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luvjunie · 1 year ago

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— when the dam breaks

contains: third person pov (42!miles’), no reader, feelings of anxiety, some harsh language, use of the n-word once, a one-sided fight, angst, mentions of grief, brief comfort at the end

summary: miles was holding himself together just fine, until he wasn’t. wc: 2,748

a/n: this fic is based on one of my headcanons from this post,(the 12th one). handling the grief of losing a parent is one of the hardest, most painful things to navigate, especially when you’re a teen and in school. i can directly relate to miles!42 because of this, which is probably why i’m able to go so in depth with his character. i’m really proud of how this turned out so i hope you guys enjoy reading <3

The back of Ms. Bellam’s history class was Miles’ favorite spot to sit in. The seat by the window, specifically. Where he could gaze out with the fantasy of being anywhere else but stuck listening to the lecture in his fifth block; forced to hear his teacher rave on about some old expedition he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about.

But today, Miles was not in the back of the class.

He had a bad feeling the moment the bell rung and the projector powered on to display the newest assignment the tall, stocky woman had on the agenda; a partnered project. Which, unfortunately, meant a new seating chart was on the horizon.

Miles must’ve spaced out during the introduction of the assignment, but his teacher’s assertive voice brought him back to the very moment he was dreading.

“Cody, you’re paired with—“ Ms. Bellam pulled a small slip of paper out from a little bucket of randomized names on her desk. “—Lauren.”

She ignored the quiet groan she got after unknowingly pairing two exes together and drew two more names. “Bailey, you’re with Lucas.”

“Sarah, you’re with… Faith. And Miles,” The brunette-haired teacher stuck her hand into the bucket once more to pull out the very last slip of paper, and read it with finality. “You’re with Gabby.”

Miles lifted his head and did a quick scan of the faces around, until he met the eyes of his new partner, Gabby, who gave him a small wave from the front of the class. His jaw clenched at the realization that he’d have to give up his safe corner, since the seats around him were filled, while the one next to her was open.

“Alright everyone, if you’re not already next to your partner, go find them.”

With an inaudible grumble and something along the lines of ‘i hate this fucking class’ and a mix of ‘kill me now’— Miles rose from his chair, snatched his backpack up with a little too much force, and crossed the classroom to plop down defeatedly next to the girl he was paired with.

Chin tucked in his hand and eyes glued to the ticking clock above the white board, he didn’t know how long he sat like that, or how much valuable information he’d missed while he ignored the overly peppy, thirty-year old’s directions to the class. But he did know that the minute hand on that damn analog device wasn’t moving fast enough for his liking. The droning of voices overlapping and the bouncing of ideas filled the once silent air after instructions had been given, but Miles was far from focused on the task at hand.

The incessant tapping of his pencil against the hard plastic of his desk, matched with the clearly agitated bounce of his leg had his partner stealing experimental glances in his direction— her lips having been licked ample times from the stress of debating on whether to make the difficult decision of speaking to the boy who was clearly not interested in conversation— or even being here at all.

She spoke up anyway. “Um… So most of the other groups have pretty much chosen already. That means we’re left with James Cook, Vasco de Gama, Ferdinand Magellan, or—“

“You can pick for us. I don’t really care which one.” Miles interrupted.

“Oh—“ Gabby blinked. His response was curt, but at least she got one. “Okay then, Ferdinand Magellan.” Flipping through the rubric that had been passed out at some point, she referred to the second page with her index finger. “It says our presentation has to be between six to eight slides, which includes the works cited for our research. So we could do one introduction slide, and maybe about,” she paused to think. “Four?— information slides? And then we could add some fun facts and trivia questions at the end so we can get our class participation points in without too much effort. That cool with you?”

Gabby was a nice girl. She never bothered him, never looked at him weird when he’d come into class late sometimes, and had actually ran through the hallway to return the notebook that fell out of his open backpack just last week. He wasn’t aggravated at her, but more so at the fact that everybody could stare at the back of his head now instead of the other way around, like it was before. It made him self conscious about everything, even down to the way he was sitting in his chair. He could feel a few beams on his back right about now, and adjusted his position slightly.

Miles sighed and reminded himself to respond to her politely. “Uh-huh. Sounds good.”

A voice to his left behind him caught his attention, the voice in question belonging to one of the most obnoxious boys he’d ever had the displeasure of knowing— Ethan Thompson. Someone who always had too much to say and nothing productive or appropriate to add— it usually being something creepy or gross about a girl he wanted to ‘get to know’.

Miles would’ve tuned him out, like he always did, but this time it was impossible. Probably because out of all the conversations regarding the explorers meant to be researched, this one had absolutely nothing to do with history, or even school for that matter.

“Bro, did you hear about what happened to…”

Miles strained to hear as best as he could without moving from his seat, though it was a struggle since Gabby was still talking his ear off to the right of him about who would do what when it came to their workload.

“Miles?”

He ignored her as another voice chimed in, and his back stiffened.

“I know dude, my sister told me about it. Said he was killed in action or somethin’ like that… I just know his mom is crushed. I feel really bad.”

Miles knew people talked about this, he wasn’t dumb. But damn, did they have to do it when he was right there?

Then, there was a laugh.

Miles was confused. He didn’t find anything regarding the topic of their conversation even remotely comical.

“Fuck that,” Ethan quieted his voice, though not quiet enough. “That just means Mrs. Morales is single and up for grabs now.”

It took less than a second for Miles’ blood to simmer to a scalding boil. He held a subtle finger up and quieted Gabby, who was currently asking him about what they should research first.

“Can you give me just… one second?” he asked gently.

Gabby’s words died on her tongue and she gave a muddled nod.

Miles threw his elbow over the back of his chair when his torso whipped around, his eyes glazed with enmity and immediately catching Ethan’s.

“The fuck you just say?”

Ethan froze.

Miles’ tone was lethal, rage lifting the volume above the blurred chattering around, venom spitting from his tongue like he intended to kill the boy with words alone. The speed in which the class fell silent would’ve been humorous had there not been such hostility within the air.

“Miles, language!” Ms. Bellam’s eyes snapped up from her computer screen, her face a picture of disbelief at his unusual vitriol. He was always quiet as a mouse in her class, well behaved above all.

Jaws hung slack, the gazes of the students around darted back and forth between the two boys continuously, the tension in the room palpable.

Miles sat up straighter in his seat, jaw clenched and his patience dwindling. To say he was seething would be a dangerous understatement.

“Nah, nah Ms. B,” His head cocked, and his eyes narrowed at Ethan, ruinously. “I wanna know what this nigga just said ‘bout my fuckin’ mom.”

“Oh shit…” Gabby gulped. Today was the most she’d heard Miles speak in class almost the entire semester.

“It was a joke, bro.” Ethan huffed a chuckle, a nervous thing that his friend easily picked up on. Miles was not one to bluff, and Ethan was notorious for taking things too far.

“Don’t bro me, repeat that dumb shit you just said and watch how fast I knock your ass out.” Miles gritted through his teeth, hot air puffing through his nostrils like a bull who’d just seen red.

“Boys, enough!” Ms. Bellman was standing now, hands planted to her desk as she watched with bated breath, just like the rest of the class-now-turned-audience.

Ethan shrugged, and Miles swore he felt his eye twitch.

Strike one.

Then, the boy playfully nudged his friend’s arm with a cocky smirk, as if he thought the threat he’d just received wasn’t one that would be carried out.

Strike two.

“He’s baiting you, Miles…” Gabby whispered dejectedly, in warning, only so Miles could hear. But his tunnel vision had already set in.

“Go ‘head. Repeat yourself.” Miles demanded.

Nails digging into the skin of his palms hard enough to leave crescents in their wake, there was a voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that he could get into serious trouble if he didn’t get his emotions in check, fast. He’d progressed so quickly in his after school M.M.A classes, that now, even getting into a simple fist fight could land him a serious assault charge. A judge would take one look at the history of his intense training, and the option to deem his hands as deadly weapons in the case would immediately be presented, and most likely acted upon.

Knocking the teeth out of a rich white boy would never be the smart decision here, especially not for someone who looked the way he did.

He’d be sent straight to juvie.

“I mean, all I was sayin’ is, technically—“ Ethan threw his hands up in a careless manner. “If I play my cards right, I could be your future step-daddy.”

Strike three.

Ms. Bellam was yelling now. “Ethan, principal’s office, now!”

And that probably would’ve been the better option, had he actually had a choice.

Miles’ movements were swift when he shot out of his seat, and the students in his way followed suit with yelps and gasps as they quickly removed themselves from the area. The desks blocking his pathway to pummeling the shit out of this kid loudly screeched against the school’s tile when they were shoved out of the way, and the one he’d mindlessly flipped over in his stampede proceeded to erupt the room into pure pandemonium.

One punch would’ve been good enough, Miles knew that. But in this moment, thinking rationally was so far out of his reach he would’ve missed it even if he’d jumped for it. He’d swung a closed fist to Ethan’s jaw and knocked him to the floor with ease, then followed him down, sat on his chest and had the boy’s arms pinned under his knees so he couldn’t protect his snobby-ass face. One punch would’ve been good enough, but just two vehement blows later, the satisfying crack of a bone that wasn’t his under Miles’ knuckles had him sending a few more into the reddened face of the boy beneath him, just to really get his point across.

“Jesus Christ— Miles!” Ms. Bellman scrambled from her seat in a panic and rushed to fling the classroom’s door open, her desperate yells directed to anyone who might’ve been strolling the hallways. “We need security in here! You-!” She pointed to a student with a bathroom pass. “Go get security, and tell them to come to room 205, now! Go!”

Everyone was yelling at once, but Miles couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing of rage in his ears. Anger is only grief turned sour— a terribly perilous thing to leave untreated.

Some of his classmates were frozen with shock, or fear, maybe— hands clasped over their gaped mouths while others had their phones out with the camera app open—vampires for some good drama while they hooted and hollered at the most exciting thing they’d seen this entire year.

“That’s enough!”

Strong arms suddenly hooked under Miles’ armpits and prevented his fist from worsening the damage already done. Two male teachers from neighboring classrooms had rushed in and yanked him up and off Ethan, his hips bucking as he kicked his way up onto his feet. Miles’ chest expanded and collapsed with the weight of his heaving breaths, face flushed with the remnants of his lost temper as he directed his attention to Ethan’s friend, who looked like a deer in headlights.

“When your boy wake up, tell him watch his mouth next time!”

Miles didn’t know why he was yelling. It was common knowledge that it’s pretty rare for someone who’s unconscious to understand what you’re saying to them.

He didn’t struggle when the two teachers dragged him away, but when they shoved him out the door and into the hall with more force than he thought necessary, he snatched his arms away from their grasp with a rolled shrug, and huffed a frustrated grunt about how he knew how to walk on his own.

—

The drive home was eerily silent. The radio hadn’t been touched, and neither had Miles by his mother’s gaze the moment they’d left the principal’s office after he received his verdict.

Out of school suspension. One week.

It was the best the administrative staff could do after Rio swallowed her pride and went as low as begging them not to expel her boy.

Slumped in the passenger seat with his hands in his lap, Miles didn’t bother to look at the bruises he knew were forming on his knuckles. It was a familiar feeling, and at the moment he was more concerned with why it felt like his throat had been stuffed with cotton when he tried to talk.

“Mamá, I—“

“Do not. Speak.” Rio’s breath wavered, her hands clutching the wheel so hard she thought she’d crush it. She tried not to let her voice break. “Not one word.”

Silence.

—

It all settled in as they climbed the stairwell, the images of what just happened flashing back in his mind every time he blinked; what he’d done playing over and over again in a continuous loop. The wooden railings creaked under the weight of his mother’s hand, and as she knowingly skipped the one that had weakened over the years, he knew the home that held every single emotion he tried to leave behind when he went to school was now just a few steps up.

Rio’s key twisted in the lock before she opened the door, and Miles followed behind her, shoulders slouched dispiritedly. He resembled something of a stray puppy; desperate for attention, but acceptant and grateful that it, as much of a nuisance as it may be, was being tolerated enough to stay on it’s finder’s heels.

He thought being scolded by his mother was bad, but the lack thereof was even worse. Her brows were clenched, and her conflicted yet somehow blank expression told him that she truly did not have any words for him as she leaned on the kitchen counter, hands clasped firmly around the edge so tightly her knuckles paled. She didn’t even know where to start, and Miles didn’t blame her. He refused to explain why he’d snapped when it was asked of him. When his mother’s widened eyes had pleaded with him to tell the principal what happened in that classroom that set him off in such a way, he didn’t. He had no reason not to, at least one he could think of right now, but his voice just wouldn’t allow it. Both in that office, and now in their kitchen, dimly lit by the warm light above the stove, the weight of his mother’s disappointment clung to the suffocating silence, like a fish to a hook and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mamá, I’m sorry.” He whispered in a quick breath, the lump in his throat painful when he swallowed it.

“Good money, Miles.” Rio shook her head, a hand coming up to rest over the rise and fall of her chest. “Good money! We paid good money to get you into that school, your dad and I. I work hard to keep you there and you just—“

Dad.

And the dam broke. Though its foundation wasn’t very strong to begin with— Miles’ shoulders crumbled under the weight of his actions and his tears flooded past his waterline with choked sobs that left no room for air.

Whatever Rio was going to say had been forgotten. The sight of her son sobbing in a way she hadn’t seen since the night they’d received the news immediately put a stop to her reprimanding. Now, she was truly worried.

“Oh Miles, come come come,” She hastily tugged him into a hug and wrapped him firmly in her arms, her hands repeatedly rubbing up and down the expanse of his back. “¿Qué es Mijo? (what is it, son?) Talk to me. No te lo guardes, ¿recuerda?” (no holding it in, remember?)

Miles could barely catch his breath, and somehow talking about it was just as painful as the ache that resided deep in his chest.

“I—It was Dad, it was about—“ a quick breath in split his sentence in half. “About Dad. He was—talking about what ha—happened and I—“ Miles tried for another, but it caught in his throat, ragged and choppy and had his ribcage stuttering from the lousy attempt to cease his hyperventilating. The fact that he couldn’t get his words out uninterrupted only frustrated him more; only made him cry harder. He scrubbed at his tears with the back of his hand, but it was no use. He couldn’t stop crying. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

“He said—“ Another wilted inhale, and a hiccup. “It was abo—about you, and it was terrible and I— I just, I got so angry, and I tried Mamá, I did. But I couldn’t and—and then I was on him and I’m sorry—“

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Rio used a hand to bring his head into her shoulder, his cries muffled and his tears wetting the sleeve of her blouse as his rambling came to a halt. Miles clutched onto her tightly, arms round her waist as he fell apart in front of the woman who’d tried her best to piece him back together.

“Respira, Mijo, respira… (breathe).” Rio whispered. “Please.” Seeing her son so distraught had brought on tears of her own, but she shut her eyes, and tucked away her own feelings so she could focus on his. “It’s okay. It’s alright.”

“But you’re mad at me, I don’t want you to be mad at me—“

Rio shook her head and tutted at him. “I’m not mad at you, papa. I understand. Okay? I’m not angry. No.” She couldn’t be upset with him for something like this, not when he could barely shelter himself from his own guilt.

“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Miles was inconsolable as Rio continued rubbing his back, and her voice shook when she spoke, but she kept the uncertainty she held within her heart concealed from her promise to him.

“We’re going to be okay.”

#junie’s works ᥫ᭡#across the spiderverse fanfiction #earth 42 miles angst #miles morales fanfiction #prowler miles fanfic #miles morales angst #tagging x reader for reach #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv angst #miles morales fic

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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 2 years ago

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Classroom Date- Charlie Swan x OC

Charlie Swan x Eleanor Martin

Description: When Eleanor can’t go on a date with Charlie because of work, he decides to just bring the date to her.

Word Count: 1.9k

Charlie and Eleanor hadn't been dating for that long. They’d only met five months ago at a parent-teacher night, then he asked her out the very next month. The rest was history after that, but in total they’d only been dating for four months. In fact, if they were younger they would still be considered in the honeymoon phase. Though, that may have something to do with the whole mate thing. But he didn’t need to know about all of that yet. Instead Eleanor chose to let him remain blissfully unaware so they could be happy without complication.

One thing that had come with dating Charlie was just how many mundane things felt like dates. No matter what they did it felt like a romantic occasion. Going out to breakfast, lunch and/or dinner, going fishing, staying in and watching football games, going to high school football games, literally everything. And Eleanor loved it.

She hadn’t felt this way in years, probably since she was still human. She felt so giddy all the time, excited for the next time she’d get to see him. It was obvious to everyone that came into contact with her that she really was falling in love with the sheriff. And the fact that she knew he felt the same only added to her joy.

Today had been a normal day. Eleanor had been teaching her last class of the day and week in general. She never allowed herself to boast or be too proud, but she will say that she was proud that she had the capability to make her classes interested in history even when she was saying the most boring things.

“In France, in the 12th and 13th centuries and beyond, many towns and villages were run at a local level as a commune, and there were often annuals for ‘consuls’ and ‘councilors’, where most of the male inhabitants could vote,” she explained, walking around the classroom. As her gaze scanned over her students, she was internally happy to see them all either enthusiastically taking notes or watching her.

“A more complex form of election and government was used in the city states of north Italy, with more tiers of elected officials. Women could not usually stand as officials, nor vote, but some of them were noted in the agreed charters of ‘liberties’ that French towns proudly possessed-” she was suddenly cut off by the final bell ringing. Weird, she hadn’t even realized that the hour was already up. Nevertheless, she moved to the front as the students hurriedly packed up their things.

“Alright guys, remember your projects on the different medieval Europe classes are due next Wednesday, then your quiz is that Friday,” she called over the excited chatter as the kids filed out of the door.

Once the door closed behind the last student, Eleanor sighed softly. It had been a busy week indeed, for both the students and her. But, the end of the semester was coming up so they had to go over everything. She took a seat back at her desk and pulled out her junior class’ essays, which they’d turned in a few days ago.

Just as she grabbed a red pen from her desk drawer and prepared to start grading, someone knocked on the door. She looked up, then a smile appeared on her face at the sight of her boyfriend in the window. She waved to him as a gesture for him to come inside. Charlie did as he was told and walked in, closing the door behind him.

“Hi, Charlie,” she greeted happily.

“Hey, sorry if I’m interrupting,” he started, but she merely brushed it off.

“Oh, you’re not. I was just about to start this,” she answered as she gestured to the stack of papers in front of her. “What can I help you with?”

“Well, I was hoping that maybe you’d want to go to The Carver Cafe for some dinner,” he spoke. Eleanor had to stop herself from cooing about how nervous he sounded. He was in his early forties and he was acting like a schoolboy.

“Aw Char, usually I would love to. But I’ve been putting off grading these papers for like three days. I wanted to get all of it done so I didn’t have to worry about it over the weekend, I’m sorry,” she responded apologetically. The man looked disappointed for a split second before snapping out of it and offering her a reassuring smile.

“That’s okay Ellie, I understand. It was worth a shot,” he shrugged. He then stepped forward and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“I’ll leave you to it, then. Don’t stay here too long,” he said with a lighthearted smile before beginning to head out. Eleanor wished him a goodbye just before the door closed behind him, and she fell back into her seat with a heavy sigh. The thought of going out with Charlie sounded much more tempting than work. Plus she felt bad about disappointing him. But, if she was quick, she could probably get out of there before dark. Maybe they could have time to do something before the night was over and it wouldn’t be a total loss. So, she picked up her pen once again and got to work.

She was about halfway through the papers after half an hour. Usually she’d breeze through grading, but there was supposed to be a lot of information presented in this essay so she had to be thorough about it. There was nothing worse than a student receiving the wrong grade for something they did or didn’t do.

She’d been concentrating on reading one student’s rather messy handwriting when her ears perked up after hearing approaching footsteps. That was odd, most (if not all) students and staff should be gone by this point. After a second she realized that she also smelled food. She looked up as the person stopped in front of her door. If she wasn’t surprised the first time by Charlie visiting her, she definitely was now. Nevertheless, she waved him inside yet again when he wordlessly asked to come in from the window. He walked in with a plastic bag in his hand and the smell of food grew stronger.

“Hey,” he greeted with a small smile, earning a small laugh from the girl. “How’s it going in here?”

“Uh, I’m halfway done,” she answered slowly. Charlie nodded.

“That’s good.”

“Charlie, dear, of course I’ll never complain about seeing you, but what are you doing here?” She asked curiously. “I still have work to do.”

“Well, I figured that since you couldn’t go out with me because of work, then maybe I could just come to you. You can’t work on an empty stomach.” The gesture was incredibly sweet and endearing, and it almost made Eleanor feel bad. Obviously by this point she still hadn’t told him about her…special diet. Because how would one go about doing that? Now wasn’t the time to tell him, so instead she grinned.

“That’s so sweet Charlie,” she cooed, gesturing to another desk chair. Charlie set the bag of food down and pulled the chair up. While he did that, she opened the bag and began pulling out the containers. Once they were divided between them, Eleanor opened one of them and ate a fry so she didn’t seem ungrateful. She internally groaned at the fact that she would have to throw it all up later, but it was worth it to see him smile. With that she got back to work.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” He asked.

“Hmm… Not with this, thank you though,” she answered kindly, quickly offering him a small smile before looking back down.

“I’m not bothering you, am I?” The man asked, suddenly becoming worried.

“Of course not,” Eleanor answered without hesitation, taking a moment to reach out and take his hand with her free one. “You could never. I don’t mind you being here, but it probably feels weird because it’s silent. We can still talk. That way you’re not just watching me work like a creep,” she joked in the last part, which eased his tension.

“Okay,” he muttered simply. He squeezed her hand before letting go to pick up his burger and take a bite as she continued to read over the essay.

It took her almost an hour in total to grade and sort the essays then enter them in grades into the grade book. All the while she and Charlie talked about anything and everything that came to mind. Once she was done he helped her slip on her jacket and waited for her to lock up her room before heading out the front door to her car. Eleanor was happy that she was right about getting done just before dark.

“You didn’t have to walk me to my car, you know,” she pointed out softly once they reached her truck. The man simply scoffed.

“Yeah, right. What kind of man would I be if I let you do that while it got dark?” He retorted, crossing his arms.

“You men and your honor,” she jokingly rolled her eyes. Charlie’s face contorted into a soft smile, one that only she was allowed to see.

“Seriously though. It just makes me feel better to know for a fact that you got to your car safely,” he explained gently, which made the woman grin. She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

“You’re sweet, Charlie. I’m lucky to have you,” Eleanor muttered sincerely as her hands came up to rest on his shoulders.

“I’m pretty sure I’m the lucky one,” the man responded simply, wrapping his arms around her waist for a moment.

“You should probably be heading home soon, I’m sure Bella is cooking something delicious for you,” she mentioned.

“Do you want to come over?” He asked softly.

“Usually I’d say yes, but I was hoping to get some gardening done. How about you record the baseball game tonight and we can watch it tomorrow?” She suggested, earning a nod from him.

“I can do that,” he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. “Drive safe, and be careful.”

“I will.” They shared one more kiss before Charlie pulled away and opened the door of the truck for her. She started the car then rolled down the window.

“You stay safe too. I love you Charlie,” she said with a small smile. Charlie, despite having heard it several times by this point, lit up.

“I love you too,” he responded enthusiastically. Eleanor blew him a kiss then rolled up her window and finally pulled out of the parking lot.

It only took her a minute to notice a police car behind her, specifically a sheriff’s car. A small smile appeared on her face and she couldn’t help but giggle. Her boyfriend had a habit of following her home just to make sure she was safe when he was nearby or she was leaving after hanging out with him, which both warmed her heart and made her laugh.

She lived pretty close to the school so it only took her a few minutes to get home. After hopping out of her truck she waved to Charlie, who honked in return before continuing on down the road. She shook her head amusedly as she headed inside. It had been a wonderful day with him, even if it was only for an hour and a half. She loved spending time with him no matter what they did, and she knew he felt the same. Which made her feel even better about it.

#twilight #twilight imagine #charlie swan #charlie swan x oc #charlie swan imagine #charlie swan fanfiction

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chanakyaiasacademy1 · 4 months ago

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How to read NCERT books for UPSC exam Preparation.

Introduction:

Preparing for UPSC (Union Public Service Commission) takes a lot of hardwork as it is considered as one of the toughest exam. It requires a strategic approach and proper understanding of the syllabus and study material.

Chanakya IAS academy is the best online/offline coaching centre in chandigarh. We offer guidance for UPSC aspirants, with expert coaching and comprehensive study materials designed for the future civil servants.

In our last blog we have discussed step by step plans to prepare for UPSC.

And now we will tell you how NCERT’s are important for Civil Service Exams. So, read this blog till the end.

How to Read NCERT Books for UPSC Preparation?

-Syllabus oriented books:-

Before starting to study reference books, get familiarise yourself thoroughly with the UPSC syllabus. This will help you identify which NCERT books are relevant for your exam preparation.

-Start with Class 6 to 12 Books:-

UPSC aspirants typically start with NCERT books from classes 6th to 12th. These books cover subjects such as History, Geography, Political Science, Economics, and Science, which are essential for both prelims and mains.

-Study Selectively:-

NCERT’s are very knowledgeable textbooks, so read the books according to the syllabus.

-Focus on Key Chapters:

Prioritise chapters that are frequently referenced in UPSC question papers or cover important historical events, geographical features, etc.

-Understand Core Concepts:

Pay attention to fundamental concepts and theories. UPSC questions often test understanding rather than rote memorization.

-Make Notes:

Create concise notes while reading NCERT books. Summarise key points, jot down important dates, events, and facts. These notes will serve as quick revision material closer to the exam.

-Referencing:

While NCERT books provide a solid foundation, supplement your reading with other standard reference books and current affairs material. This will help you develop a deep understanding of topics and stay updated with recent developments.

-Revision:

Regular revision is crucial. Schedule periodic revisions of the NCERT material you’ve covered to reinforce your understanding and retain information effectively.

Concluding It to an End:-

Chanakya IAS academy in chandigarh provides special classes for the NCERT that helps you master the art of reading NCERT books is not just about covering the syllabus but about understanding the core concepts that form the basis of UPSC exams.

Not just NCERT, Chanakya IAS the best online/offline coaching centre in chandigarh will give you guidance to follow these and stay constant. By following this steps, you can streamline your preparation and enhance your chances of cracking one of India's toughest examinations. Join us today.

#upsc #has #hpas #ssc #chanakya #chandigarh #coaching in chandigarh

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my-lovely-pantomime · 11 months ago

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dec 16 '23, saturday day 1/100

started the 100 days of productivity challenge today!

i woke up at 7, cleaned my bathroom and organised my skincare, did some other chores, and took an early morning walk in the woods while listening to music. the amount of snow is abnormally little for this time of year in the city i live in - everything is usually buried in snow at this point. there were withered leaves and pinecones left from late autumn still frozen in the pavement, like some sort of naturally preserved herbarium.

i got home and started working on my literary analysis for a shakespearean excerpt, which took longer than i thought it would. i proceeded to panic about my future and the purpose of my existence for a solid hour. then i read some academic papers about my character Antonio in my school's production of shakespeare's 12th night, because we thought it would be interesting to explore the (very obvious) homoerotic tension between him and another character, Sebastian.

i tried to work on the song im writing on my cheap amazon keyboard, but nothing seemed to come out and i ended up scrolling on pinterest for a solid hour. the 2pm slump really hit me hard today. i eventually decided to go outside and get some fresh air in me. i worked on memorising my lines for the play while pacing in the woods with my dog Tchaikovsky, and may have delivered the most dramatic one man reenactment of the last scene in 12th night known to men to my dog and a random guy passing by. i must say it was quite amazing.

right now i am struggling to find motivation to practice my violin, but i think im going to do it after posting this. the conductor of my orchestra just posted the program for our new concert block come spring, and i am actually kind of excited to play some of these pieces. we get to play one of tchaikovsky's dances from his opera "mazeppa", which im so happy about because i literally named my dog after this man. there's also cinematic scores from how to train your dragon and amadeus, plus the blue danube waltz by strauss.

after practising, i plan to register for a music festival with my jazz band, finish up a reflection for my dramatic arts class, and finally make some tea and read some albert camus in bed.

i have a biology test on monday, so i have to really study for that tomorrow. i usually don't have to study for physics, chemistry, and maths thanks to having the mathematical brain i take pride in, but biology has so much memorisation to it that i have to study. i also need to do some research on 1920s american organized crime for history, and work on my research report for biology.

#100 days of productivity #studyblr #dark academia #dear diary #journal #study aesthetic #help i don't know how to do tags

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moonmeg · 4 years ago

Text

[Personal vent feel free to skip]

I started my research paper thinking I'd be happy if I finally finished. I finished it today. The deadline is tomorrow. What can I say? I cried.

Not because of the stress, not because I thought I did a bad job in the paper. But because I don't know what my teacher will do. I had no issue with her before all this. Let me explain a little: I'm in the 12th grade of a gymnasium. Next year I hope to write and get my Abitur (the German diploma). There are four categories in which you can lay the focus of the Abitur. There's sprachliches Abitur (focus on languages), gesellschaftliches Abitur (focus on society related classes like history or politics), naturwissenschaftliches Abitur (focus on science) and sportliches Abitur (focus on physical education). I chose the focus on languages.

Now we also have a new class that is basically supposed to prepare us for university life. These classes are divided by category of Abitur. Means there's multiple of these classes. We now had to write a research paper. The topic in my course was Modern American Drama. We were assigned a drama to read and write about a certain important aspect/theme of the drama. I was assigned Tennessee Williams' popular work "The Glass Menagerie". I wanted to write my paper about Amanda: analyze her psychology, how her HPD affects the relationship with her children.

My teacher however said I should also analyze the drama in itself. (I have never analyzed an entire drama before-only scenes). Symbolism, Message, all that.

The analysis took up most of the paper, leaving me about 4 pages for the topics I originally wanted to write about. My research paper is barely a research paper - it's an analysis. It's not what I wanted it to be. The limit was 15 pages (title page, table of contents and bibliography included - means only 12 pages for the actual paper).

I cut stuff, I tried my best to save it but at one point there was nothing I could've cut out anymore. And I was left with a total of 17 pages. Two pages over the limit. Classmates of mine have already asked our teacher multiple times if we were allowed to write a little more because it got very narrow. She denied. Okay so what?

Every other course was allowed to write more. Every. Other. Course. Just not ours. Fair? No. No, in no world is that fair. "I do not know of that" she said.

I sit behind my computer, panicking because of those 17 pages. I text my friend, who previously messaged our teacher explaining her situation of not being able to print out the paper because her printer is not working and was not met with understanding or empathy but with "it was made clear that the paper is supposed to be printed out.". Knowing everything else this teacher did and how incredibly nitpicky she is, I start to panic because there's nothing I can do to shorten that paper and fear that I might lose points for that. That might not be much of a deal if the paper wasn't influential for the Abitur.

So I sit there, conflicting emotions, not even sure what I feel. I feel everything but relief. I feel anger at the teacher, anger at myself. I'm not even proud or happy of my paper. I cry.

There is nothing I can do but wait and see what will happen next. And I do not like that. Not at all. I want to find time to draw again, escape into my fantasy and bring my ideas to "canvas". Do the one thing that makes me happy. But I don't have the time. And that just pulls me down more.

I try to let that research paper go but like Amanda Wingfield I seem to not easily forget and let go.

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youthdestinationias · 3 years ago

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How to study ancient and medieval history for UPSC prelims

Strategy for Ancient and Medieval History for UPSC

First, let's go through the syllabus of both the prelims and the mains. Then divide the subjects for prelims and mains exam. Next, according to your schedule, you should finish the prelims topic first and then the mains subject or vice versa.

1) History NCERTs for UPSC Exam: NCERT books from class 6th to 12th are very useful for the Civil Services Examination. First of all, all NCERT history books should be read like a novel to get an original idea of the history and timeline. Important parts of books should be marked with a pencil, but do not make notes when reading NCERT for the first time.

After the closure of the first reading, one should go for previous years' question papers of CSE. In this way, you will understand the demand of UPSC as if questions related to deadlines are not asked in this exam, like when an event happened.

2) India's Ancient Past by R.S. Sharma: This book claims to deal with the origins of various empires and religious cultures in the growing times of India. It also marks the beginning of various geographical, linguistic, and ecological phenomena.

This volume similarly addresses various issues that exist today in return for ancient India, such as identifying Aryan culture and historical constructions. This book provides a complete and accessible account of the history of early India. It begins by discussing the origins and development of civilizations, empires, and religions.

It deals with geographical, ecological, and linguistic backgrounds. It looks at specific cultures and customs of the Neolithic, Chalcolithic, and Vedic periods and the Harappan civilization in the Indian subcontinent.

In addition, Jain and Buddhism, the beginning of Magadha and regional states, and the period of the Mauryas, Central Asian countries, the Satavahanas, the Guptas, and Harshavardhana are also analyzed. Subsequently, it emphasizes the Varna system, urbanization, commerce and trade, development of science and philosophy, and cultural heritage.

3) Medieval history of India by Satish Chandra: This one is the best book for medieval Indian history for UPSC. Most of the topics of medieval history questions in UPSC prelims and mains are related to this textbook. Satish Chandra's history of medieval India is a comprehensive overview of the history of the Indian subcontinent during the thousand years between the eighth and eighteenth centuries.

The history of medieval India studies interesting periods in Indian history when the land underwent a drastic change. There was a widespread impact of external invasions on armies, religious movements, and the changing cultural, economic, and political landscape. When you are searching for medieval Indian history for UPSC, this book can solve many of your curiosity.

4) Indian art and culture by Nitin Singhania: You can read NCERTs of ancient India by R.S. Sharma and Sathish Chandra of medieval India. Each chapter will introduce art and culture as separate subjects such as architecture, painting, sculptures, metallurgy, art (Gandhara, etc.), culture, customs of many states, tribes, etc.

Seriously to a point, only when you read clearly about the respective state or era can you easily tell about their art and culture. Keep your history resources to a minimum and read them to the maximum. If you still want a better resource.

In this book, a detailed knowledge base of Indian art, paintings, music, and architecture is presented with the help of many paintings and shapes that will please the readers' minds. There are questions at the end of each chapter that will help the students to prepare for the examinations.

This book is a very useful resource for ancient and medieval history for UPSC. Most of the medieval history questions in UPSC prelims related to Indian art and culture come from this book.

#UPSC Prelims #UPSC Books

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readyplayerhobi · 6 years ago

Text

The Evolution of You and I

; Hybrid!Jimin x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, light angst, mentions of smut

; Word Count: 10.2k

; Warnings: Mentions of loss of virginity, discussion of sex

; Synopsis: For 15 years, Park Jimin has been in your life in some form. From childhood penpal’s to the closest of friends now, you can’t imagine your life without him even if you’ve never actually met him in person. It doesn’t help that you’ve fallen for him, even across the distance that separates you. But what happens when you finally meet up and you discover he’s been keeping something secret?

; A/N: Based on this prompt from @hybridfanfiction! I read it and immediately wanted to do something, so this happened. It’s in a bit of a more unusual format to my other stuff but I hope you all enjoy it anyway :)

8 Years Old

“Can anyone tell me what a penpal is?” Miss Kim asks the class with a pleasant tone to her voice, pretty pink lips turned up gently. She’s so pretty, you always think to yourself, and you like to be in her class. She makes learning fun and never makes you feel bad for not knowing things.

Looking around, a few people raise their hands and give answers that get carefully turned down by her before she gives a bright smile, white teeth shining in the harsh lighting. “A penpal, is someone that you write to who lives far away. Sometimes they live in other countries, sometimes they just live in other parts of the same country. Lots of people become friends this way!”

Miss Kim starts to walk around the room and hands out plain, ruled pieces of paper. “We’re going to be penpals with students from another school in Busan. That’s on the other side of the country from us, on the seaside. Each paper I’m giving you has the name of a student that you are going to write to, so tell them about yourselves. Ask them about themselves. Try and make up a friendship!”

“Miss...what do we say?” You ask quietly as she hands you your sheet of paper. A few of the kids near the supplies are handing out packs of coloured pencils and pens and you take a handful of multi-coloured pencils that are pleasing to your young mind.

A letter can always use extra decorations!

“Well...tell them your name and your age maybe. What you like to do for fun. Your favourite film or animal. Whatever you want to say. It’s your letter!” Watching her carefully, you look back down at your letter with a frown and ponder what to write to your potential new friend.

Park Jimin (Boy), is written across the top in Miss Kim’s pretty handwriting. For a moment, you look across the room at the Park Jimin in your own class and marvel at the fact there’s another out there in Busan, only he’s a boy!

Taking hold of the pink pencil, your tongue sticks out cutely as your brow frowns intensely and you begin to write your letter, ignorant of the raucous laughter and yelling of the rest of your students.

Dear Jimin,

Hi! I’m Y/N, a girl! I go to school in Seoul. Miss Kim says you’re in..Boosan? On the seaside? Is it pretty? We don’t have sea here, but the Han river is okay. It smells sometimes.

Do you go to the beach? Are there crabs? I’ve never seen a crab! I like horses. Do you have horses? There’s no horses in Seoul. Do you like horses?

My favourite film is Hercules. I want to be a god too! Wouldn’t that be cool! I can save you if you want?

Please write back!

From, Y/N

Once done, you draw a bunch of tiny horses around the page in yellows, purples and pinks before adding sparkly stars and a crab or two for Jimin. Because he might like crabs, and you don’t want him to miss out on your decoration too.

You also draw a terrible stick person drawing of yourself. Lips pursing in annoyance, you draw an arrow and note down that your head isn’t really that big. It’s like an astronaut, and you don’t want Jimin to think that. He might not like astronaut people and never write back!

“Is everyone done?” Miss Kim calls out from the front of the classroom, hands clasped against her stomach as she waits for everyone to quiet down. You nod repeatedly before smiling at her brightly as you move to the front and hand her your letter. She looks over it before giving you an approving nod and adding it to her stack.

“That’s wonderful everyone. I’ll get these posted as soon as possible and then we just have to wait!”

And so you do, impatiently so and completely unaware that your life had changed for the better.

Hi Y/N!

I’m Jimin, it’s nice to meet you. I live in Busan and the sea is very pretty here. It’s blue, like the sky but more green. It smells funny sometimes too, but I like it. I see crabs a lot! Maybe I can send you one?

I’d like to see the Han river! It’s famous right? In movies and films. And I have no horses, but I have been horse riding! They’re big and scary, but friendly. They don’t really like me though. You should go.

I don’t need saving, but I like Spider-Man films. He saves people too! We can be a superhero team! Wouldn’t that be cool?

What do you like to eat? Do you like seafood? We have lots here, but I don’t like. I like meat, it’s yummy.

Please write back soon!

From, Jimin

9 Years Old

Hi Jimin,

It was my birthday yesterday. I’m now 9! Are you 9 too? So you know, my birthday is September 12th. It’s very important, so don’t forget. I’ll draw a picture of my cake for you!

When’s your birthday? Is it soon? Do you like cake too? Who doesn’t like cake? It’s so nice.

School is so boring. I don’t think I like school. Do you? What’s your favourite subject? It’s strange that you send your letters to my house now. I get mail with my name on! My mom puts it on the side for me.

Do you like getting mail too?

Write back soon.

Hugs and kisses, Y/N!

Hi Y/N!

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Y/N...happy birthday to you!

My birthday isn’t until October 13th. So you’re older than me! Wow, that’s so cool. I hope you got a good birthday present! My mom helped me to pick out this friendship bracelet so I hope you like it.

I like cake! Your cake looked cool. I hope my cake looks like yours!

I love school! I love maths and science. I like numbers, they’re fun. If you need help, then I’ll try! I want to be a maths teacher when I grow up, it’d be cool. I can teach more kids about maths and get them to love it too.

I like getting mail cos it’s from you. What do you want to be when you grow up?

From, Jimin

12 Years Old

Hey Jimin,

So remember that stupid boy I told you about? Jackson? Well he kissed me today and it was totally gross and ewww. Why do grown ups like doing that? It was just...wet and icky. Have you ever been kissed yet?

I also had a maths test today and I think I did bad. I wish I was good at it like you! But I get to do arts tomorrow and I’m excited for that. I like drawing. I’ve drawn you a cute dragon on the back of this letter, so I hope you like it.

Is the weather in Busan nicer than here lately? It’s just been raining all the time and is so grey. Soyeon said we should go to karaoke for her birthday but...I don’t really like it. I’m not good at singing. Are you good?

Write back soon!

Hugs and kisses, Y/N.

Hey Y/N,

I’m so glad I got your letter today. It wasn’t a very good day :( these people in my school made fun of me for how I look. It made me upset. I can’t change any of that and it made my mom cry when I told her. I didn’t want to make her cry :(

I haven’t been kissed, but it sounds gross. Maybe I’ll stay away from kissing for a while, I trust you! But I guess maybe you need to be grownup to enjoy it? Who knows. We’re still kids!

And I’m sorry about your test. I hope you did well on it but if not then I’m trying to send you my maths knowledge! Your drawing was so good, you’re so good at it! I got my mom to put it up on my wall when I’d coloured it in for you. Can you draw me one that’s coloured in too so I can put that on my wall as well?

It’s sunny here in Busan! I’ve been going to the beach with my brother a lot and playing with our football. I like running around and doing things outside and we both like to play football. Would you play football with us if we ever met? We’re very fast!

Mom says I have a good singing voice, but I don’t like doing it. It makes me shy. You should go with your friends, it might be fun!

Write back :)

Hugs and kisses, Jimin

14 Years Old

To: Park Jimin <[email protected]>

From: Y/N <[email protected]>

Subject: HI!!!!!!!!

JIMINNIEEEEEEEE,

Oh my god. This is our first email, isn’t this weird? O-o

Like…you’re going to get this immediately after I send it! We can talk so much faster instead of waiting for the stupid post. And now we don’t have to worry about writing neatly.

Not that I wrote neatly for you or anything. Cos I totally didn’t.

But still, this is so cool right? My computer is in my living room and my mom keeps track of what I do. Is it like that for you too?

How did your date go with Chaeyoung? Did it go well? I know you were nervous about it but you’re so sweet and kind. I think she’d be missing out if she said no! I’d love to see what she looks like, I’ve never seen a Fennec fox hybrid but I’m sure she’s so pretty and cute.

Argh, write back to me soon please! ^-^

Hugs and kisses, Y/N

To: Y/N <[email protected]>

From: Park Jimin <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: HI!!!!!!!!

\(^U^)/ Y/N!

I’m writing this after only getting it five minutes ago. Isn’t that cool? This is going to make talking to you so easy.

You so wrote neat for me. I can tell. Your writing always got sloppy at the end when you were tired on the longer letters. But it’s okay. I’ll tell you a secret...I used to write neat for you too…

My computer is in my room, but that’s because my brother also has one and my dad has a laptop. They trust me, but they still check my history. So I have to be careful what I go on. I don’t want to get in trouble.

I did take Chaeyoung on a date! I was so nervous ^^; but she said yes! Can you believe that? I almost threw up. She wouldn’t have said yes then. But thanks for having faith in me! ^o^

She’s so pretty. She’s got this...blonde hair that looks like honey and it’s like light is in it. Her ears are so cute too, I bet the fur is soft. I sound sappy, my friends would laugh if I said this. You won’t right? Do...you like hybrids? Some people don’t.

I took her on a date along the beachfront here in Busan. We had dinner at a barbeque place and then went to the movies. I saw Iron Man and it was so cool. Then we had bungeobbang and walked along the front. The sea is pretty at night. Maybe I should take a picture for you? We can send pictures on email right?

Do you still like that Yugyeom? Or do you not want to kiss him because only grown ups do that and it’s icky? Hehe.

Hugs and kisses, Jimin.

To: Park Jimin <[email protected]>

From: Y/N <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: RE: HI!!!!!!!!

OH MY GOD. SHUT UP. I WAS 12 AND KNEW NOTHING.

I hate you.

To: Y/N <[email protected]>

From: Park Jimin <[email protected]>

Subject: RE: RE: RE: HI!!!!!!!!

ㅠㅡㅠ

I’m sorry! Come back...please. I swear, I won’t mention it again!

17 Years Old

Park Jimin has signed in.

Y/N: Jimin!

Park Jimin: Jfc what! Let me sign in first u demon

Y/N: So...I went on a date with Eunho yesterday. Said yes 2 him.

Y/N: He took me bowling and I really wanted him 2 kiss me but he was all ‘I’m being a gentleman’.

Y/N: Think my dad said something 2 him :(

Y/N: Do u think he even likes me?

Park Jimin: Y would u think that?

Y/N: Well...he’s a guy! A teenage guy! U r all dumb and hormonal right?

Park Jimin: Am I supposed 2 be supporting u? Or are u trying 2 offend me?

Y/N: Shh, u kno I love u <333

Y/N: But it’s true. Every1 in my class has done it. Why is Eunho being slow?

Park Jimin: Woah woah!

Park Jimin: Not a race! It was ur first date. Calm down James Bond. Mayb Eunho hasn’t done it either?

Park Jimin: I haven’t

Y/N: Ur school is full of dumb girls

Park Jimin: Y?

Y/N: Cus u r cute

Park Jimin: :3

Park Jimin: ^^; <3

Y/N: :( seriously tho…

Park Jimin: Hey...it’s ok. Don’t worry. Pls.

Y/N: K. Did u pass your test?

Park Jimin: :D

Y/N: Omg yay! I bet ur mom n dad are so proud!

Park Jimin: Yeah, they bought me dinner out. I got top in my class…

Park Jimin: I also got voted class president…

Y/N: Omg, my best friend is such a nerd

Park Jimin: >:o

Park Jimin: Y u so mean?!

Y/N: Cos I love u <3

Y/N: Well done tho. I kno u were worried. But I had faith!

Park Jimin: Thanks :)

Y/N: I asked my mom 4 a dog for my birthday btw

Y/N: But she said no :(

Y/N: Cos my parents work 2 much

Y/N: And I’m only home for 2 more years

Park Jimin: Oh no :( sry

Park Jimin: What would u have wanted? A puppy?

Y/N: Yeah...mayb. We couldn’t have a big dog

Y/N: Our apartment is 2 small here, so small dog

Y/N: My friend has a Cocker Spaniel

Y/N: She’s cute, but she jumps everywhere

Park Jimin: Spaniel’s r cute! :D

Y/N: Would u get a dog?

Park Jimin: Nah

Y/N: What?! Y not?! Dogs r the best

Park Jimin: I don’t like the idea :(

Y/N: Y not?

Park Jimin: Cos...I just don’t. Mom n dad wouldn’t get one anyway

Y/N: That sucks. Don’t get fish tho. They’re boring

Park Jimin: Haha, I won’t

Park Jimin: Hey, did u see that new show out? Game of Thrones?

Y/N: Omg yes

Y/N: So much sex

Y/N: My parents don’t want me 2 watch

Park Jimin: But u did?

Y/N: Hehe

18 Years Old

Park Jimin has signed in.

Park Jimin: Hi :)

Park Jimin: Hello?

Park Jimin: Y/N??

Park Jimin: Are u there?

Y/N: Hey...sorry. Yeah, I’m here

Park Jimin: ...are you okay?

Y/N: ...no

Y/N: Not really ;(

Park Jimin: Y?! What’s wrong?!

Park Jimin: What happened? Who do I have to 2 hurt???

Y/N: Eunho…

Park Jimin: What?

Park Jimin: Eunho?

Park Jimin: What’s he done? You’ve been dating for 7 months now?!

Park Jimin: Y/N...talk 2 me :(

Park Jimin: Pls

Y/N: We had sex last night

Park Jimin: Ok...but u wanted that? Right?

Park Jimin: I mean...u said u wanted it? That u were ready?

Y/N: :(

Park Jimin: :( what happened?

Y/N: It was awful Jimminie :(

Park Jimin: <3 u don’t have to talk 2 me. Have u talked to Soyeon about it?

Y/N: No...I don’t want 2. It’s embarrassing

Park Jimin: Ok, u don’t have to do anything

Y/N: No, I want 2 talk to u

Y/N: It hurt so much :( and he didn’t care

Y/N: I told him, but he just said it’s supposed to

Y/N: I cried and went home

Y/N: He broke up with me this morning

Park Jimin: I’m gonna kill him

Park Jimin: I’m gonna fucking kill him

Park Jimin: I’ll bite him so damn hard

Park Jimin: The asshole. I knew he wasn’t good enough for u >:[

Y/N: Jiminnie...y are u going to bite him silly?

Y/N: It’s okay. It’s my fault.

Park Jimin: NO!

Park Jimin: It’s NOT ur fault. U thought u were ready and u loved him

Park Jimin: But he was a dick.

Park Jimin: I’ll bite him for you

Y/N: Haha, y u biting people?

Park Jimin: I’m sorry :( please don’t blame urself

Park Jimin: Ur smart and funny and kind. He messed up. He lost something great. Ur amazing, remember that

Y/N: :)

Y/N: Thank u

Y/N: It hurts, and it will. But I’m happier talking to u already

Park Jimin: I’ll always be here 4 u

Park Jimin: As cheesy as that sounds

Y/N: No...I need it

Y/N: I need my best friend right now

Y/N: <3

Park Jimin: <3

20 Years Old

Sitting in the uncomfortable desk chair in your university dorm, you chew your lips nervously as the Skype ringtone plays into the silent air around you. Over the years, you’ve had phone calls with Jimin occasionally on special moments, such as your birthday or his.

In recent years, there’s been a few more but never too many. Plus it was expensive after a while. The two of you have preferred to instant message each other on your laptops in your rooms, but now video calling is a thing. A common thing apparently.

You’d been vaguely aware of it, but it hadn’t entered your head to ask Jimin if he wanted to. Particularly given your laptop was not the best. But you’d been given a brand new laptop for Christmas and so had he. There was no reason to not at least try it anymore.

So here you were, in the silence of your dorm room and waiting for the call to connect to Jimin.

Not only were you nervous because you would be talking to him instead of just typing, but it was a video call. You’d only ever seen the occasional picture of Jimin over the years, taken at some odd angle so that half his head was cropped out or something ridiculous like that.

He’d complained that he didn’t like to have his picture taken, but you didn’t understand why. You always remembered him as being pretty cute, though your last photo was from two years ago. So maybe he got really ugly or something.

Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

Looking to the side, you pick up your ballpoint pen to write down a few notes that suddenly enter your head that will be useful for your homework that you plan on doing later. It’s for your stupid required mathematics class, and you’re half wondering if you can get Jimin to stay online long enough with you to help you out.

It still boggles your mind that he’s going to voluntarily be doing a mathematics degree. Like...he actually likes numbers that much.

A soft laugh leaves you as you suddenly remember one of his original letters, where he’d said that he wanted to be a maths teacher. Who knew that he was entirely serious about that?

“Hello?” A quiet voice that was surprisingly husky calls out through your speakers and you look back with widened eyes, taking in the sight on screen eagerly. He must be laid on his bed or something, as his head is really close to the screen and you can almost see down his shirt.

Which immediately causes you to focus on his eyes, because you can’t handle that. You know he still does dance and soccer, even in uni, and he likes to playfully brag about his ‘rock hard abs’. He’s not quite Dwayne Johnson levels of fit though, despite his boasting over the previous year.

“Shit, damn,” You curse as you scrawl across the page in an ugly mark before dropping the pen and looking back at him with a bright smile. “Hi! Jimin! Hi!”

The two of you go silent, the mood slightly awkward between you both as you take in the sight of him. And he’s doing the same to you, big and bright eyes tracking over the image of your face on screen before he’s letting out a tiny laugh, sound hitching on the highest point of his exhale.

He’s got what look like a plain white shirt on, and you frown at seeing the black beanie pulled down over his head, honey-blonde hair covering up dark eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t like hats? You said they hurt your ears?”

You’d always thought that was slightly odd, but if it was painful for him then you’d just accepted what he said. But seeing him on screen with a hat pulled all the way down till the tips of his ears are hiding behind them has you frowning.

Almost immediately you see his tan cheeks flush red even through the combination of a screen and crappy lighting on his end and bizarrely, his hand taps at the top of his beanie, pressing down on the soft material with a slightly panicked look in his eye.

“I don’t...like hats. But...I mean...I just...use them now. I haven’t washed my hair and I did soccer practice today. So it’s gross.” Jimin’s muttering by the end, looking down at something before giving you a shy smile and you feel something flutter in your stomach at the sight.

It’s only then that you properly take him in, noting the softly rounded cheeks that are still filled with baby fat that are juxtaposed with the sharpness of his jawline. His lashes are dark and full, casting a tiny shadow on his cheeks whenever he looks down and you frown at the bizarre mixture of feelings that sizzle in your veins.

Jimin is your best friend, and has been for years. He knows everything about you. Literally everything. Probably stuff guys shouldn’t know, but he knows it anyway. Because he’s always been so easy to talk to and non-judgemental.

You’ve never even considered what he looks like because the pictures are so infrequent and you only cared about him talking to you. Hearing him speak alone is a feast for your ears as you continue to talk and idly discuss your classes in the days since you’ve last messaged, light and high when excited yet hoarse and almost gravelly when he gets serious.

But you’d be the dumbest girl in Seoul if you turned round and said Jimin wasn’t attractive. You felt a little stupid when you realised this, given how long you’ve known him. In fact, Jimin was perhaps the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen, and you suddenly felt shy with him as you continue to talk.

Oddly shy, and yet it’s like you’ve always talked face to face. For hours, the conversation flows and you even find yourself doing your homework with the camera facing you, getting Jimin’s help on your maths equations while the two of you discuss dumb stuff.

He even plays his favourite music for you, unfortunately a Chris Brown song, which leads to a whole argument about his music choices. Even if he spends half the argument laughing at your outrage before giving in with raised hands.

You struggle to look at him though, or to at least maintain eye contact with him. Because Jimin is beautiful. And you’re not entirely sure how to handle this information, nor the confused feelings in your body and mind.

21 Years Old

“Hey, are you listening to me?!” Jimin calls out, laughter in his voice as he chastises you for ignoring him. Humming lightly, you focus on painting your final toenail before letting out a tiny noise of success and grinning at him.

Shifting the laptop around, you wiggle your toes while they remain in the pink toe separator, nails a pretty purple that shifts colours to green and gold depending on the light. “Aren’t they pretty?” You ask, letting the camera stay on them before Jimin lets out a gross noise.

“Ew yes, god. Please stop. Please stop showing me your feet. I do not have a foot kink. Even if you do have pretty feet.” You snort at that, letting the laptop fall back onto the bed beside you and angling it so you can see the screen again. Jimin’s sat at his desk, a snapback on his head for some reason as he works on a maths project.

He’s always wearing a damn hat when you call, but he just goes all shy and always says he hasn’t showered. Jimin likes to shower in the morning and be clean for the day, whereas you’re a night person. There’s nothing like going to bed clean.

Which means you argue with him all the time. If he’s so unwilling to show his hair because it’s dirty after his dance or gym or whatever then why not shower at night? But he’d then get defensive and point out that he never asks you to change your routine.

True, but still. His hair always looks so soft, and you want to just see what he’d look like. He makes your heart race anyway, and you have the strongest urge to reach through the screen and move the strands of hair out of his face. But you can’t, because that’s not a real power.

“So what’s up? What’s going on in the ever popular life of Park Jimin?” You ask, leaning back on your mound of pillows while wiggling your eyebrows at him. He snorts quietly, pencil scratching over pencil before he lets out a quiet hum.

“Do I look like I’m being popular right? I’m literally sat doing my homework a week early,” He points the rubber end of the pencil to himself with a sardonic smile. “Your bestie is a nerd remember?”

“A cute nerd.” He looks at you with a soft smile before going back to his work.

“Nothing much anyway. I was...thinking about maybe asking Dami out. I think she likes me, she smells like it.” You look up from your romance book at this with a raised brow. He was always using weird phrases like that.

“She smells like it? Do you mean she looks like it?” Chuckling, you shake your head and completely miss the way Jimin glances at the screen with wide eyes.

“Yeah, yeah that’s what I meant. She smells nice, like oranges. It always makes me feel happy.” Your heart clenches at that, face souring slightly and you mentally chastise yourself. Jimin’s obviously happy with her, and he keeps talking about her a lot so he must like her.

“That’s good. If you like her and she likes you then ask her to be your girlfriend or something. I’m sure you can pull the moves out again. Though...if it’s anything like Jisoo then...maybe don’t.” Jimin’s whining at that, his voice doing that odd noise that you can never replicate as he scowls at the screen before pointing his pencil at it.

“You said you’d never bring that up again!” He scowls, plush bottom lip pushed out enticingly as he give you the most adorable puppy dog eyes.

“It’s not my fault you got so excited you literally peed yourself. Like...seriously bro. What the fuck?” Immediately you’re giggling again, teeth biting at your lip as you try to stop it. He’d not talked to you for a whole three days when he’d admitted he’d done that on his first ever date with Jisoo and you’d laughed so hard you’d cried.

He was a little bit sensitive about stuff like that.

“You’re so mean. Why do I put up with you?” He mutters quietly, rolling his eyes before getting back to his work. His version of giving you the cold shoulder, though he can never last long. Not talking to you is like losing a limb of his. Or so he’d said once.

Or rather, he’d said he’d rather give up jerking off for a week than not talk to you for more than two days.

Sweet, but a very bizarre way to put it.

“Because you love me and you’d be completely lost without me?” You tease lightly, poking your tongue out at him before leaning forward to check on your toenails.

It means you miss the way Jimin stares at the screen looking rather forlorn, lips twisting as he reaches out to touch the screen. “Yeah...that’s right.”

22 Years Old

“Have you been applying for any jobs yet?” Soyeon asks from the couch as you chop vegetables for the dinner you said you’d cook. Why you agreed to that, you have absolutely no idea but finals were almost over and your schedules had finally aligned.

Which meant that you were finally able to hang out instead of just passing each other like two ships in the night every morning and evening. Soyeon was in a pre-med course which meant that she was ridiculously busy whereas you were completing your final exams before you would be able to proudly graduate with a degree in history.

It wasn’t the most interesting of subjects but you’d found it palatable enough and it also offered up a lot of job options after graduation. Or it would, once you actually found the time to apply for the damn things.

As soon as college finished, you’d be moving back home with your parents before heading back one final time to attend your graduation ceremony. They were happy you were coming back, as they hadn’t been pleased when you’d said you wanted to live in Seoul in an apartment with Soyeon in your third year.

Why do you need to leave our perfectly good apartment and waste money on rent there? Is what they’d asked you frequently, and you’d rolled your eyes before spouting off something about wanting to experience financial responsibility and become independent from your parents in important life decisions.

In reality, you just wanted to have somewhere where you could party or brings guys home without having to sneak them around under the watchful eye of your parents. Not that you’d brought many home that is.

Soyeon had teased you relentlessly over the last two years about your lack of action in the romance department, and you’d tried your hardest to joke your way out of it every time. But she wasn’t stupid, and neither were you.

It was hard to invest yourself in a relationship when your heart was invested hundreds of miles away on the other side of the country.

Didn’t mean you couldn’t fulfil the needs of your body though. And you did, because you were a young and successful woman with a healthy sexual appetite.

“Not yet. I still have two exams left and I’ve been too busy studying for them and working. Need to bring in that cash some way.” You say sarcastically, raising a brow at her before scraping the vegetables into the soup broth. Letting it simmer, you head over and flop down on the couch next to her with a heavy sigh before smiling.

“You? Oh wait, never mind. Dumb question. Have you got your internship placement yet?” Soyeon gives a brief smile before running her fingers over her forehead with a deep sigh. She looks tired, and the bags under her eyes are large enough that you could probably fit a whole department store sale in them.

“Not yet. I think they’ll be telling us where we are in a month or so. But I’m just...so ready for the 12-hour shifts and all that crap.” She groans before flopping down further into the sofa, grabbing one of the pale purple pillows and smushing it over her face.

Laughing lightly, you pat her thigh before becoming distracted as your phone vibrates on the coffee table in front of you. Leaning over, you peer at the screen before grabbing it and unlocking it quickly with your thumb print.

“What’s lover boy have to say?” Soyeon asks, teasing laced into every word and when you look up to glare, she’s smirking in amusement. Pushing at her foot as it pokes your stomach, you stick your tongue out childishly.

“He’s not my lover boy. Just my best friend.” You murmur, opening up Kakaotalk and reading over his message before rolling your eyes. “And an idiot.”

Turning the screen, you let her read his latest message.

[6:24PM] Jiminnie 💖: Hey, question…

[6:25PM] Jiminnie 💖: What’s it feel like to have sex?

Soyeon squints as she reads, probably cursing herself for not wearing her reading glasses, before she’s snorting with laughter and rolling back into the couch. Looking at you, she wiggles her brows. “Tell him you’re willing to show him.”

“Shut up!”

[6:27PM] Y/N: Good. That’s why I do it

[6:27PM] Y/N: Why? Does it not feel good for you? You’re not doing it right then

[6:27PM] Y/N: If it’s burning...you might wanna see the doctor

“Do you not even find it weird that he’s asked you that?” She asks, shifting in position till she’s on her side, cheek squished into the pillow as she watches the latest episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians. You’d rather wash your eyes with acid than watch this, but it’s her guilty relaxation programme so you didn’t get to dictate anything to her.

Unfortunately.

“Nope. He’s asked me weirder stuff.” You say distractedly, watching and waiting for him to respond. He’d finished his finals yesterday in Busan, so you had no doubt that he was likely partying it up with his friends before he had to move back into home too.

“You know...if I wasn’t so comfortable in our friendship...I’d feel put out that some guy hundreds of miles away in Busan is closer to you than me,” She pokes you lightly with her toe before smiling. “But it’s good. Unless he breaks your heart. Then I will put my medical knowledge to use.”

[6:32PM] Jiminnie 💖: Haha. Funny

[6:33PM] Jiminnie 💖: No, what does it FEEL like? Like...what does a penis in your vajayjay feel like?

[6:34PM] Y/N: Vajayjay? What are you? Five?

[6:34PM] Jiminnie 💖: Yeah, so answer.

[6:36PM] Y/N: Fine...it feels...like...a dick in your vagina

[6:37PM] Jiminnie 💖: Helpful. Really helpful.

[6:38PM] Y/N: Why do you wanna know?

[6:42PM] Jiminnie 💖: Talking with Taehyung and Jungkook. We wanna know what it feels like, but don’t have anyone to ask except you.

[6:43PM] Y/N: Doesn’t Taehyung have a sister?

[6:44PM] Jiminnie 💖: Omfg yes...but she’s only 19! What kinda sibling relationship do YOU have?

[6:45PM] Y/N: This is true. Okay...it’s like...feeling really full. Uncomfortable if you’re not turned on enough, but...full? And it feels good, but more so when they move. Some girls have a spot that makes it feel even better

[6:45PM] Jiminnie 💖: Do you?

[6:48PM] Y/N: Omfg Jimin. You can’t just ask girls that

[6:48PM] Jiminnie 💖: Well? Do you?

[6:52PM] Y/N: Maybe

[6:54PM] Jiminnie 💖: You so do. We find this fascinating, and yet cannot visualise it at all

[6:55PM] Y/N: So c’mon, what does it feel like for a guy?

[6:56PM] Jiminnie 💖: Well like...tight...hot...wet

You squirm on the sofa at that, thighs clenching together as you suddenly visualise Jimin whispering that into your ear with that deliciously hoarse voice while he’s going deep inside you, hands gripping your thighs.

Shivering, your fingers type on your screen while you glance at Soyeon self-consciously. Nothing like getting horny from texting your best friend while your other best friend lays opposite you. Particularly when neither is aware of what’s going on.

God, would Jimin be texting you this if he knew how you felt about him? Was it even okay to be feeling this for someone you’ve never even met in person? Who knows.

But then you suddenly realise something and look down with wide eyes.

[6:58PM] Y/N: WET? WET?! PARK JIMIN...HOW IS IT WET IF YOU’RE USING A CONDOM? ARE YOU GOING BARE? OMG

[6:59PM] Jiminnie 💖: WHAT? NO...maybe...I mean...maybe once or twice. BUT IT’S OKAY. I SWEAR!

[7:02PM] Y/N: WTF?! JIMIN! YOU’VE NEVER DATED A GIRL FOR MORE THAN 2 MONTHS.

[7:03PM] Y/N: ARE YOU TRYING TO BECOME A YOUNG DAD? OR GET AN STD??

[7:04PM] Jiminnie 💖: Y/N, I swear! It’s okay, I’m okay. Please!

[7:04PM] Jiminnie 💖: I can’t get them from the girls I dated! It’s fine

[7:06PM] Y/N: Wtf do you mean?! Did you get them checked out beforehand or something? Were they on the pill?

[7:08PM] Jiminnie 💖: No, that’s not I mean

[7:09PM] Jiminnie 💖: It just...trust me. Please. I’m okay, I’m clean. I don’t have to worry about kids. It...wasn’t an issue

[7:12PM] Y/N: Jimin...don’t be irresponsible like that.

[7:12PM] Jiminnie 💖: I’m sorry 😞 I didn’t mean to make you worry

[7:13PM] Y/N: I love you Jimin, I don’t want you to do something that you’ll regret just for a moment of pleasure okay? You’re my best friend, I care about you ❤️

[7:15PM] Jiminnie 💖: Yeah...you’re my best friend too. Sorry.

Sighing heavily, you drop your phone to your side on the couch before getting up to check on the soup that’s cooking. It’s so hard to hear Jimin talk about girls and dates, all with the knowledge that you want to love him in the exact way he seems to so desperately crave.

But he’s just your best friend.

Your best friend who apparently has unprotected sex with women. It makes you heart hurt for two reasons. One, because you’re worried he’ll do something stupid and get hurt. Two, because despite you reaming him out, there’s a part of you that’s jealous of the girls he sleeps with like that.

Which is ridiculously dumb and you curse to yourself quietly, hitting your head with a spoon until you wince at the pain and rub at the area. Putting it down and staring at the soup is as it cooks, you let out a long sigh that feels like it comes from your stomach.

You may be graduating university and entering the real world, but you were still clueless on what to do with Jimin. Because he owns a rather large piece of real estate in your heart now without even realising it. Does he even realise the important thing he has in his grasp?

[7:25PM] Jiminnie 💖: I love you too. ❤️

23 Years Old

Shuffling around on the spot, you contemplate whether you look more casual resting against the large LED sign currently advertising skin lotion or if it looks like you’re trying too hard. Crossing your ankles definitely was trying too hard but you felt like you didn’t know what to do with your limbs.

It felt like you were a big bag full of ants that were currently crawling under your skin. As soon as that metaphor runs through your mind, you shake your head with a grimace before patting your cheeks lightly.

“You can do this, it’s fine. It’s just...it’s just your childhood penpal that you’ve accidentally fallen in love with over the years. No big deal.” And it really wasn’t, because you’d been wanting to meet Jimin for 15 years now.

No amount of letters which eventually turned into emails, leading further into texts and Skype calls could ever compare to seeing someone in person.

You’d done your time of loving Jimin from afar. Surely you should be allowed to do so up close right? He was perhaps the sweetest and most loyal person you’d ever met, even if you’d never met him properly.

But he was Jimin. Your Jimin. And if there was one thing you knew about him, it was that he would be so upset to know that he’d made you feel awkward or nervous. His sweet nature would mean he’d spend the rest of the day giving you those obscenely large puppy dog eyes as he tried to make you smile.

The vibration of your phone in your hand distracts you and you look down with a smile that slowly spreads into a grin as you read the message that pops up, even if there’s a thread of confusion to you.

[1:02PM] Jiminnie 💖: Turn around 😊 Please don’t be mad

Almost immediately you’re spinning around, a scream of pure excitement ready to burst out of your throat when you notice two things that make your eyes widen while you step back in shock.

Firstly, Park Jimin is far more attractive in real life than on camera or in his pictures. He’s taller than he always makes out and you’re a little surprised to find yourself peering up at him. Despite this though, he looks just as slim and lean as you’d always thought.

As if you could just pick him up and spin him around. That does nothing to disguise the toned muscles you eye through his skin tight jeans, leading you to believe that his arms and torso must be equally as buff. Well, he was always doing some form of exercise as it seemed like he had endless amounts of energy.

Jimin’s face is also a work of art, cherubic in its innocence and statuesque in its beauty. Soft, rounded cheeks are tinged a sweet dusky pink that compliments his healthy golden tan, offset by the angular lines of his jaw and his plush lips that he licks at nervously.

You’d always thought that Jimin’s eyes were so sweet and kind, filled with a love that he simply couldn’t hide and you could see that even better now up close. He truly radiated joy and happiness to see you, but there was a ridiculous amount of tension in his body.

And between you both suddenly.

Because the second thing you noticed was atop his head. In amongst the familiar ruffled strands of dark honey-blonde hair are two floppy ears, silky smooth fur a shade or so darker and providing a pleasing contrast to his natural hair colouring. The texture of the fur matches his hair, as if he’s had a shower and spent the time running his hands through it till it’s dried in soft curls and waves.

The hesitant movement of something from behind leads you to peering around him, noting a tail with fur as dark as his ears. It wags slowly yet is very close to his legs, as if he’s unsure whether to be happy or worried.

Jimin is a hybrid.

You’re not sure whether to feel shock, betrayal or excitement at this revelation. He had told you that he had something important to tell you when you met, but you’d just thought that he would was going to say he loved you. Like you were going to tell him.

Not that...that he wasn’t even the same species as you. Or was he? Hybrids were humans right? Or at least part human.

It was with a touch of shame that you realised you weren’t too up on your hybrid knowledge. They had been integrated into human society for a century now. There was no one alive who remembered the days when hybrid’s were created in labs and sold to humans to be treated as glorified servants or pets and used for whatever heinous thing their owner wanted.

No, hybrids had long become normal members of society. They owned property and businesses across the country, educated themselves at the same halls of learning that humans did, were integral members of the government and even had families with other hybrids and humans.

It had taken them fifty years to get their full legal status, and since then they had just quietly integrated. Hybrids were born from other hybrids now, no longer being bred or forcibly bred in captivity.

And while there were humans who still resented the presence of hybrids amongst them in all levels of society, the vast majority had accepted it. Or...as well as humanity could accept anything that was different to them.

Your ignorance was horrifically embarrassing now, and you wanted to go back in time to when you first started writing to Jimin and tell yourself to learn everything you could about hybrids. Because this was Jimin, and it was an intrinsic part of him that he’d obviously felt the need to hide.

Why, you didn’t know. That was something he would need to tell you. At least you now knew why he always wore beanies or hats whenever he video called you. Or why his pictures always cut off at a certain point.

In fact, many of the things he’d said over the years were suddenly starting to make sense and you felt ashamed that you’d never clicked on faster.

“Jimin?” You ask slowly, confusion threaded so deeply into the word as you let it escape your mouth. Almost as if he can tell the emotional rollercoaster you’re going on, he dips his head quickly in response.

A flash of his tongue lets you see him wet his lips while his throat works as he swallows.

“Hi. I’m sorry...about this,” He gestures vaguely to himself and you frown instantly, recognising the negative tone to his voice. Despite your shock about his secrecy about something so important, you feel the intrinsic need to step forward and comfort him. Reassure him that he’s okay.

Though you’re not sure what you’re reassuring him for exactly, so you move forward anyway and place a hand lightly on his arm. He’s got a navy blue hoodie on with a white shirt peeking out from underneath, and you admire the softness of the fabric for a moment before peering up at him and giving him a tiny smile.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m sure you’ve got a reasonable explanation. How about...how about we go grab a coffee and then we can find a bench or something? And...we can talk. Because...I’m really going to need an explanation here Jimin. This is not what I was expecting.” His tail had begun to wave enthusiastically at your words and from the deepening pink on his cheeks, you suspect he’s embarrassed that its doing so.

Which is silly. Even you know that dog hybrids can control their tails to a degree but that extreme emotions override any control they may have.

“Sorry.” Gently pushing at his arm and giving him a reassuring smile, you lead him towards a chain coffee shop before tutting at him.

“Please stop apologising Jimin. Please? You know me. You know I’m not going to judge you, I’m just...shocked. I wasn’t expecting this because...well you’ve never made any mention of it before.” You’re positive that he can practically smell the surprise on you at this point, but he just chews at his lip nervously while you enter the coffee shop.

Neither of you get chance to talk after that until after you’ve both grabbed your drinks in to-go cups, a caramel frappuccino for you and a gingerbread cappuccino for him. Why they were selling gingerbread stuff in September, you had no idea.

Either way, the two of you awkwardly head back outside to find somewhere that was a little more private to have what you suspected was going to be one of the most important discussions in your entire friendship with Jimin. And you’d discussed boys with him and sex, so this was big.

After a few minutes of searching around, the two of you settle onto a wooden bench in the middle of the leafy park in silence. It’s pretty here, and you can see the small pond just past the trees on the other side of the path, a few ducks quacking along with two swans gliding along the surface elegantly.

There’s a couple of families sat around the edge, some feeding the ducks pieces of bread despite the warning signs while others enjoy homemade picnics on cute blankets. It’s all so domestic that you can’t help but let out a deep sigh and you relax back, inhaling the delightful scent of nature.

“I’m a King Charles Cocker Spaniel hybrid. Pure. My family can trace our origins back to the very first lab hybrids in our lineage two hundred and sixty years ago. I’m proud of being a hybrid...I want you to know that firstly,” He looks at you seriously, his mahogany eyes filled with a surprising amount of fierceness and you nod slowly. “I just...I’d never had a friend who didn’t know what I was. And despite what humans say and think, there’s still some discrimination there. I just...I don’t know, wanted to talk to you without being asked dumb questions about myself.”

Playing with the cardboard wrap around your cup, you let out a sigh of frustration. “Jimin...why didn’t you just tell me? Surely over 15 years you knew that I wasn’t going to be mad or push you away? I mean...okay I’m a little mad now because you didn’t tell me for that long. But...did I give the impression that I’d react negatively to you or something?”

His ears droop a little at that and you watch in fascination. Jimin’s entire demeanour is timid and filled with trepidation, his slight shoulders hunched in while his tail curls around himself almost protectively.

“N-no...but...when you’ve lied consistently for years then it’s hard to tell the truth. I’m really sorry, I feel so ashamed of myself. Especially when you’d look so happy to see me and I’d be lying saying I was cold in the middle of summer or something. I’m so sorry. I never lied about anything else. This was the only thing.” He shifts in his seat and you can see the desperate need in his eyes to make you see that was being serious.

Sighing quietly, you reach out and place a hand on his thigh. The movement feels oddly natural to say you’ve never met in person, and yet it feels new at the same time. Fizzing excitement in your stomach kind of new.

For a moment, you get distracted at the feel of his firm muscles under the denim fabric, tensing up at your touch while your fingers idly trace unintelligible symbols there. You’re finally doing what you’d dreamt of, hoped of for so long and you can’t help the tiny smile that appears as you do so.

“Jimin...it’s a shock, yes. But only because you lied. The Jimin I know doesn’t lie. Or I guess he does?” There’s a touch of insecurity to your voice suddenly as your mind races through all your interactions with him over the years, wondering if perhaps he’d lied about other things despite what he said.

Immediately though Jimin is placing his cup on the bench before grabbing your hands and tugging them to his chest with a horror-stricken face, head shaking so hard it’s making his hair and ears fly endearingly.

“No, no. I never lied about anything else! This was it! The only thing. It’s not even that important. I have ears and a tail, I have better sense of smell and hearing along with a few traits that still linger but...that’s it. I’m still Jimin. I still love mint ice cream and action films and comic books. I still went to college and studied math, just like I said. I have a job here in Seoul as a maths teacher. I swear, I haven’t lied about anything else. I’m not expecting you to accept this instantly, but please. Please don’t leave me.”

You look him over carefully, noting the sheen of tears in his eyes as he pleads with you to understand him and accept him. His origin wasn’t really that important, not when you’d gotten to know him so well over the years. But still…

“It hurts Jimin. I’m not gonna lie. You lied about something so...fundamental about you. It’s not like you’ve lied all these years about green being your favourite colour instead of yellow. This is who you are. And I don’t know what to think right now. Are you ashamed of yourself?”

He shakes his head vehemently at that, his fingers stroking the smooth skin of your hand gently as he focuses on them. “No. I have no reason to be. I have good friends back home and some who moved here too. I have a family who loves me, and being hybrid has never really been brought up. I just...I was a dumb kid who made a stupid decision that I didn’t know how to escape.”

“Jimin...you should have just told me. I wouldn’t have minded. I don’t mind now really. Your ears and tail are adorable, and a lot of the things you’ve said over the years make sense suddenly. I’m just...hurt that you never felt the need to tell me if you’re proud of yourself.” His head dips low at that, lips pouting cutely.

“Because I loved writing to you at first, and pretending to be something I’m not. But then I just loved writing to you. It relaxed me and you knew everything about me, even the stuff my friends and family didn’t. Everything except one of my most defining traits. But I didn’t want to ruin anything because I couldn’t handle the idea that you’d just...ghost me. Because by then I loved talking to you, but I also loved you too.” His confession is everything you’d been hoping for before you’d turned around, only with the addition of a sad apology.

Looking closely at his face, you take in the attractive sight up close in person for once instead of through a pixelated or lagging screen. His eyes are so large and expressive as they watch you carefully with nerves, but you know that when he smiles hard or laughs so intensely he folds over that those pretty eyes almost vanish in happiness.

It’s as you look closely into them, that you realise he’s still your Jimin. Still the Jimin who had terrible spelling when he was only 8 years old and didn’t really know how to articulate himself. Still the Jimin who excitedly wrote to you at 14 to tell you about his first kiss then obviously got embarrassed halfway through. He was still the man who’s voice had gone soft and shy the first time you ever called each other and who’s cheeks had turned a cherry red upon your first video call.

He was your Jimin. Just not with a whole new aspect that you got to explore.

“You love me?” Is all you ask, because it’s all you really care about right now. Jimin can never change what he is, but his feelings can change if you hurt him too much.

He’s quiet for a moment before slowly nodding, that nut-brown hair falling into his eyes as he does so. “I didn’t move all the way to Seoul because they needed maths teachers. I did it because you’re here. And...I wanted to be something more than just your best friend.”

Smiling brightly, you give in to your instinct and reach up to brush it out of his eyes, marvelling at how fluffy the strands feel. Your eyes flick up to his ears, the fur shining healthily and you get the urge to stroke them too. But even you know that no one touches a hybrids animal aspects without permission. They’re often highly personal or sensitive areas and will react badly normally.

But despite never meeting each other before, Jimin knows you perhaps better than you know yourself. And he must read your curiosity on your face as he tilts his head slightly till your fingers butt the base of one; a silent permission for you to touch them.

Hesitantly, you run one finger along the impossibly velvet soft fur on one ear. Without even realising, you’re smiling brightly at how nice it feels. Turning your hand over, you let the backs of your fingers stroke along each ear slowly and simply admire how soft they are.

It’s only then that you notice the way Jimin is leaning closer to you with each stroke, eyes closed and a dopey smile on his face as you do so. You like your hair being stroked and find the feeling therapeutic, so you can only imagine how this feels for Jimin.

Smiling to yourself, you lean forward before you press a sweet kiss to the apple of his cheeks. Almost immediately he jerks away, eyes wide with shock while a hand presses to said cheek as he looks you over.

Moving your hands, you let one rest lightly on his thigh before the other moves to his slim waist as you give him a grin filled with mischief and a tiny bit of nerves. “Your ears are very soft. I hope you’d be okay with me stroking them more.”

Jimin’s lip open and close repeatedly for a moment, the dog hybrid doing a marvellous impression of a fish before he points at himself. “Me? You...you’re okay with me? And what I said?”

Nodding, you shuffle closer to him until you gingerly lean against him, head on his shoulder and take in his clean scent. “Yes. I mean...we’re going to have work on this whole lying to me for fifteen years thing but...yeah. You’re still my Jiminnie. And I still love you just as much as I did before. But no lying to me from now on. I mean it. I won’t forgive it a second time.”

He’s silent then, the atmosphere full of shock and shy nerves between you both. Leaning your head further into his shoulder, you inhale deeply and just take him in for the first time. There’s no overwhelming scent of cologne, but you expect he likely wouldn’t like using most because of his sensitive nose. Most hybrids have to have specially made colognes and perfumes.

Almost immediately your eyes widen as you gasp in shock. “Jimin! You let me send you cologne all the damn time for presents! You couldn’t even use it!”

His shoulder moves rapidly underneath your cheek as he laughs quietly, shaking his head before he shifts till you’re looking up at him. “I appreciated the thought. Asking for hybrid cologne would have given me away. And it got put to use! My friends, Jungkook and Namjoon, are human so they used them. I loved every one you sent though, and even if they were too strong for me...I liked them.”

“Park Jimin! You...you need to tell me what you like. So I can buy you that.” Your lip sticks out almost petulantly as you look up at him, feeling oddly childish with the excitement of what was obviously a relationship between you and the man you’ve loved for years. Neither of you feel the need to ask explicitly, because you just know.

He watches you for a moment with amusement, his tail thumping against the bench and betraying his own happiness as his eyes crease into those familiar shapes that you love and adore so much. A tiny giggle leaves his mouth, high pitched enough to make him squeak before he leans forward and presses the softest kiss to your lips.

It’s nothing major, and yet your first proper kiss with him takes your breath away all the same. Because it’s everything you’ve imagined for years. And yet nothing like what you’ve imagined, because it’s so much more than you could’ve hoped for.

Sighing into him, you lean forward and increase the pressure on his lips until he lets out a tiny gasp of a moan against you, breath puffing against your skin as he pulls away. Leaning his forehead against yours, the two of you simply take in the moment before looking at each other with shy exhilaration rushing through your veins.

“I like you,” He whispers, so close you can feel each word brush your lips and your own spread into a sweet smile. “No, I love you. So...you’re enough for me.”

Watching him so closely, you note how his mahogany eyes have a touch of whiskey amber in the centre, spreading out slowly in a burst of colour. Bringing up a finger, you trace over the impossibly soft skin of his lower lip before you kiss him once more with a tiny giggle.

“I love you too Jiminnie. At least you didn’t pee yourself.”

“Really? Maybe I take it back.”

“No! Don’t. Please. It was sweet.”

“Shut up and just kiss me. Please.”

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #btssunshinenet #kkreationsnet #jimin fluff #jimin angst #bts fluff #bts angst #hybrid jimin #hybrid au #hybrid fic #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin one shot #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #bts one shot #bts fic #bts fanfic

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altphilcmena · 5 years ago

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𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝟎𝟎𝟑 ;; a collection of writings.

implications of trauma, death, murder, gun violence, mental illness / rehabilitation, general violence.

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚 ;; dated october 23rd, 2013. written in a moleskin journal.

the birds chirping

a broken wind chime

daisies in the windowsill

lysander and his boyfriend

elektra and her guitar

juno, alone

the setting sun

𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒐𝒐𝒏 ;; dated september 29th, 2015. written on yellow notepad paper, lost behind the vanity.

mother, father, lysander, juno, orion, valora, and whoever else it may concern -

this is not goodbye, and it is not forever. explicitly, i am leaving home for an undetermined amount of time. i have respectfully decided to follow elektra in her pursuits - they are of passion, and of yearning, and i have felt this way for quite some time now. this is not a life of fulfillment, at least not one for me. i wish to experience more. i want to know more. i want to feel cultured beyond the texts of ancient greek and latin. i want to feel what elektra feels, and if she goes, i will be void of it. i have to go, but it is not forever. this is not goodbye. to lysander, i send my best regards. he will say yes. juno, i’m sorry. i am forever sorry. orion, valora - i will think of you both, everyday, and the people you become. mother, father - our intelligence is not yet aligned, but one day it will be. you will be proud, as you always are. you are admirable, and so will i. water the garden, take care of the stable, stay out of the woods.

evermore, 𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒂

𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒅𝒂 ;; dated may 6th, 2019. written on a napkin, and burnt with a lighter.

i have potentially done something terrible, today. we’re leaving in the morning, and i doubt we’ll ever return. some laws are stupid. i did not hurt anyone. i will never hurt anyone. i simply gave a warning shot.

𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒍 ;; dated may 30th, 2019. written on stationery, adorned with mushrooms. sent to the carmichael residence at woodside, california.

florence broke down in connecticut today. the sign says lovell. the streets are busy, in that small town way. it’s a small town - mostly college students. we are fine, please do not send money. it is always burned. i believe i may enroll at the university here, radcliffe. there is a floral shop that always smells sweet, and the boy behind the register always smiles at me. there are rumors of ghosts and misfortune that haunt radcliffe - but do not fret, i will not open unearthed boxes. i have learnt my lesson. i’m careful, now. more careful than i had been before. i’m smarter, too. i suppose i have you to thank for that. so, thank you. i am running out of space to write. with best wishes, philo

𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚'𝒔 𝒉𝒊𝒌𝒆 ;; dated july 12th, 2010. written on construction paper, later torn and folded to make paper stars for a fancy paper stars jar.

i don’t like the police, they ask very many questions. they came to our house and asked us about our hike today. juno’s and i’s, to be very specific. it was only the two of us. but we are very smart. they asked what we saw. i saw many birds. blackbirds and bluebirds and a cardinal, too - those are red. sparrows and wrens. finches. i saw poison oak, but because i am very smart i did not touch the poison oak. i saw wildflowers. i saw a red scarf, and it was very odd. we went down a different path than usual, but there are no scarves in the woods besides on this path. it was a very dirty scarf, but my eyes are very good and i can see color very well. juno didn’t like the scarf, though. she hated the scarf. she liked it at first, but then she hated it after she touched it. the fabric must not be very nice. i don’t blame the scarf, however, for how it was made. it is just a scarf. but she screamed and screamed and screamed and the park ranger was called. he’s very nice, the park ranger. he called mom and dad. juno couldn’t, but i don’t know why. we’re home now, and the cops are gone, but juno has been very quiet. i hope she is okay. it was just a scarf. i hope we go on another hike soon. i miss the trees. they have things to tell me.

𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 ;; dated november 5th, 2019. written in a tiny notebook with crayon.

brown sugar

almond milk

cat litter

bleach

bedazzling kit

eggs, brown

oranges

strawberries

blackberries

earl grey tea

hair ties

get well soon card

bandaids

𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ;; dated april 17th, 2018. written on the window in dry erase.

dive for scraps at junkyard

weld

fast food breakfast

hang upside down to test blood flow

fish

fast food lunch

library

class :o(

meet elektra at bridge

diner dinner

moonlit walk across town

stargaze

𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒔 ;; dated april 28th, 2020. written in a notebook, later discarded.

leopold is a good person. leopold kristoff fowler is a good person. leopold fowler is a good person. leo fowler is a good person. i can testify this, because he is kind to me because i see him everyday, and he does not have a history of unwarranted violence. i believe that what you saw on that day was a fluke, a lapse in judgement power thought (come back to this) leo fowler is of noble character. i know this for fact. it is not disputable. i would trust my life in his hands. i do trust my life in his hands. trust holds more value above all else. my life has been in his hands before, matter of fact. i believe leo fowler saved my life, in fact (repetitive), after a very terrible accident in which i fell from several heights. it was one of the scariest things i have ever experienced. he was there as it happened, and took immediate action to insure i was properly taken care of. i fear that if it hadn’t been for him, i would be under very different circumstances. (handwriting becomes illegible, as if the rest had been scribbled away)

𝒕𝒐 𝒋𝒖𝒏𝒐 ;; dated feburary 1st, 2017. written on floral stationary and sent in an envelope (lost in the mail and never delivered).

to juno, my dearly estranged sister,

it’s been some years now since we’ve last spoke, and i hope you are well. truly well. elektra and i are fine, as we always are. we are surviving, and i hope you are too. you’re one of the bravest people i know, maybe even more so than elektra (do not tell her that i said this, please) and i know i have hurt you in more ways than can be said, or imagined. i will not excuse my selfishness, but i urge you to see from my perspective. i am not dumb, nor have i ever. i have ears and eyes and very keen senses. i knew you were being sent away, and so did elektra. come to think of it, you are the only one who was left unaware. i can’t tell you if it was selfish, or if it was in their best interest for you. i’m afraid i’m biased, and i still cannot yet see from your perspective. clearly, at least. i wish i can, someday, and i wish to hear from you soon. i’m sorry that we left as we did. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you my plans. i’m sorry for abandoning you. i know we both don’t care for empty homes, that’s why i left when i did. i thought you’d be gone, longer, too. sometimes i have very poor judgment and i’m not ashamed to admit it. i am, however, ashamed to admit that i have misjudged you. you’re far more complex than i knew of, and i can only blame the ignorance of youth. it’s only been two years, but i’m far wiser now. please believe me. i wouldn’t leave you now, if i were the age i am now than i was then. one day when the cycle repeats, i hope i remember to do better by you. congratulations on your acceptance to columbia.

evermore, 𝒑𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒂

𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒊 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚 ;; dated may 12th, 2020. written in a moleskin journal.

the rising sun

pail sleeping on a pile of blankets

rosemary and basil and mint and thyme

my reflection

elektra, and her guitar

leo :o)

a murder of crows

my favorite tree

songbirds

the stars, far earlier than night

#radtask004 #radtask #she doesnt write often so these r collected frm over the years #i cld do more bt i am tired #DSLKFDHSLGFSLDGHKLF #trauma implied #death implied #murder implied #gun violence implied #violence implied #rehab implied #mental illness implied #this is all very vague but i wld like to b safe #'see you soon' is abt running away btw

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asterlavande · 5 years ago

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Productivity: Day 5 of 100

March 12th Breakdown:

- I practiced a total of an hour and thirty minutes today and I feel like all the practice I did actually did nothing for me today even though I tried. But I have come to the conclusion that I really need to focus on the fact that I now see music as a hobby more than anything.

- My computer is really slow right now, but! I finally completed the annotated bibliography for my Research Methods class. If he continues to diminish my work as he has done SO many times. I’m going to throw hands.

- I continued learning about location vocabulary in Latin and I also strengthened my French vocabulary concerning nationalities.

- I am now on page 80 of “American Dirt.”

- Started reading “A Good Neighborhood” trying to stay on top of my book club reading this month. I read up to page 6 with all the introductory material.

- Read up to page 104 in “Juliet Takes a Breath.”

- I now end this day with my meditation report. I did it for 15 minutes, but I feel so tired and sleep-deprived that I was more falling asleep and caught myself multiple times about to fall over.

March 13th Goals:

- Research Methods: Work on my Final Term Paper Outline.

- Baroque History: Complete part one for the Ornamentation 5 Discussion.

- Critical Theory: Read up to page 196 in “Juliet Takes a Breath.”

- Form & Tech: Read “Happy Like This”

- Reading: “American Dirt”, “A Good Neighborhood” and “The Shadow of the Wind.”

- Language: Practice French and Latin.

- Spiritual: Practice and meditate.

- Chores: Finish cleaning room & sweep the house.

#Productivity Diary #100 Days of Productivity #Day 5 #Goals for Day 6 #Studyblr

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ledenews · 5 years ago

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Sam Amico - Finally on Top, Writing What He Loves

Sam Amico is a self-professed basketball junkie whose lengthy career in sports journalism now finds the Akron, Ohio native covering the NBA for Sports Illustrated. Yes, that Sports Illustrated. The one most young men and woman growing up in the 1980s and 1990s waited patiently by the mailbox for, only to quickly tear threw the pages and digest the stories within. While magazines and subscriptions aren’t what they used to be, SI is still one of the biggest players in the sports media game, especially for those gifted with the ability to tell a tale via the written word and not relying solely on hot takes and video footage. It’s fitting, as Amico grew up near an NBA city during a time when the Showtime Lakers and the Boston Celtics dominated the scene. There was Larry and Magic, Kareem and Robert. The Bad Boys in Detroit came into their own and a man named Michael took the league, and the world, by storm. The young Amico didn’t have a chance.

Played the Game

He grew into a 5-foot-9 sweet-shooting guard at nearby Cuyahoga Valley Christian Academy in nearby Cuyahoga Falls. He parlayed that success into a two-year stint playing for Northeastern Christian Academy across the street from Villanova in Pennsylvania. While there, he set the school record for most 3-pointers in a game, a mark he’s quick to point out lasted all of there seasons. The school later combined with Ohio Valley College in Parkersburg, W.Va. to become Ohio Valley University. Amico’s old coach, Bill McGee, stayed on board to coach. Amico, meanwhile, turned his attention to his own career. Originally wanting to get into coaching, he quickly realized that he could utilize his best assets, a great sense of humor and even better gift of written gab and combine that with his love of basketball. He quickly said hello to the world of journalism which initially took him out west to Wyoming and a one-man show at a paper in Rawlins, Utah.

The Report

He still feels his proudest moment came two years later, when he wrote a 14-part series on the history of the Wyoming state basketball tournament while working at a paper in Casper. Additional stops including the Bluefield Daily Telegraph, Observer-Reporter in Washington, among others, eventually landed Amico at the Sports Editor at The Intelligencer in Wheeling. Amico experienced success with both the readers and staff. It’s here he began his well-circulated Amico Report, a free newsletter at the time dealing with all things NBA. It was that digital newsletter that eventually catapulted Amico to his current path. He's also a published author, with his first book, "A Basketball Summer" hitting the shelves in 2002, later followed by three more: "Dribbles of Champions," "The Ultimate Basketball Trivia Book," and 'Three-Ball: The History of Basketball's Three Point Shot." He later lost his job in Wheeling due to an incident he takes full responsibility for and worked his way back north to the Cleveland Area, eventually catching on with Fox Sports and Fox Sports Ohio. It was there Amico experienced a renewal not only in his professional life, but also his personal one. Lessons were learned, but Amico found happiness again with a second marriage, as and his new wife brought together their blended family and eventually added a third son to the mix soon after. The Amicos now live in Medina, Ohio. Naturally, basketball is still a big part of their lives.

What got you into sports journalism in the first place? You did seem to gravitate to basketball more so than other sports. Was that just an extension of your playing days and your love for basketball as a whole?

It was indeed my love of basketball that led to my career choice. I never set out to become a writer. At first, I wanted to be a coach. I envisioned myself coaching high school basketball while teaching health or typing or some other fairly mundane course. But I also loved to write. I did it in my free time, just as a hobby. My best friend is several years older and became a sports television anchor, and I'd sometimes tag along with him to work. I was fascinated that you could make a career out of this. I loved basketball and writing always came easiest for me in terms of schoolwork. My roommate in college would stay up all night sweating over his essay for English class and bring back a C-minus. I'd crank something out in an hour, maybe less, and always aced it. (As an aside, he got considerably better grades in every other subject.) So, about my junior year of college, it finally dawned on me—why not put together my passion for basketball with the one thing I seemed to do moderately well? When I figured it out, writing about basketball as a career became my mission.

A billboard advertising the Amico Report for Fox Sports, a report that started as a free newsletter Sam Amico sent out during his days at The Intelligencer in Wheeling.

You eventually became an editor at multiple places. But neither was in a basketball-heavy community in terms of the pro game. Did you have a sense deep down that you’d need to get closer to home, or to a major market, to get to where you wanted to be? Was leaving the Wheeling paper a blessing in disguise in that respect?

To be honest, when I took my first newspaper job in a tiny little Wyoming town, I had no clue what I was doing. I showed up for the first day of work and was immediately told to interview the high school swimming coach. I didn't know anything about swimming, had no idea what to ask. I could barely swim myself. That was the start of a long journey of covering things I had very little knowledge of. In Rawlins, I was a one-man staff. I shot my own photos, wrote 3-5 stories a day, designed my own pages, came up with all the headlines and at times, even helped deliver the paper. Little did I know, it would be great practice for running my own website close to 20 years later. But all the while, yes, I dreamed of getting to an NBA market to cover the NBA. I wasn't obsessed with it, but it was always in the back of my mind, pushing me to work harder and get better. I never had a sense that it would actually happen. My goal once I started writing a lot was to just to do the best job I could and let the chips fall where they may. Eventually, when I landed in Wheeling, I decided to start an NBA email newsletter as a hobby on the side. Writing an email cost nothing and receiving it cost nothing. So, I made nothing. But if I remember correctly, we eventually started running it in the sports section, too. That little newsletter is the very reason I am where I am today, in my 12th year covering the NBA on a full-time basis. I will always be grateful for my time in Wheeling and I look back fondly on it today. Ownership, management, the editors and my co-workers allowed me the freedom to write what I wanted and tackle some interesting topics. It was there that I developed a strong work ethic, and it is one I still try to carry into my assignments today. I learned in Wheeling that there was no place for excuses—just do the job. When I lost my job there, deservedly so, it reminded me about the value of integrity. It was an important reminder and lesson I have not forgotten.

You’d previously written “Basketball Summer” and also kept people up to date with League knowledge via the Amico Report. But once covering the NBA was your full-time job, what was it like being that involved, especially given the Cavaliers were your hometown team? As a journalist, you remain impartial, but growing up a fan, was it difficult to keep the two sides of you separate at first?

Actually, while I grew up outside of Akron, I liked the Cavaliers but never considered myself a huge fan by any stretch. Sadly, I lived and died with the Browns, a lost cause of a franchise that remains near and dear to my heart today. I just happened to like the NBA as a total product, growing up in what I still consider the golden era of Magic, Michael and Larry. By the time I finally became a full-time NBA writer covering my "hometown" team, I had learned how to be impartial. That's one of about 200 reasons why it was a good thing I didn't get the job straight out of college. I had so much to learn about journalism. I had to spend time in the minors before getting to the big leagues. But I also realize that I am sort of an extension of the fans. I didn't celebrate in print when the Cavs won the title in 2016, for instance, but I did write with more enthusiasm and the stories were just more positive by nature. It's always easier to write about a winner. Quite honestly, though, it makes no difference to me. I try to cover the Cavs and NBA with as much fairness and passion as I did when I first got the job. The success and failures of the local team honestly have no bearing on how I approach the job, or even my enjoyment of the job. Sometimes, it's even better when they're bad. When LeBron James is in town, so are about 100 other reporters. When he's not, I'm generally one of about five or six full-time people covering the team.

Sami Amico sits courtside in Cleveland, offering analysis during a Cavaliers game. While still doing some on-air work, his TV time has lessened some since makine the move from FSN to Sports Illustrated.

You wrote for both Fox Sports and Fox Sports Ohio, and on occasion got to do some on-air analysis and interviews. How did that differ from what you were used to and did your public profile blow up further from that? What was the experience like for your sons and wife to see dad on television, talking basketball? Could you foresee a career path that leads to commentary either courtside or in-studio on a full-time basis?

I've been doing television since 2010, less now than most years, but still some. It's quite a bit different because unlike writing, you don't have time to sit down and assemble a thought. The lights come on and you just ... GO. You also don't have a delete key, so whatever you say is out there for forever, especially now in the day of social media. The first time I did it, I was terrified. The second time, I was also terrified. The third time, I didn't even think about it. It just felt natural. My best buddy in TV gave me some good advice: "Look two places, either at the person you're talking to or at the camera. Sit up. Smile. And for the love of Pete, put your hands on the desk and not below it." That was a start. I have also done some stand-up reporting for TV, in which I look at nothing but the camera, hold the mic with one hand and still have no idea what to do with the other. As for my public profile, yes, it did go up a notch locally. The biggest differences I noticed were that total strangers occasionally began asking me for selfies at Cavs games (as opposed to just yelling that I'm a hack), and mostly, the players and coaches and front-office types began calling me by my first name before I had even introduced myself. Earned or not, there's a level respect that you're granted with simply being on TV. That said, it's always been my least favorite part of the job. You have to worry about your hair, about your tie, about how you dress and about not doing natural things like sneezing or yawning. But they ask me to do it and promise a check, so I shut up and make the best of it. It's never been what I set out to do, though. My family thought it was cool at first, but those days are long gone. Unless I take them to the studio, they don't watch. Sometimes even then I'll look over at them during a commercial break and they're staring at their phones. The good news is I have a toddler who is fairly animated when I come on the screen. I figure I have another three or four years before he too finds that part of my job to be old news.

The Amico family, prior to the birth of the third son, is an image of a blended family that can find success in coming together.

Finally, like most kids into sports, you probably grew up reading Sports Illustrated. It was the go-to for sports reporting and feature stories. Working for them now, does the image you might have had in your head match the reality and how has the Amico Report morphed into Amico News in terms of content and readership?

Well, let's put it this way -- when I call a potential source for a story and say I'm from Sports Illustrated, they almost always give me a lot of time, say more interesting things, and are overall just more polite. Between the time I worked for FOX and SI, I launched my own NBA website. Fortunately, my time at FOX provided an audience, and enough of those readers followed me to AmicoHoops to turn it into a full-time job. I actually started to earn more on the website than I did at FOX. Problem was, when you factor in TV work, I was putting in 12-14 hours a day on the website during the season, and that included weekends. It's always nice to run your own thing and be your own boss. I did it for four years with a surprising degree of success. But Sports Illustrated made the decision easy for me. They basically wanted me to move what I had been doing on my site and put their brand behind it. I can also say I have never had more readers. That's not because of anything I'm doing or because I've suddenly reinvented the wheel. It's because everyone knows the name "Sports Illustrated." Overall, I really like their modern direction. They have moved away from the longform pieces (though plenty still remain in the magazine), and have assigned or are in the process off assigning a writer to every team in the country -- NFL, NBA, MLB, the NCAA power conference programs, and even NHL I believe. Readership has increased significantly for SI across all platforms. Not long ago, I started to suspect the brand was dying, but it feels like it's become a player again. My role is actually to cover the entire NBA, while also focusing on the Cavs, much like I did for FOX before they pivoted to video-only in 2015. It's a great role and one I've been comfortable in for at least a decade now. Mostly, I feel very blessed to be where I am in my career and am extremely grateful for each step along the way -- from Wyoming to West Virginia to back where I grew up. Read the full article

#Basketball #NBA #SportsIllustrated #UpperOhioValley #wheeling

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frugaldoodles · 5 years ago

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WEEK 6 - APRIL 12TH

LECTURE.

This week I’ve had my mid-semester break so had no classes for Comm. Design but I did catch up on the lecture.

There were some things that I found interesting whilst watching Andy and Karen further discuss the history about typography, grids and those that drove modern movements.

1. Type was smuggled in during the 20th century.

What the hell I didn’t realise how exclusive typeface was at some point in history! So turns out typeface was limited in the 20th century with what type you could own and even the amount of copies of that font. There was even regulations on importing fonts! So imagining a designer / typographer smuggling type is kinda badass (would totally watch if there was a doco or series on type smuggling).

2. Works by Andy and Karen

On the topic of showing Emil Ruder’s and how image / expression can be create from type, Andy and Karen displayed their own works relating to the topic; which were covers for Magazzini Generali.

I love how densely packed the type is within the composition but also how the density varies to create a range of tones and even details.

3. Jan Tschichold

Jan was one of the three people discussed within the topic of grids and how he took charge on the modernist movement and approach towards type design. I thought he was interesting to further look into because of how hardcore he was with design principals’ that he’d created in his books.

Specifically, Die Neue Typgraphie (The New Typography) in which standard practices for modern type were created through his rules. These included standardisations of paper sizes, typographic hierarchy rules and even disowning all typefaces apart from san-serif ones!

Furthermore, Jan was responsible for designing the covers of Penguin book and even continue to overlook the next 500 Penguin books made from 1947 to 49. During this period, Jan also developed the Penguin Composition Rules that entailed (very descriptive and methodical) guidelines on how to compose pages and typography in Penguin books. Within these guidelines, there are categories including:

Test Composition

Indenting of Paragraphs

Punctuation Marks and Spelling

Capitals, Small capitals and Italics

Figures

References and Footnotes

Folios

The Printing of Plays

The Printing of Poetry

Make-up

The Penguin Composition Rules that I looked through can be found here: https://www.courses.psu.edu/art/art101_jxm22/tschichold.html

Despite how he pretty much proclaimed that he was the most influential figure in the world of typography during the 20th century, there’s no doubt that the man played a role in revolutionising modern design and developed standards that can still be applied today.

I would love to look into his freelance work as well; especially with his use of balance and what early modern design looked like during its newly emerging phase. So Jan Tschichold is a key historical figure that I might do my Project 3 on considering what he done for design and his radical thinking and personality.

REFERENCES.

Flask, D., 2020. Jan Tschichold : Design Is History. [online] Designishistory.com. Available at: <http://www.designishistory.com/1920/jan-tschichold/> [Accessed 13 April 2020].

Penney, M., 2020. Designer Focus: Jan Tschichold - Notes On Design. [online] Sessions College. Available at: <https://www.sessions.edu/notes-on-design/designer-focus-jan-tschichold/> [Accessed 13 April 2020].

Courses.psu.edu. 2020. Jan Tschichold: Penguin Composition Rules. [online] Available at: <https://www.courses.psu.edu/art/art101_jxm22/tschichold.html> [Accessed 13 April 2020]

#design #communicationdesign #rmit

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amamblog · 6 years ago

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Jean Kondo Weigl, Untitled, 1974, Gouache collage, Art Rental Collection Fund RC 1974.3.

Elka Lee-Shapiro ‘18, former curatorial assistant in Asian art, conducted this interview with artist Jean Kondo Weigl in July of 2018 as part of her exhibition, Centripetal/Centrifugal: Calibrating an Asian American Art.

On March 12th at 3:00 p.m., Lee-Shapiro will return to Oberlin to give a Tuesday Tea lecture on the exhibition. For more information, visit the event page on the Allen’s Facebook.

EL: I was thinking that we could start by talking about the work we have of yours in the AMAM's collection. It was created in 1974 and you mentioned that you were working with hard-edge abstraction at the time.

JKW: Right, after completing the MA program in Studio Art at Oberlin I was working as Assistant to the curators at the Allen Art Museum. At the time, Abstract Expressionism, Minimalism, Conceptualism and Pop art were primary avenues in the New York art scene. I had studied those movements as an undergraduate in a contemporary art seminar at Scripps College while also taking classes in figure drawing and painting, and wanted to explore acrylics and non-figurative or formal compositions, probably influenced by artists such as Frank Stella. I’m not sure if I was aware of Sol LeWitt at that point, but there were a lot of artists, painters, and printmakers working with the grid format.

I chose to use the format of the grid in this work because of the regularity and the rationality of the grid, which could be juxtaposed with something else—something freer, looser, more subjective, more organic -- while still retaining the organized structure of the grid. I experimented with some loosely conceptualist formats where I might, for instance, devise a sequential order for what was going to go in each unit of the grid, and so on.

EL: The work we have in the Allen’s collection has a repeated pattern like that… is that where that idea comes from?

JKW: Yes, I began with an abstract design painted in gouache on paper that I cut up into sixty equal squares. Next, I cut the squares, four at a time, into curved strips, which I then recombined to form new squares that I then arranged in the final composition. I couldn’t have foreseen or visualized the end product of my process the first time I tried it, and was surprised to find the resulting sense of rhythmic movement, advancing and receding space and lively qualities of color and light to be so effective. You never know what's going to happen when you try out an idea.

EL: What was it like doing this type of work in Oberlin, because a lot of the discourse surrounding formalist painting was rooted in New York City? How was it being in Oberlin engaging with these types of investigations surrounding painting?

JKW: Becoming interested in a more formalist approach to painting was a natural response to the influences I encountered at Oberlin as a graduate student and as a member of the staff at the AMAM. Ellen Johnson, Professor of Modern Art, and Athena Tacha, Curator of Art since 1800, were powerful forces in promoting current trends in art from New York in Oberlin through their scholarship and involvement with regard to the museum’s acquisitions, exhibitions and visiting artists program.

Also, as a Graduate Assistant, I worked under Forbes Whiteside, Professor of Painting, assisting in his painting and color theory classes. In Mr. Whiteside’s color theory class, I learned a lot about color relationships and color interaction, and wanted to explore some of the ideas that I was learning in my own work. I think that's what pushed me towards nonobjective imagery, so that I could focus on color schemes and variations on the different characteristics of color. I probably know one hundredth of one thousandth of what there is to know about color theory, but I can get deeply engaged with what little I know, experimenting with all the different possibilities and variations.

EL: You mentioned the idea of objective and subjective painting in relation to the grid. I was wondering if you could talk a little bit more about that, especially because your recent work does incorporate more narrative or figural elements.

JKW: I'm really equally interested in formalism and narrative or figurative art, and equally emotionally moved by both. Even with narrative art, the story is definitely part of what I respond to, but a large part of what I respond to are the formal elements of the work—the paint, color, and surface—and the power and skill of the artists. I remember before I ever cried to a painting, the only kind of art that I would respond to emotionally would be film or music—I can easily cry when I see a sentimental commercial on television—but I was never moved to tears by a painting until I saw a Pierre Bonnard painting. It was a small landscape of a spring day and I was overwhelmed. I don't know how you identify the core idea of a single work of art or a body of works of art when there are multiple elements that are constant throughout. The meaning of a work has a little bit to do with the imagery and a whole lot to do with the composition and the treatment of form—but you can't have the imagery without that. So, you can't separate them.

EL: We touched on this a little bit but I was wondering if you could talk a little bit more about how your personal background influences your work, and whether biographical or politicized identity comes into your work?

JKW: Well, how can we separate one’s background and identity from one’s work, either? That's another thing, right? You are what you are. I am what I am because of my background. So, it’s impossible to ignore it, but I don't think you have to worry about making it clear, because it is clear. It just comes out anyway. Everything that’s influenced me as an artist is because of my background.

I'm probably drawn to Asian art and the history of Asian art for that reason. I might not have taken courses in the history of Japanese art at the University of Utah, but in a way I felt obligated to know more about it. I might have been interested in Asian art as an undergraduate but it’s my memory that, at that time, we didn't have a lot of exposure to Asian or other non-Western art history; it wasn't automatically built in to your art education. For example, I knew that I liked ukiyo-e, but the topic of 19th century Japanese art was mainly touched upon in the context of its influence on 19th century French art. Today, if I get stuck in the process of sketching or painting, one source that I may turn to for direction is 19th century Japanese art. I really relate to that period as did many 19th century artists in Europe who were being exposed for the first time to a lot of Japanese and Chinese art.

EL: Do you think of the Asian influences in your work as relating to your personal identity?

JKW: Sure, not consciously, just automatically.

EL: Thinking about your identity, would you identify as say, an Asian American artist, or a woman artist, and does that play into your work at all?

JKW: Asian American over woman artist?

EL: Or Asian American woman artist... I guess in terms of these labels.

JKW: That's an appropriate question because the women’s movement was in full bloom in the seventies which is when I was at Oberlin working on as master’s degree and coming of age as an artist. Oberlin’s master’s program required a written thesis and an exhibition, and I wrote my thesis on the women's movement in art. I was reading Linda Nochlin, Simone de Beauvoir, Shulamith Firestone, Judy Chicago, and anyone I could find who wrote about the role of women as artists or the image of women in art. I joined the women's caucus of the College Art Association and participated in a couple of their collaborative projects. They organized a book project and a box project, and my work was included in their traveling shows. But I don't put gender at the front of how I identify myself as an artist. And the Japanese part, well, both the Japanese and the female parts were given to me, but I don't necessarily feel that I put myself in either category, as much as lot of other people need to or choose to.

I'm aware of my race and gender on a certain level. My race and gender are important aspects of my identity, but my identity and how it plays into my work is more just individual—having to do with my personal experience and relationships. One key to how I identify as an Asian American woman artist may be how I identify with other Asian American women artists; if it’s difficult for me to relate to another Asian American woman artist on some level of aesthetics or politics, I think it would be difficult for me to put myself under the same label as her. On the other hand, I would probably relate more completely to an Asian American woman artist, compared to a non-Asian, non-American, male artist, if her art and politics were aligned with mine.

EL: We probably have time for maybe one more question. I'd love to hear more about your approach to teaching and what teaching is like for you.

JKW: I don't think of myself as being really articulate or able to explain some more complex issues or concepts in a particularly clear or elegant way, but sometimes in the classroom I find myself getting really excited and at no loss for words. Especially when I’m talking about the process and how it’s important to let go and not be afraid—I’m trying to encourage students to let go, loosen up, and not worry about whether their assignments are going to be successful. I work very hard to be the best teacher, but some students stand out as being so talented, perceptive and intuitive that I can only step back and admire them, deserving little credit for their achievement.

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vishnoikumar · 2 years ago

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OP Jindal Global University Admission, Courses, Fees Structure, Entrance Exam, Result 2022

Introduction: OP Jindal Global University 2022-23

Welcome guys today we will discuss about OP Jindal Global University Application Form 2022-23. In 2022, OP Jindal Global University will be celebrating its 20th anniversary.

The university has been a pioneer in the field of education and research with its vision to contribute to the country’s development. It has been instrumental in shaping policy and practice for higher education.

In this article, we will discuss how the university is preparing for 2022-23. We will also look at some of the highlights of its history so far

OP Jindal Global University 2022-23 is a new initiative that will be launched by the government of India. It will provide an opportunity for Indian engineering students to pursue their education abroad.

"The government of India is launching a new initiative called OP Jindal Global University 2022-23."

As the world becomes more and more globalized, globalization has brought with it many benefits and opportunities but also challenges. The world is becoming smaller and smaller as people move around to work, study, or retire in different countries. But as this happens, there are some challenges that come up which have been discussed in this article.

OP Jindal Global University Application form 2022-23,

The application form for the admission process of OP Jindal Global University is available on their website. It is a single page form with no personal details required.

The application form for the admission to OP Jindal Global University, an Indian private university, is available on their website. The form includes a number of questions about the applicant and their parents' educational background.

The application form asks for information such as:

- name of school attended

- date of birth

- gender

- academic qualifications (e.g., class 10th or 12th)

- marks in class 10th or 12th

Conclusion about OP Jindal Global University

OP Jindal Global University is a private university that was established in 2014 and is located in the Indian city of Lucknow. It has two campuses, one at Lucknow and the other at Noida.

The university provides undergraduate, postgraduate and doctorate courses in engineering, management, humanities and social sciences.

The university offers a wide variety of courses to international students from across the globe. It also offers a number of short-term international programs for professionals who wish to learn about India's cultural heritage and its contemporary socio-economic developments.

The university has an international faculty that includes experts from all over the world, such as Nobel laureates, Pulitzer Prize winners and members of Academia Sinica from Taiwan.

The article concludes that OP Jindal Global University is a good school for international students.

OP Jindal Global University is a good school for international students, especially those who are looking to study at a university in India. The university offers excellent facilities and has highly qualified teachers and lecturers.

This paper argues that OP Jindal Global University is a good example of how AI can be used in the future of content writing.

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testseriesforexam · 3 years ago

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Tips to score more than 90% in upcoming NDA-1 exam

If you want to join the National Defence Academy (NDA) and become an officer in the Indian armed forces, this article is for you! The NDA Preparation Tips which I am sharing are from the experts in the field and will undoubtedly assist you in balancing your time spent on regular studies and NDA exam preparation.

The UPSC NDA & NA exam will be held on April 10, 2022, for admission to the Indian Army, Navy, and Air Force. With only 20 days left until the exam, you should ensure that you have completed the revision of the entire syllabus.

Here are some important tips to keep in mind:

You must plan your preparation and divide your time evenly between the two papers. For your preparation, you must refer to the NCERT books.

Mathematics, Physics, and Chemistry should be prepared using Class 12th textbooks, while Biology, Geography, History, Political Science, and Economics should be prepared using Class 10th textbooks.

You must understand the fundamental concepts of mathematics because questions are asked in both forms: to complete the statement and to solve.

Make a Mathematics revision sheet. It should include key points and formulas. Re-read basic grammar rules to improve your reading comprehension, basic grammar, and vocabulary scores.

The English section, worth 200 marks, is one of the most important sections of the NDA exam, so it's important to prepare for it thoroughly.

One of the most important sections of the entrance exam is current affairs. You must be well-versed in events (mainly defence events) that occurred at least five years ago.

It all boils down to effectively managing the time that has been allotted. Learn how to use shortcut methods to save time. Don't waste time trying to answer a question about which you have no idea. Instead, proceed to the next question. Keep an eye on your wristwatch at all times.

If you've been naturally strong in English since elementary school, you won't have much trouble with the English section of the exam. Otherwise, you'll need to brush up on your skills. Reading is the best way to accomplish this. Reading English storybooks, novels, NEWS papers, and so on will help you improve your language skills while also expanding your vocabulary. Believe me, it will help you improve your grammar and writing skills.

In the Chemistry section, you must understand the fundamental concepts and classifications of elements, compounds, and mixtures.

Below I have shared a study plan for the 20 days which will be effective in revising the whole syllabus:

First 10 Days

Spend at least 10 hours on average in a day to study. For the first 10 days starting from today start revising all the notes you prepared and focus mainly on:

Revision of formulas for Mathematics and Physics.

Practice Comprehension of English

Revise concept and theories of Chemistry

Revise History & freedom movement along with all significant dates and events.

Remaining 10 Days

The last 10 days before the examination are very crucial to review your preparedness. Follow the tips which I am sharing and be exam ready:

Revise a section in which you are weak and don’t spend more than 2 hours on such topics.

Solve NDA Full-Length Mock Tests and evaluate the test performance. Determine your strong and weak points and re-revise the weak topics through Sectional Tests of NDA Mock Test Series. You can visit the Testwale.com website to practice their NDA Free Mock Test.

#NDA Mock Test Series #NDA free test series #NDA Online free Test series #Daily Current Affair Quiz #NDA Sectional Tests series #Subject wise Test series #Topic wise Test series

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elegantshapeshifter · 7 years ago

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Who Was Aradia? The History and Development of a Legend

The Pomegranate: The Journal of Pagan Studies, Issue 18, Feb. 2002.

by Sabina Magliocco California State University, Northridge

The author wishes to thank Ronald Hutton and Chas S. Clifton for their helpful critiques of an earlier draft of this work.

Aradia is familiar to most contemporary Pagans and Witches as the principal figure in Charles G. Leland’s Aradia, or the Gospel of the Witches, first published in 1899. Leland presents her as the daughter of Diana, the goddess of the moon, by her brother Lucifer, “the god of the Sun and of the Moon, the god of Light” (Leland, 1899, 1998:1), who is sent to earth to teach the poor to resist the oppression of the wealthy classes through magic and witchcraft. Through Leland’s work, Aradia’s name and legend became central to the Witchcraft revival. Between 1950 and 1960, “Aradia” was probably the secret name of the Goddess in Gardnerian Craft (it has since been changed), and she has also given her name to numerous contemporary Witchcraft traditions (Clifton, 1998:73).

Leland’s Aradia also inspired a number of 20th century works of Pagan literature. In a privately published electronic document entitled The Gospel of Diana [which according to Silvio Baldassare originated as a spoof of the Gnostic Gospels (Baldassare, 1997:15)], Aidan Kelly expands on Leland’s idea of Aradia as a religious leader and heroine of an Italian peasant resistance. Kelly’s Aradia, however, is a notably erotic character; according to her teachings, the sexual act becomes not only an expression of the divine life force, but an act of resistance against all forms of oppression and the primary focus of ritual. Kelly’s document has not achieved broad diffusion in contemporary Pagan circles, however. Much more influential in the perpetuation of Aradia’s legend is the work of Raven Grimassi. Grimassi, the author of a series of popular books on Stregheria, or Italian-American Witchcraft, presents Aradia as a wise woman who lived in Italy during the 14th century, and who brought about a revival of the Old Religion. He claims to practice a tradition founded by Aradia’s followers (Grimassi, 1995:xviii). In Hereditary Witchcraft, Grimassi expands on Leland’s version and the material he presented in Ways of the Strega by adding a chapter on Aradia’s teachings (Grimassi, 1999:191-201), which include a series of predictions about the future of humankind and the return of the Old Religion (1999:207-208). After Aradia’s mysterious disappearance, her twelve disciples spread her gospel, explaining the diffusion of the Old Religion throughout Italy and Europe (1999:203-210).

But who was Aradia? Was she the legendary figure of Leland’s Gospel, or a 14th century teacher of the Craft, as Grimassi proposes? Or is her story more complicated? In this paper, I explore the roots of the legend of Aradia, and in the process attempt to shed light on the formation of some of the most important motifs in the legendcomplex surrounding witchcraft, both traditional and contemporary. While my conclusions differ from those of Leland, Kelly and Grimassi, they may reveal a surprising possibility underlying the legend that has not been considered before. My approach is grounded in the academic discipline of folklore, which regards stories about historical or alleged historical figures as legends. A legend is a story set in the real world about an extraordinary or numinous event. Legends are typically told as true, with many features that root them in a specific time and place and lend them authenticity; but they are not necessarily believed by all who tell them. In fact, according to legend scholars Linda Degh and Andrew Vazsonyi, it is the tension between belief and disbelief that keeps legends alive and circulating, as each new listener must decide “Is this true? Could this have happened?” (Degh and Vazsonyi, 1976). Within any given community, there are legend believers and disbelievers; our community is, of course, no exception when it comes to this particular legend. The truth content of legends—that is, how closely they correspond to actual historical events— can vary widely; although some contain a kernel of reality, many legends are “true” only in the most metaphorical sense, in that they are an accurate reflection of popular attitudes, values and morality at a given time and place.

Legends can take many forms. Most typically, they occur as narratives, either in the first person (“This actually happened to me”) or third person (“This actually happened to a friend of a friend/ long ago, etc.”). Logically, many legends start out as first person accounts and become third person accounts; but just as often, a narrator may retell a third person account as though it had actually happened to him/her, making the story more vivid for the audience. Legends can also exist as simple statements (“The house on the hill is haunted”), and occasionally become dramatic enactments known as “ostension” (Degh and Vazsonyi, 1986), which I will describe later at some length. Legends appear in multiple variants; no one variant is any more correct than any other. At times, legends may cluster together to form what folklorists call a legend complex: a group of interrelated legends and beliefs centered around a particular theme. The multiple legend complexes centering around witchcraft are among the most enduring in Western history. Legends are extraordinarily responsive to social change; in fact, they are one of the most sensitive indices of transformations in cultural values and worldview (Dundes, 1971; Magliocco, 1993). For that reason, it is imperative to understand them in the cultural, political and social context in which they appear. In considering the development of the legend of Aradia, I will be applying all of the above principles, but especially the latter. My goal is to show how each successive historical era added and subtracted elements to this tale in keeping with the cultural preoccupations of the time, giving us not only today’s concept of Aradia, but also a much broader legend complex surrounding the nature of witchcraft itself.

ORIGINS: HERODIAS AND DIANA

The origin of the name “Aradia” is veiled in mystery. I have not been able to find it in written form before the publication of Leland’s Gospel in 1899. However, Leland himself equates Aradia with the legendary figure Herodias, a central character in the development of the witchcraft legend complex in Europe (Leland, 1899/1998:1). According to the Gospel of St. Matthew, Herodias was the sister-in-law of King Herod, the wife of his brother Philip (Matthew 14:3-12). Apparently she hated John the Baptist, and asked Herod to arrest John when the holy man was found in his dominion. But Herodias wanted John dead, so she concocted a plan in which she urged her daughter Salome to dance for King Herod. In exchange, the girl was to demand the head of John the Baptist on a platter. The plan worked: Salome danced, Herod delivered, and here the gospel stops. But according to an early Christian legend derived from the gospel, when Salome saw the head brought before her, she had a fit of remorse, and began to weep and bemoan her sin. A terrible wind began to blow from the saint’s mouth, so strong that it blew the famous dancer into the air, where she is condemned to wander forever (Cattabiani, 1994:208). Since in Roman usage, the wives and daughters of a house were commonly known by the name of the male head of the household, it is easy to see how Salome became confused with her mother Herodias. In medieval Italian, Herodias is rendered as “Erodiade,” only a short linguistic step away from Aradia.

One of the earliest mentions of Herodias is in the work of Raterius of Liegi, Bishop of Verona (890-974 CE). He laments that many believe that Herodias, wife of Herod, is a queen or a goddess, and say that one third of the earth is under her charge (Bonomo, 1959:19). Herodias gets linked with Diana in the Canon Episcopi, a document attributed to the Council of Ancyra in 314 CE, but probably a much later forgery, since the earliest written record of it appears around 872 CE (Caro Baroja, 1961:62). Regino, Abbot of Pr¸m, writing in 899 CE, cites the Canon, telling bishops to warn their flocks against the false beliefs of women who think they follow “Diana the pagan goddess, or Herodias” on their night-time travels. These women believed they rode out on the backs of animals over long distances, following the orders of their mistress who called them to service on certain appointed nights. Three centuries later, Ugo da San Vittore, a 12th century Italian abbot, refers to women who believe they go out at night riding on the backs of animals with “Erodiade,” whom he conflates with Diana and Minerva (Bonomo, 1959:18-19).

In each of these cases, legends about women who travel in spirit at night following Herodias or Diana are being recorded by clerics whose agenda is to eradicate what they see as false beliefs. It is difficult to gauge whether these reports represent a wide diffusion of the legends in north-central Italy and southern Germany between the 9th and 12th centuries, or whether the authors of early medieval decrees and encyclicals simply quoted each other, reproducing the same material. However, the work of German historian Wolfgang Behringer demonstrates that legends of night-flying societies, including followers of Diana, were in oral circulation in the western Alps (a region that now includes parts of Germany, Switzerland and Italy) in the 16th century, and probably well before it as well (Behringer, 1998:52-59). Herodias appears in these legends, as in the New Testament, as a symbol of wantonness (so she remained; as late as the 19th century, prostitutes in Paris were euphemistically referred to by Eliphas Levy as les filles d’Herodiade, “the daughters of Herodias”)—but also as a tragic figure, condemned to wander through the air forever as punishment for her sins. Regino equates her with Diana, and Ugo adds Minerva; we cannot know, based on the evidence, if this was their own interpretation, formed as a result of their educated knowledge of Roman mythology, or whether tellers themselves were merging Herodias with other Roman goddesses in their narratives. It is telling, in any case, that pagan goddesses are being syncretized with one of the most wicked characters in the New Testament.

Whether the association was of scholarly origin or arose from oral tradition, Herodias and Diana are linked in folk legend from the 9th century CE onward; and it is through Diana that the connection to witchcraft is formed. The goddess Diana is associated with witchcraft from early Classical Roman literature. She was often conflated with Selene (a deity from Asia Minor) and Hecate, all three of whom were associated with the moon. Hecate was also the queen of the spirits of the dead, present at tombs and at the hearth, where pre-Roman peoples buried their ancestors. At night she would appear at crossroads, followed by her train of spirits flying through the air and her terrifying, howling dogs (Caro Baroja, 1961:26). Folklore about Diana’s night rides may be a permutation of earlier tales about Hecate and the rade of the unquiet dead, which survived in Europe well into the middle ages and, in northern Europe, fused with the legend of the wild hunt. All three goddesses were known for helping witches: Horace, writing about the witch Canidia, has her invoke “night and Diana, ye faithful witnesses of all my enterprises” to assist her in thwarting her enemies (Horace, Epode 5, vv.49-54; cited in Caro Baroja, 1961:26). In Roman times, women of all social classes worshipped Diana on the kalends of August at her sanctuary near Lake Nemi. Her rituals were conducted at night; the lake was ringed by torches. Archeologists have found votive offerings of tablets seeking Diana’s aid as well as clay statuettes of mother and child (Diana protected women in childbirth) and of uteri, as well as horned stags representing Actaeon, the youth whose desire the goddess punished by transforming him into a stag. Since the rites were women’s mysteries, little information remains to us about their nature (Bernstein, 2000:154). However, we do know that men were often suspicious of women’s mystery rites, and may have circulated legends about them like those cited by Juvenal about the rites of the Bona Dea, another goddess worshipped in secret exclusively by Roman women. According to this 1st century BCE Roman author, men imagined the rites to be of a sexual nature, with feasting, dancing and wild orgies (Juvenal 6.314, cited in Bernstein, 2000:220). It is important to remember that this is a male fantasy of secret women’s rites, rather than a description of their actual content, and that Juvenal was writing about the rites of the Bona Dea and not those of Diana. Nevertheless, it is not impossible that similar kinds of stories circulated about many women’s mysteries, including the rites of Diana. The motif of rites of sexual pleasure may thus have become associated with the legend of Diana and her followers. This motif surfaces again centuries later in association with the witches" sabbat.

Christian legends of Herodias, the flying dancer, may have begun to merge with those of the pagan goddess Diana because of their shared theme of night flight. With the merging of the two traditions, additional motifs become part of the legend complex: a connection with the moon; the practice of witchcraft; the presence of additional spirits, i.e. the spirits of the unquiet dead from Hecate’s rade; and gatherings of women that included feasting, dancing, and sexual license. By the 10th century CE, legends of Diana and Herodias were in wide circulation in Europe, and this continued well into the 12th century. At this point, the legends began to incorporate material from yet another legend complex.

THE FAIRIES

During the 12th century, authors begin to report folk legends about spiritual beings, variously called bonae res (“good things”), dominae nocturnae (“night women”) or fatae (“fairies”), that would visit homes at night to feast. If food was plentiful and the house was in good order, these visits were thought to bring good luck, since the bonae res would restore everything they consumed before the night was out. The bonae res could also punish householders whose homes were not orderly, or who did not have plenty to eat and drink, by withdrawing their blessing. The spirits were sometimes said to be led by a queen who had different names, depending on the source of the legend: Bensoria, Diana or Herodiana (combining Herodias and Diana) in Italy; Satia and Dame Abonde in France; Holde or Berchta in what is now Germany (Bonomo, 1959:22) These female figures were the protectors of spinners and of orderly homes, distributors of fertility and plenty who rewarded the good and punished the lazy. Diana and Herodias became identified, in parts of Europe, as leaders of these spiritual assemblies (Bonomo, 1959:29).

In 1249, William of Alverina, Bishop of Paris, discussed beliefs in night rides by the followers of “Domina Abundia,” who brings abundance and good luck to the homes she visits if there is plenty to eat, but whose followers abandon and scorn houses where they receive no hospitality (Bonomo, 1959:22). Vincent of Beauvais (1190-1264) reports an instance of ostension involving this legend: a group of young men forced their way into the home of a rich farmer, helping themselves to whatever was lying around while dancing and singing “unem premes, cent en rendes” (“we take one, return a hundredfold”). The thieves ransacked the place while the credulous farmer told his wife to keep quiet, for the visitors were bonae res and would increase their riches a hundredfold (Bonomo, 1959:25-26).

A similar story appears in Boccaccio’s Decameron (1348-54) as the “Queen’s Tale” (#9). Two common laborers, Bruno and Buffalmacco, explain to a learned doctor that despite their poverty, they are able to live happily, because they go in corso (“on course,” “on a journey”). “From this we draw anything we want or need, without any harm to others, and from this comes our happy lifestyle which you see,” explains Bruno. The doctor wants to know what this is all about, but Bruno tells him it is a great secret, and that he could never reveal it. The doctor swears he won"t tell a soul, so at last Bruno confides the details to him. He and Buffalmacco are part of a brigade of 25 men with a captain and two council members elected every six months, guided by two disciples of a great necromancer. Twice a month, the brigade assembles; each person states their wishes and all are provided for. The assembly then feasts on delicious food and fine wine, while sweet music plays and beautiful women are available for erotic fun. The doctor can"t wait to go “in corso” himself, and begins to ply the laborers with gifts and money, hoping they will take him. Finally they agree. They tell him that on an appointed night, a dark, hairy beast will appear and carry him to a secret location, but he must not mention God or the saints. On the designated night, Buffalmacco and Bruno appear dressed in a bear-skin and carry the gullible doctor on their backs, leaping and yelping, until they dump him into a sewage ditch while they escape, laughing at his foolishness.

Legends about fairies who reward neatness and plenty and punish want and slovenliness seem to address issues of class conflict and social inequality in pre-modern Europe. One family’s good fortune could be explained as the result of supernatural intervention. At the same time, such legends also gave hope to the lower classes that if they keep a neat enough house, they too might be blessed by the bonae res. In this sense, the stories acted as a form of social control, reinforcing values of orderliness and hospitality while threatening sanction against householders who violated them. The stories also contained compensatory fantasies for the lower classes, a theme that will appear again a few centuries later. For people whose very survival depended on subsistence farming, and who often suffered from hunger and privation, the idea of breaking into the homes of the wealthy and enjoying some of their benefits, even in spirit, must have been a compelling one indeed, especially as the food magically restored itself by morning. It is not surprising that instances of ostension like the one described by Vincent of Beauvais occurred.

These versions also demonstrate that legends about night-time travels in the company of spirits had both believers and skeptics. Moreover, there may have been class differences between the two: lower classes were more likely to know about them and believe in them than the educated classes, for reasons I explained above. In Boccaccio’s tale, the learned doctor, who has never heard of the legend, is taken advantage of by shrewd laborers, who themselves are non-believers, although they are familiar with the legend. They successfully fool and humiliate the learned doctor, reversing the usual power relationships between social classes. However, nowhere in Boccaccio’s version is there mention of a company of women, or of a female leader of the spiritual assembly; instead the company is led by a great necromancer, and the doctor is told he will be borne to the assembly by a hairy beast, perhaps a reference to the diabolization of these legends that was taking place during Boccaccio’s lifetime.

In all accounts discussed so far, the point of view of the Canon Episcopi prevails: the night travels are spiritual journeys; they do not take place in the flesh. The stupidity of the gullible is exactly that they mistake a spiritual tradition for an actual practice. Moreover, while the clerics decried belief in these legends because they diverted parishioners" attention away from God, they were not taken as evidence of the practice of witchcraft, nor did they have any diabolical content. But as the 12th century advanced, a new view began to emerge and compete with that of the Canon. According to this emergent worldview, the women’s nightly journeys were not spiritual, but real. At the same time, older legends about the Society of Diana and Herodias, the bonae res and Dame Abonde begin to merge with tales about maleficent witches. These legends took on a menacing tone. Combined with new attitudes about the nature of the night journeys, they became the building blocks of the witches" sabbat in the subversion myth of diabolical witchcraft.

FAIRIES, HEALING AND SECRET SOCIETIES

Until the 11th century, legends of the society of Diana or Herodias existed side by side with legends about a very different kind of character: women who entered homes at night in sprit form to harm the inhabitants by sucking blood, eating bodies and cooking them before restoring to them the appearance of life. Their victims eventually became ill and died. These are related to the Classical Roman legends of striae, women who could transform into birds of prey to fly out at night and eat their victims, often infants, in their beds (Bonomo, 1959:33). Their victims often appeared perfectly healthy, but over a period of time sickened and died: their souls were thought to have been eaten and, in some cases, cooked by the maleficent beings.

In some parts of Sicily, Sardinia, and Friuli, these two strains still existed separately as recently as the 19th century. In Sardinian folklore, cogas (lit. “cooks;” vampire-like witches) and janas (fairies; from dianas, “followers of Diana;” cf. Neapolitan ianare) are very different types of creatures: while cogas are uniformly malevolent, janas live in caves or Neolithic shaft tombs in the mountains, are expert weavers and singers, and can interact with and even marry humans (Liori, 1992:107- 111). The 19th century country doctor and folklore collector Giuseppe Pitré reported that Sicilian peasants distinguished between the vampiric, maleficent witch (stria, nserra) and the donna di fuori. Sicilian donne di fuori (“women from the outside”) or belle signore (“beautiful ladies”) documented by Pitré are creatures somewhere between fairies and witches. They appear as beautiful women who can enter homes at night through the keyhole. If all is in order, they reward the householders, but they punish dirt and disorder. They love babies, but too much attention from the donne di fuori can also harm children (Pitré, 1889: iv:153). Gustav Henningsen, in his careful review of Spanish Inquisition documents from Sicily, reveals that during the 16th century, the term “donne di fuori” referred to both fairies and people of both genders who were believed to ride out with them at night (Henningsen 1993:195). These individuals were usually folk healers who could cure illnesses caused by the fairies, often as a result of some unwitting offense against them (Henningsen, 1993:195). The usual cure involved a ritual supper offered to the fairies by the victim. The fairies, accompanied by the healers in spirit form, would come to the victim’s home on an appointed night where they would dance, celebrate and spiritually consume the food, thus curing the afflicted person (Henningsen, 1993:200-01).

These medieval Sicilian beliefs have interesting parallels throughout the modern Mediterranean. In rural Greece, as recently as the 1960’s, certain folk healers specialized in curing ills brought about by the fairies, known as exotica (“those from outside;” cf. donne di fuori) (Henningsen, 1993:210). Anthropologist Vincent Crapanzano, working in Morocco in the 1960’s, documented a belief system centered around the jinn (fairies) and their human followers, folk healers belonging to religious brotherhoods who could cure illness by performing a trance-dance to special music. The queen of the jinn, known as ëA"isha Qandisha, could appear either as a beautiful woman or a hideous hag, but always had a non-human feature, such as camel toes. Healers consulted ëA"isha Qandisha in their dreams, where she explained the cause of the illness and its cure (Crapanzano, 1975:147). In the 1970’s, folklorist Gail Kligman documented Romanian brotherhoods of trance dancers who specialized in curing ailments thought to be caused by iele (fairies), whose patron saint was Diana or Irodeasa [cf. Erodiade] (Kligman, 1981). And in Sardinia in the 1980’s, folklorist Clara Gallini studied argismo, a belief system based on the idea that the (often metaphorical) bite of certain insects could be cured only through ecstatic dancing, done to music played by groups of specialized musician-healers (Gallini, 1988). There may also be parallels to tarantismo, the folk belief system documented in southern Italy, especially Calabria, by folklorist Ernesto De Martino (1961); but this is a topic beyond the scope of this paper.

The broad diffusion of similar motifs in the circum-Mediterranean suggests that we are dealing with a belief-system of significant antiquity which may once have existed in many parts of Europe. It involved beliefs about illnesses caused by fairies or spirits, folk healers who specialized in communicating with these spirits through dreams and trances, and the enactment of ritual cures, which may have included special meals, music and trance-dancing. In many cases, healers themselves belonged to a society which may have met either in spirit or in actual ritual enactments of the cures.

THE DIABOLIZATION OF A LEGEND COMPLEX

But in most of Europe, belief systems involving night-time spiritual journeys, folk healers and fairies began to change during the 12th century, merging with motifs about maleficent witches and with the growing diabolical interpretation of witchcraft generated by the Church. John of Salisbury (1110-1180) combines the two by attributing to Herodias the leadership of night-time cannibalistic banquets, where babies were offered to the lamiae, female-headed serpents of Classical provenance. By the 14th century in Italy, Jacopo Passavanti first mentions the tregenda (sabbat) in conjunction with his merging of the two legendary strains. In his description, demons take the place of humans at these gatherings, leaving humans asleep in their beds. The intent of the demons is diabolical: to lead people astray. He mentions that certain women believe they travel with this company, and that its leaders are Herodias and Diana (Bonomo, 1959:64).

An examination of some Italian trial records shows the gradual transformation of legends about the society of Herodias/ Diana into diabolical sabbats, where feasting, drinking and dancing are accompanied by sex acts and cannibalism. Two early trials which have captured a great deal of scholarly attention are those of Sibillia and Pierina of Milan (Bonomo, 1959; Caro Baroja, 1961; Muraro Vaiani, 1976; Ginzburg, 1989). Both trials took place in the late 14th century; both women were probably first identified and persecuted because they practiced divination or folk healing (Muraro Vaiani, 1976:153). Sibillia’s first trial took place in 1384. Accused of heresy, Sibillia confessed to having believed in and told legends about the games of Signora Oriente (“milady of the East”), not thinking it was a sin. Signora Oriente or La Signora del Giuoco (“the lady of the game”) presided over these gatherings, where there was feasting on all manner of delicacies, music and dancing; she could predict the future, reveal secrets and resurrect the animals that had been eaten by the assembly, so that in the morning, all appeared exactly as before.

In 1390, Pierina de Bugatis, also of Milan, confessed under questioning to participating in the “game of Erodiade.” The gatherings would slaughter and feast on livestock, whose bones Signora Oriente would put back into their skins before resurrecting them with her magic wand. The party would visit the homes of the wealthy, where they would eat and drink; they would bless homes that were neat and clean. Signora Oriente instructed her followers about the properties of various herbs and answered their questions about illness and thefts. But the followers were sworn to secrecy. To attend the assembly, Pierina would call upon a spirit named “Lucifelus,” who appeared in the form of a man to take her there.

The tales told by Sibillia and Pierina illustrate the merging of a number of motifs from different traditions into a single legend complex: the night journeys, the company of women led by a female leader, who seems to control both abundance and rebirth, as well as revealing the future and dispensing advice on healing; the magical feasting in which appetites are satisfied; the resurrection of dead animals after the banquet; the fairy visits to the homes of the rich, where hospitality is rewarded and all returns as before at the evening’s conclusion. In Pierina’s version, we have the first appearance of “Lucifelus,” a variant of Lucifero, or Lucifer, as the agent of transport to the games—a minor figure, at this point, who is diabolical in name only.

Italian historian Luisa Muraro Vaiani believes the judges hearing these depositions had a hard time understanding their nature. The women at times spoke as though they were reporting folklore, while at other times they spoke as though they themselves had experienced these night journeys—a characteristic of legend performance I have already remarked upon, and one which makes sense if we accept the hypothesis that both women were folk healers who continued an ancient tradition of consulting with spiritual beings for healing advice. Their tales were dreamlike, mixing familiar elements with supernatural ones. To us, they may even suggest events that took place in an altered state of consciousness, and like many such experiences, they alternate in perspective between the self and a kind of detachment from the self. But the judges, working with a binary system of opposites in which illusion and reality were mutually exclusive concepts, didn"t know what to make of these dream-like visions that seemed so real to the accused. They ended up assuming they were real. Sibillia was sentenced to prison at her first trial for having believed in and told people about the society of Diana, acts that were considered apostasy, not witchcraft. But at her second trial in 1390, she was sentenced to death for recidivism and for having actually participated in the games. Thus, the transition between attitudes of the Canon and later ones hinged on the understanding of legendary material as fact (Muraro Vaiani, 1976:137-142)—a critical transition which had ominous consequences in the development of the witchcraft persecutions.

One of the best-known of the Italian witch trials took place two centuries after Sibillia and Pierina were tried and executed. In 1540, Bellezza Orsini of Colle Vecchio (Perugia), a widely respected folk healer who cured using herb-infused oils, was accused of poisoning. At first she swore her innocence, but under torture, she confessed to being part of a secret society of witches. The secret society she described was a hierar- chical one in which the initiate-to-be apprenticed with a master strega. Initiation involved a formal renunciation of Church teachings, a renegation of baptism, and the invocation of the devil, who was called Mauometto (“Mohammed”), and appeared as a handsome man dressed in black. At the time of Bellezza’s trial, the Islamic Ottoman empire was expanding its reach towards Europe. The use of the name “Mohammed” for the devil reflects widespread popular fear and prejudice towards Muslims in16th century Europe. Sexual intercourse with the devil was part of the initiation. Afterwards, the assembled company would fly off, with the help of flying ointment, to the magic walnut tree of Benevento where they would dance with other devils. Initiates chose new, non-Christian names so they could be used when members got together again. Orsini described witches as organized into teams according to their place of origin. Each team was led by a captain with 20-30 students under her. A “witch queen,” called Befania, ruled over all the teams. Each November 1, there was a “reconciliation,” or gathering of witches, during which a new witch queen would be elected. According to Orsini, the members of the witch society were sworn to help one another, and to help less fortunate teams by sharing baby-meatballs and other ingredients. By then, witch gatherings included cannibalistic feasting, and the dead were no longer brought back to life.

It is evident that drastic changes had taken place in the Diana/Herodias legend complex between 1390 and 1540. Gone are the earlier legends of all-female societies of revelers whose presence brought good luck to the homes they visited, and where all that was consumed was magically restored—a kind of compensatory fantasy for the poor not unlike other contemporary portrayals of utopias of plenty, such as Cuccagna and Bengodi (Del Giudice, 2001). By 1540, Herodias and Diana are no longer players in the dangerous “game.” Instead, it has acquired menacing, diabolical elements introduced by ecclesiastical revisions which interpreted all deviations from Christian doctrine as evidence of a world-wide diabolical conspiracy whose agents were witches. The witch gathering is now presided over by the devil, whose name is identical to that of the Islamic prophet Mohammed—evidence of the demonization of Islam in the popular imagination by the 16th century. Besides the devils" followers, the women present include the witch-queen Befania, a corruption of the word epifania (“epiphany”), and witches who initiate their charges into the diabolical society. According to Cattabiani, there may well be a connection between Befana, the Italian Christmas witch, and earlier legends of Herodias. This link is preserved in the names for the Befana in the region of the Italian Alps near Belluno, where to this day she is known as “Redodesa,” “Redosa,” or “Redosola"—possible corruptions of "Erodiade” (cf. Romanian “Irodeasa”) (Cattabiani, 1994:13). The witches gather at Benevento and fly around the magical walnut tree with the help of flying ointment; cannibalism and sexual intercourse with the devil are integral features of their assemblies. The witch society is a secret society; initiates are brought in by a teacher, and secret names are used to conceal everyday identity. November 1 is now a recognized time for witches" gatherings. Bellezza Orsini’s confession reveals the growing diabolization of the legend of the night journeys, as well as the crystallization of certain folk motifs which continue to be central in contemporary revival Witchcraft: secrecy, the use of ritual names, initiation through a teacher, and the importance of October 31/ November 1 in the year cycle. The transition in the content of the legends was accompanied by a change in the attitudes of the clerics and the elite: material previously understood as legendary was now being understood as fact. The tension between belief and disbelief that had kept the legends circulating was beginning to solidify into an acceptance of the witches" sabbat as an actual event. By 1525, the Canon Episcopi was being called into question: Paolo Grillando writes in De sortilegiis eorumque poenas that the Canon was mistaken about the illusory nature of the witches" sabbats, and that they were in fact real (Bonomo, 1959:110).

BETWEEN DREAM AND REALITY

But what if the judges were right? If the games of Diana/ Herodias were in fact experiences of the imagination, whether dreams or other alternate states of consciousness, why did many women confess to having attended them? Is it possible that the Society of Diana/ Herodias was a real secret society of women, and that Sibillia, Pierina and Bellezza were members? Could Herodias/ Erodiade/ Aradia have been the secret name of an actual leader of such a society, who then became legendary? If this were true, it would give us an intriguing source for Leland’s legend of Aradia, as well as revolutionizing our understanding of the history of the witch trials and our sense of gender relations in Europe during the middle ages. Let us carefully examine the evidence both for and against this hypothesis. First, it is important to remember that not all women confessed to the reality of their experiences; many maintained their dream-like nature to the bitter end. Other confessions, like Bellezza’s, were produced under torture, and are thus unreliable as historical evidence. Victims would often confess to outrageous acts under torture because the narration of fantastic episodes brought respite from agony and bought the accused time. A strange compact often developed between judges and their victims which may have led some women to manufacture diabolical details they thought would satisfy their accusers, leading to the creation of fantastic trivia such as the baby meatballs in Bellezza’s confession. Other details might have been drawn from the victim’s knowledge of everyday reality; for example, the complex organization of the witch society described by Bellezza parallels the organization of other medieval social institutions such as trade guilds and religious fraternities and sororities, which were led by elected officials chosen at yearly assemblies. These guilds and fraternities functioned as mutual aid societies, much as Bellezza describes for the secret society of witches. Thus we need to be selective in interpreting the nature of these narratives. Some details suggest that certain aspects of the Society of Diana/ Herodias may have been real. The women who reported on it constituted only a small minority of all those accused of witchcraft. Moreover, the narrators had an important element in common: they were folk healers and diviners. A key function of the night-time journeys was the obtaining of answers to divinatory questions and information on cures. This structure parallels that of similar belief-complexes about spirits, healers and night journeys from the circum- Mediterranean. In several of these examples, we know that folk healers indeed were members of a society that convened in the flesh to play music, dance ecstatically and conduct healing rites. In other cases, the societies reported by healers existed only in spirit, and included spiritual members, whether fairies, jinn, exotica or iele. These details, shared with other circum- Mediterranean healing traditions, suggest that the accused may indeed have been part of a secret society of folk healers—either actual, spiritual, or both.

At the same time, other legend elements have content that is clearly dream-like and fantastic: all wishes are granted; food magically regenerates; humans fly. These motifs point to the spiritual nature of at least some of the experiences. Additional elements suggest the creation of a legendary peasant utopia: there is food and drink aplenty for all assembled; humans and nature exist in harmony; death is followed by resurrection or rebirth; relationships, though hierarchical, are based on mutual trust and dignity; knowledge is available to all members; gratification is ubiquitous, and the Christian notion of earthly pleasures as sinful is completely absent. These descriptions suggest a kind of utopia, an “imagined state” whose conditions inversely reflect those of its source (Del Giudice and Porter, 2001:4-5). Muraro Vaiani suggests that Diana/ Herodias was to her followers as Christ was to his, albeit in a parallel universe: the Lady did not judge or deny the Christian universe, but offered an alternative (Muraro Vaiani, 1976:153). Legends of the secret society may have constituted a kind of compensatory fantasy for women— one in which women had power and the ultimate authority rested with a benevolent supernatural female leader. Through legends and perhaps even dreams, they may have offered solace and compensation to women whose real-life experiences reflected the hardships of gender and class oppression in medieval Europe, much as narratives of earthly paradises such as Cuccagna and Bengodi, where rivers flowed with wine and mountains were made of cheese, were created by Italian peasants whose everyday lives were filled with hunger and privation (Del Giudice, 2001:12).

How can we better understand the nature of these narratives, which even after six centuries seem to take place in a world between dream and reality? I would suggest that it is not unreasonable to assume the existence in medieval Italy of legend complexes similar to those in other parts of the circum-Mediterranean, concerning fairies, spiritual journeys and healing. As we have already seen, aspects of these belief systems existed in parts of Europe and North Africa until the end of the 20th century. Henningsen’s work confirms the existence of similar beliefs in Sicily during the 16th century, and Behringer documents their presence in the western Alps. If Sibillia, Pierina and Bellezza were indeed members of such a society, their stories begin to make a certain amount of sense. This is especially true if we consider two additional tentative assumptions: the idea of ostension and that of the autonomous imagination. Ostension is Degh and Vazonyi’s term for the enactment of legends. For example, a Halloween haunted house may portray legends about ghosts, vampires and werewolves, or a Pagan ritual may dramatize the legend of Robin Hood. Ostension always derives from a pre-existing legend: the legend precedes the existence of its enactment. Thus, for instance, legends of contaminated Halloween candy predated the finding of actual contaminants in treats by at least ten years (Degh and Vazsonyi, 1986/1995). Individuals who placed needles, razor blades and other dangerous objects in treats as pranks engaged in a form of ostension. The theory of ostension explains how easily certain elements can pass from legend to ritualized action. Hypothetically, legends about spiritual journeys to dance with the fairies and receive healing can easily be transformed by creative individuals into healing rituals with food offerings to the fairies and ecstatic dancing to special music. What if some women, inspired by utopian legends of the Society of Diana/ Herodias, decided to try to replicate such a society in medieval Europe? Though we have no proof such a society ever existed, it is not inconceivable that a few inspired individuals might have decided to dramatize, once or repeatedly, the gatherings described in legends. The use of the term giuoco (“game”) by Sibillia and Pierina suggests the playful, prankish character of ostension. A “game” based on legends of Diana/ Herodias and the fairies would probably have been secret and limited to the friends and associates of the creative instigators, who might well have been folk healers. One or more women might even have played the role of Diana or Herodias, presiding over the gathering and giving advice. Feasting, drinking and dancing might have taken place, and the women may have exchanged advice on matters of healing and divination. The “game” might even have had a healing intent, as was the case for many comparable circum- Mediterranean rituals, and may have involved trance-dancing. This is one possible explanation for the remarkably consistent reports of Sibillia and Pierina, tried within a few years of each other. The existence of ostension in connection to these legends could also mean that Grimassi’s claim that Aradia was a real person may, in fact, not be entirely out of the question; a healer who was part of the society might have chosen to play the part of, or even take on the name of, Erodiade.

However, it is important to remember that even if a group decided to enact aspects of the legend of Diana/ Herodias, it would not have been a revival of pre-Christian paganism, but an attempt to act out certain ritual aspects described in the legends. Moreover, the more magical aspects from the trial reports—night flights on the backs of animals, ever-replenishing banquets, resurrection of dead livestock—could not have been achieved through ostension. We need to consider these as fantastical legend motifs, reports of experiences from trances or dreams, or both.

One way to explain these motifs is to consider the role of the autonomous imagination in blending cultural and personal material. This term, coined by anthropologist Michele Stephen, refers to a part of the human imagination that operates without our conscious control (Stephen, 1989:55- 61). It emerges in dreams and in alternate states of consciousness such as vision trances and religious ecstasy. The visions it produces are vivid and detailed, appearing “more real than reality” to experiencers. They seem to arise independently of any conscious volition on the part of the subject. The autonomous imagination is more creative and synthetic than ordinary thought processes, easily combining elements from the subject’s personal life with cultural and religious material. Thus dreams and visions seem to speak directly to our most intimate concerns, but also bring religious and cultural symbols to bear upon them. Furthermore, the autonomous imagination processes time and memory differently from ordinary conscious thought. Past, present and future events may blend together; personal memories may combine with cultural material in unusual ways.

It is possible that some of the experiences of the Society of Diana/ Herodias described by the accused are attributable to the autonomous imagination of the experiencers. Please note that I am not claiming that the accusers invented the experiences; in fact, I am saying quite the opposite. To women such as Pierina and Sibillia, the experience of flying out to the games of Herodias may have seemed more real than ordinary, everyday reality if it took place in trance visions. While it is possible that vision trances may have played a part in a hypothetical, ostensive Society of Diana/ Herodias, it is also conceivable that women who were active narrators of these legends as well as folk healers might have experienced altered states of consciousness, either through the use of herbs or by using meditative techniques. This is consistent with the discoveries of Behringer, who studied the trial transcripts of Conrad Stoeckhlin, a 16th century horse herder from Oberstdorf, in the western Alps, who was executed for practicing witchcraft. Stoeckhlin, a folk healer, reported that an angel led him on a series of trance journeys and gave him advice on healing and divination (Behringer, 1998:17-21; 138). We also know that some contemporary Italian folk healers used such techniques well into the 20th century, and that they reported contacting spirits who helped them with their healing (Henningsen, 1993; De Martino, 1961, 1966; Selis, 1978; DiNola, 1993:41).

Of course, spiritual experiences (and their interpretations) vary widely according to culture and historical period. It is not unlikely that contemporary legend material about Diana, Herodias and the fairies may have made its way into the trance visions of medieval Italian folk healers through the mechanism of the autonomous imagination, giving rise to their reports of actually participating in the game of Herodias. The healers were telling the truth; their experiences were real. Both Behringer, in his research on the visionary horse herder Stoeckhlin, and Stuart Clark, in his monumental study of early European demonology, propose early modern European folk culture did not always distinguish sharply between experiences that took place in dreams, ecstatic visions or trances and reality (Behringer, 1998:158-59; Clark, 1997:193-96). The dualistic conception in which “dreamtime” was opposed to “reality” was a product of medieval Church reforms that culminated in the formation of the myth of diabolical witchcraft. Here we must return to Muraro Vaiani’s hypothesis that it was the judges who did not know how to understand the ecstatic experiences of the accused because they fell outside of their dualistic conception of the nature of reality. Therefore, they interpreted them as sorcery—the only mechanism they understood through which illusion could be made to seem real.

CONCLUSIONS

What can we conclude from this evidence about the legend of Aradia? The evidence I have examined and presented here suggests that the legend of Aradia has roots in archaic, pre-Christian materials concerning societies of healers who trafficked with spirits in order to cure. Healing may have involved trance-journeys as well as ecstatic dancing. These ancient materials combined with Classical legends of Diana and Hecate, and during the middle ages became attached to the New Testament story of Herodias, the eternal dancer. By the 11th century, these elements had become part of a widespread legend complex in Europe that may have involved episodes of ostension, or the enactment of certain legend motifs, probably for the purposes of healing. As clerical and popular attitudes towards the nature of nighttime spiritual journeys changed, these legends merged with parallel folk materials about maleficent witches, and became the building blocks of the subversion myth of the diabolical sabbat, responsible for the death of tens of thousands of innocent women and men between 1300 and 1750.

What Leland collected from Maddalena may represent a 19th century version of this legend that incorporated later materials influenced by medieval diabolism: the presence of “Lucifero,” the Christian devil; the practice of sorcery; the naked dances under the full moon. While there may have been instances of ostension regarding this legend, the evidence does not support the idea that Aradia was an early teacher of the Craft, although some women may have called themselves Erodiade during ostensive episodes. There is no evidence of a widespread revival of pre-Christian religion as a result of the proliferation of this legend. In fact, it is ironic that a compensatory legend that envisioned a society led by women, featuring relationships based on equality, access to knowledge for all, and the fulfillment of all earthly desires became twisted into the subversion myth of the diabolical sabbat, which was responsible for the murder of so many innocent women during the witch craze.

Legends and beliefs about healing, fairies and nighttime spiritual journeys may have continued to exist in pockets throughout Italy until the late 20th century. Because legends always change to reflect their social environment, they became Christianized, and incorporated references to saints. In some cases, saints may have replaced the earlier fairies. Some version of this legend complex may be at the core of both Leland’s discovery of a “witch cult” in Tuscany in the late 1800’s, and Grimassi’s claims that his family practiced a form of folk healing that involved spirits, dancing, and the goddess Diana (Grimassi, pers. communication 8/25/00). These were not, as Leland suggested, survivals of Etruscan religion, but elements of great antiquity reworked into systems that made sense for Italian peasants of the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. Some parts of these belief systems may even have survived the journey to America, forming the basis of Stregheria, or Italian American revival Witchcraft.

Folklore, of course, seldom dies; it transforms itself according to new paradigms and cultural discourses. So it is not surprising to read new versions of this legend emerging today. Grimassi’s expansion of Leland’s materials must be understood in exactly such a context—as the continuation of the legend begun so long ago. It is intriguing to note that while both Leland’s and Grimassi’s versions may appear to be strictly Neo- Pagan in content, both also contain very strong Christian influences. In the Gospel of the Witches, Diana sends her only daughter Aradia to earth to teach people to resist their oppressors just as in the New Testament, God sends his son Jesus to earth for much the same purpose. In Hereditary Witchcraft, Grimassi describes Aradia as having twelve disciples—six male-female couples—who help spread her teachings after her mysterious disappearance. Do these elements invalidate the legends? Quite the contrary, I would argue. They simply demonstrate how easily legend material absorbs motifs from the surrounding culture. These elaborated new versions show that the legend of Aradia is a living tradition that continues to evolve today, changing to adapt to the individual needs of the narrator as well as the larger changes in society.

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Sabina Magliocco is Associate Professor of Anthropology at California State University - Northridge. She has done fieldwork in Sardinia (Italy) as well as among contemporary Pagans in the San Francisco Bay area, and is the author of a forthcoming book Neopagan Sacred Art and Altars: Making Things Whole (University Press of Mississippi) and a number of articles. She is a Gardnerian initiate.

www.AradiaGoddess.com

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