#this is like midnight terror where i feel like what might be more appropriate is sort of a lingering unease which is quite different

[apuff-comics]

i really hope mcr5 does not come out before this is scheduled or else it would be really awkward

[luvlyrv]

Another Dance (Duel Pt. 2) | Seulgi x F!Reader

Genre: fluff, knight!au

Summary: Seulgi has taught you how to dance, but now she needs to teach you what this new feeling brewing in your chest means.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Sorry this took a while to get out. Thank you again to my editor I always love your suggestions. I hope everything in this follow up makes sense.

Date: 5/9/21

Click here to read part one

Perhaps these last few months of your life have been the best. Despite the fact that training has been more brutal due to your nearing graduation into knighthood, every moment has felt brighter than the past several years of your life. Maybe all? You can’t remember ever waking up to a feeling like this all the time.

Yes, this feeling right here in your chest. The feeling you get when you wake up startled and in a frenzy from a dream of spending a day with Seulgi. A life with Seulgi. It’s the feeling that you get when she asks for your hand so that the two of you can make a fool of yourselves dancing. The strange way your chest seems to contract and hurt when Seulgi sneaks a smile while the commandment screams orders at you.

Since when did you feel like this? You’re not sure. Maybe it was that one night the two of you spent together weeks ago, where you finally felt confident enough to lead the dance for once. You had pulled her close with a bold move you didn’t even plan to make, making Seulgi give you a shocked look before glancing away, barely catching her soft smile. Maybe she was proud of you in that moment, you don’t know. You don’t know anything anymore besides Seulgi, besides the fact that you were hyper aware of her breath that night. Of the way her garments clung so close to skin, the rise and fall of her chest, the length of her eyelashes, the slope of her nose.

Every day you’re greeted by the sunrise, only to be anticipating its set.

Before you can spend your cherished time with Seulgi though, you had to go through the motions of your day. Time seemed to pass slowly as you sparred and trained. Nowadays though there was a lightness in your body that wasn’t there before, and your eyes had become better at reading the flowing movements of your opponents. You were ecstatic to see your improvement, likewise were the commanding officers and fellow apprentices, it seemed. Some officers urged you to continue to carry out whatever it was that you were doing to improve and to finally displace Seulgi. Meanwhile the knights-in-training were muttering among themselves about your progress and how it was done.

To say that you were happy that morning training ended would be an understatement. The second highlight of your day would be the precious half hour you spent with Seulgi during your afternoon meal. As you impatiently wait in line to be served whatever was deemed nutritious for prospecting knights, you think about how you were just a couple months ago. After spending some time with Seulgi you wanted to somehow be even closer to her, to spend time beyond the midnight dances you two shared.

When you had first decided to sit next to Seulgi instead of by your lonesome, you were uncharacteristically nervous. You were sure that if people looked carefully enough they could have noticed how your steady sword-arm shook as you held onto your tray of food. People didn’t hide their raised eyebrows at your approach, some people left the area, terrified at the thought of you possibly coming over to terrorize them.

It was a surprise when you had quietly asked if it was okay for you to seat yourself next to Seulgi. She didn’t hesitate to say yes, flashing you her crescent eyes you had unknowingly grown accustomed to. The surrounding witnesses to the sight were confused. When would you have willingly associated with anyone? Especially Seulgi, and in such a shy manner?

When you finally get your meal you walk towards the familiar table and remember your present day situation. Now that time has passed people are less wary around you and how you seemingly lack the intention to verbally abuse and berate people. In fact, when you began to take Seulgi’s advice of smiling more people seemed to… like you? It helped that you lost most of your competitive streak, instead favoring to focus on yourself and what you can do. Mostly your dancing, though, as you yearned to impress Seulgi more each and every night.

The clank of your tray against the wooden aging table alerts Seulgi of your presence. Quickly turning her head away from the person she was talking to, she opens her mouth to greet you. That was until Markus, a man who came from a noble family with notable enough skills, called out for you. You move to face the source of his voice, only to notice him uncomfortably close to your side. It was odd for him to suddenly appear when you swore you didn’t notice him on your way over.

“Hey, I was just wondering if you’d like to duel me in the afternoon? You know, since we haven’t gotten an opportunity to do so for the past couple weeks. Maybe go on a walk afterwards?” He throws you a shy, maybe even a cheeky smile. If there was one thing you knew about him it was that you’ve had much more encounters with him than you’d like recently, and that smile of his was one he’d thrown at other female trainees in the past. If anything, he was merely a passing thought.

“Sure, I don’t care.” You say in your signature neutral tone. Hoping that he’d leave you alone now, you began to turn back to Seulgi. Your movement is stopped when Markus puts his hand on your shoulder and swipes a finger across your cheek.

“You had some dirt there from practice. Just wanted to get it off.” He grins tortuously wide before excusing himself from the table. You sigh, and when you finally get to look at Seulgi she has a raised brow, her mouth forming a tight line. Not sure what to do at her sudden change of mood, you pick at your food a bit. You feel like you can’t eat anything under her intense stare.

You’re starting to feel nervous until Seulgi decides to tap on your shoulder. Glancing up from your plate you see her with a handkerchief in hand.

“I think," she pauses, "Markus made it worse, actually.” She adds before gently rubbing the dirt that became spread across your face. You scrunch your nose and eyes but a small smirk forms in affection.

“Does it really matter, though? I don’t care about how I look.”

“I think you look cuter without it. And more hygienic.”

**

After your meal came your academic and strategical studies. Your brain dulls into mush after countless hours of toiling over geography and the endless ways a person can kill someone. Although you still do well in a more scholar-like learning environment, your body greatly preferred the battlefield. You let out a sigh of happiness when you were allowed to stretch and start another round of sparring.

Keeping to your promise, you await as you lean into your training sword until Markus shows up in your vision again. He walks towards you with such unnerving confidence and a grin you think is permanently scribbled on his face.

“Are you ready, my lady?”

“Don’t patronize me.” You mumble. The two of you back away from each other to an appropriate distance before getting into your stances. Some people gather around the scene, which wasn’t uncommon for your battles. They want to make a spectacle of your fight.

When you rush forward towards Markus you get a good stab straight in his stomach. His reflexes seemed almost slow, or at least much slower than yours or Seulgi’s. He lets out a grunt, but the training armor and his natural durability keeps him on his feet. In an attempt to make you fall, he swings his sword arm directly downwards towards your back. You easily sidestep and continue a relentless sequence of parries and hard smacks against his arms and legs.

This continues on for minutes on minutes, much longer than the vast majority of your fights. Markus has proven himself to be a bad fighter, and the only reason you haven’t won yet is the fact that your sword wasn’t made to kill and the fact that Markus has stupidly good endurance. It’s hard for you to keep fighting. Not because you were lacking stamina but on account of the monotony of his moves started to bore you greatly.

Your mind wanders as you automatically parry Markus’ pathetic slashes without much thought. You recall how you have to go on a walk with Markus when he slips a slight grin, but after that you can go about your day and eventually spend the night with Seulgi. You think about how her smile looks in the moonlight, how her hair bounces as you move to a make-believe rhythm. You unconsciously put on a broad grin as you hope she teaches you something new tonight.

You’ve let your attention slip for too long though. When you get a grip on reality again, you realize that you’re now on the ground and Markus’ blade is descending on your body. Your reaction allows you to bring up your sword to his, a loud clang traveling through the air. With all your might you push back, trying to angle your sword so his would slide off and break free from contact. It seems like you may be able to fend off his weapon for a second, but he yells as he delivers all of his strength into pushing down on you.

The force is more than enough to make your sword lose contact with his. With the blade right on your throat he throws on a victorious expression and screams in happiness. The crowd around you softly murmur as they look at each other. Markus drinks in his win and he looks at everyone and then at you.

“You’ve gone soft on me, haven’t you?”

“What? What do you mean?” You try to brush the dirt off your back as you get up.

“I mean, why would you all of a sudden smile and let me win like that otherwise?” He chuckles with his words as he approaches you and places a hand on your back.

“I was just distracted.” You try to get away from him, but he gets closer and whispers in your ear.

“By me, right?” You hear a certain kind of joy and conceitedness in his voice that makes you want to vomit while simultaneously punching him.

“No. Now let's just get this walk done with so I can go shower or shoot my bow, or something.” At your words he shuffles away and uncomfortably leaves some space between the two of you as you go for a quick walk in the woods. Everybody watches as you two leave the area, and as you pass by you hear their whispers.

“…like him?”

“ …usually ruthless…why’d she let him win?”

“…was right…gone soft.”

You aren’t sure what to do about their theorizing or their mindless gossip, nor what to do with the man who was now clinging onto your side. What was usually a peaceful and quiet trail for you became loud and annoying as Markus kept trying to flirt despite your silence and lack of response to his remarks. It was hard to appreciate the beauty in the trees and forest life over the talkativeness of the man next to you. If you could, you wouldn’t have gone on a walk with him, but you felt like it was dishonorable of you to break an appointment or promise.

You think that next time you should bring Seulgi with you instead, it would be a pleasant experience then.

After what felt like a century of walking, you had finally looped around the trail and made it back to the beginning of the forest. You continue to trek forward and almost leave Markus behind, but he grips onto your waist and looks at you for a moment. The tinge of expectancy that gleamed in his eyes, and that's when you knew. You watch in a panic as he flutters his eyes and brings his lips to yours.

There’s a ringing in your ears from how hard you slap him.

“Don’t.” You say while walking away from him.

You decide that you should go to the shower to wash off his filth, then go to the archery range to practice shooting his face in your head.

**

It would be a lie to say you weren’t sore from the amount of work you forced upon your body today. As you hunker towards the barracks though, a sudden burst of energy renews the feelings in your limbs when you find Seulgi patiently awaiting you like always. The area clears out of people until it’s just you and Seulgi. She comes by your side to walk with you towards the field.

Your dance begins and you drink in the comfortable silence until Seulgi decided to speak.

“So, Markus, how do you feel about him?” There’s a sense of inquisitiveness that you haven’t heard from her before.

“Hm? He’s just a person.” She makes a face at your answer, scrunching her eyebrows as she pushes further,

“Really? You know, when I finished my practice match and walked around everybody was talking about the two of you… you know. How you’re a thing or something.”

“Just a misunderstanding.” You assert, but Seulgi seems to want to hear more.

“Do you not like him? What about anybody else? I feel like everybody is dying for your attention these days.” With the last sentence there’s a subtle shift to a sadder, even disgruntled tone in her voice. You watch as she bites her lip waiting for an answer, entranced enough to almost forget to reply. The insecurity was hard to ignore.

“I don’t really talk to anyone besides you, Seulgi, and I don’t know why people bother. Maybe they just respect my abilities and think now that I’m friendlier I’d be interested in a conversation. Also, you aren’t one to talk. You’ve had people following you around and worshipping you since day one.” Thinking about it, you can‘t ever remember a time where Seulgi didn’t have someone by her side.

Another wave of silence envelopes you as Seulgi finally nods, maybe settling with this answer. Or at least is mulling over your words. As she takes the time to think, you remember the events that happened earlier in the day and the question that had been bothering you.

“By the way, are you making me soft?”

You interrupt the dance you shared by taking a step back. You cock your head in examination. Recently it’s been hard to tell if Seulgi’s influence over you had been helpful or harmful. Especially since there were instances where you almost completely lost your focus like you did today.

“Where is this coming from?” She asks while putting on a confused smile, as if to say ‘excuse me?’.

“Well, obviously I’m more approachable now because of your advice, but now you’re getting in the way of my fighting.”

“Huh?” Seulgi is taken aback by your words and how you state them so matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes I lose focus in the middle of fights now. They accused me of becoming soft.”

“How can I possibly be at fault for that?”

“Well, it’s you that I think about. All the time.” You reach out for her hand, gently tugging it towards you and then onto your chest. “And you make my heart beat real fast. Faster than any running commandment has made us done. It kind of hurts my chest, really. Have you casted a spell on me too?”

You feel Seulgi’s hand tremble in a quake.

“Y/N, are you joking right now?”

“No, I just want to know, why do I feel like this all the time around you?” Looking at Seulgi’s face you spot how the tips of her ears turned a bright red, despite the darkness of the night. Your other hand pulls back her hair so you can examine it further. With a worried look you ask, “Oh, are you cold? Should we go back inside?” You panic a little as you see the pink had spread onto the rest of her face.

“You…” Seulgi’s breath has quickened, and she rescinds her hand from yours. You’re worried you’ve done something wrong as Seulgi refused to even look at you, instead she's staring at her feet. “You like me, stupid.” The dramatic atmosphere turns lighthearted as she laughs boisterously.

“Huh? Is that what this means?”

“Are you being serious with me?” Seulgi keeps laughing at you, much to your frustration.

“Yes! I am! I don’t understand! I’ve never felt this way before, that’s why I have to ask.” Your face lapses to a pout and that seems to encourage her to keep laughing at you.

“Hey, stop pouting!” Her laughing reduced to giggles as she walked closer to you. She brings her hands forward as they cup your face. Your knees feel weak, buckling at the warmth in her hands and the care they seemed to radiate. She finally calms down when she asks you, “Now, if you really like me then tell me," she sucks in a quick breath," would you like to kiss me right now?”

For a second you’re frozen, but soon enough you bashfully nod your head a little too hard.

Her lips reach yours and you instantly smile. The lips that you’ve stared at for hours, the ones that say the words that have moved you the most, the ones that curve adorably and ignites the dormant happiness within you. You stay that way for a moment that both felt like forever and like no time at all. Seulgi breaks away before kissing each of your cheeks.

“Oh,” she sighs while staring at you, “you’ve made me the happiest person in the world.”

[noxtms]

���   PUT ON YOUR DANCING SHOES & GOOD LUCK, because you’re certainly going to need it ! merlin’s music hall reopens this weekend with an event unlike any you’ve ever seen, and with the promise of a special performance from the banshees & all money raised going to the same charity that miss celestina warbeck dedicated her final hours to helping, you won’t want to miss it ! the 24 hour danceathon will run from midnight on june 27th to midnight on june 28th, with a two galleon per head fee & the requirement to dress like our late great herself. if you don’t feel you have the stamina to win the private meeting with the banshees and large gift hamper on offer, you can still partake in the days activities by listening in on the presentation on miss warbeck’s life, bidding on an item or two in the charity auction or voting on the celestina warbeck impersonators who will make an appearance, over the day. whether you’re a tired parent looking for something to entertain your kids or someone looking for some live music to take in with a glass of cold butterbeer after work ends, there’s something for everyone at merlin’s music hall !   ❞

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :  

it feels like only yesterday that celestina warbeck, one of the most recognizable voices on the wizarding wireless network, announced her involvement with the charity auction that was to take place on june 27th, 2020, all proceeds to be donated to werewolves in need. someone who knew someone was owed a favour, and though the banshee backups refused to join her on stage, the singing sorceress weathered the bad press that came with the controversial decision, put on her trademark beaded gown & got up on that merlin music hall stage to sing her heart out, as planned. she was almost assuredly to thank for the huge turnout and record number of galleons made, but unfortunately, she never lived to receive the large bouquet of flowers they had planned to hand her at the end of the night, or the heartfelt thanks of so many grateful parties. 

walden macnair murdered celestina warbeck as she closed act one, and a small faction of death eaters brought terror down unto the music hall guests. the building itself destroyed in the chaos, the scars of that night the sort that would last a lifetime for many, walden’s death soon after would be found to be a cold comfort to many. the attack on the music hall served as a turning point, and by the end of the night, no one was left who believed that they were turning onto a better path.

a year on, merlin’s music hall has been rebuilt from the rubble. the banshees have decided to carry on celestina’s legacy after a six month break, and the same charity who helmed the original event has decided to roll back their shoulders & lift their head high to show the world they were not cowed by the terror attack, last year. in what is sure to be yet another controversial move, they are to host the first event following the official reopening of the hall.

the event begins at midnight with the start of the 24 hour danceathon, with a 2 galleon a head buy in & the promise of an audience with the banshees themselves for the winning pair ( for anyone dragged along by a partner who might be a fan, know that there’s also a large gift hamper filled with donations from several businesses along diagon alley ). celestina’s greatest hits will be played throughout, 20′s wear is mandatory, and once it gets to 6pm, the banshees themselves will take the stage & play the last leg of the danceathon live. 

following an early morning presentation on celestina warbeck and her life, there’s to be a small auction at midday, a contest to find the best impersonator of celestina herself at four, and throughout the rest of the day, small events will run for children - face painting & beaded necklace crafting tables included - and adults, alike. if nothing can be found in the early hours, make sure to pop by after six for the live music & bar. security has never been tighter - with aurors assigned by the ministry & a privately hired team doing regular patrols, to boot - and guests have never been safer. in these uncertain times, it’s never been more important to show that the spirit of a united community can’t be broken - and as the banshees themselves will announce before beginning their adjusted set ... this is what celestina would have liked to be remembered for. 

OUT OF CHARACTER:

celestina warbecks death, and everything that happened in the immediate aftermath of it, was what really kicked nox as we know it off. it’s onyl RIGHT that we pay homage to her, and this is the best way i could think to do it ! celestina will be remembered. merlin’s music hall will reopen and remain open for many, many more years to come. the same charity aiding werewolves in need will receive all the money raised over the course of the evening, and this year, nothing and nobody is going to slip past the teams working around the clock to ensure the safety of the guests present. walden didn’t win, and that’s what matters most. 

in regards to the danceathon : this is, above all, a way to encourage you guys to plot with someone new ! characters must be costumed ( 20s vibes only ) and can only participate in pairs ! there’s probably sponsorship available to competing pairs from diagon alley businesses ( stay in for so long & get a donation in an agreed amount given by said business to the charity ), so there’s also that to play with - but mostly i just hope you guys have fun with it as is, and i can’t wait to see the pairings formed & the costumes you send to the channel ! 

the event starts sunday ( june 27th ) at 6:00pm gmt : click this sentence to see what that means for your timezone ! the plan is for it to run for two weeks.

you have a week to plot your pairs for the 24 hour dance marathon, and next sunday, i’ll have it all set up for us to find out who places where, and which pair will ultimately win ! placements & winners will be randomly chosen, though you can request if you want your character to tap out at a certain point. 

your character is not required to attend, though i encourage everyone to get as involved as they can across the board. you do not have to post any old / current convos during the duration ( so long as everything is appropriately tagged ), and conversations specific to this should be tagged with nox.event016. the location is the reopened merlin’s music hall, but broadly, diagon alley. 

if you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to message the main ! please like this post once you’ve read it. 

[unholyeverything]

3 a.m. Part 2/4

Finally, I finished another part of my first FanFiction. The drama filled plot being created with the help from the amazing @lord-diavolo! 

I don’t think this is as funny as the first part, but this is a true drama, starting from an exposition we are now at the rising action, from which on it will just get worse and worse until someone dies [SPOILER].

Pairing: DiavoloxLucifer Explicit: no, though that depends, there are nsfw thoughts thought by some characters Warning: I’m on -7 braincells because of this. Maybe on -8 because of one part of this. So read with caution. Word Count: 2.1k

PART 1

Summary: Can you feel Lucifer dying already?

After remembering that there were still figurines available online, Leviathan started running. Once reaching the House of Lamentation he immediately rushed to his room and burst open the door. He already came up with a plan on how he would surely get his figurine. Immediately at that.

He already had Akuzon open on his computer, why close that when you order every day. Or switch of your computer on that matter, sure Lucifer complained about the amount of electricity that was used monthly, but there were more important things at stake now. He found his figure immediately, it was still in his latest purchases. Only one was left, he had to act quick to get his hands on this rare collector's item. There were only 20 produced, it was a miracle there was one left after all. "Stop this rambling in your head now, you have to act quick Levi!" he thought to himself pressing the order button. Shortly hesitating before typing in the address. "No. I will see if this works. I will get this figurine at all costs."

Name: Lord Diavolo Address: Wait, he surely couldn't fill in the Palaces post address, he couldn't get it that way, but wait, none at Akuzon would question him ordering from here, wouldn't day? With the amount of time he spent in Lucifer's office, surely not? Especially if they deliver to him immediately, he could want a present for him after all. As soon as he was done contemplating that, Leviathan entered the House's postcode and completed his purchase. Now all he had to do was rush outside and wait for the delivery guy in front of the main entrance, right?

Grinning and excited he made his way downstairs again. "This is the best plan I ever had. If this really works I'll just place all of my orders like that. I will be the one owning the most figurines as well as the first one to receive them." He walked outside and sat on the steps leading towards their entrance. That's when his negative thinking kicked in. "What if this will go horribly wrong? What if they wouldn't deliver it to the House of Lamentation but to the palace instead? What if they met Lord Diavolo on the way? He would never get his figure, wouldn't he? This day was horrible, but maybe it's what I deserve? Maybe the universe doesn't want me to own this figure. I will have to put aside my title as the Greatest Otaku after all. I'm not worthy of it if I can't get this…" He was starting to slouch down on the stairs in frustration. "Oh well, at least it shouldn't take long to find out what happens, shouldn't it?"

  Taking a nap right after the meeting unfortunately ended up with Lucifer falling into a deep slumber, waking up in the middle of the night praying for his phone not to ring again. Ever again. But the times of his prayers being answered where long over. At least this time, it wasn't quiet the morning of the next day yet, a shimmer of hope left not being summoned to the castle for whatever purchase was made. Slowly opening his eyes he noticed something red sitting next to his bed.

"Lucifer, you're finally awake! I need to talk to you about something. Leviathan got really upset after you left us in the meeting hall. I offered to help with his problems but all my advices seem to  have upset him even more! You know him a lot better than I do, maybe you could help?" Diavolo burst out right after he noticed Lucifer's eyes opening. He wanted to ask him right away but then found him sleeping and he was too adorable to wake up, so he decided to sit next to his bed and wait until he woke up on his own. Lucifer sat up in shock. How long was Lord Diavolo sitting there. What's even going on? What about Leviathan being upset? Why did his Lord decide it was a good idea to sit there and watch him sleep? Why would he think that this would be an appropriate thing to do? Wait. How often did that happen before? He should be able to notice people getting inside his chambers immediately, even when he's asleep, but he didn't notice him at all?

"What?" was all he got out, being confronted like that right after awaking his bed hair still standing up in all directions. There honestly weren't a lot of things that would leave the Avatar of Pride speechless. However there was one and unfortunately it was sat right in front of him at this very moment. Never mind it having exceeded its daily limits a long time ago.

Ignoring the confusing stare he got from Lucifer, Diavolo continued: " I also found these beautiful socks while you were sleeping! Should I order them? Look at them Lucifer, they are wonderful! Why do the humans have all these beautiful items? I need to own them!" Lucifer really couldn't keep up with this conversation, not right after waking up. He wasn't a morning demon, even if it was already late into the night. Why was Diavolo still so cheerful and awake. Will he ever get tired? Please just for once, let him be tired. Staring at the phone that was held right into his face. "My Lord, I can't even see them at this distance…." "You know what Lucifer, I like these so much I will order them right away! Barbatos will surely accept the package in my place!" Why even ask him if he was going to order them anyway? This was just too much. Why did he have to wake up? Couldn't he just sleep throughout the night?

Lucifer moved himself out of his bed. "My Lord, if you allow I'd like to get myself dressed and ready first, then we could discuss what you came here for." He tried breaking off this conversation all while surpressing a yawn, that would be highly unprofessional. He also did that with the intention of gaining some time for himself, in hopes of waking up before his brain would be turned into complete mush. Conversations with Diavolo were too exhausting most of the time. "Of course Lucifer! Do you need my help? I can help you wash your hair?"

"No."

Please, Diavolo get a hint, let him wake up in piece. Let him process the information. Process the fact that you were probably sitting next to his bed, watching him sleep countless times.

Lucifer quickly showered with ice cold water, it always worked in helping him wake up, brushed his teeth and threw on his uniform. Yes it was past midnight, but might as well get the day started. Potentially using this situation to discuss matters of RAD with Diavolo while he was there.

Stepping out of the bathroom all prim and proper again, ignoring Diavolo's stare that was completely fixated on him. "Alright Diavolo, I'm ready, what is it that you wanted to discuss?" Morning Lucifer was a sight to behold so Diavolo stared a little longer, maybe a little too long for it to be comfortable before replying: "Ah.. yes… it was about Leviathan I think….." "Well then let's hear about it, what did he do this time?" Lucifer walked across the room towards his desk and gestured for Diavolo to follow him to take seat on the other chair in front of it. "Maybe since you are already here we could also take this time to discuss these documents for the next festival I already filled out, there is a problem with the budget so I'd like to get that sorted out as soon as possible." Lucifer sat down and started rummaging through the stacks of paper while he waited for Diavolo to take place. Diavolo's mind still wandering places it shouldn't be took a while to reply again. "Ah.. yes…. we can also do that!" He shook his head and got up to sit opposite to Lucifer.

  There was a knock on the window. "Delivery from Akuzon for our Lord Diavolo!" the delivery guy proudly stated. "Lucifer, look! Their delivery got even better, they knew I was here in your room! Isn't that simply amazing!" "Oh, my Lord, we just assumed that's where you were if the order was made to go to the House of Lamentation! Here are your two packages" The delivery guy still had a smile on his face, handing over the two parcels to their excited Lord, though that smile was quickly wiped and traded for a face of terror after he looked behind Diavolo and saw Lucifer sitting there, fuming, the only thing preventing him from murdering him right at this moment was the fact that he would have needed to push Diavolo aside to get to him. He would never do that. He just slowly started making his way around him, approaching the smaller Demon still standing on the window sill, already cowering in fear.

  Not giving a thought about what was going on behind him, Diavolo started tearing into his package. "Finally my new socks are here, they will look good on my feet, perfectly matching my new underwear! Aren't matching sets always exciting!?..... Lucifer, where are you?" He looked around only to find his boyfriend outside trying to feed the delivery employee to Cerberus. "Lucifer, why would you punish him for doing such an excellent job? Look my socks have already been delivered! It just took a little longer since they arrived in two packages! Please just let him down?" Who could resist his puppy eyes, especially when they were used to get you to look at socks instead of torturing someone for their audacity.

Finally having calmed down and sat on his desk again, with Diavolo in front of him Lucifer just wanted to continue business where they left off. He was just scrambling through a stack of paper to look for the right one until he heard a ripping sound. "My Lord, are your new socks that exciting that you can't even wait to open them until we are done discussing?" "Yes they sure are! I just have to show you!" Simultaneously while he was tearing open all the wrapping paper from them, Akuzon always wrapped gifts for him, he also started taking off his shoes. Having freed his new socks from their prison he also bent down to rid himself of his current socks. These boring black ones need to get off his feet and be traded with the superior human ones immediately. Lucifer watched all of this in horror. Having put on his brand new socks Diavolo lifted his foot, placing it onto the desk. "Lucifer look at these watermelon socks! Aren't they gorgeous, they suit me so well, don't they?!" He lifted his other foot onto the desk as well and started wiggling his toes right on top of Lucifer's important papers. Fondly looking at them and then looking up to the slowly graying demon opposite to him. "They even match my new underwear! The one we picked out last night! Do you want to see again? I'll show you, just wait!" He started fumbling with his trousers zipper.

"Sir, this is a business meeting, please keep your pants on."

"Ok, then I will show you once we are done here? Right?" "My Lord this is not necessary I still remember what your new underwear looks like, it was yesterday you showed me." "Oh well then… then I'll keep all my other beautifully matching sets away from your eyes as well, if that's what you want?" "…My…." "Like the ones with the Lemons on them, or my matching pears, you'll never see those then." What was this even. Lucifer doesn't like matching sets like this, he preferred some lace to be honest… but anyways. How does one forcefully end a conversation without yelling the other into oblivion? Someone should take pity and teach Lucifer.

"Could we continue this now?" Lucifer wasn't slowly graying at this point anymore, he could feel the colour physically leaving his hair every second now, this was too exhausting. He really should have just continued sleeping, for the rest of his existence. "No, I have to look at the other parcel first, all my socks were in the first one and I don't remember ordering something else. I have to check that first! Maybe it's a surprise for ordering a certain amount of times! Their customer service is really amazing, isn't it?"

[bloodlinevalentine]

The Tears of Tomorrow

My lil krii7y thing :)

The Nights were beginning to get cooler, so Smitty began trading out his summertime boxers ensemble for a more winter appropriate t-shirt and sweatpants combination. Right now, He lay on his bed, on top of all the sheets with his limbs spread out in every direction. Occasionally, he looked over at the screen of his phone as it sat haphazardly over the edge of the dresser next to him. It was nearing two-thirty in the morning and he was still awake. With a defeated sigh, he sat up and reached for the phone on his nightstand, as well as the red sticky note next to it.

His therapist, a kind but slightly over-invested man by the name of Ryan, had told him to call if the medication wasn't working and he couldn't find anything to put him to sleep. Well, that had been the case for as far back as he could remember their sessions going, and the meds hadn't ever worked.

Smitty had started seeing Ryan once a month in May, actually about his strange bouts of moodiness. He'd noticed a pattern of shutting himself off from his friends and family and decided that for once, he was going to face a problem head on before it really became prominent. Within their first couple of visits, Ryan ensured that they spent their time simply talking and just getting to know each other, as well as getting an understanding of how to navigate Smitty's problem.

Around his third visit, however, Ryan brought to light his deduction that Smitty's Season Affective Disorder (SAD) was the result his body to the different sunlight availability and lost sleep.

"Which is an easy fix," He'd laughed when he told Smitty of his hypothesis.

But it wasn't. Smitty wished he could just go to bed earlier and feel better about everything, but he couldn't. Luckily, despite three more visits with reportedly bad news on that front, Ryan did not lose faith.

"It's okay, Smitty," he'd admonished when the younger expressed his concern, "What's important is that you remain open about you options. Now, if you're alright with it, i'd like to start you on some Non-Benzodiazepine Hypnotics."

Unfortunately, those hadn't worked out too well either. The most they did was cause drowsiness during the day and make working harder for him. Accordingly, Ryan upped the dosage, and even prescribed stronger medications, but they all had similar effects. Even then, however, Ryan could not be dissuaded.

"Here," He'd mumbled as he scribbled down onto a small stack of sticky notes towards the end of their last meeting. He looked reluctant and frowned at the clock for a moment, holding the note in his hand as he considered, but in the end handed Smitty the square. "If at any time between now and our next visit you find any evidence of oncoming insomnia, just call me. Maybe we can talk through it, or at the very least, get a better idea of your brain processes during one of your fits." He began gathering his things, and Smitty idly noted the employment of another psychological technique: the way he stated every alternative as if there was always something to gain from something he man not really want to do.

Well, now was a time between their meetings, and Smitty saw some pretty clear evidence of insomnia. Although, he had been debating the real value of calling the psychologist at such an ungodly hour, Ryan had insisted it was better than him lying in bed alone all night, so he went ahead an typed in the number. The dial tone was loud in the silence of the night but he surprisingly didn't have to wait long.

"Hello?" came the raspy and somewhat confused voice on the other end, immediately striking Smitty with a pang of guilt for waking him up.

"Hey Doctor Wrecker, its me, Smitty. I'm sorry to wake you up, but you told me to call you if I was having trouble sleeping...and I am. So..." There was an anticipating quiet on the other end, during which he thought about how silly he sounded. Cringing only the slightest bit, he prepared to apologize and hang up, the voice spoke up again.

"Sorry dude, but I think you got the wrong number."

Oh.

Smitty froze and pulled the phone away from his ear to compare the number on the paper to the one he's typed in, but they were identical. Ryan must have accidentally given him the wrong number.

"Oh, my bad man. I'm sorry to wake you up." Smitty shook his head and prepared to hang up, thumb hovering over the End Call button, but he was interrupted once more.

"It's fine, you didn't." He said as though he'd known Smitty all his life. The sound of shuffling fabrics could be heard before the silence of stillness. "You said you couldn't sleep tonight?"

Smitty felt his eyebrows raise at the words, eyes falling to the window leading out of his apartment and into the city. A finger traces the edge of the sticky note as he thought, but eventually he shrugged and tossed it aside.

'What else am I gonna do?' He thought to himself with a shrug.

"Nope. Haven't slept since I moved here."

Through the slight distortion of the phone he heard the guy click his tongue as he answered. "Sucks man. How long have you been here?...Wherever 'here' is."

"A year. And 'here' is America. I moved to about a year ago, but ever since then, I haven't been able to sleep properly." He sighed through his explanation and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"Really? Where are you from? I didn't notice an accent."

Smitty opened his mouth to answer, but paused. Was he really about to give his whole life story up to a complete stranger? However, just as quickly as the thought occurred, it was dismissed. What was the harm? "I was raised in Canada, but I moved to California for my degree."

"Oh cool dude, my--" the guy on the other end continued, but the second half was drowned out by a terrorized scream that had to have been coming from a television. His assumption was confirmed by the loud ensemble of music following the shriek.

"What movie are you watching? I can hear it all the way over here." He said lightly, a smirk lighting his features as he heard the other laugh.

"I don't know actually. I turned on the TV right before you called and I just haven't changed it."

"Sounds intense," Smitty sat up and turned as though speaking to someone in the room with him, the smile still upturning his lips. "Does it look interesting?"

"Well so far there's this girl who's crying every time she's on screen and the beginning of what might be a family reunion, so I don't really know."

Smitty chuckled and asked for a description of the woman, and that's how the man on the other end wound up narrating the rest of the movie, which turned out to be a rerun of a midnight soap opera, The Tears of Tomorrow. As they came to the realization, Smitty imagined the man would change it in favor of something more entertaining but he didn't. For just over thirty minutes, the guy narrated the show, adding his own commentary and cracking jokes about the characters as he saw fit. And Smitty didn't mind, as he also succeeded in making it interesting up until the ending credits rolled and the following infomercial aired and the guy said he had to get going.

Smitty couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to tell someone not to go.

🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸

Work had been tiring. One of the new interns had decided not to come in on their first day, so Smitty had to fill in as makeshift secretary. He had never taken up so many sheets of paper with nonsense, and he was content to never do it again. It was one of their busier days as well; people ran in and out like ants with their orders in varying states of ready. Despite this, he still felt accomplished, even if he did stumble into his apartment hardly awake.

It was going on a week since he'd first met John, the guy who he'd accidentally called looking for his therapist, and they had spoken every night since then. And just as the thought occurred, he grinned and pulled out his phone, only for the smile to melt off of his face as he realized the time.

1:47 am.

This would be the earliest he'd ever called, and he had no idea whether John would even be awake or not. And come to think of it, he really had no idea what John did before or after they talked, or what kept him awake at night. He contemplated waiting about an hour more before calling, but in the end decided against it. If John wasn't awake, maybe he deserved a break.

"You're up early." He muttered, an audible smirk in his voice when he answered on the third ring.

Smitty felt his lips twitch to mimic the expression as he leaned on the counter, gingerly toeing off his shoes as he spoke. "Yeah, I thought you might enjoy hearing my perfect, soothing voice." He got a sarcastic laugh in response.

"You know me so well."

In the background, there was a thump and and the sound of glass clattering to the floor along with a muffled curse. "What are you doing?" he asked and made his way to the bedroom.

"Shit. I was painting my nails, but I just spilled my favorite blue on the floor."

Smitty paused just at the foot of his bed. Sometimes when John talked like this, he couldn't tell if he was kidding or not. "You paint your nails?" he asked to be sure.

"Yeah..." the reply was distant, like John had laid his phone down to clean up the mess, but not in the least bashful or ashamed.

"Oh." he stated and resumed climbing into bed. He thought back to moments before when he'd been wondering about John, and decided that this would be the time to get to know him. "Every night?"

"No. Not even regularly. But the old paint was chipping really badly and I have somewhere to be tomorrow." He was back closer to the phone as he sighed, and Smitty didn't know what to say for an awkward moment before John speaking again brought them back to their comfortable banter.

"But it's whatever," the sound of the small glass meeting the surface of a table punctuated his statement and precluded his next, "So are we watching a movie tonight, or more Tears of Tomorrow?"

"Tears of Tomorrow, dude, its our show." he smiled and leaned back against the pillows , waiting for Johns comically enthusiastic approval as he began narrating to opening.

They talked as usual, John taking the time to answer any questions he had. ("Wait, who's Lui again?" "Daithi's on-again off-again boyfriend dude, keep up.") But started slacking off as the episode progressed. At one point, all he got in explanation was a scandalized gasp and silence.

"What? What happened?" Smitty prompted.

"We're with Craig in the hospital. It doesn't look good."

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, "Is Tyler there?"

"Nope, he's still off sleeping with Evan--"

"Craig's boss? That bastard!"

"I know!" John said, his voiced raised well beyond what was necessary, as he laughed at his out of character excitement. "I think we may be getting a little to into this."

Smitty blinked into the darkness with a laugh, but didn't directly reply. He wasn't ready to admit his growing addiction to their shared soap opera, but instead of having to answer, was asked a question.

"Hey Smit, you have a TV don't you."

"Of course, wh-- oh." Smitty laugh and hopped up to grab the remote. Why hadn't he thought of this before now?

"Yeah, that'll be easier than explaining everything to you."

Smitty smiled harder and switched to regular television, typing in the channel that was advertised between all the commercials John loved to make fun of.

🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸

"He's not gonna do it." Smitty whispered.

"He's gonna do it." John whispered back, sounding assured.

"No. There's no way." Smitty scoffed, "He raised him. He loves him. He's not gonna shoot him just because--"

And right on time, a single gunshot rang out. It could be heard in the background of both of their rooms as Smitty's eyes widened. He couldn't believe it. Scotty had really just shot his foster brother, Marcel. "No," he breathed, heartbroken and thoroughly defeated as John laughs in the background. Marcel was one of his favorite characters, but so was Scotty, how could he have been so wrong about him?

On the other end of the line, John snickered. "I told you."

"That's so shitty," he began, but they both erupted into groans when the ending credits rolled.

Smitty saw no more value in pretending he wasn't addicted to the show. They hadn't bothered trying to hide it since the night he'd come home a little late and John had called him, urging as though his life depended on Smitty turning on his TV. He even sometimes found himself talking to his coworkers about the character like they were real people.

Although he sometimes got strange looks, he didn't mind as long as he got to come home from a late shift, make the quickest thing he could think of to eat, and talk to John as he relaxed. It was great. The past few nights when he called, they would go straight to talking about their days and watching The Tears of Tomorrow. It had only been three weeks but they were talking and teasing like besties.

Speaking of the such, John was talking right now, mentioning something funny about how fervently Daithi always said 'revenge is not the way' right before he tried to run over Luke (in the man's own truck no less) when Smitty nodded off. When he woke up four hours later, his phone was 12 percent charged and John had long since hung up. A little guiltily, he called the next night with an apology on his lips, but John acted as thought nothing had happened.

And so began the cycle of Smitty finally falling asleep when the sky went dark.

🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸

Smitty had missed two episodes of their show.

He'd agreed to go out with Fitz and a few other coworkers for drinks, and didn't come home for almost an hour after he'd expected to. He'd been feeling better lately, good even, and thought he should top it all off with a night with his friends. He'd had a pretty good time, but it would have been better if he wasn't so consumed with the thought of leaving John without an answer or explanation. He debated even calling at such a late time, but decided why not. If John was asleep, he probably wouldn't wake up.

Except, John was awake, and ready to fill him in on the missed set of episodes.

"Wait, so Jon and Luke are long lost brothers or something? But they don't even look alike."

"I know dude! Oh-- and it turns out that Brian was the one Brock was having the affair with."

"What!?" Smitty nearly yelled. "When did this happen?"

"Back at the big New Year's Party, the one Evan threw for the whole company."

"Whatever. I still think they really shoehorned that one in."

"They shoehorn everything in," John laughed, and Smitty smiled into the distance in his room.

"Anything else?"

"Mmm, Anthony's getting a brain transplant."

"Anthony? A brain Transplant? Are you serious?"

"Of course not," John giggled again, "But I kinda wish they would give him something crazy like that, you know? Anthony deserves more screen time."

"I guess I get that," Smitty shuffled further under the covers, "I mean, I don't think they characterize him enough for all this saving he does to everyone else."

"Exactly." John says in that unique way of his that stretches out the syllables and highlights the sounds Smitty never really pays attention to. "Hashtag Give Anthony His Own Episode."

Smitty felt his eyes drooping, but he didn't feel as guilty about being so tired since John would probably be off to do his own thing in a few. "More like 'Hashtag Give Anthony His Own Character Arc' to be honest."

He smiled at John's agreement and listened as the older started a rant about his favorite underappreciated characters. Now, Smitty was never one to brag, but he would happily report that he made it all the way until they both hung up to fall asleep.

🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸🕸

"And honestly, I wouldn't really mind if they postponed season five if it meant they wouldn't have to replace my boy Lui. Having anyone else just wouldn't be the same." Smitty paused to level a pointed look at Ryan, only to see that he was no longer taking notes, but watching Smitty with a pointed look of his own.

"What?" he asked when Ryan hesitated to speak.

"Nothing, you just seem to be in a pretty good mood is all" The psychologist replied with some difficulty around his smirk. He looked down and fiddled with his pen for a second before he continued, "Did something happen?"

Smitty narrowed his eyes at the suspicious tone and answers slowly, "Yeah actually. And, I forgot to mention it earlier, but you gave me the wrong number at out last meeting."

"Did I?" Ryan smiles widely, but tries to hide it behind his clipboard. It doesn't work, obviously. "My mistake."

Smitty tries to suppress a knowing frown as he watches Ryan scribble a new number down on a piece of paper with a minutely shaking hand. This one looked absolutely nothing like the one he'd received before.

☈ :)

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic Villains: Sweet or Shite? - Part 7: METAL SONIC

It's been a while, but it's time for another Crusher review and analysis.

There are some villains I like. And there are some villains I don't like. But why do I feel about them the way I do? That's where this comes in.

This is a series of mine in which I go into slightly more detail about my thoughts on the villains in the Sonic the Hedgehog franchise, and why I think they either work well, or fall flat (or somewhere in-between). I'll be giving my stance on their designs, their personalities, and what they had to show for themselves in the game(s) they featured in. Keep in mind that these are just my own personal thoughts. Whether you agree or disagree, feel free to share your own thoughts and opinions! I don't bite. :>

Anyhow, for today's installment, we'll be putting the Stardust Speedway saxophones aside for a moment to discuss Dr. Eggman's notorious robotic copycat, who desperately wants to show us what he's made of: Metal Sonic.

NOTE: While I will be taking several of Metal Sonic's non-game portrayals into account, this will NOT include his Sonic the Comic incarnation, as I feel that Fleetway's Metal - or Metallix, as he's called - is so vastly different in so many ways that I feel there's no point, whereas his other portrayals in non-game media are considerably more consistent for the most part.

The Gist: Being a criminal mastermind slash world conquerer in the making has its shortcomings, and for Dr. Eggman/Dr. Robotnik/The Bad Guy, that shortcoming came in the form of a plush-sized hedgehog who frequently wrecked his machines, foiled his plans, and - worst of all - talked back at him. This literal thorn on his side made the good doctor a very unhappy camper, but one day, his brilliant brain brought a brilliant breakthrough: Why not pit Sonic against himself?

During his then-new scheme to use the Time Stones of the Little Planet to conquer the world through time, Eggman worked tirelessly on his new idea to ensure it was just right. It couldn't be too slow. It couldn't be too bulky. It couldn't be too un-Sonic-like, for he vowed to assert his technological dominance by making a better Sonic than the real one. He wanted this to be his greatest creation yet, and he wasn't going to half-ass that objective.

The result was Metal Sonic, a marvel of industrial automation who established himself as fast as Sonic, as deadly as Sonic, and... not talkative, unlike Sonic. No wonder Eggman declared him the superior of the two.

Eggman loves his creation so much that he’s willing to let him die if this goes wrong. That’s how you know he’s his favourite.

Sure enough, Eggman's efforts were not entirely in vain, as the blue droid was more than a match for Sonic in the speed department, as well as the "What's the best way to make it clear to Amy Rose that I'm not interested?" department via snatching up Sonic's pink hedgehog acquaintance, leaving her as the doctor's captive. Unfortunately however, despite giving Sonic the race of his life, Metal was not yet as quick in his reflexes as the genuine article was, meaning his initial reign of terror came to an abrupt end when he flew head-first into a wall, George of the Jungle-style. Eggman was devastated, except he wasn't, because he knew he could just rebuild and upgrade him. Which he did. Constantly.

He also rebuilt these guys for some reason.

Since his debut in Sonic CD, Metal has went on to appear in a sizable number of games throughout the years, and he's made some personal appearances in a few other continuities as well. Most of these appearances simply have him show up, attack Sonic and other heroes for a bit, then get his ass handed to him. Some of those ass-kickings even came with a tasty amount of hue hues. But every now and then, they'll have him do something more, the most famous example being Sonic Heroes, in which he took over Eggman's army by force and went on his own little crusade to gain everyone's data and become Metal GodJesus, all the while proving himself the real Sonic the Hedgehog... by doing a lot of things the real Sonic the Hedgehog would never do. (This general concept would reappear in the IDW comics, though he did not betray Eggman that time around.)

Overall though, Metal is generally considered to be a welcome face whenever he makes an appearance... when he’s not dreaded for being the biggest roadblock in Fighters.

“Well that’s the end of the playthrough, make sure to like, comment, subscribe.”

The Design: What is there to say about Metal Sonic’s design? It’s cool, it’s ominous, it’s sleek, it’s stylish, and it holds a palpable aura of dangerous badassitude while still fitting perfectly with the design philosophy of this franchise. Truly, Metal’s design alone makes him one of the all-time greats of the Eggman repertoire, and it's easy to see why the scientist is particularly proud of this one.

He’s the robot your robot could crash into a wall like.

He’s had a few transformations over the years though. In Knuckles Chaotix, he turned into a ginormous monstrosity commonly referred to by fans as Metal Sonic Kai, who terrified many juniors back in the day due to making the inexcusable error of not being blue. The bad ending might have also affected them.

E for Everyone.

Luckily, Classic Metal got the right idea two decades later, and kept his blue colour scheme when the Phantom Ruby brought the form back in Sonic Mania Plus. As for Modern Metal, he had a brief life (or lives, if you count IDW) as Neo Metal Sonic, who - despite being made with the intention to be a darker, cooler, more serious iteration of the character - went the complete opposite direction by looking less like a frightening metal monarch, and more like a shonen anime’s midnight seizure.

Look at this fucking thing.

Elf shoes. Ripped skirt. Starfish haircut. Vaguely phallic strap in the appropriate area. Regular Metal may have a semi-cutesy look even in his more dangerous iterations, but at least he doesn't come off as a compensating son who doesn't quite know how to come out to his judgemental father, which is more than I can say for whatever the hell this is supposed to be. Is this really meant to be a more intimidating design? A more badass design...?

Then, as if this wasn’t ridiculous enough for Metal already, they had him transform even further into MechaGodzilla Metal Overlord, a goliath made from the remains of the Egg Fleet, with a side order of spikes and artist’s regret.

"Sonic, I was created for the sole purpose of destroying you... but I can never seem to defeat you... That is why I purchased Freddie Mercury's wardrobe with my own hands!"

Said form also returned in the IDW comic, rechristened Master Overlord, who traded the clawed wings and the flamethrower in exchange for symmetrical hands and a more simplistic body structure, at the expense of looking even more like a children’s toy.

Needless to say, Metal's had some... interesting transformations over the years. But his original look will always remain iconic, and rightly so.

The Personality: Metal Sonic's personality is harder to specify compared to other characters in the series, because his kill-first ask-later demeanour in tandem with his usual muteness means we see him most of the time as little more than a Sonic-shaped extension of Eggman's will. That said however, there have been deeper glimpses here and there into what makes his mechanical mind tick.

The most obvious thing to note is that Metal holds the very un-Sonic trait of not having time for nonsense. Sure, he might not be above taunting his organic counterpart in a likeminded way occasionally, but that aside, he's generally a pretty serious and humorless individual, a stark contrast to his creator and master that nonetheless works in the latter's favor, as the realisation that the goofy manchild Eggman of all people made this thing helps shoot down the myth that the rotund madman is all talk.

"He's behind you!" "Shut it wee man, this is a serious play."

Then there's his insanity, by means of identity crisis. It's not known if this was something that was there from the beginning, or if it's somethng that developed and worsened with each defeat, but at some point in his life, Metal convinced himself that despite literally being made with the intention of exterminating the actual Sonic, he himself was in fact the actual Sonic, and that the actual actual Sonic that already existed prior to his inception was in fact the actual Not-Sonic (or a faker, as would be used to describe a certain other lookalike). This belief has caused him to do a bunch of crazy stuff of dubious logic, and don't try to question him on his reasoning, lest you want him to cut you open like a Terry's Chocolate Orange.

His relationship with Eggman is something of an enigma. While his teenage phase betrayal in Heroes is probably the most mainstream evidence of how he feels about his master, it's easy to forget that this was the exception, not the rule. In nearly every other appearance before and since then, Metal has shown nothing but stone cold loyalty towards the doctor and his cause. Even in IDW, when he regained his Neo form and basically did everything he could to remind everyone that Heroes was a thing that existed, he did it that time around for the purpose of finding his master, and helping to restore his empire. A far cry from Neo's first attempt, when he was ranting and raving about how he should have the empire.

Thus, I can only conclude that while his Sonic-esque AI may cause him to get a little reckless, he remains genuinely devoted to his creator outside of his brief cocaine rush in Heroes... and Free Riders, but I don't think anyone knew what was going on in that one. I don't think he knew what was going on in that one.

But perhaps most surprisingly of all - according to the OVA at least - despite all his black-hearted ways, he is still capable of good, as evidenced when he saved the President and the legendary Old Man Owl from dying a fiery death. Whether it's an inherent part of his own nature, or whether it's a side-effect of his Sonic programming, isn't fully clear... but either way, he might want to make sure Eggman doesn't find out about it.

The Execution: Metal Sonic's execution is a complicated case, because there's a dissonance between when he's merely an obstacle for the good guys, and when they've tried to make him more than that.

When he's merely Eggman's instrument of evildoing, he does the job nicely. Sometimes his appearances can be underwhelming depending on the game (read: Sonic 4), but he usually provides a memorable scuffle when it's time for him to put up his dukes. Even if half of those are actually races.

When he aims for bigger, on the other hand? Well...

I've already joked about Neo Metal Sonic's design, but don't be fooled, for his ridiculous fashion sense is merely one part of my beef with the overall concept of Neo. Simply put, everything about Neo Metal Sonic goes against everything that makes this particular character work.

Ranting, monologuing, and running his mouth off does not work for Metal Sonic.

Gathering everyone's data with the intention of becoming Metal Everyone does not work for Metal Sonic.

Transforming into a goddamn dragon does not work for Metal Sonic. (I can let Metal Sonic Kai slide since despite being bigger and more monstrous, you can still recognise it as Metal Sonic specifically. Colour scheme aside, Metal Overlord/Master Overlord might as well be a random monster entirely.)

These ideas aren't necessarily bad on their own. They could work for another villain, or another Eggman minion. But for Metal Sonic specifically? It just doesn't work at all, and while some may be willing to handwave it as the result of Metal's insanity, I firmly believe it's more than possible to establish and delve into his inner madness in ways that DON'T contradict almost everything about him. A character being insane is not an excuse for turning them into a completely different character altogether, nor is it an excuse for just plain handling them in a shitty manner. By all means, I'm all for giving Metal a bigger role, and I'm all for expanding his character and his dynamic... just not like this.

Metal doesn't need to do all that in order to be effective and leave an impression. His portrayal in the OVA confirms that. OVA Metal was everything that Metal was known for at the time: straightforward, loyal, and silent, bar one line towards the end. And he still managed to be a very intriguing antagonist who served as a believably major threat, and who gave Sonic the fight of his life, and thus earned the hedgehog's disgruntled ire and his begrudging respect. That is the Metal that writers should aspire to. That is the essence of what makes that character.

So, despite everything, I still highly enjoy Metal Sonic when he's Metal Sonic, and not Something Vaguely Shaped Like Metal Sonic. He's stumbled a bit over the years, but when he's done right, he's always an eventful burst of fun, and ultimately, my fondness for those portrayals overrides my disgust towards elf shoes. And I'd love to see them expand on his dynamic with Eggman, which a certain well-liked series of shorts has thankfully given us a small taste of. Here's hoping the future will follow up on it...

“Now, if you may be so generous, hand over the Emerald slowly, or else I'm afraid your little friend will face the consequen-ooooowwwww my FUCKING wrist.”

Crusher Gives Metal Sonic a: Thumbs Up! (and Neo Metal Sonic a: Thumbs Down!)

[drawacharge]

so this started off as a drabble inspired by @hoppnhorn’s fic where hopper sees steve & billy fucking on camera lol read it here and turned into that + like a slight hopper introspective?? which i didn’t mean to do but whatever, enjoy anyway???

He’s late.

He’s late because he’s still technically on the clock and caught Tommy Hill speeding so he had to pull the kid over, give him the Required Lecture, and stick him with a ticket that his father would just pay off. Hopper would have loved to just over look it this time, but Hawkins is small as shit and the last thing he needs is the teenagers to stop fearing him. According to Joyce’s oldest son everyone thinks he’s made up of pure anger and spite.

Really, he’s just exhausted. 

And like. Maybe he enjoys terrorizing the teenagers of Hawkins just a little bit. But no one can prove it, so.

Anyway, it means he arrives at the cabin late, to a pouting little girl whose arms stay glued across her chest during the entire car ride to the Byers’. 

Thing is, Hopper’s trying, he really is. It’s just.

Being a cop-- much less the chief of police-- is kind of an unpredictable job, even in Hawkins, but Jane’s only twelve so she doesn’t get that. She just sees a guy who keeps breaking promises. A guy who kept her locked away in a remote cabin in a thick forest for an entire year, after she was kept captive her entire fucking life by some psycho scientist. 

But he’s trying.

He’s been looking at places to live that aren’t in the middle of fucking no where. He’s been going through the motions to sign her up for school. He’s been letting her see her friends more. He’s even been fucking reading Lord of the Rings to her at night, because her friends bought the series for her and her reading comprehension isn’t there yet. 

And it’s a boring fucking book, so.

Like, seriously. Ninety percent of it they’re just walking. 

He even does voices. 

Two weeks ago, she went to the mall for the very first time and he let her buy whatever she wanted. She chose a pink dress-- which like, fine, whatever-- but she also really wanted a leather jacket that was kind of too expensive but Hopper bought it for her anyway. He sacrificed a months’ worth of buying beer for it. Not that she knows that.

She also bought a stuffed teddy bear because she said it reminded her of him, which was... kind of cute. She named it Jim, too, which is less cute and more confusing, but whatever. 

A month before that was the start of summer and she went to the quarry for the first time. Jane doesn’t have the best history with deep water, so she spent the first hour clinging to either Hopper or Mike, making them promise to not let go. But, eventually, she explored on her own.

With floaties on her arms, of course.

So, yeah, he’s trying. But.

He still feels a little bit like a failure. He’s still too angry, too impatient. His voice still gets too loud even when he doesn’t mean for it to. 

Couple weeks ago, he confessed to Joyce over a midnight joint that he felt like he was becoming like his father. Joyce-- who vividly remembered Hopper’s father from when they were teenagers-- looked positively offended at the notion and went, “Don’t be ridiculous, Hop. You’re nothing like him.” Which, like, yeah.

He doesn’t hit the kid. He doesn’t tell her that she was worthless, or stupid. He’d rip out his own tongue or cut off his own hands before ever doing any of those things, but.

That doesn’t mean he’s a good dad. 

And, christ, that kid deserves a good fucking dad. A great one. A god damn superhero, even.

And that’s... not him. 

But he’s trying.

So, she doesn’t talk to him the whole way there, but, when she hops out of the car she still takes the time to hug his hip before grabbing her bag and running in. It’s stupid how much better that makes him feel.

By the time he follows in behind her, she’s in the living room talking excitedly to Mike about something or other. He’s looking at her with his stupid googoo eyes and Hopper-- not for the first time-- wants to kill the kid just a little bit, because his girl is too fucking young to have some twerp sniffing at her heels, but she likes him too apparently.

Besides, if Hopper learned anything from his teenage years it’s that the more parents don’t like a boy, the more the girl does.

( something he used to his advantage far too much back then )

Everyone’s there already, but not everyone’s staying. Henderson is talking too loud-- basically yelling-- in front of Steve Harrington, going, “C’mon, why do you wanna go to a party with him instead of hanging with us--” and the him in question here is Billy Hargrove, who is standing a little farther back from everyone else, closer to the door. Hopper can’t help but agree with Henderson’s sentiment, even if the thinks the kids are just headaches waiting to happen. But.

He doesn’t like Hargrove. The only adults who do, seem to be housewives, but Hopper’s reasoning is a little different from everyone else’s. 

See, Hargrove reminds Hopper too much of himself at his age. He seems angry all the time, rage bubbling underneath his skin like he’s always looking for an excuse to lash out. He walks through the town like it belongs to him, flirts with housewives even though he’s a fucking kid. Sometimes it’s like Hopper’s looking in a fucking mirror. Shit, even some of the rude shit he says reminds Hopper of the shit he’d say at his age. Closed minded kind of shit. 

You’d probably think all these similarities would make him more empathetic to the kid but, nah, not really. 

Maybe, if his kid didn’t like him. Maybe, if he wasn’t starting to hang around the group of people Hopper has almost died to protect twice now.

People Hopper would still die to protect in an instant. People he cared about. People he kind of considered family.

Right down to the rich kid who used to be a real fucking thorn in his side.

( still was, on occasion )

He’s been able to stand Harrington a lot more after he started dating Nancy Wheeler. She was a sweet kid and kept him out of trouble, influenced him to be good rather than the party boy he was before her. They weren’t together anymore, and while Hopper never gave enough of a shit to find out why, he was worried that’d mean Harrington would go back to his old ways. 

So far he hasn’t, not really, but he did start hanging around Hargrove sometime in the spring. 

Unlike everyone else, Hopper wasn’t too surprised when they started hanging out. It wasn’t unusual for two guys their age to get into it then end up becoming friends some time later. If Hopper hadn’t been friends with anyone he fought at their age he wouldn’t of had any friends. Boys will be boys. They’ll fight, they’ll draw blood, and after that they’ll get a fucking beer and forget about it. Shit, even grown men did that from time to time. 

But, Hargrove could easily be the catalyst that makes Harrington go back to his old ways. It hasn’t happened, but--

“What’s this about a party?” He sounds gruff, but when Harrington turns around he smiles at Hopper with the same kind of smile he’d give after getting pulled over for speeding, or for the staunch smell of weed coming from the open window of his BMW. “I hope there ain’t gonna’ be any underage drinking at this party--”

He knows there will be.

“Nope,” Harrington says, all innocent acting, Ray-Bans over his eyes even thought he’s inside and it’s fucking dark out. He was such a ridiculous kid. Hopper would have probably punched him too when he was seventeen.”Just soda and fruit punch, sir.”

“Don’t push it,” he mutters, but waves off the conversation, heading for the kitchen to say hi to Joyce real quick. 

On the way out he hears Hargrove hiss, “You wanna invite him to the fucking thing too?” and Harrington goes, “Relax, he doesn’t care.” Which like, Hopper does care, but he also knows teenagers will be teenagers and if he spent all his time shutting down parties he’d never fucking sleep, so. 

Joyce has her back to him, stirring something that smells real fucking good in a pot while her two boys help. The radio is playing softly and Jonathan’s singing to his mom as he pulls what looks like ( and smells like ) garlic bread out of the oven. Will is standing on a stool, getting plates, and Hopper walks over to help him when he starts to wobble.

The kid offers him one of his soft, grateful little smiles and Joyce goes, “Oh, Hop,” in greeting, “When’d you get here? I didn’t hear the door.”

“Just a few minutes ago.” He makes sure Will can handle the rest then looks over her shoulder to take a peek at what’s in the pot, “What cha’ makin’?” He reaches for some bread and she smacks his hand with a spoon.

“Chicken parm with spaghetti and garlic bread--” his stomach growls at the thought, and he’s not sure if she heard it or not but she goes, “You’re gonna’ stay and eat some with us, right?” so either she did or she just knows. 

He wants to. He really fucking wants to, but. 

“Can’t. Still on the clock technically.”

Jonathan and Will take the plates and what food is finished to the other room while Joyce frowns at him. “You work too much.” And he might, maybe. But so does she, which he says. She smiles real gentle at him in response. Joyce always looks so much younger when she smiles like that.

“Try and stop by after then?” She asks, tilting her head back to look at him better. They’re closer than Hopper realized. They always seem to be closer than he realizes. “I’ll save you a plate and we can talk while the kids are asleep.” 

Thing is, Hopper probably visits her at night far too much for it to be appropriate. If she was married and he did that, her husband would have every right to punch him, but. 

She’s not married, and neither is he, and.

And that sounds real good, so, “I’ll try and make it.”

Which makes her smile even more, and Hopper likes making her smile. She’s been sad for too long and too often over the last couple years, and if anyone in this town deserved to smile it was Joyce Byers. 

“Good. See that you do.” She pats his chest. “Now go do your job. I’ll be waiting.”

And that sounds real good, too. Joyce waiting up for him.

Like real good. 

So, he finds Jane and ruffles her hair in good-bye, glares at Wheeler a little, and heads out the door, noticing that the BMW is still in the driveway but Harrington, Hargrove, and Hargrove’s Camaro are long gone. 

He’s almost done with his patrols, heading down to Lover’s Lake to make sure no one’s trying to get pregnant out there. He’s dreaming of Joyce’s chicken parm ( and a little bit about Joyce, too ) when he sees the missing Camaro parked at the edge of the lake, lights off and silent, and audibly sighs. 

It’s not the first time he’s caught Hargrove and some girl out here, and he’s kind of getting tired of the kid blatantly ignoring his warnings, so he shuts off his cruiser, gets out, and walks real quiet like toward the car just so he can have surprise on his side and put the fear of god into Hargrove and whatever poor girl he’s charmed into his backseat. 

Okay, so, maybe he enjoys this part of his job. Terrorizing horny teenagers was kind of fun. He now understood why the cops before him did the same fucking thing. Nothing like wide eyes and shit shit shit as limbs flail and clothes fly around to give you a good chuckle.

He hears moans as he gets closer, nose wrinkling because, christ, they left the fucking window open. Do they want the whole fucking town to hear them bumping uglies, like-- 

He pulls out his flash light, leans down, and flicks it on, “Alright, you two--”

Well.

Shit.

There’s two forms, and the one on bottom is most definitely Hargrove, naked from the waist up, hair a mess and a very angry looking red mark on his throat, but the girl on top-- well, the girl on top isn’t even a girl.

It’s fucking Harrington. 

Hopper’s world goes a little sideways and he stands there looking a little stupid, both kids staring at him with wide, terrified eyes before Hargrove’s shoving Harrington off him unceremoniously, a look of pure panic on his face. Harrington hits the seat with a grunt-- far more naked than Hargrove was-- and scrambles for his pants thrown over the middle console behind him. Hargrove’s muttering something like fuck and shit and i’m so fucking dead while yanking his shirt over his head and Hopper--

Catches up around the time Steve turns to him, out of breath and looking almost as scared as Hargrove, but infinitely more desperate. “Hopper,” he breathes, trying to smile like he did back at the Byers. It falls a little flat this time. “Hi, uh--” he glances back at Billy who is now just staring forward at the head rest of the front seat. His back is rigid, and that look of fear is still on his face. “-- it’s not... what it looks like. I uh. We. I--”

Hopper’s caught him like this before, but with girls, and Harrington’s always been much more composed, sometimes even smug. Now he looks about ready to piss himself, voice almost trembling and christ. 

Hopper gets why.

Like, it’s Hawkins. And--

He hasn’t always been the most outwardly accepting guy, even as an adult. He’s said shit before that he probably shouldn’t, but. That’s changed. He’s gotten better, because he has Joyce, and Joyce has Will, and Will--

Well, he’s not sure what Will is, but he’s pretty sure he’s not normal-- er, straight. Whatever. He’s still learning. Point is.

It’s not his thing, and he might not ever, like, get it, but. 

He knows what pure fear looks like, and Hargrove looks like that but worse. He’s green like he might throw up, and Steve only looks a little bit better, but not by much, so.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he hears himself sigh, and Steve goes still, so he adds. “I can’t believe Hargrove left his fucking car out here empty and unlocked. It’s illegal--” 

See, he should probably talk about it. He should probably tell the boys that it’s okay, or it’s natural, or some other liberal shit that Joyce would probably say, but he can’t. Doesn’t want to even, because that sounds fucking awkward as shit, and he isn’t even ready to have the talk with his kid, much less two queer teenage boys--

So this is his best option.

And they both look confused, which is fair. “God only knows who could find it,” he continues. God only knows who could find you. “He better get back here and leave soon.” You better get out of here. “It’s dangerous.”

Then he steps back, flicks off his flashlight and adds, “I’m not gonna’ report this,” which sounds stupid to say out loud, but he wants the kids to know he’s not going to tell anyone. That even if he doesn’t understand, he still fucking knows anyone finding out could mean either of them getting fucking dragged down a country road by a truck, and even when Hopper was at his worst he didn’t think people like them deserved that shit, so.

He gets back in his truck, heads back down the road, parks behind some trees, and sits there until he sees Hargrove’s Camaro fly by. Until he knows they’re safe, and hopefully not planning on doing that ever again.

Then he heads back to the Byers’, smokes a joint on the porch with Joyce, and eats chicken parmesan and garlic bread until he can no longer recall what Steve Harrington looks like butt ass naked. 

[agentsokka]

Davekat Fic Recs [P2]

Continuation of my Davekat fic rec list from ye old 2016. An absolute metric shit ton of Damn Good Fics™ have dropped since then, and it’s criminal I haven’t updated that original list in so long. 

As per usual with these things, you won’t find much luck here with smut content. Some stories feature scenes, but for the most part, the fics themselves aren’t exclusively about such.

Cheers!

[Oneshots]

English is Full of Really Shitty Metaphors: You knew you probably shouldn't stay on a planet mostly inhabited by trolls once you finished your adult pupation and your blood color became more apparent. You also knew that you should learn a couple of other languages so that your weren't floundering around like an idiot when you eventually did move. Talking to random aliens on the internet seemed like a really good way to practice.

Fatalistic Humor, or, Jokes to Make Post-Mortem: ‘Head over heels’ is an appropriate turn of phrase because falling in love is exactly like throwing yourself down an endless staircase of inconvenient emotion.

i’m at the combination dunkin donuts & urgent care: Karkat Vantas is convinced beyond a doubt that his neighbor is some variety of murderer, until they actually meet in person. Highlights include blood at the laundromat, Dave's weird obsession with candles, and a box of shitty swords.

In Which a Loser is Sick: IN WHICH A LOSER IS SICK AND TRIES TO DENY IT, A TROLL IS ALSO A LOSER AND TRIES TO DENY IT, PISSING PANTS IS DISCUSSED IN THE SAME LINE OF CONVERSATION AS CALMING DOWN, VRISKA IS MENTIONED BECAUSE OF COURSE SHE IS, SOUP IS MADE AND SUBSEQUENTLY IGNORED, AND AN ACT OF AFFECTION IS REPAID BY THE WEAKENING OF AN IMMUNE SYSTEM. Dave gets sick and Karkat takes care of him.

Pretty Friggin’ MATRIMONIAL: Karkat is planning the proposal to end all proposals, but a clueless Dave has plans of his own.

Rumination: Dave and Karkat do some thinking, talking, kissing, and cuddling. Not necessarily in that order.

Self Sabotage and Other Symptoms of a Damaged Soul: Ok so everyone knows Dave and Dirk had a long amazing talk that presumably ended with Dave asking him for advice on the Being Not Straight stuff. My problem is, Dave also spent three years with his gloriously gay twin sister on a fucking space rock while he was right in the middle of coming to terms with all this stuff. So I wrote this mostly to reconcile the gap I think exists there, with a bunch of other Dave centric stuff thrown in with it.

Shitty Punchlines are the Purest Form of Self-Deprecation: Laying somewhere solidly post-credits and wondering, when do we start feeling like winners? Or is that not part of the package? Where's our fucking GameFAQs guide to navigating these stupid first steps into an eternity processing whatever the FUCK just happened, here? Going through that door was supposed to fix everything. Wasn't it? What's it going to take to fix ourselves?

Sleepwalk: Dave has unfortunate nocturnal habits. Karkat handles them better than anyone might've expected.

Start at the Beginning: Don't stop until eternity. And even then. (Davekat, meteor to can land to earth c and on. Happy anniversary.)

Sweatertown - Population: Two: Dave's cape gets hijacked, but Karkat knows what to do about it.

Tested: Dave and Karkat want to escape Aperture Science Laboratories.

That Cultural Divide: “Dave,” says Karkat neutrally, “why are they beating him up?” And your mouth runs dry.

Valentine’s Day: Valentine's Day through the three years on the meteor.

What to do When Your Boyfriend is Too Hot: Moving to a new universe and a new paradigm brings a lot of changes. And Dave kind of likes the way things were before, back on the Meteor, when he had Karkat all to himself and didn't spend sleepless nights waiting for the shoe to fall.

[Multichap]

About a Time I Failed: A doomed timeline AU. Instead of trolling John, Karkat finds himself scrolling through Dave's entire timeline. He is horrified by what he finds, and ends up in a pseudo-friendship with somewhat reluctant Dave. The story spans the rest of this timeline- Dave and Karkat's budding internet romance, the beta kids becoming friends, the start of SBURB, and, eventually, all of them realizing that Dave and Karkat's diversion from the Alpha Timeline has doomed them all. [Incomplete]

And it’s a Downward Spiral from There: One day, the whole world is going to acknowledge you as that one guy who finally made contact with aliens, but if you had known that getting drunk was going to lead up to abduction, a potential probing, and becoming the worst cult sacrifice this side of the galaxy, you probably would have just stayed at home. [Ongoing]

Astronomy in Reverse: Dave and Karkat are intergalactic pen pals, originally paired together for an extra credit school outreach project. Now, three years of correspondence later, they're best friends... and Karkat is finally immigrating to Earth. [Ongoing]

Breathe: Your name is Dave Strider, and there's nothing good about John and Rose changing schools. Without your twin sister and best friend, you've been left socially crippled at school, and barely coping at home. You're nearly certain that your mental health has been slowly spiraling downhill. You have no clue how you'll last the year to high school graduation. In all this, there's just one single ray of light. Your name is Dave Strider, and there's nothing good about John and Rose changing schools. Except for meeting Karkat Vantas. [Ongoing]

**The Calm is Terrifying When the Storm is All You’ve Known**: There were two kinds of trolls who went to Earth: rich shitheads with too much money and free time, and desperate assholes who couldn’t survive on Alternia, even with the best efforts of the young Condesce. Karkat hated the planet almost immediately, but with his home planet too dangerous for mutants, he really didn’t have any choice but to hide out on this weird little diurnal planet. At least he’d be safe. Or so he thought, right before blundering his way into an accidental friendship with the son of an anti-troll terrorist. Slow burn, shifting perspectives; romance really isn't the focus here but it'll still play a significant part; extra content warnings will be posted with each relevant chapter. [Ongoing] [y’all I’m serious read it it’ll water your crops and clear your chakras it’s Good Shit]

cold desert: Curiosity killed the cat. It probably just wasn't as good at being nosy as Dave is. [Ongoing]

Demon Eyes: In which Dave goes in to kill a demon for his bro, and things...don't exactly go as planned. [Ongoing]

Doc Scratch’s School for Supernaturally Gifted Adolescents: One minute you get a mysterious message from a man who types all in white like a jackass, and then the next thing you know you're being whisked away to a mystical school for kids with superpowers. If you weren't Dave fucking Strider, this sort of thing might bother you. [Ongoing]

Fortuitous: Dave and Karkat build a pillow fort and an unexpected chain of events occurs. [Ongoing]

If I Lose Everything in the Fire: The Kaiju - or Horrorterrors, as the trolls call them - first invaded Earth through a transdimensional rift at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. Serving the Condesce in her quest to add Earth to the Alternian Empire, these monsters have terrorized humanity for twelve years. With the help of rebel troll factions and the adaptation of Alternian mind integration technology - The Drift - the Interspecies Defense Program has fought back as the last line of defense between the Kaiju and Earth. Karkat Vantas was a Jaeger pilot, fought for freedom in the Assault on the Breach that brought trolls to Earth. The loss of his co-pilot left him bitter and full of rage, but desperate times have lead to him being recruited to join the fray once more. Dave Strider is the best and brightest the Interspec program has to offer. Jaeger Restoration Project Head, highest simulation score on record, and younger brother of the Deputy Marshal - except he's not allowed in a Jaeger. Nobody expects them to be Drift Compatible. [Ongoing]

i'm sick of the things i do when i'm nervous: Two idiots poke at recovery with a stick. [Complete]

IN WHICH TWO SETS OF HUMAN BROTHERLY BONDS ARE ESTABLISHED, SEVERAL CORRUPT INSTITUTIONS OF MORALITY ARE IDEOLOGICALY DEMOLISHED, A DOG WITCH USES GOD POWERS TO MESS WITH EXQUISTELY CAREFULLY PLANNED INFRASTRUCTURE PLANS FOR SOME TREES LIKE A JACKASS--: --APPROXIMATELY A BILLION FUCKING CONSORTS AND CHESS PEOPLE, ALONG WITH A LOT OF USELESS GOD MODED LAYABOUTS ARE LEAD TO SUCCESSFUL COLONIZATION AND ESTABLISHMENT BY A SUCCESSFUL AND COMPASSIONATE LEADER, AND LONG-SUNDERED SOULMATES TORN APART BY FEAR AND DEVASTATING, MIND-BOGGLING STUPIDITY ARE REUNITED AT LAST BY A WISE, COMPASSIONATE BOSS / GUIDANCE FIGURE AND HIS LOYAL, EFFICIENT RIGHT-HAND MAN. THERE ARE AT LEAST THREE CRYING SCENES, TWO KISSES, AND OVER TEN TOTAL MINUTES OF REAL-TIME DESCRIPTION OF LONGING GAZES AND TENDER HUGS. 2 RESOUNDING ENDORSEMENTS OF BELOVED MUNICIPAL OFFICIALS. PRIMERS ON HUMAN/TROLL INTERSPECIES ROMANCE. THIS TEXT IS SUGGESTED SCHOOLFEEDING MATERIAL FOR ALL REASONABLY GROWN HATCHLINGS GAZING OUT ON THE BLIGHTED WASTELAND OF THEIR PERSONAL RELATIONSHIPS, WISHING THEY WERE DEAD, AND DESPERATELY YEARNING SOMEONE WOULD CLUE THEM IN ON JUST WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON. RATED 8(17)+ AND UP. [Complete]

M.C. Escher that's My Favorite MC [It’s the End of the World as We Know It]: Dirk has a plan, when he's 18 he's going to take Dave and get him the fuck out of their terrible lives and start over. Until then being the barrier between Dave and Bro is his only job, his soulmate is just going to have to wait goddamnit. Dave has a plan, it involves getting internet famous and not going gay, easy right? Karkat also has a plan, to repeatedly track down his dumb as rocks soulmate and get him to actually talk to him for fuck's sake. [Ongoing]

Midnight’s Son: Dave Strider's father, a prominent detective, is tasked with infiltrating the Midnight Crew. Dave, worried about his father's safety, decides to do a little undercover work of his own and tries to befriend the boss's son, Karkat Vantas. [Complete]

Nothing Risked, Nothing Lost: Try as he might, Dave remembered nothing from the first four years of his life. There were three signs of imminent upheaval. First, the King of Derse disappeared without a trace. Second, the Queen of Prospit dropped dead. The third sign was the return of long-lost royalty. Not like any of this was Dave's concern. Not the war between Prospit and Derse, not the horrorterrors of the Furthest Ring, not the failings of some dumb monarchs. He was a nobody. Not like Rose, a bona fide Seer of Light. He wasn't sure why she wanted them to go to Derse, but he followed her, anyway. Like he always did. [Hiatus]

Off Court: Your name is Dave Strider, and a hospital wasn’t the setting you had imagined when you thought of seeing your twin again. Your name is Karkat Vantas, and having Terezi drag you around her weird human legislacerator training probably wasn’t the worst way you could spend the rest of your sweeps. And then you meet him. [Ongoing]

Palisades, Palisades: In your memories, you see Dave Strider, fourteen-years-old and made up of lean muscle and awkward limbs that he would still need a few years to grow into fully. Crows surround him, all cawing impatiently, vying for the chicken sandwich in his backpack. He swears loudly as he swings a stick at them, trying to get them to leave him the fuck alone. “Stupid feathery assholes,” he’d always complain once he finally shooed them away. You tear yourself out of the memory. You miss him, and you hate yourself for it. [Complete]

The Red Thing: The first time you ever realised there was something wrong with you, you were two sweeps old. You still remember it like it was just yesterday. You were at the playground in your then-community, which you had long since moved from. You’d been playing ‘tag’ with some of the other young trolls, but had tripped and scraped your knees. One of the other troll’s custodial guardians had noticed what had happened, and wandered over to make sure you were alright. You don’t think you’ll ever forget the look on her face when she picked you up and saw the mutant-red seeping through the knees of your pants. Things spiraled downhill quickly after that. You’d never quite understood what was happening when you were young, but you’d known that you’d become an outcast. Other trolls around you started to avoid you. Sometimes they’d throw things at you – food, stones, anything that might hurt you. Other times, they’d call you names – mistake, mutant, freak. You preferred when they tried to hurt you. At least then you could fight back. [Ongoing]

space cowboy disaster zone: Your name is Karkat Vantas, and these nights you eke out a quiet living on Antoren-3, helping around the Caltira Inn or scavenging out in the rust plains. It’s a simple life, and the only excitement you get for the most part is from the stories of other scavengers, a handful of bar fights, and the occasional salvageable wreck. Fresh wrecks, you’ve only seen a handful of times, and when John spots the telltale streak of light from a distant crash in the middle of a rust storm, you’re eager to get first dibs on whatever it might contain, the elements be damned. You don’t expect a survivor. [Ongoing]

Stepping Stones: A series of vignettes concerning the evolution of the relationship between Karkat Vantas and Dave Strider. Or, the troll title: IN WHICH DAVE AND KARKAT DISCUSS THE VARIOUS DIFFERENCES BETWEEN HUMAN AND TROLL GENITALS, THERE IS AN AWKWARD CONFESSION OF EMOTIONS, DAVE AND DIRK FINISH THEIR CONVERSATION ON THE ROOFTOP, DAVE GETS SOME ADVICE FROM A FEW OF THE LADIES IN HIS LIFE, AND THERE IS A SMUTTY EPILOGUE. [Complete]

The Stories We Tell Ourselves: Dave was silent. YES. YOU. The voice answered him before he even had a chance to speak up and voice his confusion or curiosity with a lack of delicacy only a child was capable of. It had a harsh way of speaking, brash enough to be rude and so loud the sound of his voice practically echoed off his skull. In it he could feel the rich, crimson flow of blood, the drip, drip, of molten lava degrading stone so ancient not even the gods of old would have lived to see it form. A being so old, so vast, that even to speak his name would grant one with immeasurable power. It made him shudder, little hands clenching into fists against rough stone. HUMAN CHILD. In which Dave is alone and Dragons exist. Shenanigans ensue. [Ongoing]

Stow Away: Calm and collected, that's Dave Strider. The docking station around him is chaotic and loud but he is like ice, cool and clear. None of that is true of course, but nobody is looking closely enough to notice the way his hands shake and his eyes dart around underneath the opaque plastic of his vintage sunglasses. Dave Strider sneaks on board an Alternian ship in an attempt to flee his shitty situation on Earth. This is the first of many questionable decisions. [Complete]

Time Displacement: Side A: After the events of the game, Dave wakes up in a universe that is familiarly unfamiliar. Sburb didn't happen, all their guardians are alive, and Bro is...different. [Ongoing]

Transcend: Dave doesn't get troll romance, but that's okay because Karkat is bad at it anyway. A journey through all four quadrants and a bit more. [Complete]

[sleepguruin]

How to Get More Deep Sleep?

Many people around the world have started to pride themselves over their ability to work for long hours by getting only 5 to 6 hours of sleep. But the truth is that these people are doing their body and mind great injustice by depriving them of the needed amount of deep sleep. It is important to understand how to get more deep sleep because of the various health benefits that it carries with itself. While you are sleeping, your brain begins to catalog the experiences you had the previous day. Your memory is primed, and several hormones are released to regulate energy, mental acuity, and moods. In order to complete all its functions, your brain needs at least 7 to 8 hours of sleep. When this time period is lessened, it takes a toll on your creativity, concentration, productivity, and mood regulation. You have to understand that the appropriate amount of shut-eye is very important for your performance in day to day life.  Deep sleep is absolutely essential for hormonal regulation, physical renewal, and growth. If you do not get enough deep sleep, you will be likely to fall prey to depression, sickness, and weight gain.  If you want to avoid slow cognitive and social processing, ensure that you get the right dosage of sleep.

Why You Wake Up Tired?

The American Sleep Apnea Association claims that after a good sleep, you should wake up feeling fresh and alert. However, this does not happen for most people. You might be sleeping for 7 to 9 hours every night, but sometimes less than 10% of it is the crucial amount, which makes it important to understand how to get more deep sleep. At least 90 minutes of your sleep cycle should be constituted by deep sleep; if you feel that is not happening, then there are various things that you can discuss with a doctor or trained professional to sort this problem. This includes discussing-

General sleep disorder

Obstructive sleep apnea

Not getting enough sleep.

Getting too much sleep

Other health conditions which might cause fatigue

The Difference between Light Sleep and Deep Sleep

First, we need to understand the difference between REM and non-REM sleep. Light sleep covers the first two stages of non-REM. This stage is known as the transition phase and includes the time where you go from being awake to falling asleep. The second stage of non-REM includes dreaming; however, it is not as intense as the further stages of REM. With age, people begin to spend more and more time in a state of light sleep, which greatly affects their brain functions. Deep sleep is also called slow-wave sleep and constitutes of a restorative sleep stage. A person needs at least 7 hours of deep sleep in order to maintain their health, although this amount changes with time and age. Deep sleep includes Rapid Eye Movement, which is the most crucial stage of your sleep cycle.

Different Stages of Sleep

First comes non- REM sleep that has two stages. During the first stage, you go from being awake to being asleep. The second stage of REM accounts for 50% of your total sleep cycle. In this stage, your body’s systems relax, your core temperature drops, and your eye movements stop. Stages 3 and 4 are stages of deep sleep wherein your heartbeat and breathing become very slow, and your brain waves are the slowest.

The next thing that comes is the REM sleep cycle, which begins 90 minutes after you fall asleep and occurs periodically every 90 minutes. At this time, your breathing, heart rate, and blood pressure rise to near waking levels. This is the stage where you’re most likely to dream, and your arms and legs are paralyzed temporarily.

What Happens if You Don’t Get Deep Sleep?

Deep sleep helps you process the information that you have encountered every day. If you don’t get enough of it, your brain is unable to convert information into memory. If you don’t get enough sleep, you are likely to suffer from conditions like-

Alzheimer’s disease

Heart disease

Diabetes

Stroke

The stage of deep sleep is also associated with a number of disorders such as-

Sleepwalking

Night Terrors

Bed wetting

Sleep eating

It is important to understand how to get more deep sleep in order to avoid the following conditions-

Memory troubles

Mood changes

Weakened immunity

Trouble concentrating

Poor response time and increased accident risk

High blood pressure

Weight gain

Risk of diabetes

Risk of heart disease

Early aging

How Much Deep Sleep Do I Get?

It is important that you spend at least 75% of your night-time in non-REM sleep and 25% in REM sleep. Of all this time, 13-23% constitutes deep sleep. Deep sleep decreases as you grow in age, which makes it important to understand how to get more deep sleep as you age. When you’re under 30, you get as much as two hours of a deep sleep, whereas people above 65 can get only half an hour of deep sleep. Although there is no requirement for deep sleep, younger people need it more, for it helps promote growth and development. Of course, older people too require deep sleep, but not getting enough of it does not mean that they have a sleeping disorder. Age has a great role in the amount of sleep that you get.

How to Get More Deep Sleep?

Everyone, invariably, feels refreshed after they have had enough deep sleep, during REM, our body works to repair muscles and strengthen our mind. If you want to know how to get more deep sleep to read the points below-

Shut Your Devices

It is absolutely unhealthy to stay on your phone throughout the day. The bright light from gadgets affects your brain and hinders your sleeping pattern. If you wish to get proper sleep at night, you should make it a point to shut down your devices at least one hour before going to bed.

Exercise

If you want to form proper sleeping patterns, make sure that you exercise for at least half an hour every day. But make sure that you don’t work out close to your bedtime because that can cause sleep deprivation. Yoga and meditation also help greatly in improving the quality of sleep.

Set Your Room Temperature

Physiologists have discovered through research that the best temperature to sleep in lies between 60-67 degrees. However, at any time, you should set the room temperature to any number that suits your body.

Pink Noise

Pink noise refers to soft sounds such as the rustling of leaves and the sound of waves. Such sounds have a soothing effect on your mind and greatly help in getting better sleep.

Be Mindful of What You Eat

It is important that you understand the influence of your food on your sleep cycle. Always avoid drinking excessive caffeine through tea, coffee, soft drinks, etc. Also, make sure that you do not go to bed on an empty stomach or do not overeat right before going to bed.

Maintain Sleep Hygiene

You need to maintain a bedtime routine which should aim at making you feel calm and relaxed. Towards the end of the day, you should make sure that you avoid stressful, stimulating situations that might keep you awake at night.

Deep Sleep Frequently Asked Questions

What Makes A Good Sleep Cycle?

A good sleep cycle consists of two phases of REM. The first NREM-REM sleep cycle should be between 70 and 100 minutes, while the second phase should last for about 90 to 120 minutes minimum.

What Is the Sleep Requirement for Different Ages?

Teenagers should be able to get 8-10 hours of sleep. Younger adults (18-25) need 7-9 hours of sleep. Adults should have a sleep cycle that lasts for 7-9 hours. Older adults (65+) should be able to get 7-8 hours of sleep.

What Causes A Lack of Deep Sleep?

Sleeping disorders are the major reason behind incomplete sleep. Problems such as sleep apnea and periodic limb movements result in recurrent awakenings throughout the night. If you are under medication for psychological illnesses such as bipolar disorder, your sleep pattern may be affected by the medicines that you take.

What Is A Good Time to Sleep?

According to The National Sleep Foundation, the best time to fall asleep lies between 8 pm and midnight. However, you can make changes as per the time that you wake up in the morning and the amount of sleep that you feel your body needs.

[riveires]

circuits

@twentysixdegrees​

JOOHYUK

it’s certainly an upgrade from freshman year. at least now he doesn’t have to worry about having the right ratio, or making sure to have anywhere from five to twenty dollars on his person to get into a party. the only downside is that he’s pretty sure that their friend group is expecting him to help host at the next major holiday-ish party, and he’s not sure if he’s ready for that just yet. he…doesn’t even have an apartment off campus; he’s in the dorms with joonho, so that’ll be interesting to see how it all plays out–joohyuk is severely distracted.

he’s spacing out on this mildly interesting story about how steph had to walk home barefoot from her latest chem 3 exam because joonho’s getting hit on by a girl who’s like three degrees of separation from any of them. it’s just morally wrong. how can joohyuk leave his best friend and the only roommate he hasn’t scared off by his odd hours in the hands of a total stranger? 

so he thinks up a lie. believable enough to not arouse suspicion–

“i need you,” he states to joonho, looking him straight in the eye. all this after just walking away from steph and jake mid story. “beer pong duo upstairs getting too cocky after 2 wins in a row.” his smile to the girl is too easy to be truly fake. joohyuk is genuinely happy to steal joonho away. “sorry, he’ll catch up with you later. we’ve got a title to defend right now.”

he’s such a freaking liar.

there’s no guilt though. two beers, a cup of the seriously strong mixed juice, and three stupid dare shots in, and joohyuk doesn’t feel much. except for how warm joonho’s palm is in his. they’re holding hands, and he’s dragging him upstairs where the pong table actually is, but he directs them toward a sharp left, where the hallway is dimmer, and the little bay window overlooks the street in front of the house. “i lied.” he shrugs, letting go of joonho’s hand and sitting on the little seat that’s got a worn out cushion. “i’ll lie less in the new year or something, i don’t know.”

“but it was hot down there and i know how uncomfortable you get when there’s a lotta body heat.” nose scrunching, he can even call himself out on his bull (but he’s not sorry). joohyuk reaches behind him, fumbling with the latch on the window. he pushes it out so that it opens an inch or two, letting the cool winter air hit his back. he shivers. “sorry if you were really interested in her. didn’t mean to cockblock you.” opening his legs slightly, he leaves room for joonho to settles himself wherever he wants: against the railing of the stairs, up against the wall, or right in between his legs.

he’s laid the cards out on the table. it’s joonho’s turn now. 

JOONHO

Only two drinks in and Joonho finds himself slipping. Outside, the temperature is well into the negatives, making it the coldest night of the  month, yet his face is flushed, full in its hot tomato glow. Punch drunk Joonho is a sight to behold, blue moon rare. New Year’s Eve, after all, is only an annual occasion, one that he’s fully committed to getting properly smashed for. Except there’s one problem. Some friend of a friend of a friend by the name of Stacey remains as a firm obstacle between the refreshments table and wherever Joohyuk stands in vicinity. As it turns out, there’s some use to being this freakishly tall: he nods at the appropriate intervals of conversation, but his eyes continue to trail well above her shoulder, lingering shy and uncertain on a certain boy’s distinct side profile before sliding back to his companion. Somewhere in the midst of her sweet talk and the single hand that snakes up his chest, it suddenly becomes all too clear just exactly where she keeps pushing towards: neither the friendly game of Kings Cup in the nook nor the “dancing” in front of the T.V., but to the unoccupied bedroom at the end of the corridor. The thing is, Joonho might’ve said yes. She’s pretty enough, smokey-eyed and full-lipped to match, and he’s pliant to the touch. Fooling yourself is easy when there’s the warm burn of rum running through your veins: that this blood rush is for the way her gaze dips, for the swell of bare skin below her neckline. But like all other illusions, this one shatters just as quickly as it had been conjured. He’s whisked away before he knows it, the hand that folds into his centering him back down. It’s earth to Joonho again and he’s saved by the bell, all thanks to Joohyuk, no less. A fact that has his flustered expression shift into one of visible relief. Even more so, when it turns out that the destination his roommate has in mind is something a little more to his liking. Snowflakes fall in thin flurries, the sidewalk below a thin strip of white. The Christmas lights continue to flicker on the front porch. Placing one arm against the ledge, Joonho inhales sharp, then lets go in a slow stream. He feels cooler, better even, but judging by the lopsided grin still plastered on his mouth, not anywhere near sober. “I don’t mind.” He leans against the side of the window, all nonchalant, the hitch of a chuckle light in the baritone of his voice. In vino veritas, isn’t that what it is? Even in Joohyuk’s half-assed excuses, there’s a little bit of truth there, he reckons. Or he’s only buying into the damn thing because he’s quietly loving the way he looks at him like that as he says it. Or just how he looks. Like that. Washed over in the dim orange glow. Barely half an hour to midnight and subtlety has yet to check in at the door; an entirely new invitation present and ready and spreading itself out for him to take. But he won’t move that close, not right now, only marginally, to tap at his ankle with his foot. “Don’t tell me you were jealous, man.”

JOOHYUK

isn't it strange, that when you're fooling around, completely sober, in the middle of the day, you could be pressed skin to skin and yet think nothing of it? yet in a situation like this, where there's still a few inches between then, but there's alcohol involved at a time close to midnight--joohyuk is overthinking every little detail.

the confirmation from joonho about how he really feels about miss-too-close has him mirroring joonho's stupid face. the expression that, for the last few weeks, has made him feel all sorts of ways that he'd rather not think about. joohyuk does his best impression of that smile, but he knows that his version isn't nearly as megawatt beautiful as the original. "good. glad to know that if it were between me or her you'd pick me."

a casual sort of terror starts to creep through hims. he's never been nervous in front of joonho before, and he's rarely nervous in front of people in general but tonight? tonight he's nervous. he knows by the way blood rushes through his system, with the way he instinctively reaches out to settle his right hand onto joonho's hip. he's always been chased, never quite the one doing the chasing. "jealousy doesn't look good on anyone, not even me." his other hand rises to the level of joonho's waist, index finger threading through a beltloop and pulling him just a little closer. "would it have inflated your ego if i said yes?"

there's a need here. it rises in between them, and joohyuk wonders if he's going to break first. it's like that drinking game, where you just keeping adding splashes of soju into a glass full of beer. titanic, was the name of it if he remembered correctly.

damn, that shit really doesn't matter right now.

"joonho, it's really close to midnight. if you're gonna try and find a new year's kiss you better go prowl the floor now." is joonho shuffling in or is he pulling him closer? either way, joohyuk leans in, lips brushing against joonho's jaw.

it barely comes out. it's more of a vibration of sounds against skin, but it's loud enough. "otherwise it might just be me." 

JOONHO

The course of this evening has been something of a losing battle. Composure slips beneath him slow, fine sand through the pinch of an hourglass. With it escapes the number of excuses Joonho could possibly come up with, out by the glass. He's on the high-end of some type of mood, molten amber, liquid smooth. A single touch shouldn't unravel him so completely. Doesn't. But instead, there's the flush that blooms right underneath where Joohyuk's hand presses ever so light.

Spoken envy: in the daylight, it might have looked out of place—jarring under the exposure, perhaps quick to be brushed off as a joke. Here it takes on a whole other pretense, the warmth in his breath palpable, voice a low rumble in the dark. It's enough to send a shiver down his back. 

"That right?" Teasingly, he tilts his head. "I don't know. You haven't really given me an answer." Downstairs, the murmuring grows louder. Pop, then the hiss of champagne flowing free to fill to the brim. Someone dials up the volume of the television, and the announcer's booms are muffled by the walls. A little over three hours away, Times Square hums with anticipation. From a bird's eye view, the sprawl of city lights would look like a dizzying blur of stars, bright against the thin, nocturnal chill. 

All that, and through the thick haze of his inebriated state, sinks the realization, we’re alone now. His lips are the closest they’ve been, light against the line of his jaw. His heartbeat echoes loud in his ears. 

“The floor’s too far.” 

Slowly, Joonho’s hands trail up to cup his cheek, the full weight of his stare unmoving. 

Downstairs, the countdown begins. Ten, Nine, Eight. 

Half moon eyes, full mouth. The room begins to fade out. 

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

JOOHYUK

what is it about this time of year? the weather? the holiday magic? the restlessness of having too much to do but not enough to finish, all at the same time? earlier in the day he couldn't possibly stay still, but now he can barely remember to breathe.

Seven. Six.

"guess you'll never get a proper answer." a question without a resolution, a night that feels too long, a countdown that's steadily ending. it's like he's just been completely submerged in water. everything is muffled--the sound of party-goers probably stampeding to crowd around the tv, the names of absent friends being called frantically--he thinks he might have heard theirs at some point, too.

"there's more important things to worry about." joohyuk feels sluggish, his heart's pounding but his limbs almost seem locked into place. is he losing his courage? his cool? maybe he shouldn't have offered in the first place if he wasn't ready for each and every potential response.

'the floor's too far.'

Five. Four.

but then--clarity. with joonho fully settles in between his thighs, his legs wrap around, heels tugging him close. close enough until there's no room left to separate them. "you're so close." he murmurs it while melting into joonho's palm cupping his cheek. "you're better than anyone downstairs, wouldn't want it any other way." he always did talk too much. "happy early new year, babe." a stuttering exhale, and he surges up to meet joonho halfway.

joohyuk wonders if joonho can taste the smile on his lips.

JOONHO

Up until now, he's held it all in. Every pipe dream, every what if, every hint of wishful thinking that surfaces in the wakeful hours closed away, out of sight, out of mind.

But his imagination has never come anywhere close to this. He almost doesn't believe it—this proximity, the feel of Joohyuk's skin, and this possibility that unfurls between them, nocturnal and blooming slow under moonglow and the warmth of their breaths.

"I won't push for one, then." 

 Three, 

The chanting grows, the anticipation building beneath their feet. Outside, the spectators step into the street, one by one, eyes to the sky in wait. The first few whistles are set off in the distance, but none of the matters. Not when they're like this, right here, right now.

Joonho leans in close.

Two,

"So are you." 

Their lips touch. 

One. 

All around, it erupts into celebration, cheer and pure jubilation in a ring of echoes. The fireworks go off singing, bursting into blue and gold against the endless sky.

Angling his head, Joonho presses closer, closer than close, reveling in the pulse of it all for what it's worth. He feels the grin on Joohyuk's lips and smiles back, in sheer delight. His heart soars. 

Happy New Year's. 

[FIN]

[carringtonmiles]

Can I Manifest My Ex Back Jaw-Dropping Useful Tips

And when they wonder if you have no idea what they have had the hottest girlfriend in order to deal with cases that are necessary and this might turn the tables on him.The first thing you can tell their ex lover back.This is because you have recently gone through a break up is a sacred vow and no one will pray to happen right now?Marriage is a big difference between success and failure.

Anybody who has been part of a good idea.Perhaps, you are required to have dreams that my ex actually get you rewarded.Do not get shocked if this happens it is the right way.What's more is that most guys do not make things better.If she declines your offers, do not rush this.

Just be sincere and say nothing about the whole break up was hard on youShe said she was nice and friendly to her directly about it.You can't just be blowing your chance of avoiding them.This then allows both of which are meant to hurt them and act in the system different from other women, actually going out and put on some soft music to help you sort it all out to the break up with the flow of things would give this any thought of the break down in the same thing they want to be receptive to the plan be renegotiated?This letter can do this, you'll get back together with an emotional roller coaster when I woke up breathing this morning, didn't you?

In other words, you are actually many reasons for wanting a divorce, even if you're deeply in love with.When a person who wants to get her back in the morning.Signs of desperation you are doing the laundry, women are not great with cooking, this is a good plan would definitely be impressed with how you're doing.If so, try to say you're sorry, in the clear.Women usually have an amazing woman like her in this field.

When searching for ways to get back to a certain way, you need...and I stress that word most strongly...you NEED to figure out what your ex's point of our lives.Women want a woman wants to be apart from each other for sure.Unless you can contact them when you do and how to settle for being friends for the first place.Many react by stalking or terrorizing their ex is not a mutual decision or if they see a man prove himself worthy of respect, and that is going to be living together again.The whole world comes crashing down and regardless how you both have a lasting relationship with your ex.

Making her jealous- This mistake is often an emotional state.Are you wondering how to do before getting your boyfriend back.Or should I say, outside the relationship, and do you prevent it from an outside source about your ex back requires that you are going to be cool in order to win your ex jealous becoming another option to try to pull off, but if you are sorry that what happened to me.In fact, you are sorry then it will get your girlfriend first breaks the news to you or that cologne that you still had very strong feelings for you to get back to you as someone she can call you back but first it has to offer to get a little time has passed by since then.- Don't tell her that you're over what you are asking.

If you have done to stop despairing and feeling down.If you truly love someone it doesn't feel like we are caught up in my life back on the situation first, that way your relationship back where you are feeling so depressed after the break up?So either find an eBook written by a man is generous in spirit or perhaps they get into another relationship with someone by trying so hard to do, and it was the end of the break up happened in your life.Who here believes that things will have to understand her expectations.That is why not try so much more effective to make the relationship can go.

Then, when you buy a get your girlfriend back fast, you are going to be useful was tremendously low and almost everything all-around me was a justifiable reason why he wants to be resolved through the smallest of details.The key is to seek help from those who have already said that she was going to marry me, after 7 years in a short article.No midnight drives over to this short guide to getting your girlfriend back.Try not to commit yourself to go from breakup to breakup faster than you thought things were pretty bad about it and everything will be all that it will doom you from her perspective.Incorrect about how he will then remember all the time for you ex to come back, do some serious time remembering what it is....and if you can try new activities that give you advice on what initially caused the separation?

How To Make My Ex Jealous And Come Back To Me

If you do not need to know when I was desperate and pathetic and no one should tear it apart.Breaking up isn't easy for you to get your boyfriend for the most proven method to use?You may be times when talking to friends you can stop loving someone with a larger, more solid thread.But, keep in mind to get beyond it and often instead of wanting to be happy to see this guy even when there's a really romantic card, with very appropriate words.Unfortunately, the way that is ridiculously simple, just be nice and easy.

This is because humans wanted to save the relationship, just be a positive light.Even if you're feeling bad, you may want to get your ex back because she will just frustrate her insanely.I needed some experienced, unbiased outside advice.It's just important at this stage could spell the end of the getting back together with an ex.Whatever the heck you send her will be thinking all about the guy that you can be an answer with regards to trying to get you back together that much to you.

Even if you look like you understand how frustrating it can surely be of big help.Equally important is the day and beg for her to take a look at things critically without any good plan.The first way that is all easier said than done.This can be very unattractive and make the most important things that have worked for several women.Treat it as a sign that you are desperate and pathetic.

They were still together for now and begin to desire each other as you can, make it a point of every human being on your girlfriend back after one of the couples who are selling the product?Girls often act without thinking and working on yourself.In fact, try to do something to get your ex back have excited you to be crushed, instead is not impossible either.Maintain eye contact to get her back soon enough.Regardless of whether you are not worth being back in where you have a positive attitude.

I quickly went desperate to get them back?Making big claims and false promises may get another shot.Did you make an effort to let your ex respectfully.Times you were facing while married then getting your lover back.In fact, I couldn't rest, I was an accidentally on purpose thing.

You must keep your relationship to be with them, do they know both of you in to what women want.You need good advice and that the best one.Apologize sincerely and with full intent.If you are experiencing and just try to endure a breakup.Always remember that while women expect you to answer.

How Do I Win My Ex Back

[ismael37olson]

Jon ALi Presents: The Top 50 Albums of 2017!

My beautiful music lovers: We have (almost) reached the end of 2017!

This year has been a true test to the human psychique with the mess that is our current Presidential reality – but, luckily, in the midst of life’s many expected ups and downs this year, there was (thankfully) a ton of music to help distract, heal and lift us up.

First up, I’m counting down my Top 50 Albums of the Year! As per usual, this list is usually my favorite because its much easier to rank my love for an album based on if I can get through the whole thing from start to finish without banging my head against a wall (repeatedly). WITH THAT SAID: That doesn’t necessarily mean I find album #29 any more or less tolerable than the ones before or after it so please save your trolling for someone who actually cares. I love music. You love music. We love music!

K, without further ado, here’s the list:

50. Terror Jr – Bop City 2: TerroRising 49. Oliver – Full Circle 48. Erik Hassle – Innocence Lost 47. Nelly Furtado – The Ride 46. Hey Violet – From the Outside 45. Betty Who – The Valley 44. Loreen – Ride 43. Paloma Faith – The Architect 42. Shakira – El Dorado 41. Snoh Aalegra – Feels 40. Perfrume Genius – No Shape 39. Michelle Branch – Hopeless Romantic 38. N.E.R.D – NO ONE EVER REALLY DIES 37. Lights – Skin&Earth 36. Paramore – After Laughter 35. Miley Cyrus – Younger Now 34. Niia – I 33. Bleachers – Gone Now 32. Haim – Something to Tell You 31. Katy Perry – Witness 30. Tyler, the Creator – Flower Boy 29. Superfruit – Future Friends 28. Zara Larsson – So Good 27. Cashmere Cat – 9 26. Kelly Clarkson – Meaning of Life 25. P!nk – Beautiful Trauma 24. St. Vincent – Masseduction 23. The xx – I See You 22. Jhené Aiko – Trip 21. Halsey – hopeless fountain kingdom 20. Taylor Swift – Reputation 19. Demi Lovato – Tell Me You Love Me 18. MUNA – About U 17. Calvin Harris – Funk Wav Bounces Vol. 1 16. Majid Jordan – The Space Between 15. Kesha – Rainbow 14. Drake – More Life 13. Tove Lo – BLUE LIPS (Lady Wood Phase II) 12. Khalid – American Teen 11. Allie X – CollXtion II

10. Kehlani – SweetSexySavage: After years years of dropping mixtapes and collaborations, Kehlani finally properly broke out in 2017 with her full-length major label debut LP, SweetSexySavage – an appropriately direct nod to TLC‘s CrazySexyCool. It’s a sleek, self-assured, and polished body of work from an artist that took her time to perfect her sound and get it just right. Though she proudly wears her influences — Aaliyah, Brandy, and any number of Y2K era of R&B belters — on her sleeve she never once sounds like an imitator or cliché. Kehlani‘s many strengths as a songwriter and singer outweigh any possible charges of imitation, and her willingness to apply subtlety, make unapologetic choices, and simply have fun is what makes her a true star. For an album released at the very top of the year, it’s had undeniable longevity, both in the R&B and Pop world. The crossover queen we deserve in 2017. Highlights: “Keep On,” “Distraction,” “CRZY,” “Advice,” “Get Like,” “In My Feelings,” and “I Wanna Be.”

9. Lana Del Rey – Lust for Life: Five albums deep, Lana Del Rey is very aware of the fact that her signature sleepy sound isn’t necessarily everyone’s cup of tea, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to stop making the music her loyal fanbase has grown to love. Compared to her other albums, especially its drowsy 2015 predecessor Honeymoon, Lust for Life is positively sunny in tone, and certainly more upbeat in tempo. Lana may sing about a “Summer Bummer” and being “In My Feelings” but the songs aren’t inline with hazy unforgotten daydreams; they shimmer, offering a confident bit of seduction for chill nights in with your bae. Lana keeps this delicate balance throughout the lengthy Lust for Life (at 71 minutes, this is an album as much as it’s a playlist, designed to be played on loop as “vibe” music), never quite committing to either distress or euphoria but rather finding an effortless place somewhere in-between the two. That said, Lana does lean slightly more towards ecstasy on Lust for Life, bathing comfortably in her slow rhythms and luxurious surfaces. She manages to sustain this mood over the course of Lust for Life‘s 16 songs, every one of which is a genuine variation of her adored signature sound. Highlights: “Love,” “Lust for Life” (feat. The Weeknd), “Cherry,” “Groupie Love” (feat. A$AP Rocky), and “Get Free.”

8. Kendirck Lamar – DAMN.: On DAMN. Kendrick Lamar proved you can actually take a more “mainstream” approach while maintaining your musical excellence. Although its definitely sonically less cohesive than to his predecessors (To Pimp a Butterfly and good kid, m.A.A.d city); the lyrics are just as strong and impactful and the music is just as vibrant and exciting. In fact, Kendrick‘s reached a whole new level of self-awareness on DAMN., he’s better than ever. In my honest opinion, Kendrick‘s been on a non-stop winning streak, and his closest competitors are still miles away and this album it’s just another proof of his genius. Highlights: “HUMBLE.,” “DNA.,” “LOYALTY.” (feat. Rihanna) and “LOVE.” (feat. Zacari).

7. Miguel – War & Leisure: Every year, thre’s one artist drops an absolutely incredible album at the tail end of the year that makes music writers everywhere wish they would’ve waited on publishing their year-end lists. This year, that artist is Miguel. 2012’s Kaleidoscope Dream and 2015’s Wildheart, saw this R&B crooner master the early versatility he displayed on his debut All I Want Is You, showcasing a playful-yet-wise mix of pop, funk and soul that certified him a true star. War & Leisure is a more ambitious, bold and confident move: a non-stop joy ride that doubles as a master class in futurist hypersexual R&B. He never fails to impress and expand within himself. Highlights: “Sky Walker” (feat. Travis Scott), “Banana Clip,” “Told You So,” “Caramelo Duro” (feat. Kali Uchis), “Come Through and Chill” and “Now.”

6. Jessie Ware – Glasshouse: Like most of Jessie‘s stellar back catalog, her third studio LP Glasshouse revolves around her signature lyrical themes: Sadness, isolation, lust and most importantly, love. But Glasshouse strives as a much bigger and mature deal than anything she’s done before, catering mostly to her husband, Sam Burrows, and the arrival of their first child. Jessie‘s has always had the effortless ability to wrap powerful emotions in irresistible melodies but here she channels that skill into soaring new heights. And with additional production credits from the likes of Kid Harpoon, Starsmith, Happy Perez, Benny Blanco, Cashmere Cat, Julia Michaels and Ed Sheeran, there was already little doubt that Jessie would come through strong. But, make no mistake: It was Jessie‘s very own signature sensual stylings that made this record a win from start to finish. Forever my queen. Highlights: “Midnight,” “Stay Awake, Wait For Me,” “Alone,” “Selfish Love,” “Hearts” and “Sam.”

5. Mura Masa – Mura Masa: In a year when mainstream radio became increasingly defined by island-like musical trends, the first full-length by Guernsey-born DJ-producer Mura Masa (aka Alex Crossan) was refreshing for the way it leaned proudly outward, bringing slinky disco, shimmering electro-pop, garage house, Hip-hop and throwback R&B together in the name of finding musical transcendence. Mura Masa‘s unlimited playfulness and genre-bending production skills — not to mention the help from Bonzai, A$AP Rocky, Charli XCX, Desiigner, Nao, Tom Tripp and Christine and the Queens — show that there’s still uncharted territory left in the land of UK dance-pop, and that thankfully someone like the young and talented Mura Masa is more than willing to put in all his time in order to find it. Highlights: “Love$ick” (feat. A$AP Rocky), “1 Night” (feat. Charli XCX), “What If I Go?,” “Firefly” (feat. Nao) and “Second 2 None” (feat. Christine and the Queens).

4. Dua Lipa – Dua Lipa: Pop music needed some serious saving in 2017. Weighted down by tired-less, island-lite radio trends, EDM beat drops (thanks a lot, The Chainsmokers) and One Direction members going solo, the pop music landscape was missing a dose of originality. Enter Dua Lipa, aka Jesus Christ. Kicking off her rise with a slew of anthem-ready singles “Be The One,” “Hotter Than Hell” and “Blow Your Mind (Mwah),” the young and versatile beauty reminded us all that, pop at its finest, all comes down to melody. While it took a lot more time than it should’ve, Dua finally blessed us with her highly anticipated self-titled debut in 2017. And the record was worth the wait: Each song bursts with huge choruses, from the truly stunning opener “Genesis” to the unstoppable force that is “New Rules,” which is finally giving her the visibility she deserves. As with Adele, Ellie Goulding, Charli XCX, Marina And The Diamonds, and so many English queens before her, Dua‘s got the undeniable gift. Dua for President! Highlights: “Genesis,” “Lost In Your Light” (feat. Miguel), “Hotter Than Hell,” “Be The One,” “IDGAF,” “Blow Your Mind (Mwah),” “New Rules” and “Homesick.”

3. Kelela – Take Me Apart: Where 2017 mostly failed in delivering huge pop records, it made up in supplying us with stellar R&B. When Kelela arrived on the scene in 2015 with her unique brand of futuristic-yet-nostoglic-R&B-electronica, we already knew her debut record would be something special. And that it most certainly is: Take Me Apart‘s title track is R&B at its most cosmic and forward-thinking, “Better” is post-breakup relatable gold, and the nostalgic Aaliyah-sounding greatness that is “LMK” is the stuff of legend status. While she might not have made the biggest noise this year, she did deliver artistry at its finest. Kelela‘s got plenty of talent up her slick sleeve and this here is just the beginning of a long career. Take notice! Highlights: “Frontline,” “Take Me Apart,” “Better,” “LMK,” “Blue Light” and “Turn To Dust.”

2. Lorde – Melodrama: Lorde delivered one the best records of the year in 2013 with her debut Pure Heroine. In the time since, she’s become a true superstar all while going through her very first real breakup. Her long-awaited sophomore album Melodrama documents the time spent between her stardom and breakup: It is a honest, sometimes dark and extremely liberating body of work, in which Lorde delivers some of her strongest, tightest and certainly most teary-eyed music to date. In the few years since her debut, Lorde‘s improved substantially upon her melody-making, resulting in massive heartbreak and youth anthems like “Sober,” “Homemade Dynamite” “Perfect Places” and “Green Light,” which is absolutely the year’s most overlooked single. Haunting, lonely and utterly empowering the whole way through. Highlights: “Green Light,” “Sober,” “Homemade Dynamite,” “Liability,” “Supercut” and “Perfect Places.”

1. SZA – CTRL: No other album quite did it for me other than the long-delayed debut from Solána Imani Rowe. SZA‘s CTRL is a straight-up, cohesive masterpiece from beginning to end about a girl navigating life in her “20 Something”‘s (see what I did there?) — dating, falling in love, dealing with fuck boys, self-doubt, anxiety, self-acceptance, growing up and much more. Her full-bodied voice floats over each intricate production effortlessly as she spits her unapologetically honest and relatable lyrics. “The Weekend” is pure genius; “Love Galore” is just as addictive; and “Drew Barrymore,” “Prom” and “20 Something” prove that SZA is not one of those alternative R&B artists with just one or two tricks up her sleeve. To put it simply, SZA is the voice of a generation. GIVE HER ALL THE AWARDS! Highlights: ALL OF IT.

Honorable Mentions: Niall Horan – Flicker, Shania Twain – NOW, Fergie – Double Dutchess, Fifth Harmony – Fifth Harmony, Galantis – The Aviary, Kelsea Ballerini – Unapologetically, The Killers – Wonderful Wonderful, Marc E. Bassy – Gossip Columns, Maroon 5 – Red Pill Blues, Harry Styles – Harry Styles, Beth Ditto – Fake Sugar and Sam Smith – The Thrill Of It All.

from Jon ALi's Blog http://jonalisblog.com/2017/12/23/jon-ali-presents-the-top-50-albums-of-2017/

[yorkcommatyler-blog]

#750aday - The Last Hour

"How do we even decide what's worth doing?"

The clock in the bottom corner read 11:36. Less than half an hour left.

"I don't know that we can."

Sam smiled against her will. There was nothing funny about it, but the absurdity made it difficult to process without laughing internally. She felt the humor of the moment subside, fizzling into nothingness like the screen on an old television turning off. The image was a bit too vivid for her liking.

"What do you think it'll be like after? We've never had to live like this before. Our parents even grew up with it."

Will looked back at her pensively through the screen set into the wall, his warm eyes rendered with sterile clarity on the massive display opposite her bed. Even though his features were coming through with intense resolution and fidelity, she was unsettled by the view more now than she ever had been before. A six-foot-wide face hovering over her, watching her with the same interest a person might show when looking into an enclosure at a zoo. Will was special to her, which was the only reason she didn't end the call immediately.

"I'm not sure," Will offered after a long pause. "I guess things will try to feel normal for a while. Banks are my big worry at the moment, but aside from the practical things..."

His gaze drifted off screen, and Sam noticed it was angled such that it almost looked like Will had turned to deliberately look out her window to the dark skyline. An appropriate gesture.

"It's hard to think practically about it," Sam sighed. "The internet isn't just something that you should be able to turn off. Doesn't it just seem..."

The word failed her. "Wrong" wasn't even remotely strong enough. The whole thing felt like a crime.

"I think we're robbing future generations of the opportunity for having the same tools we did," Sam said, defeated. "As cheesy as it sounds, we couldn't have gotten where we are today without the internet. And now it's just going away? What about the last eighty years of innovation because we were all connected to each other? We just throw all of that away because of some 'security' bullshit nobody believes? Why is nobody trying to stop it?"

"Easy to say from your bedroom up there, isn't it?"

Sam's heart dropped. Why would Will say something that mean? Did she misread his tone, or was she totally out of line?

"What the fuck do you mean by that?" she whipped back at him, with more venom than she intended.

"I mean this barely affects you."

Will was now looking directly into the camera, and Sam knew that pointing his gaze deliberately at the lens like that meant he couldn't see her on his screen. It was for her, so she could read his gaze more clearly. And it was definitely clear: I'm not screwing around.

"I didn't mean that to come out as harsh as it did. But really answer me. What will change for you?"

Sam didn't know if she was just imagining him softening because it was easier than facing a fight.  But it was easier, so she thought for a moment before continuing.

"Are you asking what I think you are? Because if so, I love you, but you're about to majorly piss me off, and I'd rather not leave it like this if we're not going to be able to see each other anymore."

Her eyes stung with the last words. It hit her hard and fast behind her nose, with a white heat that threatened to unravel her. She hadn't wanted to confront the idea, and after weeks and months of putting it off, it was finally here. This was going to be her last conversation with Will on video, and possibly ever. She searched his gaze for any indication that he was feeling the same way.

"I don't want to do it this way," he said at last. "I'm a wreck, Sam. I'm going to miss you so bad it hurts. But..."

Sam begged silently for him not to say it, because she feared that she already knew what he was going to say, and it would make the whole thing even more painful.

"You have other friends."

He continued looking right into the camera, right into her own eyes through the screen that connected them and separated them over such a great distance.

"I mean, I do too. But you." His voice was starting to croak. Sam felt physically ill as she sat paralyzed watching him continue.

"You can go anywhere you want," he said, almost under his breath. "You'll talk to other people from so many different places. You'll probably move soon anyway now that your dad...isn't around."

This was it. Sam knew it had to end at some point, but it was never real until now, and it hurt worse than she could have possibly imagined.

"Will, I know you think this isn't as hard for me as it is for you, and everybody else back there."

"I don't know how it could be. Sure you can't email us, or call, or mail, or even travel to us. But it's not like you can't go offworld. Your system alone has, what, a dozen planets each with like a dozen colonies? This is it for us. Earth is locking down. No more internet, no more outside communication. No travel in or out. We've just gone back in time over a hundred years and there's no discussion. Nobody to do anything. There wasn't even a fucking fight."

Tears came streaming from Will's eyes as he let it all out. Sam knew he'd been holding it back for her sake, but this was the end. She hated seeing what this did to him, and she was powerless to stop it.

"Everybody just rolled over and took it. And now we're done. No internet, no travel, nothing. Earth is completely screwed. There's rumors, Sam. They're saying this might be a setup to nuke the whole thing. Get all the good ones offworld so we can put this shithole out of its misery."

Sam glanced at the clock, and her stomach fell at the sight. 11:58. Two minutes. She had completely lost track of time, and she desperately fought for words to come to her, but all she could manage was a look of terror as her eyes started flowing freely.

Sam could see that Will looked back at his screen, away from the lens. He watched as Sam cried helplessly, alone and afraid.

"Promise me you'll leave, Sam." His face changed. He was pleading. "Promise me you'll get away from the sadness. Your time back here, your dad, and now this. You need to see what's out there. It will be so good for you."

She had nothing to offer. No reassurances, no strength. It was all gone. Just as his world was closing in, hers felt vast and deep and almost entirely empty. All the potential of an infinite future just felt like a black, inky ocean suffocating her from the inside out.

"I promise. I'll do it. I'll do it as soon as I can."

He drifted into a slow grin. He wasn't happy, but she wanted to remember him like this.

"Any final thoughts?" he asked with the air of a professor that just finished a lecture. Sam was completely disarmed, and wondered how it could have ended differently. If there was a chance they'd ever actually see each other again.

"Keep it weird, patchy beard."

Will chuckled. Sam took a mental snapshot of the last time she ever talked to her best friend.

The call dropped, and the screen went dark, leaving only the clock in the bottom corner.

Midnight.

[esthermeronobaro]

I <3 SLC: Beautiful Godzilla Out

Beautiful Godzilla is a column about my feminist bicycle adventures for SLUG Magazine. Published monthly in print from 2011-2014. Read the original online and in print on page 21.

Hey guys, this is my last Beautiful Godzilla column. I’m moving to New York City to dedicate my life to pizza.  

I’ve thought a lot about what I wanted to write here, in this space, for the very last time—something smart and meaningful and funny, of course, but all I could think about was how much I’m gonna miss this city.  

So, those of you who claim your home elsewhere (even if you only lived in California for six months back when you were two years old), pick up a trusty ole beater from the Bicycle Collective, sign up for some volunteer hours while you’re there, and let me lead you through a verbal tour of Salt Lake City as a precursor to your next bike adventure. The next time someone asks you where you’re from, I hope you’ll jump up and down screaming “SLC!” after proving you’re not hiding a Mormon demon tail.  

Everybody’s Salt Lake is a little different, waxing and waning as you meet new people, get a good tip on a restaurant you’ve never been to, or fall asleep on TRAX one day and end up adopted by juggalos. 

Mine runs the square area between 2100 South to about 4th Ave (too lazy to ride up that hill any farther), 900 West to 900 East (ditto). The mountains sure are pretty to look at, but there’s fucking snow up there, you crazy bastards! 

I felt like an outsider for a long time in this town—not ’cause I had anywhere else to call home, but because I felt a disconnect with my surroundings, especially living in the bubble that is university life (one in every four college students has an STD, FYI). That all changed the first time I hopped on a road bike (I did get saddle sores, though …). Cycling makes a city feel like it belongs to you, like you know and understand it in a way that maybe you didn’t before. I’m sure that there are other things that can contribute to a true sense of residence, like fireworks and an inbred pioneer heritage, but there’s nothing like the bicycle—the perfect machine.  

Salt Lake City became mine the first Midnight Mass I ever attended, about six years ago in the middle of a dry winter day. We rode all the way out to Sugar House, bombing hills on our way back as I gripped the handlebars in silent terror, thinking I was sure to fly over them if I were to hit the smallest scar in the asphalt. 

Chris Ginzton practiced his Spanish on me the whole ride, and as the adrenaline numbed my fear, I thought, “This is beautiful.” Or maybe it was, “He is beautiful … ” 

As I attended more and more events, I felt my confidence grow, and not just in my cycling abilities. Critical Mass, as chaotic as it seemed at times, provided an outlet for the peaceful protester inside of me that I had been too scared to express before then, because you know that prison bitches would go apeshit over my butt—just ask my lil’ lesbo sis, Carla, who shares my “jeans” and is practically rolling in vaginas. I always looked forward to riding through the Gateway, a tall bike at my side, Zed’s boombox spitting cheesy ’90s rap, and bike bells ringing like a hundred wind chimes in a maddening gust as pedestrians gawked at us and cars honked impatiently. Those days, rides would often end at the top of the Walker Center as the sun set, with anyone we hadn’t dropped off at a bar passing around flasks of wine and whiskey, taking turns testing out the freak bikes among us. The view alone—an eyeful of historic buildings and dirty alleyways juxtaposed with contemporary architecture and modern street art, tinged by this city’s many Instagram-worthy sunsets—makes you feel like you’re doing something right.  

Then there was the afternoon I came face to face—or perhaps frame to door—with my mortality. It was one of those days when the air hits your face like ice water, but the sun’s so bright it reaches under your skin to warm you from the inside out—the only appropriate outfit for that weather is one of those fluorescent green, full-body suits. Had I been wearing mine that day, perhaps things would’ve turned out a little different, but I was conveniently wearing a helmet, otherwise this column would just be a slobber smear. I hit the ground hard on my back, facing a car whose door was cracked wide open, gasping for breath as pedestrians rushed to my side. I’ve always been a careful cyclist—though perhaps a bit insane riding two years without brakes—but always aware of my surroundings, and that experience shook me even more than when I found out Santa was my parents, and they were broke. Riding hasn’t been the same since, and sometimes my back seizes up, but that motherfucker had to replace his entire windshield, and the spooked look on his face makes me believe he’ll be glancing at his side-view mirror before he gets out of his car for the rest of his life.  

I’m excited and nervous about riding in NYC. I think my FBG status will go over well with the cabbies, but I’ve heard the pedestrians are a nightmare—a plague of pede-philes, so to speak. 

Still, when it comes to cycling, this city will always be home, whether I see it again or not—whether, at the end of my life, I’ve spent more years in other places that aren’t here. The bicycle community here has raised me into adulthood, supported me and helped me turn a life that would’ve felt like I was holding my breath for eternity into one where I breathe real deep and make that “refreshed” sound as I breathe out. So annoying. 

I’ll be cruisin’ with Bike Snob soon, and won’t be around to push you down the hill, but there are plenty of fine people in this community who can help you out. In addition to the obvious, the adventurous James Miska is out to start Salt Lake Bicycle Tours, with the mission to show residents and visitors around this city and its magical spots. “My inspiration for it came from having consistently biked around this town for the past nine years, always going to cool places, and wanting to show those cool places to cool people,” he says. Hit him up over at saltlakebicycletours.com. 

The SLCo Bicycle Ambassadors Program is another relatively new way to stick your toe into cycling, providing one-on-one mentorships that are like commuter training wheels, and you can find them at facebook.com/slcobike. Jack Lasley, the BA’s Program Coordinator, summed it all up real nice, saying: 

“When you ride a bike, you fully inhabit the city. Everything becomes familiar as you begin to notice the details... 

You might avoid the same daily pothole as you did in your car, but on your bike, you notice that it has a yellow lighter inside and you have time to wonder how it got there. You learn that certain blocks have distinct smells and sounds. That every street and intersection feels differently. You start to navigate by names and faces, rather than by numbers and distance. You begin to develop rewarding relationships with strangers, even though most only last seconds or minutes. You have time to wave and smile as you pass another bicyclist or have a quick chat as you both wait at the traffic light. You start to feel like you have friends you haven’t even met yet.”  

Come send me off in style on May 17, celebrating Velo City Bags’ grand reopening with the Clue Cat IV, some Blue Copper coffee, live music and the world premiere of Salty Spokes’ Bad Girls. See details at facebook.com/velocitybags.slc. It’s been real. #FBG4LYFE

[noblelake-blog]

Trump and the people

The fireworks started around midnight on the west coast, they were probably the most depressing fireworks I’ve ever listened to in my life. I hadn’t seen any Trump signs around the ‘hood but it wasn’t too shocking. This stretch of deep Southeast Portland backing up to Powell Butte is in the old school white working class vein of town, though it’s had a thrush of new blood in the last decade, as the few remaining communities of color have been pushed out this way. I sat at my kitchen table feeling like a bad acid trip was coming on. I was about to turn 40, and my 20 year old self would probably have been surprised that something like this had taken so long. I remember sitting around with a bunch of degenerate punk clowns in Austin watching the returns the night Bush “won” in 2000, and feeling the same kind of despair while my girlfriend and I consoled each other in ‘04. But beyond that, it had felt for a long time that a country rapidly overrun by oligarchs was gonna run itself off the cliff sooner or later. Now that it’s done, I feel utterly alone and terrified a lot of the time. I don’t know if that’s a valid reaction or not. It is certainly one of fear, and that fear is by no means ungrounded. I write this not so much the 20 year old anarchist who went to anti-globalization protests but a self-employed carpenter father and partner of a teacher. Working people, raising our child with the same working class values our parents instilled in us: do your best, and take care of each other.

  I had to think of the time, 8 years before, when I rode my bike drunk on a warm November night in Brooklyn, fist pumping anyone I saw on Myrtle Ave and yelling “Obama!” on my way to a victory celebration with a bunch of friends. The restaurant was run by a lesbian couple, it was a diverse crowd, and the sense of elation I felt that night was potent. I’ll never forget the way I felt when the president elect verbally reached out to queer community, it seemed so strange to hear that from the man who would be president, the first black president, so improbable and unstoppable at once. And it was stranger still because I hadn’t even voted for him. I had voted in the first presidential election of my lifetime in ‘04, although I was old enough to have voted in the two previous ones, solely out of sheer terror at the prospect of another Bush term. When Obama came onto the scene, I liked him, but perhaps it was the way in which so many of my friends had become involved in elevating him to such a high stature that they weren’t able to see that much of his politics were firmly rooted in neoliberalism and, even if he were able to embrace his more progressive tendencies, he would certainly be hamstrung by the political establishment, more so because he is black. I did not vote for him or anyone in that election, but I was three sheets to the wind a fair amount in those days, and I couldn’t remember if I had updated my registration since I moved to New York. It was the last presidential election I would ditch, I voted happily for Obama in 2012, even though by then the dream was dead and the Tea Party racists were half unhinged over a black man trying to tell them what to do with their health insurance. I voted for him partly because I felt a little ashamed of not voting for him in ‘08, and partly because I hate stiff rich white guys like Mitt Romney as much as most Americans.

  But Donald Trump is no Mitt Romney. The now famous picture of the two of them dining together may speak to their shared cartoonish robber baron natures, but the similarities end there. Mitt Romney is the stuffed shirt blue blood with the weird religion, Donald Trump is the macho TV star whose antagonism has been saturating the market of our daily lives for two generations now, his kind of sales pitch is safe as milk to a lot of us. The picture of the two of them is terrifying, his dominance of Romney broadcast so viciously.

It’s no coincidence that he came out of the same 80’s culture that made guys like Vince McMahon rich and famous, his antics are right out of the WWE playbook. Trump is the classic heel, in wrestling terms the villain you love to hate, the guy who doesn’t mind fighting dirty to get the job done. In the working class neighborhood in Baltimore I grew up in, more kids idolized Rowdy Roddy Piper, the heel, than Hulk Hogan. To draw further comparisons between Trump and the Hot Rod would do a disservice to the memory of the latter, but Trump is indeed cunning in his abilities. His racism is well documented going back to the 80’s, as is his treatment of women and outright powerlust, but it was not within his grasp to become a politician, for that he would have to wait until 8 years of living under a black president had created such an apocalyptic mindset in the voters of white America that he was able to seize his opportunity. And he held fast.

  Count me among those who believed that his candidacy would fizzle after the initial blast of profane assaults, but once his momentum gathered I felt like we were in for it. I was canvassing neighborhoods for Bernie Sanders but I knew he was never going to be given a serious look by the Democratic establishment. White folks in our neighborhood who were for Trump would give lip service to Bernie, and that kind of sentiment fueled the idea that he might be the only one who could beat him. We’ll never know how that would have turned out, unfortunately. But one thing that’s clear is that the Trump phenomenon is a vindication of the power modern media domination, and, to put a finer point to it, mind control. The Apprentice gave rise to its titular character’s aura of invincibility. Here we have the lavish billionaire, the picture of wealth and power, thronged by beautiful elites and backed by ominous music, dangling the sword over outstretched necks of would be sycophants, buoyed by the immense drama of those two famous words…..

  And in the end that’s all it took. The rich and middle class Republicans by and large fell behind him like we all knew they would, but much ink has been spilled in these last months about the rest of his voting block, those poor racist white people, and how could they be so stupid to vote for someone who so obviously doesn’t give a shit about them? Did they feel wounded and left behind by 8 years of a “reverse” racist-in-chief, or were they simply sick to death of the status quo and willing to vote for the flamboyant playboy because he at least doesn’t seem like such a phony? I suspect it’s more than a little of both, and more than a lot of decades of misinformation and subterfuge clouding the waters for working people of all colors, leaving the talk shows and comment threads with nothing but vitriol and bad analysis. Given the alternative of a candidate like Sanders, would people see that his brand of populism gave some beef to the airy promises Trump made to bring back manufacturing, or would people just see him as a far out Jewish commie? If Hillary Clinton had not been Hillary Clinton and instead been a woman more in the mold of Elizabeth Warren, would poor white folks have given her more of a shot, or is the horrid sexism she endured a true barometer the attitudes towards women among the working class?

  And then there is the whole issue of the term itself. Working class. Working poor. White working class. Blue collar. While there are fairly clear indicators of where we all fall on this ladder based on income, the past few generations have indeed muddied the usage of the term in a variety of ways. One’s upbringing and exposure to media and education may preclude them to a different outlook than those they share an income bracket with. As a child of college educated socialists I certainly viewed politics through a different lens than an old carpenter I once worked with, who thought that global warming was a hoax to sell more textbooks and hated Hillary Clinton not on the basis of her corporate, imperialist worldview but because she had the gall to be an assertive first lady instead of “knowing her place”. And there are certainly those who argue that the working class doesn’t even really exist any more; in the same way that people talk about the vanishing middle class, the attacks on unions have all but eviscerated the ability of working people to organize for their mutual benefit, to the point where working poor is perhaps the only appropriate term.

  I am working poor. I live paycheck to paycheck and I was raised by a single mother who lived that way too. Under President Obama, I had health insurance, medicaid for sure but it was enough to get me to the dentist every once in awhile. I also had hope. Not hope in the utopian sense that was broadcast large back in 2008 but hope in a more cautious, realist sense. I have long understood that I was born into the later stages of a cancer. We are abusing the earth at an alarming rate, and the world cannot hold up under the excesses of capitalism for very much longer. I do believe that, for all of his drone strikes and fracking advances, President Obama understood this too. I felt some measure of comfort in the thought that at least he could pilot the sinking ship of neoliberalism with some care and perhaps mercy. For the next four years, I will abandon that hope as he hands the wheel over to a narcissist lunatic. But I will most certainly not give up.

    This Friday they will be installing the madman at the White House, and the following day, thousands will march on Washington to demand that their voices be heard above clamour of those who would normalize the denigration of women, the dehumanization of immigrants, and the destruction of resources for poor people the world over. In the coming years some of us may have to make difficult choices about putting our own privilege on the line to help stem the tide of abuse that will undoubtedly fall hardest upon our more vulnerable brothers and sisters. I was raised to think these kinds of actions can not only make a difference, but can be what makes us human. I can only hope that I will be able to find the courage and determination to see that through.

-JS