi and Ashai’s panic attacks, Forbidding Tanaka and Noya’s anger issues and the reward I get for all it isn’t the luxury of playing like Daichi who does similar work. I get no reward. I pretend to be happy the Sugawara that I used to be. I’m not happy. The only time I take off that mask off is when I get home and by that time I’m so exhausted from keeping up the facade that staying in the dark until I have to go to school again and put the mask back on is the only way I can cope. So YES I’m fucking sad, Y/N. Sad is an understatement.”

you stayed silent as you listened to every emotionally charged word, letting him catch his breath

Your heart had been shattered around the 4 second mark of his speech, hearing the mental turmoil your baby had been going through in his voice

He was going through all of that pain...

And in spite of it he would still call you every night and listen to you talk about how annoyed you are at your little sister for stealing your shirt

He didn’t change for you because he didn’t want to stress you out and that made you feel like a failure as a girlfriend

After a few minutes of Sugawara calming down, you opened your arms for him invitingly

“Come here.”

Suga looked at you, obviously fighting back tears. Not being able to bare going through it alone anymore, he mounted the bed again, hugging you then maneuvering your bodies so that he was spooning you.

“I saw you flinch. I’m so sorry for scaring you.” He whispered as he kissed the back of your hair. “I love you. So so much, Y/N.”

You reached back to run a hand soothingly against the side of his face. You felt wet tears there and you repeated the soothing gesture. “I love you more, Shishi.....” You backed up so you were pressed closer to his warm body, reinforcing the fact that you weren’t going anywhere. “And Shishi when you’re ready... I can’t wait to tell you all the reasons why you’re the team’s and my....MVP, alright?”

Sugawara nodded into your hair before tightening his grasp on you.

———————————

A/N: This is probably the post I’ve written that is the most realistic in terms of cannon character sentiment. As an ex competitive volleyball player I believe this is truly how Suga feels :( at least youre there to cheer him up!!

[villainousshakespeare]

A Forest Interlude Chapter 26   An Audience with the King

Summary: Eleonore (OFC) discovers a wounded man in the woods near her home and seeks to heal him. Little does she know that it is none other than the heir to the throne, Prince Hal of England.

Chapter: 26 of 27

Rated E

Warnings: smut, sex fluff, angst, oral sex, fingering, hand jobs

(spoiler - don’t worry, it will all work out okay in the end)

In this chapter: Henry give his verdict on their marriage

Read the entire story on AO3

@nrthmnsplbnd09 ;  @nonsensicalobsessions @yespolkadotkitty@just-the-hiddles @from-hel-i-with-love  livviedoo@hopelessromanticspoonie @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen@dangertoozmanykids101 @kellatron55 @myoxisbroken@thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @vodka-and-some-sass @shiningloki@hiddlesholic @isitmadnessrpg​

It was something of an understatement to say that Hal was not having the best day. Between his embarrassing scene at the palace and his confrontation with his former companions, he was having to take a good, hard look at his behavior, and he was not enjoying what he saw. His youthful indiscretions were fine when it had only been his safety and good name that were at risk; he could fend off any affronts on either flank, he knew. But today those indiscretions had put Nell and their unborn child in harms way, and that he could not abide.

Hal had loved others in his life of course. He still remembered the devastation he felt when his mother had passed away, for instance. He felt a filial affection for Jon and, to a lesser extent, his other siblings. In his own way, yes, Hal loved his father. It was sometimes a bitter, self-mocking love, but it was love nonetheless. He even, deep down where he blushed to look, love that old rascal Falstaff.

None of that had prepared him for the sweeping emotion he felt for the beautiful woman now seated in the circle of his arms on the saddle before him. If any harm should have befallen her, he would have burnt the Boars Head to the ground with all of those thieving reprobates inside. Add to that the fact that she was giving him the greatest gift a man could hope for - a child, heir of his body and product of their love for each other - and that the japes of careless fools had also put the well being of the babe at risk. Hal felt his blood begin to boil again just at the thought.

It was not, all things considered, the state of mind best suited for a second audience with his royal sire. Hal tried to keep to a minimum his interactions with Henry. It seemed best for both their sakes since conversations usually left them both in states of heightened agitation. Two in one day was a disaster waiting to happen. At best Hal knew he could expect a dressing down over his actions earlier that day, at worst... well, just let Henry try to take Nell away from him! He would learn that Hal was not a tame cat to be ordered about at will, but a Lion in his own right ready fight to defend his own.

In this mood he rode into his father's courtyard, helped his obviously anxious wife to dismount, and handed his reins to an expectant groom. Nell looked up at him with eyes clouded with anxiety and he smiled at her, hoping to shield his own worry from her.

"All will be well my love, I give my word," he told her softly, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"Tis not the way I hoped the time would come when you and I would once more meet the king," she sighed, giving him a shaky smile.

"Why no? How could we e'er improve on this?" he laughed, brushing her hair back from her face.

"For one, I might perhaps have worn a dress," she groaned.

"You look divine, my goddess, as you always do. Let any man say otherwise to me, and I will teach him better with my sword."

"Aye, that will ease our entrance to the court," she said with an eye roll. "Well, best to face the music and have done. Shall we proceed then to the lion's den?"

"Your bravery doth quite put me to shame. Onward, dear wife, to victory obtained."

Hand in hand, with a silent Renaldo shadowing their heels, they made their way down the twisted halls until they reached the entry to Henry's audience chamber. With a curt nod of his head, Hal signaled to the attendant to announce them. He would not repeat his faux pas of that morning and barge in unannounced. Better to pick his battles.

"His Royal Highness, Henry, Prince of Wales," the man intoned, "And Princess Eleanor to see you, Sire."

Well, Nell had been given her proper title. He supposed that was something. Wrapping his arm around her protectively, Hal sauntered into the room. A quick glance around showed it to be surprisingly empty of functionaries. Henry would of course have had advanced word of their arrival, the court was full of spies. Apparently it was a private audience with his wayward son that he desired.

"My lord and father, health be with you sir," he said by way of greeting, dipping his head in salute.

Nell stayed silent but dipped an elegant curtsy, prying herself free from his arm to do so. Henry slouched on his throne, eyes hooded as he looked over the pair. Renaldo, ever the vigilant servant, quickly dropped to his knee and then, at a wave from the king, took up his place beside and slightly behind the throne. As the silence stretched on, Hal let a small, ironic smile play about his lips, the one he knew Henry hated. His father sought to play power games, fine. He would wait the old bastard out.

"I am most sorry for the trouble, sire," Nell blurted out, stepping slightly forward. "I promise that I had it well in hand, but was yet grateful that you gave Hal help."

One of the king's eyebrows raised itself at her nervous outburst, and Hal closed his eyes briefly, unable to blame her. She did not have his years of sparring with the cold king to draw on. At last his father lifted his head and met Hal's eye.

“I see you managed to retrieve the girl,” Henry groused. “I can’t say that is an unmixed delight.”

"I am as always left quite humbled sir, by your enthusiasm for my joy."

"Presumptuous cub, who gave you leave to speak?" the king snapped as Nell elbowed Hal in the ribs. "Well now you know us guiltless in the crime, who was it then that took the girl from you? Or did she come at last into her wits and seek to fly from you all on her own? Tell me, Renaldo, where you found her out?"

"A drinking house in Eastcheap, good my lord," the guard said, with a quick glance towards Nell and Hal. "It seems the patrons of the public house did seek to make acquaintance of her grace."

"I do suppose it serves no good to ask if this be the same house that often times her loving husband hath been known to haunt?"

"It is the one, my king, I must confess. And that same rascal Falstaff, as he's called, did look to be the author of the prank."

"For which offense, too great for me to bear, I have henceforth exiled him from my life. If he or any of his merry band do seek me out then all that they will find shall be my door shut firmly in their face."

"He told the knight as much before we left," Renaldo confirmed when the king looked over at him, "in terms so stark they could not be misheard."

Henry rose from his throne and crossed to the window, staring out of it for some time. Once again time seemed to stretch on in silence. Hal could tell Nell was getting antsy again, and gave her hand a squeeze. She darted her eyes up to him and he shook his head slightly. He could understand her anxiety, he was feeling it himself. Unfortunately, any attempt to rush the king would only end in pushing him into anger. Finally Henry turned and walked back over, stopping to look penetratingly at Nell.

"For years God knows how I have strove to find a way to free him from the fat knight's sway. It seems instead of guards and royal writs I should have sent a pair of pretty eyes. If it is true that he has turned away from all these gross and undesirable ways, not just myself but all of this our realm would seem to be indebted now to you."

"I did no more than love him, majesty," Nell replied simply, blush staining her cheek.

"And if we are to talk of gratitude," Henry went on, ignoring her statement completely, "it seems mine must not end with this today. I hear from doctor Hobbs that it was you who cared for me when I was last beset."

Ah, there it was! The reason that there were no others in the room. He would not want any more people knowing of his seizures than absolutely necessary.

"I am right glad that I could be of help," Nell said. "Though Dr. Hobbs was not too long absent. I chanced to have seen something similar when I was learning to care for the ill."

"Your mother also, if I be correct, knew much of lore pertaining to the sick."

"She did my lord, and still knows more today."

"She and my younger son do think me blind, that I see not their shameful goings on. But I suppose at least in that one case I need not fear a wedding in the end. Which brings us back to you and the crown prince."

Hal, uncharacteristically quiet up until now, snapped to attention. His father met his eye and held it with an open appraisal. What he was looking for Hal was uncertain, but he seemed to find it at last, as he gave a nod of his head.

"I do not like the way you two were wed, in clandestine a manner gainst my will. I sometimes think your only goal in life is but to mock my wishes and my name."

"Oh do not think it father, tis not so. I seek to bring no shame upon our house, or any other way disgrace our name. I am a man full grown, my will's my own. But tell me, would you wish it otherwise than that the future king of this our realm, refuse to dance to any other's tune?"

"There maybe something there in what you say. When it doth comes to choosing your revolts, I must admit I greatly do prefer you to defy me for noble lass who bringeth out your chivalry and grace than for a brace of mottle pated fools who seek only to lead you into sin."

"Oh fear not sir, for this my lady wife doth lead me into heady sin enough!" Hal could not resist saying.

"Must you vex me thus you willful boy?" Henry growled, eyes flashing. "Tis pain enough to speak what I must say without you making matters harder still."

"And what, good father, is it you would say?"

"That since you have been married in the church, and Lady Eleonor is of fit rank, kin to the royal families of name, and seeing as she has in some small ways been of good use already to our throne..."

"Come, out with it sir! Say what you would say!"

"Keep silent, Hal, and let your father speak!" Nell snapped at him, with a glare to equal Henry's.

"I only hope that there will come a day when some of her wit doth rub off on you. But being as it may, know you my son, that I will to your marriage make no cross."

"Your Majesty, you have my deepest thanks!" Nell said, sinking once more into a curtsy and shooting Hal a speaking look.

"And mine, as well, my father, add to that," he hastened to say, the specter of fear at last lifting from them. "But tell me father, ere your fit did come, do you remember aught of what we spoke?"

"But little Harry, if the truth be told," Henry admitted, sitting back in his throne. "And that I do is shrouded in a haze."

"Then let me tell you once again, good sir. There is another reason to rejoice. For my beloved, clever little wife is even now expectant with our heir. And so you see, the marriage hath been blessed, and God as well as you do smile on it."

"I will not count the days upon my hands that you two have been married under God and in union have conceived this child," Henry remarked dryly. "I only will say that it pleases me."

"It pleases me as well, I must confess," Hal said with a cocky grin, embracing Nell and making her squeal. "And now, if you'll excuse us, majesty, it has been quite the day for my dear bride. If we may have your leave sir to depart, I wish to take her home and tend to her."

Only on the last words did he let his eyes go hot as he looked at Nell.

"Well, do so then. And god go with your both. But one last thing that I would ask of you. The lady is a princess now by right. See to it, would, you, she be properly dressed. The bills for this you may all send to me."

"Why father, there is naught would please me more!" Hal grinned, bowing his exit.

When the reached the courtyard, he tossed her up onto his horse.

"Well, lovely wife, is seems the day is one! How doth it feel to be a true princess?"

"A bit unreal, if I am speaking true. But Hal, how I do wish I'd worn a dress!"

"Think not of that, for I shall see to all," he told her, a glint in his eye. "And when I have a wardrobe made for you appropriate for my own sweet princess, you will not need to fear his grace's ire, for none but me will ever see it worn!"

Nell blushed and he grinned wider, imagining just what he would have made for her at his father's expense.

[athenagc94]

Gust and Piper - Beginnings Part 2

A few of you said you were interested in another part to this post so here it is.    Thanks to those who took the time to read it!

You can read the first the other parts here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

I’m also posting the story here on AO3!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The scratching of Gust’s pencil immediately stopped when he heard Albert slip back into the office.  He glanced over at the clock on the wall.  It hadn’t even been twenty minutes since he left and the walk to Pipes & Bricks Shop was at least half of that time.  Normally, Albert’s consultations lasted for at least an hour, if not more.

“Back so soon?”  He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms over his head.  His back cracked and popped in response.  With a groan, he spun in his chair and peered over the banister.  Albert shuffled through some files on his desk.  “Was she not home?”

“No, she was home,” Albert said as he reread a commission proposal, “but there wasn’t much to discuss.  She loved the design you came up with.”

Gust’s stomach did a somersault.  “Wait, she did?”

“I know, I was surprised too.”  Albert hid a teasing grin behind his hand.  Gust ignored him and crept closer to the edge of the loft.  Albert continued after a moment, “she was adamant that she didn’t want any changes.”  A giddy feeling bubbled in the pit of his stomach now.  Piper liked it.  His real work would see the light of day in Portia.  The thought made his head spin.  “I don’t know what you two talked about today, but she seemed pretty excited about the addition.  More than necessary if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you.”

Albert arched his eyebrow at him.  “Then what did you two talk about?”

“We discussed my entry for the Vincent Design competition.  Nothing more.”

“Right, right.”  Albert set a few finished orders aside, only to replace them with a new stack.  “And after that conversation, you just so happened to create a similar design for her, just because, right?”  He shot Gust a knowing look.  

Gust didn’t respond.  On the one hand, he didn’t want Albert thinking he liked the builder, because he knew that was exactly what was being implied right now.  He didn’t like Piper.  That much was clear.  He didn’t even know her.  They’d exchanged more words this morning than they had since she arrived nine months ago.

“Oh, don’t sulk.  It’s alright to admit she stroked your ego a bit,” there was a teasing lilt in his tone, “I bet it felt nice to have someone like your ideas for once.”

“People like my work,” Gust insisted with a sniff, “if they didn’t A&G wouldn’t get any business.”

Albert chuckled.  “You know what I mean,” he said, “It’s draining, having your work constantly picked apart by clients.  I get it.  But you can rest easy, my friend.”  He winked up at Gust.  “This one is all you.  Pipes wanted a Gust original.”  The tips of Gust’s ears burned.  A Gust original.  Piper had said the same thing when she left.  It brought a smile to his face.

He didn’t know Piper.  He didn’t necessarily want to know Piper either.  However, in their brief interactions and through his sparing observations, he knew she was relatively laid back.  She took things in stride.  Every commission thrown her way was taken with a smile.  She’d been thrown in more than a few dangerous situations since arriving in Portia.  People expressed their concerns, but she brushed them off with a laugh.  Even Higgins’ incessant gloating didn’t seem to faze her.  She was climbing the ranks as a builder, but she didn’t seem to care about being the best.  In short, she excelled at not giving a damn about anything.  He could use this to his advantage and have a little fun.

“Hey Albert?”  The dark haired man hummed in response, eyes still on the form in his hands.  “Do you think the builder would mind if we used a mix of marble, igneous brick, and ironwood for her extension?”  

                                                       ↢↢↢↣↣↣

“You’re in a good mood.”  Ginger gave Gust one of her demure smiles as he stirred honey into his afternoon tea.  “You only use sweeteners when you aren’t feeling bitter.”  Gust ignored the petty jab at his temperament and drizzled a little more honey into his cup.  It sank to the bottom of the amber liquid like glue.  “What’s the occasion?”

“No occasion.”

Ginger rolled her eyes.  “Of course,” she turned her attention back to the book in her hands, “It’s just I haven’t seen you use sweetener since Django commissioned you for a painting for the Round Table last year.  You were happy back then too.”  She shrugged.  “But that’s none of my business.”

Gust hummed. “You’re right.  It isn’t any of your business.”

Ginger didn’t respond, but he felt the smug energy that rolled off her in waves.  She always basked in the knowledge of knowing she was right.  She simply waited.  They both knew he’d cave eventually and tell her why he was in a good mood.  He couldn’t keep things from her for very long.  So naturally, he found himself continuing.  “But if you must know.”  Ginger smirked.  “If you must know, things are going well with the builder’s new addition to her workshop.”  He took a tentative sip of his tea and grimaced.  Maybe he’d added a little too much honey.

“I’m glad Piper’s letting you run wild with your creativity,” her expression softened, “I haven’t seen you have this much fun in awhile.  It’s nice to see.”

“It is fun.”

It had been a few weeks since Piper had come to A&G seeking the expansion of her workshop.  He tested the waters early on in the project.  She’d willingly accepted the suggestion of using the strange combination of materials.  She even provided some of the materials herself.  So he got bolder.  He pushed the boundaries of his design, but that didn’t faze her.  She never pushed back.  Like commissions, Piper took each new suggestion with a smile and a nod.

These days, Piper stopped by A&G more and more often.  The construction for the South Bridge was underway and Piper was a main player in the preparations.  She’d have a new batch of materials for them each morning.  Normally, she’d spend her time chatting idly with Albert.  He’d flirt with her shamelessly.  She’d deflect it with a social grace he didn’t know she had.  It was almost amusing to watch him flounder.  She never used to venture upstairs, but these days she’d wander over to take a look at his latest designs.

At first, Gust tried to brush her off.  He hated being interrupted.  It ruined his creative flow.  Despite his clipped responses, Piper kept coming back.  She asked questions and Gust found himself responding more often.  She listened to his tangents and seemed genuinely interested.  When he would start a new project, he’d find himself wondering what Piper would think about it.  A giddy excitement fluttered in his chest when he thought about showing her his latest work.  It was more thought than he’d ever given her before, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Gust?”

Ginger was looking at him now, concern laced on her knitted brow.  How long had she been talking?  He wasn’t quite sure when he had stopped listening.  “Did you hear what I asked?”

“Honestly? No, I got swept off in thought again,” he admitted sheepishly, “can you repeat your question?”

Ginger shook her head.  “You and your daydreaming.”  She chuckled.  “Would you be willing to bring my birthday present for Albert with you this evening?  Dr. Xu said I shouldn’t be venturing into crowds right now.  The excitement is too much for me, or something.”  She gestured to the book in her hands.  “He went through the trouble to get me this book, so I want to make sure he gets a gift in kind.”

The book was bound in pink leather.  Gust recognized the title.  Journey to the East.  She mentioned wanting a copy some time ago.  He had planned on looking for it when he traveled to Atara in a few months.  He pursed his lips.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about Albert giving his sister gifts without telling him, but he’d dwell on that later.

“I can bring it with me.  I only plan on staying for a few minutes.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a grateful smile, “but feel free to stay as long as you’d like tonight.  It’s your friend’s birthday, go have some fun.  I’ll be fine with Uncle Russo.”

He waved her off.  “Albert doesn’t need me to have fun.  He has the ladies of Portia to keep him company,” he took another sip of his tea, “He won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ginger huffed.  “I think you should give Albert a little more credit.  He’s your friend after all.  I’m sure he’d be thrilled to have you celebrate with him.”

“I also planned on working on some of the pieces for our exhibition in Atara.  There’s still a lot to do.”

Ginger rolled her eyes.  “Well, when you put it that way, I think celebrating your friend is more important,” her expression hardened, “The exhibition is months away and I’ve seen you roll out masterpieces in less time.  That’s no excuse to skip his party.”  She pursed her lips at him and for a moment he swore he was looking in a mirror.  The sheer contempt in her expression was uncanny.  “You’re going to the Round Table tonight and I don’t want you back until after midnight.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be telling me to be back before midnight?”

“That’s not really a punishment for you, now is it?”  She arched a knowing eyebrow at him.  “You’d be thrilled if I gave you a curfew.  You’d use it as an excuse to never see people again and I can’t let that happen.  You have the freedom to go out and see people.  I want you using it.”  Gust winced.  There was a brittle edge to his voice.  She really wanted to go out this evening.  He could see it in her eyes.  

He sighed.  “I’ll stay out for at least an hour or two.”

She considered this.  “Fine, I’ll agree to those terms.  Just try and have some fun.” With a sniff, she returned to her book and the argument was closed.

Part 3

[scotchsonic-blog]

06-27-2008 Journal Entry #1

06-27-2008

Dear Journal,

I know I probably should have written in this sooner, since I got it as a gift last bday, and it's already been almost a year, but I felt I should write what happened this last weekend, anyway here it goes!

Me and Nathan we're playing some online games like we normally did Saturday night. Our parents have been friends for as long as I can remember and Saturday was date night. Nathan and I used to have a babysitter, but now that we were too old for that, our parents let us hang out all night, till they got home.

This night wasn't much different than every other Saturday, except this morning I woke up with cum in my boxers and sheets. I already knew what it was, thanks to older guys at school and Google tabs my dad sometimes forgot to close. but this was the first time it happened to me, and I had to tell someone!

Me and Nathan talk about everything, but I still thought it was awkward and didn't know how to bring it up. After we had finished a round of COD, we headed upstairs to grab another coke and chips. As I was grabbing the drinks, Nathan said he had to pee. I heard him go into the bathroom next to the kitchen, but strangely after a few min I didn't hear anything. Curious I went and saw he hadn't closed the bathroom door all the way. As I got closer I could see him in the mirror above the sink. As I continued to look, I saw that he saw him lick his hand and rub his spit on his dick. Then without warning his dick got hard and stuck up pretty far!

My heart was pounding and I could feel a warm feeling as my own dick started to grow and push against my gym shorts.

When I looked back up I saw that Nathan had picked up his pace and kept grabbing and scratching the head of his dick. Suddenly Nathan looked up and caught me looking at him. His eyes widened and he moved to close the bathroom door. I stepped forward yelling "wait!" But he closed and locked it before I got there.

After maybe 2 min or so, Nathan came out bright red. He walked right up to me and asked me to promise not to tell his parents. I said I won't and that it wasn't a big deal.

When we went back down stairs the whole mood was different. He seemed pretty upset. I broke the ice by telling him what had happened this morning. He listened intently and was quiet after I finished. He said that it had started with him earlier that year, and that it started happening more often, even though he wanted it to stop. So his brother showed him how to "jack off" so he wouldn't have to wash his sheets 3x a week.

I had heard term jack off before in school but there wasn't a lot of detail. Hesitantly I asked him if he could show me how to jack off. Almost relieved he agreed and we got started.

After watching him, the process seemed pretty simple: think about something bad and dirty, while touching your dick until you felt it get warm and grow. BUT don't stop there and keep going. I started to picture Mrs. Nettle, our teacher without a shirt on, but my thoughts kept going back to seeing Nathan lick his hand and rub his dick. Nathan asked what I was thinking about. I lied and said Mrs. Nettle, he smiled and said he was too. We high fived.

When my dick stopped growing, I still felt the warmness get stronger and hotter. Curious, I asked if this is what sex is. Nathan, said " no, this is just one type of jacking off" i asked what the other type was and he stopped rubbing his dick.

Nathan looked me straight in the eye and said there was another kind of jacking off that you could only do with best buddies. I asked if he would show me how to do that too and after a short pause he agreed, but only if I agreed to the rules. He said the rules his brother told him we're : " you never tell anyone else, NO MATTER WHAT, and you don't do it a ton, just sometimes"

Slightly confused I told him I would keep the rules. Nathan got down on his knees next to me and looked up to me grinning. "Watch this!" he said before grabbing my dick and putting it in his mouth.

All the sudden it felt like fireworks had gone off in my head. A sound I have never heard came out of my mouth which prompted Nathan to suck harder. I didn't really know where to put my hands so I rested them on Nathan's shoulders. He moved his head back and forth picking up momentum. The warm feeling I had felt before was replaced with a surging fire. I wasn't sure if it hurt or felt good or both.

Nathan then pulled away from me a thin translucent string of precum leaked down his chin. He smiled a lot and asked if it felt good. Enthusiastically said it did and he said it was his turn. He took off his shirt and instructed me to do the same. After I pulled off my shirt we were both standing naked in the game room. He laid down on the floor and told me to put my dick by his mouth while I sucked his. I did what he asked and felt his smooth dick slide into my mouth. I was worried it would taste like pee, but it tasted pretty similar to my finger.

Nathan let out the same noise I did and I felt his dick quiver in my mouth. Not long I after that, I felt him direct my dick into his mouth. The fireworks in my head resumed and I gaged on his dick. We went long this for a while, our breath getting shorter and more strained.

All the sudden I felt a stiring in my dick I quickly spat his dick out of my mouth and said that something was going to happened. I felt him take my dick out of his mouth. He told me that the white stuff is going to come out and it was called cum. I asked what i was supposed to do with it. He kind of giggled and said that I needed to swallow it.

This surprised me. "Are you sure?" I asked. He said he knew it seemed weird but it was what his brother said and it actually tasted pretty good. Semi skeptical, I said ok and put his dick back in my mouth.

It didn't take long to get back to that intense itch and seemingly inevitable end. Then within an instant, it felt as though I had summited a hill and could feel something flowing through my dick and quickly! I paused mid shaft and moaned the loudest I had yet. Something warm and really really thick came out of my dick. Nathan got excited and tightened his mouth while gulping down my cum.

He gasped on his last swallow and came up hovering over my head. Open your mouth he said. I obeyed and he spit some of my seed onto my face, which missed my mouth by a little, but I was able to lick it up. It was salty but made my heart pound faster.

Nathan stood up and said next time he'll show me something cool we can do with our butts:) I I'm really excited to see what he means!

Thats all for today! Hopefully I'll write in here more often! See ya!

[theloniousbach]

A Listener’s Journal, #22: The Piano Trio in the 1950s

As I reminisce about my 50 years of hearing music, I go back even further, another five years or so, to a huge one.  The Oscar Peterson Trio (with Ray Brown and Ed Thigpen) opened (?!?!) for the New Christy Minstrels (@#$%*@) at UMKC where my Dad taught.  I was drawn to the music and ended up sitting behind the PA column onstage (I felt at home and I was a cute enough kid).  It was magic. The Canadiana Suite was an early album and Ed Thigpen gave me some drumsticks I have to this day.  And, piano-bass-drums is my basic unit, my entry point.  Miles is a formative hero, but perhaps because of that, I've been slow to get to know other trumpeters.  Tenor is the horn I know best but it's not necessary.  Piano-bass-drums is enough, thank you very much.

Bill Evans with Scott LaFaro and Paul Motian is a pinnacle, sure.  I also gravitated to Peterson, but he was already Oscar Peterson with album after album of great playing when I started buying him. Until this exercise, I never heard him (or Ahmad Jamal or Errol Garner) do the things that commanded that level of attention.

So I started with the three "Amazing" Bud Powell albums, then went to the Jamal at the Pershing album, then Garner By the Sea, and, a great new fine, a collection of Oscar Peterson recordings from 1949-1951 with Ray Brown or Major Helley. Garner was, I arrogantly thought, flashy and commercial, though the complete By the Sea release and another archival concert plus Christian Sands revival efforts prepared me for this exercise.  Jamal's influence on Miles won major points, but I didn't explore much beyond a Greatest Hits (on Impulse) album--but he seemed slighter some how even if what I was supposed to listen for was precisely the spaces. The Bud Powell I had was at the Massey Hall Concert (okay, he's the pianist you call for such a gig) and with Mingus at Antibes when that band intriguingly didn't have a pianist unless it was Charles himself.

All this to say, they were revered names but I didn't (and still don't) know them in all the subtleties I know Evans.  Or Monk.  He is in a category all his own, except I should do a different but similar exercise with Monk, Elmo Hope, Herbie Nichols, and possibly Sonny Clark.  And I'm not going to get to Tommy Flanagan, Hank Jones, and Cedar Walton.  I've got a fair sense of the trio work of Miles' pianists Red Garland and Wynton Kelly.  So this project can happily metastasize.

For now, pianists known more, if not exclusively, for trio work than accompaniment and therefore for burning the format on our/my ears. One last digression though is about Art Tatum who is a huge influence on these men.  My folks had a two record set of him playing solo versions of gems from the Songbook.  They were overwhelming Chopinesque ornamentations and all of them have those chops and deploy them in lieu of the horns.  But Tatum tires me out.

Powell, particularly on the relatively early Amazing albums, ain't shy about calling attention all he can do, but if he's the bebop pianist, the one who could play on Parker at that level, I hear that level of melodic invention.  And melody is what I'm gravitating to in Parker's playing and bebop chords are means to that end and not ends in themselves.  These are shortish pieces given recording conventions of the time, so there is a concision that polishes it all too.  Powell has more than enough power and speed, but I'm struck how it simply adds to the heft of playing.  Part of that heft is the bebopper's, certainly Parker's, grounding in the blues. As with all these players, the Great American Songbook is another key jumping off place, a rich lode to explore.  Powell, particularly here when there's promise not its tragic loss, is so inventive, so compelling.  He certainly played in larger ensembles, so he stands slightly apart from these others.  But I think that's true of his piano work too and his influence is broader than the piano-bass-drums ensemble.

Garner, on the other hand, is almost the quintessential piano trio leader.  He has chops and ideas to carry a band.  There's lots to listen to and I do disavow the flashy/commercial snap judgment, but I do think his impact is on pianists than the music as a whole.  He is flashy and winning.  The detail to explain away is "Misty" which is one of the most compelling and oft recorded standards.  With this exception and Jamal's "Poinciana," these men are not known as composers.  But, if we just immediately elevate "Misty" to the Great American Songbook then he--and one strong thread of the genre, think Bill Charlap--is a stylist and champion of these tunes.  Together, they contribute to a popularity that is too easy to dismiss.  I have though dismissed him and so welcome this exercise that will put him in play when I want to get back to some basics.

I expected to hear lots of overlap of tunes with Jamal, but they just make different choices from the standard repertoire.  I don't read too much in which Gershwin or Porter each chooses--and it's not that I prefer Jamal's choices.  But, I simply prefer Jamal's approach and see a wider influence than Garner has.  It's not just Miles, but that space just opens up possibilities.  With the band, Israel Crosby and Vernell Fourier have room that Garner doesn't allow Eddie Calhoun and Denzil Best (interesting that all of them, except Best, are better known for their work in these bands than elsewhere).  There's a "Cherokee" where all three lead an uptempo verse, but each chorus slows into lush ensemble playing.  Throughout there are gorgeous chords and fluid lines that build often slowly.  He/they show us nifty facets of these treasured tunes.  If "Misty" confounds my notion of Garner as an interpreter, not a composer, then "Ahmad's Blues" makes the assertion that Jamal (and Garner too) are not as bluesy as Powell or certainly Peterson.  But I think that's mostly true--and I like how Jamal lets tunes unfold without the drive of a blues shuffle.

As I've said, Oscar Peterson had a wonderful impact on my very young ears  His trio had a huge sound and an insistent often bluesy pulse.  He could hit big chords, block or trilled arpeggios, to culminate a solo or part thereof, that knocked you back.  Yes, there was Tatumesque flash but that drive was always present and kept things going and focused.  What makes the "Debut: Clef/Mercury Duo Recordings 1949-1951" set such a treasure is that it was all there at the beginning, including when Norman Granz just happens (yeah right) notice that he's in the audience at a Jazz at the Philharmonic concert and asks him to play, thus getting around work permits (Peterson was from Toronto).  The chords, the fluid ideas, the taste (he too is all over the Great American Song Book--and had I not found these recordings I might well have written about late 1950s collections of "Oscar Peterson Plays the Songs of [Tin Pan Alley Composer]."  I will still happily explore them too, but this will be my go to Peterson for a long time.).  It's the proper mix of flash and taste. 

Much as I appreciate Powell's edge, Oscar pulls that back a notch but just brings more ideas to the table than Garner.  Jamal is for a different mood, but it's a mood to indulge.

I want to relook at Parker in terms of melodic invention and Powell will be part of that deepening of what I can absorb from bebop.  I can see other explorations of the piano-bass-drums ensemble in formation (Nichols/Hope/Clark or Garland/Kelly or Tommy Flanagan, maybe Horace Silver (I don't even know if there are trio albums), 

But I'll be spending much more time with Peterson's duo and Songbook albums and Ahmad Jamal across the decades.(he has a wonderful very recent solo album "Ballades" that was an impetus for this little exercise).

[biofunmy]

In ‘City on a Hill,’ a Crime-Ridden Boston Before the ‘Miracle’

In Showtime’s new crime drama “City on a Hill,” Jackie Rohr is a cocaine-snorting, corrupt and racist F.B.I. veteran who longs for the days when the “bad men” were in power, and Decourcy Ward is a principled new assistant district attorney from Brooklyn, determined to “rip out the [expletive] up machinery” in 1990s Boston.

The characters — played with flamboyant vigor by Kevin Bacon and simmering fortitude by Aldis Hodge — shouldn’t like each other, or even be able to work together. And for much of the pilot episode, they don’t.

But one morning last April, as Bacon and Hodge filmed a scene for a later episode in Decourcy’s office — actually a set at Steiner Studios in Brooklyn — the mood was different. The characters were on good terms, maybe even kind of pals.

Decourcy shared his uneaten eggs with Jackie. (In between takes, Bacon joked about being too full to partake in the handsomely stocked craft services.) Both sported shiners on their faces but they didn’t give them to each other; Decourcy’s came from a confrontation with a church minister, Jackie’s from an “alcohol-induced haymaker” at the V.F.W. When their easy chatter was interrupted by a distressing call Jackie received on his period-appropriate oversized mobile phone, Decourcy expressed concern and moral support.

Decourcy and Jackie “don’t trust each other, but kind of need each other,” Hodge said later during a phone interview. “They both represent two sides of the same coin. One is a dark looking into the light, one is a light looking into the dark.”

That could be the tagline of “City on a Hill,” which takes place during a time when crime rates and racial tensions in Boston were exceedingly high until a coalition of community groups developed an anti-violence mission that would prove successful in the late ’90s.

[Read our review of “City on a Hill.”]

The show was created by the relatively unknown writer (and Boston native) Chuck MacLean, but it sports an impressive pedigree of Hollywood veterans, including the executive producers Ben Affleck, Matt Damon and Barry Levinson. It’s a sprawling ensemble piece that’s part procedural and part machismo-fueled interracial buddy tale: Decourcy and Jackie are brought together through their mutual interest in taking on a family of armored car robbers in Charlestown led by Frankie Ryan (Jonathan Tucker). By the end of the pilot, they’re swapping personal stories and strategizing how to build a potentially career-defining case over drinks in a bar.

Their dynamic may call to mind Tibbs and Gillespie or Murtaugh and Riggs, but the show’s origins lie in “The Town,” the 2010 crime thriller Affleck co-wrote, directed and starred in, which also centered on criminals in the working-class, heavily Irish Charlestown neighborhood.

Affleck was inspired to develop “City on a Hill,” he wrote in an email, after “doing so much research for ‘The Town’ and not being able to tell the scope and scale of the story the research yielded.” The series offers a more expansive means “to explore the city and in particular what was going on politically, socioeconomically, racially and culturally at the time I kind of came of age there,” he wrote.

Affleck tapped MacLean, a self-described “bum from Quincy, Mass.” with an unmistakable accent to match, who had worked with Affleck’s brother, Casey, on a script for a movie about the Boston Strangler that never got made. The veteran writer and producer Tom Fontana, who specializes in character-driven dramas set in distinct environments (“St. Elsewhere,” “Homicide: Life on the Streets,” “Oz”), was impressed by the pilot and came on as the showrunner and an executive producer after “City on a Hill” was picked up by Showtime.

While this high-wattage project is MacLean’s first foray into TV, his fascination with Boston history — his home in Los Angeles contains “wall-to-wall” crime and newspaper memorabilia stretching back to the 1930s — made him a good fit for Affleck’s vision.

“I didn’t want to spend five years talking about bank robbers and I don’t think he did either,” MacLean said. “So we started talking about the different things that were going on in Boston in the early ’90s.”

A lot was going on. The city was plagued by violent crime and racial tension, generating plenty of headlines that the series occasionally rips from, à la “Law & Order.”

It begins by citing the notorious case of Charles Stuart, a white Bostonian who in 1989 claimed that a black gunman attacked him and killed his pregnant wife. More than two months passed — during which the police went on a manhunt and Stuart eventually identified someone as the attacker from a lineup — before Stuart’s story fell apart. His brother Matthew went to the police and outed him as the real killer.

The incident exacerbated the already tense relationship between law enforcement and the black community. “The Boston police and the city of Boston — from the end of World War II, there was at least one time in every decade where they became a national embarrassment,” MacLean said.

“The Stuart one was the first time that I think the circumstances lined up that it was particularly bad, but then in the aftermath of it, it allowed for a lot of good to happen,” he added. “That’s the theme that I wanted to look at.”

MacLean, 33, was a child during the era of “City on a Hill.” But the journalist and author Michele McPhee, a writer for the show, was then a young investigative reporter at The Boston Globe, and recalls well the city’s struggles during those years.

“A little girl gets shot off a mailbox,” McPhee said. “Jermaine Goffigan — whose face I’ll never forget — he’s counting Tootsie Rolls from Halloween, still in his costume, when he gets hit by a stray bullet.”

“The city had had enough,” she added.

Jackie and Decourcy serve as the thematic entry point, their unlikely partnership an explicit allegory for the Operation Ceasefire program — also known as “The Boston Miracle.” Black clergy members, police officers, probation officers and outreach workers — once unaligned with one another — joined forces under the direction of the Harvard University criminologist David M. Kennedy to focus on black youth in high-crime areas. After it was carried out in 1996, Boston began to see a decline in homicides, and similar programs were replicated in other cities like Cincinnati with success.

“These two characters are polar opposites,” Fontana said. “But for at least a period of time, [they] need each other and are willing to overlook certain things in an effort to achieve something greater.”

The show’s creative team is primarily white, a liability for a story that aims to authentically portray a time and place defined largely by racial tension. (This season there was one biracial writer, J.M. Holmes, and one Latino writer, Jorge Zamacona.) But “City on a Hill,” doesn’t shy away from depicting its setting’s deeply ingrained racism: Within the first minute of the first episode, Jackie flippantly slings around the N-word.

“That was the world I grew up in,” MacLean said.

But, he added, he spoke frequently with Hodge and Lauren E. Banks, who plays Decourcy’s wife, Siobhan, about their perspectives. “As much as I wanted my story told correctly, I wanted everyone else’s involved in this to be told correctly,” he said.

Hodge said he “chimes in quite a bit” when it comes to the show’s depiction of Decourcy, who is partly inspired by Boston’s first black district attorney, Ralph Martin.

“That’s something that’s a priority going forward, just to get more black voices in the writer’s room,” he said. “Unless you’ve actually been the victim [of racism], you actually don’t know what it is.”

Stories about such fraught but fruitful partnerships risk turning a racist like Jackie into a sympathetic figure by having him work well with Decourcy. But in the early episodes, at least — the first 3 of 10 were made available in advance — the show is less about Jackie learning to not be a terrible human being than Decourcy’s struggle to take down the (white) status quo without becoming like it.

Decourcy is the “hero of the series” who must “deal with the devil” Jackie, MacLean said.

For Hodge, the question is: “How far will he go before he turns into Jackie Rohr?”

As for Jackie, a defining quality, Bacon said, is that he’s “so narcissistic that his belief that the ends justify the means” allows him to behave unethically. (The character is a loose composite of the F.B.I. agents H. Paul Rico, who was indicted on a charge of murder shortly before his death; John Connolly, who aided the mob boss James (Whitey) Bulger; and Dennis Condon.)

The creative team strove for authenticity in depicting the city of Boston as well, even though it almost never actually films there.

The pilot was shot in and around the city, but the production moved to New York once the series got picked up — exterior scenes were shot in Staten Island, New Rochelle, White Plains and the Bronx. (A few scenes have since been filmed in Boston.)

This decision came down to practicality: Boston lacks soundstages and the city is generally “much prettier now than it was” in the ’90s, said McPhee, who served as a kind of Boston credibility consultant.

“I was getting ready to eye-roll and say, ‘Oh God, we’re never going to get Boston,’” she said. But she was impressed with the attention to detail, adding, “There’s a set that represents [the] Bromley Heath [apartments] that I felt like I was walking through the halls of Bromley Heath.”

(“Believe me, it wasn’t my decision,” MacLean said of the move to New York.)

It’s too early to know whether there will be a second season of “City on a Hill,” though MacLean said he’s plotted out five seasons’ worth of material for the leads. According to Affleck, the plan is to move the action from Charlestown to Roxbury if the show gets renewed, and then to a different neighborhood each season, similar to the “The Wire” and its thematically distinct chapters.

“You meet two people from Boston who talk, they never talk about Boston — they talk about the neighborhood where they’re from,” MacLean explained. “The neighborhood is their vision of what Boston is.”

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[are-scared-of-revolution]

The N-Word and How To Use It

It's what blacks have always done since we hit America's shores: we take what's given us and we find a way to make it our own. By Bennie M. Currie

N-I-G-G-E-R. I'll never forget the first time I accidentally used that word in mixed company. It was 20 years ago at the University of Missouri, and I was engaged in lighthearted chitchat with Kent, my white roommate, when I casually called him a "nigger."

For a second I'd forgotten that I was not among my black friends in my old neighborhood in Saint Louis, where calling a buddy "nigger" was synonymous with calling him "brother" or "man." It was just another way to talk cool, using a word that had become a part of our vocabulary long before we were aware of all its varied meanings and usages.

I was barely conscious of my accidental utterance, but there was nothing casual about Kent's reaction. His eyes widened, and his body flinched as though he'd just absorbed a boxer's jab. Then he snapped to an upright position on the edge of his bed, narrowed his eyes, and pointed an index finger at me. "I'm not a nigger," he said, his tone implying that he thought I was a nigger. He never actually called me a nigger, but the mere suggestion was enough to put me in a fighting mood.

"Do I look like a nigger to you?" I shouted.

"But you just called me a nigger," he replied.

"Well, that's different. You can't call me that. Not ever."

Fortunately, our dorm mates stopped this exchange before I could throw a punch at Kent, who probably thought I was nuts. Actually I was simply too angry to realize that I was the one at fault.

By calling Kent a nigger, I'd exposed him to what my old neighborhood friends called a "black thing" he didn't understand. The "thing" is the love/hate relationship many black people have with "nigger," one of the most complex, perplexing, and emotionally incendiary words in the American lexicon. And to be truthful, black people are hardly unified in their understanding or usage of this piece of slang.

There have been times in my life when I've felt very comfortable using the word, but I've also struggled with its usage. And now that I'm a parent I cringe at the notion that my two children will someday have to try to understand what these six letters mean to them, their friends and foes, and the larger society. While my wife and I are readying ourselves for questions like "Where do babies come from?" I know that none will be more vexing than the first innocent query about the N-word.

I could take the easy way out and tell our kids that "nigger" is a bad word that good boys and girls should never use. Or maybe I could recite the old "sticks and stones" adage and tell them it's a name that can never hurt them. But neither tactic is likely to work, especially the second, since I don't believe it myself.

If my kids are destined to be introduced to a word born of racial hatred, then their parents should be the ones to do it. But television, the Internet, the school playground, and other competitors for our kids' attention may get to them first. Or a dictionary.

Last February Kathryn Williams, curator of the Museum of African American History in Flint, Michigan, was asked by a little boy, "Am I a nigger because I'm black?" She told the naturally curious child that a nigger was any ignorant person, then advised him to look up the word in the dictionary for reassurance. The kid paged through the venerable Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, where he found that "nigger" is a term for "a black person--usu. taken to be offensive." With only minor revisions, this definition has existed for nearly half a century.

This was a shocking revelation for Williams, who started a petition drive to pressure Merriam-Webster to revise the definition. Her campaign gained momentum last September, when Emerge magazine ran a brief article about it. Since then, scores of people have joined her, many of them contending that the current definition inaccurately explains the meaning of the word. Some of them also believe the racial epithet is undeserving of inclusion in a dictionary and want it deleted altogether.

I know why Williams and others like her are upset. Being called "nigger" by a white person or a white-run institution is a slap in the face for many blacks. It evokes thoughts of the sorry legacy of slavery and the racism that haunts the nation. And it hurts. When I checked out the definition in my own copy of the Collegiate edition I felt stung--particularly since I knew that dictionaries are almost as ubiquitous as Gideon Bibles.

I don't believe the publishers of the collegiate edition meant to offend anyone. Most likely, they were simply reflecting the confusion that stems from the paradoxical usage of the word among Americans of all hues, cultures, and generations.

Since my dorm-room experience, several whites have told me of their own struggles to understand the term--and to understand why a word that was used for centuries by white people to disparage and dehumanize their black slaves and today is a chief element of hatespeak (witness the Nigger Joke Center on the World Wide Web) is cool for blacks to use but taboo for them. They ask, How can any self-respecting black person stand to use it? Why do black kids call each other "my nigga" in such endearing tones, privately as well as publicly? Is this a "self-hatred thing"?

I say no. It's what blacks have always done since we hit America's shores 400 years ago. We take what's given to us, or thrown at us, and we find a way to make it our own. Blacks melded African rhythms and European music to create jazz, this country's only original musical art form. We took the parts of livestock whites didn't care to eat--intestines, tongues, ears, and feet--mixed them with our native African dishes and conjured up soul food.

In the same manner, blacks took the loaded term "nigger" and disarmed it by making it a household word. In fact, we went on to embrace it by using it to spice up poetry, rap lyrics, and many a comedy stand-up routine. A case in point is Paul Mooney, a comedian and writer (Saturday Night Live, Good Times, and In Living Color). He doesn't just use "nigger" to accent his stand-up act. It's often the focal point of his jokes. In one bit he complains about the flak he catches from whites who sometimes object more vociferously to his liberal use of the word than do many blacks. "Make that nigger stop saying nigger. He's giving me a nigger headache," he jokes. "Well white folks, you shouldn't have ever made up the word. You fucked up. I say nigger 100 times every morning. It makes my teeth white."

Chris Rock, who currently hosts a weekly HBO talk show, is another funny man at peace with his use of "nigger." While my grandmother has never heard of him, she and Rock assign a similar meaning to the term. The hot comic told B.E.T. Weekend magazine he uses it to describe "a certain kind of black person who wallows in ignorance and likes being ignorant." During a recent HBO special, Rock expressed this point of view with these one-liners: "Niggers react to books the way vampires react to sunlight." "Niggers always want credit for something they should be doing. 'I take care of my kids.' You're supposed to take care of your kids!" "Black people don't give a damn about welfare reform. Niggers are shaking in their boots."

Rock, who used to lampoon CBS anchor Bryant Gumbel for "talking white," recently apologized publicly for using such a label. But he doesn't plan to cut "nigger" out of his act anytime soon. "I'll stop when niggas stop," he said. "Niggas robbed my house, robbed my mother's house. Black people didn't do that." He adds, "I would love to have no reason to use the word. I'd love for it to be obsolete."

Richard Pryor, one of Rock's role models, was at the height of his legendary career in 1982, when he vowed never again to use the word to refer to another black person. He said he'd had an epiphany during a visit to Africa. He didn't see any "niggers" in the motherland and realized that blacks there had no need to use the word. Pryor shared his pledge with the audience during a stand-up routine that was later released as a feature film, Richard Pryor Live on the Sunset Strip. The statement inspired lots of blacks to make the same vow.

I haven't made that pledge, but before I saw Pryor's film I never thought twice about why I used "nigger." I'm less comfortable using it now, but because of my lifelong cultural association with the word, I can't foresee total avoidance. Because my kids have a different culture, I've never used it around them, and I don't intend to.

Since my kids aren't going to grow up hearing "nigger" under our roof, the question still remains: How should I explain this word to them? There's only one way to do it--candidly and carefully. I'll tell them that the word is a national shame and at times a painful reminder of their ancestors' struggle for freedom. And I'll explain that the term has a history just as relevant as Jim Crow, the Revolutionary War, lynching, or Watergate, which is why forcing a dictionary to delete it would be a mistake, would be censorship.

Meanwhile the people at Merriam-Webster are busy mulling a revision of their definition of "nigger," according to spokesman Steve Perrault. He wrote me via E-mail that it's too early to pinpoint when or if a change will be made, but he assured me the issue will be resolved before the dictionary's next scheduled major update, in 2003. "The problem for us is that it's not simply a matter of changing one entry," Perrault said. "If we revise our treatment of the offensive word, we also have to revise our treatment of the many other offensive words in the dictionary. That makes it a fairly major undertaking, and our feeling is that we want to be sure we're getting it right."

Sounds like a good idea. But does this really require much deliberation? I don't think so. The third edition of the American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language already has it figured out. Its definition of "nigger" begins with the words "offensive slang...used as a disparaging term for a black person." As an illustration, a quote from James Baldwin follows: "You can only be destroyed by believing that you really are what the white world calls a Negro."

This interpretation seems fair and accurate to me. It's even suitable for the eyes of a child. And it may even enlighten a confused college kid or two.