#support gio beam

[enwoso]

puppy love | alessia russo

*i don’t want anyone to think i haven’t forgotten about anyone’s request, i’ve started/planned all those that have been sent in and i’m slowly getting through them, and some should be posted by the end of the week! but thank you for the support on my last fics. i love and appreciate you all<33*

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you loved your birthday.

some people you knew hated the thought of being born in january, as they saw it as a depressing and cold month. the fact it was right after christmas and all the festivities had died down. but you, you loved it.

after christmas and new year it gave you something to be excited for. having your birthday in the first week of january wasn't all too bad, christmas lights still lingered in the streets as well as small hints of christmas left behind. it all brought a huge smile to your face.

the sun peering though the crack in the curtains as alessia laid draped over you, her arm stretched across your body as her face was hidden in your neck. not wanting to disturb the blonde, you lay looking at the ceiling as your fingers rubbed through her hair.

not long after the blonde began to stir, moving a little as her face became a little more clear as a smile appeared on your face. brushing the loose blonde hairs that had escaped her low bun she had slept in, out of her face.

her head moving a little so you could not see her and the small smile that was on her lips, "happy birthday, tesoro" she mumbled her eyes still shut as she placed a gentle and sleep kiss on you neck. "i love you"

"thank you, lessi. i love you too" you turned to move the blonde so that you were both now facing each other instead of her lying on top of you, a few grumbles coming from the blonde as you moved her that she was already comfy.

looking at her, her eyes just beginning to open slightly as she rubbed them as they adjusted to the light that was beaming into the room. grinning as she pulled you closer back into her embrace, the tips of your noses touching.

a few moments of silence happen, before you close the gap. attaching your lips to the blondes. it was slow and soft the kiss, full of love. her hands found your waist, her fingertips warm as they drew tiny little circle on your hips. pulling away, not before pecking your lips a few more times making you giggle as she smiled.

"hope your ready for today to be all about you?" she whispered as your eyebrows raised, she had been telling you that she had been planning your birthday for weeks but unfortunately for you, you hadn't been able to drag out of her what she had planned.

usually you could push a few buttons and the blonde would crack, telling you her plans but this time she had been determined to keep it a secret making you even more curious about what she had planned.

"mhm and what does that entail?" you asked, as the blonde just smiled not saying a word instead kissing your cheek and pulling the covers off her. grabbing her phone from the bedside table leaving the bed cold as she reached the doorway.

"you just have a shower, get ready and when you come down all will be revealed" she sung out as you narrowed your eyes.

"i don't like all this secrecy from you russo!"

after having a nice slow get ready, you were finally making your way down the stairs, voices getting louder with each step you took. reaching the bottom to see the whole of your lounge decorated, balloons scattering the floor and a big happy birthday sign on the wall with a balloon arch going over the top of it.

being in shock of how much effort had gone into the decoration of the room, you hadn't even processed the fact that alessia's family and your family were sitting in the living room.

"happy birthday teeny! gio yelled, hearing alessia's parents and yours say it too but his standing out and being the loudest pulling you out from your day dream.

the nickname coming from your height difference not only from him but also your girlfriend. you being a few inches small then her.

"how long did this even take you to do?" you asked the blonde as she came over, flapping her brother on the way for the teasing comment as she wrapped you up in a hug. "oh i did this last night after you had gone to sleep!" she whispered in your ear.

"you look beautiful by the way" she kissed your cheek pulling away from the hug, as you went over to your parents saying your hellos to them as well as alessia's parents and brothers.

falling into conversation, as well as eating breakfast that your parents had brought for you. the morning going off to a lovely start surrounded by the people you love as you moved onto opening your presents as you were beginning to get bored of listening to giorgio ask when you were going to open them.

the younger russo brother insisting that you opened the one of him and luca first, it being a bottle of perfume which you had been wanting for some time, "woah, you guys shouldn't have" you sat with the box in your hand, standing up to hug the two of them in thanks.

"we had a little help from someone on which one to buy" luca said flashing a smile to alessia as you grinned.

"thank you!

moving onto your parents who had gotten you tickets to see a concert in london that you had been wanting to go to and alessia's parents getting you a weekend spa trip away, for you and alessia to enjoy one weekend when you both were off.

which left alessia who passed you a bag, moving the tissue paper from the top - revealing a small white bag and inside was a jewellery box. opening it there was a small dainty bracelet with a heart charm dangling from it. "here, look it has my initials on it and the. there's yours" your girlfriend pointed to the two letters AR and then to yours which was right next to hers.

"oh lessi you shouldn't have" you pouted, leaning over to wrap her in a hug, pecking her lips a few times as you pulled back from the hug. before wrapping her in a tighter hug.

"thank you lessi" you whispered as you hugged her, awhs being heard around the room from both familys. the blonde smiling, kissing you cheek a few times before you let go.

"i have one more thing for you.." alessia grinned as she reached down beside where she was sat, getting a small round box out that had a pretty bow on it. your brows furrowed as you looked down admiring the gifts the blonde had already gotten you wondering what more could you need from her. "here" the blonde said handing you the small round gift box.

opening the box left you even more confused, a small bright green fuzzy tennis ball - smaller than your regular tennis ball. you looked to the blonde who was sitting next to you a nervous laugh escaping you.

"i know i said i wanted a new hobby but- we, we both know i'm rubbish at sports!" you giggled not really understanding the gift looking at the russo brothers and her parents for any sort of hint of what the gift meant.

"it's not for you silly!" alessia was the one to laugh this time, leaving you to try and follow along with the riddles, "then who?" you hesitantly laughed, as the blonde stood up not saying a word and leaving the room coming back seconds later.

"for this little one!" alessia beamed, in her arms a small dark brown puppy. you sat in shock, no words could be found as the happy tears began to well in your eyes. as the blonde got closer, she placed the small puppy in your arms a red blanket covering it too keep it warm.

"no way- is this ours.. to keep?" you stuttered, your voice betraying you as you tried not to let the tears spill.

"of course, he's our little fur baby" alessia grinned as she sat next to you in her original seat, stroking the puppy on the head as you sat in utter awh.

you had been pestering the blonde for months now, about getting a dog. spending countless hours during a night time trying to convince her why having a dog would be a good idea but the answer was always, 'we both don't have time for a dog'

you had even got as far as one time drawing up a schedule of how a dog would fit into your schedule to show the blonde that it was possible to have a little puppy in your life but the answer was always the same.

"what you gonna call him then?" gio yelled over, as you looked up from your little fur baby. thought taking over you, "snoopy." you nodded out loud as everyone looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"yeah, snoopy. he suits it" you said, it sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself but also everyone in the room. "snoopy it is then!" alessia confirmed, smiling at you who was looking down at the puppy with so much love.

the rest of the day was spent with you having snoopy in your arms or cuddling with the little puppy or watching him as he napped making sure that he wasn't woken.

the two of you had bonded for life, he was your little child. that evening was spent with you cuddling with less as you watched a film she had let you pick as you cuddled with snoopy however both you and snoopy fell asleep within the first five minutes.

and there was no better way to end a perfect birthday.

liked by bethmead and 820,741 others

alessia if i ever loose them both, at least i know if i find one i’ll find the other cause there never apart!

comments -

bethmead a new friend for myle!

-> alessia can’t wait to introduce them🥹

ellatoone y/n finally got you to cave then?

-> alessia she did, love our little man snoopy!!

-> yourusername best birthday present ever!

[goodlucktai]

tossing pennies in the pool

rottmnt word count: 4k pairing: mikey & OC, mikey & woody title borrowed from the 1 by taylor swift part of the archer au  i had initially started to write this for someone who requested mikey & gio in the good timeline. but i managed to completely miss that they had specifically requested the good timeline and wrote this in the true neutral timeline instead. 'what is the true neutral timeline?' good question :)

He was ready. The sooner he left, the sooner he could come back. Mikey on the other hand looked so pale and miserable that Gio couldn’t help but tell him, “If you really don’t want me to go, I’ll stay.” 

in the true neutral timeline, Mikey asks Gio to stay.

x

Gio’s late. 

Mikey’s trying not to be an insane person about his little brother missing an unofficial curfew. Teenagers do that sort of thing all the time. Especially fiercely independent teenagers who practically raised themselves, who chafe at structure because at the wrong angle those supportive struts and load-bearing beams probably look a lot like a cage. 

It’s just. His fiercely independent teenager doesn’t do that sort of thing at all. 

Gio is a lot of things, and somewhere at the very top of that list is ‘traumatized’ in bold, italic, underlined, all caps, size twenty font. Mikey doesn’t know the details, but he knows that Giorgio is terrified of breaking rules that don’t exist. He’s always searching for that line he can’t cross, that step too far that will put him in that dangerous familiar territory where the unwanted end up. He is certain that the line exists. 

When Gio says he’ll be home by ten, he’s home by ten. He’ll make it home like his life depends on it. 

Mikey heroically manages not to look at the clock for a full three minutes. A spiteful 10:43 stares back at him from the stove range when he does look. He refocuses on the pan he’s scrubbing, and doesn’t think about the calls and texts that have gone unanswered, because then he really will lose what’s left of his composure. 

It’s hard. Mikey’s trying to find the line, too. How much attention is too much? When does Mikey go from supportive to overbearing? He wants Gio to know that there’s someone thinking about him, someone who worries about him when he’s late, but he never wants the little spotted turtle to feel smothered or dread walking through the door. 

Gio was looking forward to dinner. He didn’t say it, but Mikey’s gotten pretty good at reading his microexpressions. The kitchen smells like baked mostaccioli and garlic bread and all of it’s untouched and going cold because Mikey’s stomach is in knots. 

Footsteps down the hall announce Raph a few seconds before he leans through the doorway. His eyes slide from Mikey to the empty seat at the island Gio usually occupies and he blinks. 

“Where’s the kid?” he asks. 

Mikey jerks one shoulder in a shrug, buried elbow-deep in soapy water. He doesn’t want to talk about it to someone who doesn’t care. The thought instantly feels mean and unfair, an ugly shape where it sits in his head, but at least it’s ugly where only Mikey can see it. 

In his periphery, he sees Raph frown. Whatever he might have said is cut off by the sound of a call coming through on Mikey’s phone. This dream isn't feeling sweet, we're reeling through the midnight streets—

Gio’s ringtone. Mikey looks urgently at Raph as he wrestles his wet rubber gloves off. After half a second of trepidation, his older brother picks up the phone and accepts the call. 

“Hey,” he says, uncertainty evident to anyone who knows him. To anyone who doesn’t, he just sounds largely disinterested, like he’s greeting someone he’s familiar with but not close to. It’s not the way Raphie, of all people, is supposed to sound while talking with his baby brother. Then his tone changes abruptly, brow furrowing. “Who is this?” he rumbles. 

A wailing klaxon and spinning red lights are going off in Mikey’s brain. That’s Gio’s ringtone, that’s Gio’s phone calling, who has his phone?

“Put it on speaker,” he manages to say normally.  

“—in pretty rough shape,” a stranger’s voice is in the middle of saying, audibly nervous. Mikey’s heart is pounding in his ears. “It was supposed to be an easy job, a simple delivery—building supplies for the festival next month—but no one told us the lumberyard was cursed. We strolled right in like a troupe of clowns.”

There’s a lot to absorb here. Apparently when Gio isn’t home, he’s working in the Hidden City. Which—fine. He’s allowed to do that, if that’s what he wants to do. Nevermind that he doesn’t need to, that his needs will all be provided for from now on, that he doesn’t have to scrape survival together all by himself anymore, because that’s what his family is for. 

He’s eighteen—or so he says. Mikey would never call the kid a liar to his face, but he has never shaken his first impression of Gio, which was that he looked like an underfed fifteen year old.  

Any kid passing through foster care in the yokai world, whatever that looked like, would have plenty of reasons to lie about plenty of things. Trying to pass himself off as older to age out faster is not beyond the realm of possibility. It even makes an unfortunate amount of sense. But if that’s the truth, Mikey hasn’t earned the right to hear it yet. 

All of that goes on a shelf in the back of his mind for the time being. The more pressing matter is—

“Cursed?” Mikey demands. Something rattles in the kitchen and Raph looks at him sidelong. “Gio?”

“Oh, hey, are you Mike?” the stranger says, apparently hearing something in his tone that they didn’t hear in Raph’s. “His emergency contact is saved as a Mike. He didn’t want us calling anyone for him, but, uh, I don’t make a habit of leaving teenagers passing out on the side of the road? So I stole his phone. Temporarily.” 

The rattling gets louder, and Raph’s sidelong look turns into a head-on stare, but all Mikey can think about is his kid. His Georgie. Vulnerable and unwell and at the mercy of people he doesn’t really know. Too stubborn and far too careful to trust the goodness of anyone’s heart, to let them close enough to help. He’d rather crawl home. 

It’s not Gio’s fault. That unkind world he got shunted off to when he was a baby chewed him up and spit him out and left him in the shape it left him in. What’s left of him is what survived. 

“He’s in and out of it, but I’ll tell him you’re coming next time he wakes up?” the voice says. “You, uh, you’re coming, right?”

Another Krang invasion couldn’t keep Mikey away. 

Several things clatter to the counters and the floor all at once and Mikey barely notices. He steps on a loose rolling pin and lurches gracelessly, saved by the huge hand that catches him by the back of his shirt. Raph lets him go, only to snatch the keys he’d been beelining for off their hook before he can get to them. 

He passes Mikey his phone, but not the keys, and leads the way to the garage. 

The good samaritan promises to stay on the phone until they arrive, agreeable and unbothered by losing a good chunk of the rest of their evening after a pretty shitty day at work. Gio rallies once or twice, but not for very long, and he sounds very grumpy when he does. His pissed-off turtle noises in the background are adorable, and do more to soothe Mikey’s worries than anything else. 

The curse was temporary and largely harmless, according to the representative from Witch Town who arrived on the scene to put out metaphorical fires. The sawyers had incidentally cut down a copse of trees they shouldn’t have, and the spirits who lived in it took issue with being soundly and unfairly evicted. They put a mean-spirited spell on the timber that caused disorientation like the kind they had felt when their homes had suddenly collapsed—but, the voice on the phone reports to Mikey, the spirits did feel bad about it when they saw a kid was involved. They coughed up the remedy pretty quick after Gio hit the ground. 

The whole thing is so typical of the chaotic, quasi-lawlessness of the Hidden City that Mikey almost wishes it had been a nefarious scheme just so he could feel something constructive, like anger with somewhere to go, instead of just dizzying, directionless panic. 

“But he’s okay? He’s fine?” he presses for probably the fifth time. 

“Oh, yeah, he’s one tough little turtle,” the stranger says at once.“I thought he was gonna take my whole arm off when I tried to help him up. Like, genuinely, it scared the hell out of me.” Somewhat distantly, the tough little turtle in question grumbles something Mikey can’t make out, and the stranger replies, in a tone that wouldn’t have sounded out of place on April teasing Donnie a lifetime ago, “Yes, you. You’re scary. All five feet of you.”

In his periphery, Mikey sees Raph lose to a reluctant smile. 

They’re in Hidden City limits within twenty minutes, following both S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N.’s pin on the GPS and the stranger’s somewhat unhelpful attempts at directions. The road they’re on ends in a gravel lot, vehicles blocked from going further by a traffic barrier. Mikey’s out of the van before Raph has a chance to put it in park, off like a shot, looking for landmarks. 

“You—uh, I think—I’m not trying to make assumptions, I know families come in all shapes and sizes, but I just saw a turtle with a ponytail, like, fly past me, was that you?”

Mikey backtracks, taking the left he initially skipped over. Down a narrow, winding city street, past closed shops and open bars, all the lit windows creating a checkerboard pattern on the street, blocks of yellow light that Mikey moves through one after another, only slowing when he’s right in front of a miserable pile of spotted turtle curled on the bottommost step of an employees-only entrance. 

There’s a tall yokai standing guard from a careful arm’s length away, but he may as well be a part of the scenery at the moment. All of Mikey’s attention belongs elsewhere. 

Gio’s forehead is pressed into the side of the handrail, spotted brow furrowed. Given that his resting expression gives the impression that he’s perpetually ticked off, Mikey can understand why a stranger might think he looks mean. But all Mikey can see is a sick kid who didn’t quite make it home before his legs gave out beneath him. 

Every molecule in his body is compelled urgently to scoop Gio up off the ground. He knows better.

“Hey, Georgie,” he says, cramming his phone into his pocket. “Are you with me, buddy? Can you hear me?”

When there isn’t an immediate response from his little brother, the stranger pipes up, “He comes out of it every few minutes. Here’s, uh, his phone?”

Remembering the other yokai exists, Mikey turns without standing, putting a protective shoulder firmly between his brother and the stranger, and takes stock of them. 

They’re tall and broad, with a distinctive square head, canine snout and floppy ears sticking out of a haphazard mass of yellow curls. Later, Mikey will know the coloring of their fur is called orange belton, common in setters. For now, he just thinks the warm brown and white splotches competing for space across their face are cute. Like an enthusiastic painting project. 

Most disarmingly, they’re wearing a vintage orange and blue Knicks hoodie. 

“Oh, shit,” Mikey says without thinking, accepting Gio’s phone from their outstretched hand. “You’re a New Yorker.”

Their uncertain smile slackens a bit in shock, then widens. “Yeah, man! Queens, born and raised.”

Now that Gio is safe in front of him and he has an iota of brainpower free to think of anything else, Mikey can hear the accent loud and clear. It’s stupid, but it causes a big chunk of his guard to go right down. This guy’s practically his neighbor. 

Since they aren’t going anywhere until Gio rouses enough to give anyone permission to touch him, Mikey settles in. To his surprise, the dog mutant settles in on his free side. 

His name is Woodrow Dirkins, he’s a year older than Mikey, and he mutated when he was fifteen. 

“I used to walk dogs around my neighborhood for extra cash,” he says with a remarkable amount of good humor about the whole thing. “Something stung me, and the next thing I know—well, getting Daisy back home to my neighbor without getting the cops called on me was, uh, not easy.”

“That must have been scary,” Mikey says softly, what’s left of his heart going out to that poor kid whose life got turned upside down without warning all those years ago.

“Definitely wasn’t how I’d have chosen to spend my summer,” Woody admits. “But it would’ve been a lot worse if I didn’t have my sister.”

He’d gone home eventually, because he was fifteen and he had to go home. His sister caught him climbing through the window, furious at his disappearing act first, and then horrified at the state of him. But his frightened, tearful stammering restructured her initial panic into older sibling caretaking mode that superseded everything else. She dragged him into her arms and locked him in a hug until his shuddering breaths evened out. 

Her first words about it had been “That goddamned Daisy.” And it surprised Woody into laughing. And they had figured it out together. 

“Finished high school online, got my bachelors in English the same way. Virtual tutoring helps in a pinch, you know, when there’s too much month at the end of the money, but gigwork in the Hidden City is what really pays my bills,” the dog mutant says, folding his gangly legs so that a passerby doesn’t have to step over them. “So no judgement, genuinely, I’m literally in the same boat. It’s just—Gio here is, uh—he works a lot, huh?”

Mikey’s mouth firms into a thin line. “Which is news to me.”

At that point, a deer yokai trying to leave the building they’re loitering at shuffles down the employee steps and then hovers awkwardly behind them. Mikey looks up at her and she immediately clambers over the railing and goes around them. 

“You’re kind of intense, huh,” Woody says. He’s smiling as he says it, curls falling into his eyes. 

In another life, they probably could have been friends. 

A quiet noise next to him steals all of Mikey’s focus. Gio lifts his head from where his forehead was braced on the railing. It takes him a minute to find Mikey’s face. His eyes are dark and muddy, slow to focus. When they do, his mouth turns down a little more in the corners. 

He looks the way Mikey looks when he’s trying not to cry. That’s how Mikey knows for certain that the poor kid isn’t feeling like himself. Curse remedies tend to cling like a bad hangover. 

“Sounds like you had a big night, Clementine,” Mikey goes on, his voice low and calm. “Ready to go home?”

“Didn’t want him to call,” Gio says, matching Mikey’s volume. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

Mikey’s little brother, everyone. He got cursed and didn’t think that was worth a phone call. Painfully self-conscious and overly cautious, lingering on the fringes of belonging because he wouldn’t know the first thing about barging right in and demanding his brothers’ time and attention, the way all of them grew up doing. 

It’s yours, Mikey wishes he could make Gio understand. You’re supposed to have it. We’re supposed to take care of you. 

“You never bother me,” Mikey says instead. Leo used to have a specific tone for wheedling Mikey out of a funk, a sternness that was so absolute it looped back around into silliness. It always made grumpy box turtles laugh despite themselves. Mikey tries to sound like Leo as he adds, “And even if you did, even if you were the most grumpy, annoying, high-maintenance little brother on the planet, I would still break a million laws and burn down the entire Hidden City and become the yokai’s most wanted just to get to you two minutes faster.”

Woody snorts. Gio doesn’t look convinced, because of course he doesn’t—but he untucks his fists from his tightly folded arms and takes Mikey’s hands when they’re offered. 

“Don’t burn it down,” he says seriously. “I work here.”

“So I’ve heard,” Mikey replies. “And we’re gonna have to have a fun talk about that once I’m a hundred percent certain all your insides are where they’re supposed to be. But for now, how ‘bout we blow this popsicle stand? There’s baked pasta at home with your name all over it.”

Gio blinks, eyelids heavy and sticking, and follows his hands toward the ones holding them, leaning until his big brother is the only one responsible for keeping him upright. Task assigned, Gio’s eyes slip closed and the tense line in his shoulders go lax and the whole of him gets abruptly heavier as he falls asleep. 

Sometimes Mikey is forcefully reminded of how much Gio trusts him, even though he’s done laughably little to deserve it. He didn’t not call because he didn’t think Mikey would come for him—just the opposite. And that’s not ideal, it’s something they still need to work on, but—

Mikey wraps his arms around the smaller turtle the way he’s wanted to since the second he first laid eyes on him, snug and tight and safe. 

It’s not ideal, but it matters so much. 

“The witch had us all put down our phone numbers so she could contact us about side effects to look out for,” Woody said quietly, “but that tough guy of yours took off as soon as we got the all-clear.”

“Of course he did,” Mikey said with exhausted affection. 

“I could forward the text to you when I get it?” Woody offers. He manages to look flustered through all that silky fur. It’s so easy for him to be kind, to take the risk and reach out. He’s painfully likable, the way Mikey used to be likable. 

Mikey presses his cheek to the top of Gio’s head and holds onto what sometimes feels like the only person he has left to hold onto and tries not to think about used-to-bes. Tries not to think about all the ways he falls short anymore. Tries not to think about all the people he’s let down. He failed once when he was a teenager in such a big way that he got stuck in the rut of it and never stopped. 

He already wishes for a hundred impossible things in a day, so what’s one more? 

“That’d be great,” he manages. “Thanks.”

He senses Raph before he hears him—even if he hadn’t, Woody’s faint “holy cats” would have been enough of a cue. Mikey doesn’t know how long his big brother has been hanging back, waiting for the right moment to approach, but if he had to guess he’d say probably since about ten seconds after Mikey got here. 

His silent offer to take Gio while Mikey exchanges numbers with Woody is perhaps the most surprising thing that’s happened all night. He cranes his head back to stare up at him, trying to remember one—even one—instance of Raph willingly reaching out to their formerly-estranged little brother. 

Raph’s expression is complicated, too many things going on for Mikey to parse before it smooths out again. “I got ‘im, Ange,” he says, more rueful than anything. “I know a thing or two about relocating sleeping turtles.”

Words notwithstanding, it’s been a long, long time since Raph has carried a smaller turtle anywhere, and he’s remembering how to do it in real time as Mikey passes Gio over. One big thumb brushes over a spotted shoulder. Raph at twenty-seven is a giant of a mutant, and Gio is next to nothing next to him, and holding him probably feels like being slingshot back in time. The slim curve of his black shell fits in Raph’s arm perfectly. 

“Don’t drop him,” Mikey orders. 

“Hey,” Raph says, only slightly too brittle to pass as playful, and Mikey doesn’t know which one of them he’s trying to convince when he goes on, “Raph would never.” 

And he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t. They make it back to the van without incident, Mikey’s phone feeling oddly heavy in his pocket, weighed down with one new contact. Raph doesn’t speak up again until they’re halfway home. 

“He seemed nice,” Raph comments.

“Do not,” Mikey shuts it down. 

“Okay, okay.” A blissful fifteen seconds of some Top 40s song on the radio goes by, and they stop for a crosswalk light, and Raph says, “He did, though. Seem nice.”

Woody was nice. He looked out for Mikey’s little brother, and stuck around to keep Mikey company when it would have made more sense for him to wash his hands of their whole situation the second he was free to. He didn’t question any of the things Mikey was halfway braced for him to—the black snaking marks on Mikey’s arms that he didn’t think to cover up on his mad dash out the door, the dozens of faded scars on Gio’s hands and arms that wouldn’t look out of place on a profession pit-fighter, the overly-cautious way Raph handled Gio, like he was a bomb that might go off any second. He just made light-hearted conversation and let Mikey exist beside him. He didn’t know who Mikey used to be, he didn’t need anything from the person Mikey was now. 

“The nicest thing I could do for him is stay far, far away,” Mikey says to the passenger seat window. “Since the only thing I know how to do for people is let them down.” 

“That has never been true,” Raph says immediately. The raw hurt in his voice makes Mikey feel wretched and small. “Everyone who knows you is so lucky, Mikey. And we all know it. We know how lucky we are, sunshine.”

Mikey curls his shoulders up to his ears and turns his face more firmly away. He’s too old to cry but the window won’t tell anyone.

Much, much later—after Gio has been herded into the living room and bundled onto the sofa, a big bowl of reheated pasta in his lap that he manages to soldier through—after he mumbles, halfway into the Lou Jitsu DVD Mikey put on, “I thought I heard Raphael. Was he here?” and then dozes off again before Mikey can come up with a good answer—after Donnie makes a frowning appearance in the doorway, observing the pile his two little brothers make on the sofa like he’s conducting the world’s easiest headcount before wordlessly taking himself away again—after all of that, Mikey’s phone chimes.

Woody🌼🐶 I told my sister about being literally cursed at work and she spiraled and ordered like ten dozen cookies as restitution???  <attachment> Woody🌼🐶 She says half of them are for your brother and i cant stress enough that she is the type of person who chooses violence at the earliest opportunity so like I need you to come get these before I eat the wrong one and take my life into my own hands

Against his will, and despite his better judgment, Mikey smiles.

[puppyluver256]

Sly maneuvered the chair so Hollow could easily get into it. “We even added this little thing in the back for your cane, so you can bring it along and switch from using it or not if, say, we go to Father’s home and you wish to use your cane for the climate.” Hornet showed them a pouch that acted almost as a built-in sheath. “Do you need help getting in, or do you want to try it later?” She asked, and Hollow didn’t even wait to answer. They swiveled their legs into a sitting position, having to wait a moment for them to settle. Twitching and aches still filled them, as if they stuffed their shell with dirtcarvers wiggling around. It didn’t stop them from standing, taking the big pulses for only a moment before sitting right back down in the chair. Thankfully, Sly had the foresight to lock it. Hollow immediately began feeling the silk armrests, and their body language showed they were so happy. “Love, love love!” They signed, not even knowing how to express it. Hornet was beaming, and Sly couldn't be happier to see it.

-----

Waaaaaaa, Aiding You With Love is so good, my buddy Gio does such good HK writing work and I've been meaning to draw something for this one for a while. Life got in the way of course, as it always does, but I got iiiiiit >:3c Let's consider this both a belated birthday present and a pick-me-up for the bad life event they've gone through this week. Love ya, bud ♥

💖🐶 Check out my pinned post for ways to support my artwork, among other things! 🐶💖

~Likes are appreciated, but reblogs are preferred as they let more people see my artwork! If you have something to say, feel free to give feedback in tags/comments/replies as well!~

The Hollow Knight and other Hollow Knight concepts © Team Cherry Artwork © PuppyLuver Studios, based on writing by @pollyannam3

[dolphin-enthusiast]

heyhey!! if u dont mind could u do hcs for the bucci gang(and if u dont mind could u include trish pls?) having a crush on giorno’s sister? like she’s super bubbly and kind of an airhead but can be really strong when needed, and because of that (and to keep her close) giorno invites her to the gang? im curious to see how would he react seeing his friends crushing on her- tysm!!💖💖

- When Giorno had oh so reluctantly brought his sister into the gang, it was natural of Bruno to welcome her with warm, caring arms. However, what the man certainly did not even dream of was falling for the bubbly girl as fast as he did, and yet Bruno chose to keep it a secret for quite some time since -not only was he not sure how to go about it exactly- but there was also the risk of giving Giorno the wrong idea. Fortunately though, Gio himself had surprisingly noticed the capo’s growing crush and, after a particularly though mission, Bruno had ended up confessing in the midst of fussing over her just a tiny bit too much than ususal due to said task being extraordinarily dangerous. Needless to say, Giorno couldn’t be more glad that the actual capo of his gang had his sister under his wing (even more so now that the two were an actual thing), the man’s spirits always being lifted whenver he’d hear her beaming laugh or see her hope inducing smile even on the darkest of days. The situation truly was reassuring for the girl’s brother.

- Abbacchio didn’t even realize he had harboured some serious feelings for the overly cheerful yet fierce girl until a long, long time had passes and he thought he might have overheard her talking about a potential crush one day. That’s when the crushing realization dawned upon him and Abba told himself that he HAD to do something about it. But was he good at carrying out said confession plan? Absolutely n o t. Moreso, the girl rather oblivious was under the impression that Abbacchio didn’t even like her to begin with (can’t really blame her considering how bad the poor emotionally constipated man is at showing feelings). Or that’s what he thought, because once he had actually mustered up courage and -awkwardly- confessed, the girl merely giggled as she nearly induced him a sheer heart attack by quickly pecking him on the lips and telling him that Giorno had already told her he had eyes for her. And the crush talk that he had overheard a while back was, indeed, referring to him. Alas, Abbacchio couldn’t really smack the fuck out of Giorno this time.

- Mista just fell for her right away, no fucking question about it. Her bubbly and optimistic behavior just did it for him, yknow? It just made him wanna protect and care for her but at the same time he greatly admired her fighting skills and strong spirit, not once invalidating her abilities since he was fully aware that she could both protect herself AND kick his ass if she so desired. That being said, Mista was quick to approach her and the two hit it off real fast, the man’s only concern being Giorno’s stabbing gazes directed at the back of his head whenever he was hanging out with his sister. It’s not like Giorno did NOT trust Mista, it’s just that he thought he was kind of a....bad influence, to say the least. But it’s not like he abolished their relationship, no no. He was actually really glad that his sister finally found a caring, wholesome and understanding partner that always put a smile to her face and supported her in and outside of the battlefield. Although he will keep a close eye on Mista...from time to time.

- Fugo is a bit like Abbacchio since the man did NOT notice it at first, though he was way quicker to come to his senses than our beloved goth. He thought her personality was the most gorgeous he had ever seen in his entire life; even though Fugo is usually reluctant when it comes to different/opposite people to him -ironic, since that’s what what would benefit him the most in a relationship. Either way, he ain’t THAT slick so of course that the girl eventually noticed and, in fact, made the first step as well! Fugo was pleasantly surprised to find out she was returning his humble feelings. Hell, he didn’t even believe at first and she really had to convince him by peppering a few kisses all over his blushing, beet root face. All of this while Giorno watched from afar with a small smile gracing his delicate features. These 2 are quite the odd couple to say the least, yet that doesn’t mean that it’s prone to failure at all.

- Narancia is literally the least subtle whilst also being extremely oblivious to HIS OWN feelings like...how does that even work? Literally anyone BUT HIM noticed the growing crush he had harbored for the new member and so Giorno had to step in and help him confess to his own sister. Yeah, you heard that right. Even though Giorno thought of the boy as an even greater public menace than Mista, he was just so hopeless he HAD to do something, yknow? Not to mention that his own sister seemed to like him back. And thus Gio put his plan into motion, making the 2 cross paths on a warm evening onto the balcony and ushering anyone else out of the house so they could share a private moment. It all went fine and dandy with Giorno’s sister literally picking up Narancia and spinning him around as she tenderly kissed him, and the 2 ended up being the chaotic couple (tm) of the gang. Also yes, Narancia DID taint his s/o and made her learn the torture dance as well.

- Trish had instantly realized she had fallen for the new recruit and yet her anxiety just couldn’t let her properly interact with the girl, let alone allow her to actually CONFESS. However, Trish is rather good at dropping hints as opposed to straight up confessing, and that’s exactly what she settled for. She would try to hang with her alot, make her laugh, help her out with chores; hell, my girl even offered to do her hair and makeup (a real pro, this one) countless of times and the tension was s t r o n g. And, although Gio’s sister was quite the oblivious airhead, she DID eventually pick up the signs. That’s exactly why, one day, when SHE was the one doing Trish’s makeup instead, the girl shyly beat around the bush about her crush on her as she was doing her eyeliner; but that was more than enough (and a big relief also) for the pink haired girl as she instantly leaped into her arms and tenderly kissed her, half done eyeliner now smudged all over her cheek. And yet neither of them seemed to care as they, at last, embraced eachother and came to terms with their feelings. These 2 are quite the iconique couple tbh, fighting side by side, kicking ass and overall growing together.

[artificialqueens]

Sweet Music Playing in the Dark: Ch. 1- Fire Escape (Craquaria)- Dill

hi everyone!! it’s been a while since i’ve submitted on this blog, but i decided to give it another go! this is the first chapter of a new fic i wrote a while ago and i’m (finally) almost done with the next chapter! you can find me @ drdill on AO3 as well as the remaining chapters of Home (the first fic i wrote)

I hate elevators.

You wait for half an eternity in the lobby fresh off your 9-to-5, only to crowd into a little 4x6 room just like every tired, irritable person around you, then stop at

Every.

Single.

Floor.

Don’t get me started about the summer when sweat becomes a factor. It’s a free, disrespectful sauna. If I didn’t live on the eighth floor, I’d take the stairs, but what sociopath would willingly do that?

It’s a Friday in late May, particularly Memorial Day weekend. The chipping cream-colored paint in the lobby paired with dirty maroon rugs welcomes me off the sunny Brooklyn streets. Most people around are eager to escape for the next couple of days, but I’m sequestered to my apartment to research the new summer color trends. How riveting. The bell rings as the doors open. Walking on quickly, I press the button and seclude myself in the corner. I feel like a fucking sardine, begging no one tries to speak to me as I put my earbuds in. Every “excuse me,” and quick neighbor catch-up is silenced by Bowie and the drums of “Fame.”

Though I’ve never spoken to anyone in this elevator, I somehow know all of them. There’s Joanne, who’s always in a hurry for no goddamn reason, Alan, the workaholic accountant whose undereye bags could be an airport carry-on item, Mike that calls his wife when he gets in the elevator, then gets mad when the signal cuts out, some others whose habits are mildly concerning, and me- the art school dropout. It’s a melting pot of people pretending to have their shit together until they step foot into this building.

I count the floors: 2, 3, 4, 5, and one by one, they shuffle off while I bob my head to the music. Finally able to breathe, I shift out of the corner when I notice a new guy hiding behind Mike. He’s shorter, no more than five and a half feet with umber hair that’s faded on the sides. His wardrobe might as well be a walking Gap advertisement- a powder blue button-up and khakis paired with matching brown belt and shoes. One last person gets off on the seventh floor before it’s just the two of us, causing more confusion when I realize he’s going to the same place I am. Why haven’t I seen him before?

He’s oblivious to my stare, scrolling through his phone. I’d be lying if I said he was my type, but I’d be lying more if I said he wasn’t pretty cute. His pants hug his hips nicely, showcasing his ass before my eyes wander to the front of his-

Pull yourself together, Giovanni. You can’t mind-fuck a stranger in the elevator.

A small hop and the doors open to the eighth floor. He follows me out, still ignorant of his surroundings, ice shuffling around in his coffee as he takes a sip. I reach my door and fumble with the keys when I notice he’s unlocking the door next to me.

That’s…Kevin’s place, as in my very loud, dark-skinned neighbor of 2 years, not this puny white guy. Based on his physique, there’s a zero percent chance he mugged Kevin, so why does he have a key? When he opens the door I hear him enthusiastically say “Hi, Muffin!”

Muffin is Kevin’s cat, so he clearly knows him well enough to be chill with the world’s most evil cat. Regardless, I get inside, throw my stuff on the kitchen table, and give Kevin a call.

“What’s up, G?” He sounds like he’s in a car.

“Hey, I just watched a very small white man walk into your apartment way too happy to see your demon-child.” I’m talking in a low voice as if he’ll hear me through the concrete walls.

His laugh erupts through my phone. “I’m sorry, girl. I totally forgot to tell you!”

“Kevin if this is another guy you met two weeks ago that ‘is definitely the one,’ I’m gonna move out. He’s clearly not your type.”

“Calm down, bitch! It’s just my friend Max. He’s moving here from Seattle in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the area. I invited him to stay at my place for the weekend while I’m gone. I just dropped him off from the airport.”

Ah, so that’s Max. Kevin’s mentioned his friend from college a few times but never gave much description. I was imagining someone a bit…taller. And more muscles for a guy with a black belt. It’s underwhelming.

“Rude of you to leave without saying goodbye, but I guess I’ll survive sitting alone outside.” Kevin and I have some intense solidarity from hating our neighbors and sharing a fire escape. Not a day goes by in warm weather without a quick chat on the metal platform. It all started with a false alarm one Tuesday night, causing both of us to run out like idiots and get to talking.

“I’m just going to visit my fam. My sister’s been bugging me to come and see her new house.”

I sigh dramatically. “My blunt and I will miss you dearly, princess. See you Monday?”

“You bet! Love you girl!”

“Love ya, bye.”

I hang up and think about my next move. Do I go over and say hi? That’s way too forward. Do I stay inside all weekend and act like I don’t know he’s here? Well, that would just make me a rude fake-neighbor. Neither sound too appealing at the moment. I settle for a compromise: I will introduce myself…tomorrow- let him get his feet wet a little bit in Brooklyn. I’m sure I’ll be seeing him around more often if he’s moving here soon, anyway. Satisfied with my plan, I make myself a grilled cheese because I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and get to work on my research.

—-

Dusk falls over the city and I’ve spent too long staring at Pantone’s Tumeric and Pepper Stem swatches with reference photos from fashion week. I form a makeshift portfolio for the editors and close my laptop. For finishing ahead of schedule, I roll a celebratory blunt and head for the fire escape.

A deep blue swallows the sky with a bright yellow streak as the sun sets over downtown. The temperature has finally cooled down as I step through my window and touch my sandal on the serrated metal beam. Supporting myself on the railing, I feel the night breeze run across my skin and catch my v-neck before raising the blunt between my lips, sparking the lighter quickly, and inhaling deeply. A quick burn runs through my throat on the first drag, eyes closed as I let the remaining smoke exhale to the sky. The streets are pretty peaceful at this hour, probably because there’s nothing around me but nail parlors, shoe stores, and boutiques that close at 6pm. My temporary neighbor has been suspiciously quiet all day. Normally I can hear Kevin washing his dishes or watching TV when I’m out here, so maybe he’s gone out for the night.

I’m about halfway through my joint when I hear blasting, stark trumpets from behind. Confused, I turn around and detect the sound coming from Kevin’s window, slightly cracked. I creep over to investigate, walking softly so the platform doesn’t rattle, slowly peeking through a slit in the curtain to see Max belting what sounds like “Boogie Wonderland” and dancing around Kevin’s kitchen. Now I can see why they were friends in college.

He’s cooking dinner- some type of pasta, adding pepper on beat and shimmying his shoulders. Those hips of his get put to work, scooting across the floor to grab the garlic bread and place it in the oven. It’s mesmerizing; hilarious, yet adorable, and I can’t look away. I start to realize how long I’ve been staring and get out of sight before he sees me. Somehow, I’m comfortable spying on this man but not knocking on the door and greeting him. Congrats, Gio. You’re officially a creep.

Max must be in a disco mood when the song fades out and “Relight My Fire” immediately follows. I’m giggling at the situation I’ve found myself. This definitely beats the same three Nicki Minaj songs Kevin plays on repeat while he cleans, so I might as well enjoy myself while it lasts. I finish the blunt as I begin dancing around the fire escape like an idiot, bouncing around and singing lightly to myself:

“Relight my fire,

Your love is my only desire,

Relight my fire,

Cause I nee-”

Spinning with my eyes closed might not have been the smartest idea. On my third rotation, my left sandal gets caught on the ladder as I started to move forward. My right knee hits the platform first, followed by my right hand, then elbow, then hip. A loud crash supported by sharp pain in my knee is enough to know I fucked up, and I will probably be getting some company out here soon.

The music ceases. Shit. I hear footsteps getting closer, my back facing the windows. The curtains are pulled back as a voice says “Oh my God!”

I look over my shoulder and see Max open the window and pop his head out. His face reads as really confused, but concerned.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh! Um, yeah. Yeah I’ll be okay,” I reply as I try to push myself up, hissing when I bend my knee. Looking down, I see a trail of dark red run down my leg. Great.

“Here, let me help you clean that up.” He motions me to come inside the apartment. Knowing that I fully don’t own band-aids like a dumbass, I have no choice to accept. I scoot my way over to the window and take his hand.

“‘Tis but a scratch,” I joke, lifting my leg onto the windowpane. He’s laughing while gently pulling me into the apartment. I take my previous statement back about his lack of muscles. His bicep is about to pop through the shirt sleeve, and I wouldn’t have a problem with that.

“I’m Kevin’s friend Max, by the way.”

“I’m Gio. I promise this isn’t a normal welcome to the neighborhood.” I’m shaking my head smiling.

“It’s better than the homeless guy that showed me a magic trick outside the coffee shop earlier,” he giggles.

He puts my arm around his shoulder and rests his at my waist as he walks me over to the kitchen chair, slowly drops me off, and props my leg on another. The apartment is lit dimly, only the lights above the stove and oven providing a yellow tinge to the room. I see a large pan of chicken alfredo and I’m suddenly hungry again. He turns off the burner, runs a washcloth under some cold water, and kneels next to me, lightly dabbing the wound to soak up the blood.

“Hold that there while I get some ice to help the swelling.” Our hands lightly brush against each other as he gets up to go to the fridge. I’m trying to understand the amount of care he’s giving me. He’s such a nice guy; I’m a complete stranger and he’s treating me better than most of my exes.

He grabs a zip-top bag from the drawer and starts filling it with ice.

“So, what brings you to Brooklyn?” I ask him, acting like I didn’t speak to Kevin hours ago.

“I’m getting relocated for work. The publishing company says they need my ‘talents’ in the New York office.” He’s using air quotes, blatantly unamused.

“Jeez, don’t sound so excited about it,” I smirk. He gives a soft smile, closing the freezer door.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy about the job or moving here, I just want more time write my own stuff instead of editing other people’s work.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Trying to be.” He shrugs, coming back to my side and lightly placing the ice above my scrape. I wince as the cold towel touches my skin.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I reply. “It sucks not getting to do what you’re passionate about, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” It’s silent for a little bit- the tales of a struggling artist.

“Do you want some wine? I probably shouldn’t drink the whole thing by myself.”

“Red or white?”

“White.”

“I could have a glass or two.” He smiles and heads back to the kitchen to get glasses and a wine opener.

“So,” he says twisting the corkscrew in, “what’s your story?”

I sigh deeply. “Moved here from Philly, dropped out of art school last year, haven’t told my parents yet, working at a fashion magazine on complete luck.”

“Holy shit, how’d you manage that?”

“I modeled for a photographer to make some money right after I withdrew from classes, and he was friends with an editor there who was looking to hire an assistant.”

“Okay, that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

“That he and the editor were close?”

“No, that you were a model. Do you want ice?”

I’m slightly taken back while he pours two glasses.

“Wait, what?”

“Ice?”

“No. Well, yes, but no the other thing.”

“What? I’m not blind. You’re cute.” What a charmer. I’m looking down, containing the huge grin on my face from his line of sight.

“Thank you.”

He hands a glass to me and heads for the bathroom. I shudder when it touches my tongue, further supporting my hate for dry wine. However, it’s free, therefore I will drink it happily. Upon returning, he brings some ointment and various sized band-aids.

“I wasn’t sure what size you’d need,” he laughs.

After drying the area around my wound, he applies the ointment, then gently places the bandage overtop. Every action thus far has been with such tender composure, as if he’s performing surgery. Wiping his fingers off, he grabs his wine and sits next to me- not on in a chair, on the floor with his legs crossed. I think he’s suddenly my type.

We exchange stares with silent smiles, finally giving me time to admire his soft, chestnut eyes that crinkle each time he grins, as well as the little, curled hairs resting on his forehead.

“You’re pretty cute, too,” I blurt out.

“Oh, thanks,” he says, a bit flustered at the compliment. His eyes look away, only to avert to my ice pack that starts leaking. I feel a drop of water run down my leg onto the floor.

“Let me get you a new one.” he starts to stand up. “I can get it.” I sit up and reach, getting used to the pain.

Our hands meet one another’s again as we grab for the washcloth at the same time. A tension begins to form in the air when we lock eyes less than a foot from each other’s face. His lips are slightly pursed, breathing heavier than normal.

It feels like slow motion as I lean in closer and shut my eyes. I feel his left hand relocate from my knee to the base of my neck, our lips separated by centimeters, foreheads touching as I feel his breath right under my nose. My lips brush lightly against his when-

DIIIIIIIIING

The oven timer provides as much warning as the fire alarm. We jump away at the sound, hearts pounding from shock. Max starts regaining his composure before jumping up and shutting it off. He rests his arms on the counter, sighing before looking back at me, holding back a laugh.

“I think my garlic bread is done.” His head falls in his hands as he starts to laugh from embarrassment. I join in as I stand up for the first time, limping over to the counter, and grabbing a potholder. He opens the oven door for me, red-faced as I place the tray on the stove, still laughing.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” He asks me.

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that since I smelled the garlic bread,” I giggle. He hands me a plate.

—-

I think I stayed at Kevin’s for about three hours. We talked about books, bonded over our dying love for Emma Stone, and gave each other new album suggestions while washing the dishes together. It felt so natural, to the point where we finished the bottle of wine even though I couldn’t stand it. A yawn builds up and I curse myself for getting tired, wishing I could stay until the sun rises.

“I think my bed is calling me,” I tell him. He nods.

“I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, and this time, I’ll try not to trip on the fire escape.” His giggle becomes my new favorite sound after hearing it so much.

Our goodbye was a quick hug, nothing more than the attempted kiss before dinner when I duck out the window and climb into my apartment.

Having this one close to home will be dangerous.

[askdiogoblinboots-blog]

[garage uv ray beam anon] alright, gio's on his way to ur lair. to do what? who knows! pay your fucking child support.

“He can eat my ass, i’m not paying up!” Dio hissed. He was feeling quite sassy today, more than he usually did.

[supportpiner]

Syncios data transfer s3 to iphone 6

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Xiaomi Mi 2/2A/3/4/4i/4C/4S/5/5S/5C/6/8/9/10/11, Xioami Mi Mix/Mix 2/Mix 2s, Xiaomi Mi Max/Max 2, Mi Note/Note 2/Note 3, Redmi 2/2A/3/3X/3S Prime/3S/3 Pro/4/4X, Redmi Note 2/3/4/5/6/7/8, Redmi Pro, etc.Īll Android phones and tablets supports Android 3.0 - Android 11.Just purchased a brand-new iPhone and decided to ditch the old Samsung Galaxy phone? The first and important issue you might concern about is how to get all important data files on old Samsung phone to the new iPhone. OnePlus 1, OnePlus2, OnePlus X, OnePlus 3, OnePlus 3T, OnePlus 5, OnePlus 5T, OnePlus 6, OnePlus 6T, OnePlus 7, OnePlus 7T, OnePlus 8, OnePlus 8 Pro, etc. Huawei P40, Huawei Mate 30/Mate 30 Pro, Huawei P30/P30 Pro, P20/P20 Pro, P10/P10 Plus, Huawei Honor 7/8/9/10, Huawei P9, Huawei P8, Huawei 6P, Huawei Mate 10, Huawei Mate 9, Huawei Mate 8, Huawei Mate 7, Huawei Ascend G6, Huawei Ascend P6, Huawei Ascend Y200/Y300/P1/P2/Mate/D1/D2/G300/G600, Ascend X, Honor, Vision, Sonic, Boulder, IDEOS X3/X5, and all Android devices Sony Xperia XZ Premium, Sony Xperia XZ, Xperia Z5, Xperia Z4, Xperia Z3, Xperia Z2, Xperia acro S/advance/E/J/L/M/U/miro/P/SP/S/SL/tipo/T/TL /TX/Z/Z1 /Zl /ZR/Ultra/go/sola, and all Android devices LG V40, LG G7, LG V30, LG G6, LG V20, LG G5, LG V10, LG Nexus 4/5, LG G2, LG Optimus 2X/3D/F3/F5/F6/F7/REGARD/G (Pro)/元/L5/L7/L9/Plus/M+/Me/One/Black, LG Enact, LG Rumor Reflex S, LG Lucid 1/2, LG Spirit 4G, LG Mach, LG Venice, LG Escape, LG Spectrum 1/2, LG Intuition, LG Motion 4G, Elite, Viper, Nitro, Marquee, Connect 4G, and all Android devices Pixel 5, Pixel 4, Pixel 4 XL, Pixel 3, Pixel 3 XL, Pixel 2, Pixel 2 XL, Pixel, Pixel XL, Google Nexus 6P, Google Nexus 6, Google Nexus 5, Google Nexus 5X, Google Nexus 4, Google Nexus S, Google Nexus One HTC Nexus, Google Nexus S 4G, Google Glass and all Android devices. HTC U Ultra/Play, HTC 10, HTC 9, HTC M9, HTC One M8, HTC One e8, HTC One remix, HTC One, HTC One max, HTC One mini, HTC One X/XL, HTC One V/VX, HTC One S/SV, HTC Droid Incredible 4G LTE, HTC Desire (C/X/SV), HTC Droid DNA, HTC EVO 4G LTE, HTC EVO Design 4G, HTC Butterfly (s), HTC Vivid, HTC Rezound, HTC Sensation, HTC Rhyme, HTC Hero S, and all Android devices Samsung Galaxy S21/S21+/S21 Ultra, Samsung Galaxy Note 20, Samsung Galaxy Note S20/S20+, Samsung Galaxy Note 10/Note 10+, Samsung Galaxy S10/S10+/S10e, Samsung Galaxy S9/S9 Plus, Samsung Galaxy S8/S8 Plus, Samsung Galaxy S7/S7 Edge, Samsung Galaxy S6/S6 Plus/S6 Edge(+), Galaxy S5, Galaxy Pro, Galaxy Mini 1/2, Samsung Galaxy Note 9/Note 8/Note 7/Note 5, Galaxy Note 1/2/3, Galaxy S Advance, Galaxy S (Plus), Galaxy S Aviator, Galaxy S Blaze 4G, Galaxy S Relay 4G, Galaxy S2, Galaxy S3 (mini), Galaxy S4 (mini), Galaxy S4 Zoom, Galaxy S4 Active, Galaxy Ace Plus, Galaxy Ace 1/2/3, Galaxy Amp, Galaxy Appeal, Galaxy Admire 1/2/4G, Galaxy Axiom, Galaxy Beam, Galaxy Centura, Galaxy Discover, Galaxy Express, Galaxy Exhilarate, Galaxy Exhibit, Galaxy Fit, Galaxy Fame, Galaxy Gio, Galaxy Pocket (Neo), Galaxy Prevail, Galaxy Proclaim, Galaxy Rugby Pro, Galaxy Reverb, Galaxy Rush, Galaxy Ring, Galaxy Stratosphere 2, Galaxy Stellar, Galaxy Mega, Galaxy Music, Galaxy Metrix 4G, Galaxy Legend, Galaxy Nexus, Galaxy Victory 4G LTE, Galaxy W, Galaxy Xcover 1/2, Galaxy Y (Pro), Galaxy Young, and all Android devices Android Devices : Android 3.0 - Android 11

[stickyyfingr]

you will see your beauty every moment that you rise ; 3

   “Do you, like,” Mista coughs, “I mean, when you say I’m… irreplaceable. Do you mean it?”

   “I don’t say things I don’t mean, Mista.”

   “No, I know that, I know, but…I don’t know. Haven’t been feelin’ it lately.”

mista recovers from injury the old-fashioned way. 

read under the cut or on ao3!

                                    you don’t see what you possess,                                          a beauty calm and clear

“Fuck, fuck, owch! God, when did it get so hard to sit up?”

“After you were stabbed and shot yourself three times.”

Bucciarati sets a bowl of pasta on the nightstand beside Mista, who has been bedridden since yesterday. Since Giorno hasn’t been around, out on a lengthy interrogation mission himself, Mista’s had to recover from his injuries the old-fashioned way--bandaged up and in bed until Giorno returns this evening. Although Mista’s never been one to keep quiet about the pain of the injuries inflicted on him -- usually by himself -- he’s always managed to adhere to his bed rest. 

Today, however, something seems off about him. It’s not in his manner of speech. It’s not overt in his actions. But Bucciarati can feel it in his gut, a hunch that something is amiss. Still, he doesn’t mention it, and he doesn’t plan to until he must. Besides, he doesn’t have any concrete evidence that his hunch is more than a hunch, so he leaves it be.

Bucciarati lends Mista a hand after a long moment of the other’s struggling, propping him up with a couple of pillows to make sure he’s comfortable. Luckily, Bucciarati is able to stay home and make sure Mista doesn’t hurt himself further today--the gang has, for the most part, been given a few days off now that they took care of their last assignment. 

“Thanks, Buch,” Mista grunts out once he manages to get himself upright. His hands are still a bit shaky, so Bucciarati also takes it upon himself to set the bowl in Mista’s lap, making sure it doesn’t fall and spill on him while he’s in no state to undress himself. 

“Never a problem, Mista,” Bucciarati gives him a small smile. “Although I must say I do wish you would be less reckless when it comes to these missions. You are irreplaceable as a gunslinger and as a teammate.” 

Mista seems to scoff at that, but it’s hard to tell as he shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. Even with his mouth full, his usual joking tone falls flat today. Bucciarati’s brows pinch subtly with concern. He stands for a moment, waiting to see if Mista elaborates further. But then the other looks at him with a brow cocked, and Bucciarati decides to treat it as a harmless tease. He tells himself that if Mista needs something, he’ll let him know, and then he turns to leave. 

Just upon reaching the door, he hears a, “wait a sec” behind him. Bucciarati turns his head, peering at Mista expectantly. The other sets the bowl down on his lap. He’s content with letting the heat radiating off of it soothe his aching legs. He stares into it, stirring the pasta mindlessly as if the words he needs are hiding in it. It’s odd to him, the feeling of asking for support, because he doesn’t often need it. The muddled quality of these shitty thoughts in his head is getting to him. 

“Do you, like,” Mista coughs, “I mean, when you say I’m…irreplaceable. Do you mean it?” 

“I don’t say things I don’t mean, Mista.”

“No, I know that, I know, but…I don’t know. Haven’t been feelin’ it lately.” 

Bucciarati turns fully, approaching the bed and, after a moment, sitting tentatively at the foot of it. He gives Mista a look that urges him to continue. Mista searches his pasta for more words like he’s already said all the ones he had to offer. Like the ones he has to say won’t carry the emotion behind them well enough. It has been a long time since he’s felt so weighed down. To be downtrodden and blue is unusual for him, and it always has been. 

“I guess it’s just been like...I dunno. After that last mission, I’m really wondering if I’m more of a liability than a teammate.”

“You’re not a liability at all,” Bucciarati shakes his head. He can’t even begin to fathom why Mista would doubt himself in such a way. “You’ve always been a crucial part of our success.”

“Yeah, but...since Giorno came around and I’ve been relying on his stand more and more, I guess I’ve been thinking more about wins and losses. You and him, you have this ability to lead confidently. If I get an order from either of you, I just know it’s the right thing, you know? Fugo’s super smart, and Narancia and Abba have these crazy useful abilities, and I guess I’m like…” Mista scratches the back of his head, which is, uncharacteristically, devoid of his hat. “What the hell do I do? Play with guns and then get hurt because I aim ‘em the wrong way?” 

Mista sighs deeply. Shakes his head, and then struggles to put the bowl on the table next to him, opting to hug a pillow instead. “Now that Gio’s not here to fix me up on the spot and I had to limp my way to the getaway car, I guess it’s setting in. I feel like I dragged everyone down, and it would’ve been so much easier if I was better at not getting hurt. Feels like it’s that way most of the time.”

Bucciarati’s hit suddenly with the memory of holding a limp Giorno in his arms, head hung low. Narancia was bleeding out down the aisle, Mista was passed out against a seat. Sardinia had been within reach. And he recalls blaming himself, barely maintaining his composure in front of Trish. He recalls the feeling of his father losing his battle for life in a hospital bed. The sight of him being wheeled away with severe injuries, the struggle of fighting the nurses barricading him from going along. 

“I suppose I understand why you would feel that way,” Bucciarati swallows, carefully choosing his next course of action. Mista’s too busy berating himself, staring down at his bandages, to notice Bucciarati’s hesitation. “But I assure you that your injuries were not for naught. We still came out of the mission alive.” 

Mista shrugs weakly in response, and it pulls at Bucciarati’s heartstrings to see him so subdued.

“Do you remember the day that Abbacchio was flying us to Sardinia, and in a matter of minutes, I’d almost lost all of you?”

Mista tries to pick out the memory from the fragments he has of Giorno’s first eight days. It feels like a fever dream, hazy and distant. “Sorta, yeah. I mean, I remember shooting that fugly meat mass in the face and then passing out. And I remember waking up when we’d already landed.”

“Giorno had lost both of his arms at the time. Narancia was bleeding out. It was just Trish and I sitting in the aisle, thinking we’d rid ourselves of that monstrosity, and the first thing I did was blame myself,” Bucciarati admits, crossing his legs as he casts his gaze down to his lap. “I sat there, and I said to myself, ‘this all happened because of me. Because I was naive enough to believe we would be safe on a plane.’” 

Mista picks his head up at that, a hint of passion returning to his eyes. “What? That’s crazy, you had no idea stands like that even existed! You were just doing what you thought would be best to keep us safe. And it paid off in the end, because look at us. Everyone’s alive, that shit-eating boss is dead, and you and Giorno are great at leading the new Passione.”

“Well,” Bucciarati locks eyes with Mista again, “I could say the same to you. I understand you when you say you feel like a liability. But things did not get dangerous just because of you. You chose your actions because you believed they were best. Our work has gotten more challenging now that we’re at the top.”

“Yeah,” Mista can’t formulate a solid argument to that. It’s true that it’s been hard work to rebuild Passione, and life as a gangster is always going to be difficult. “I guess you’re right.”

“I wouldn’t have recruited you if I didn’t trust your judgment. You are able to make calm and clear decisions, even in the face of true terror. And,” Bucciarati stands, but he maintains eye contact and shoots Mista a smile, “you have some of the best determinazione I’ve ever seen.”

Mista beams back at him. “Thanks, Bucciarati.”

“Of course. Now get some rest, alright? Giorno should be home within the hour.” 

Bucciarati heads downstairs, confident that he’s assuaged some of Mista’s insecurities. And Mista, newly reassured in his unwavering determinazione, decides that he better rest up so he can get back on the field as soon as possible. 

(Still, the ego boost goes right to his head. And Bucciarati ends up rushing right back upstairs when he hears a yowl of pain as Mista decides to lay back down way too quickly.)

[stealexploitprofit]

“fight me, you attractive stranger.”

With his Nidoking at his side, Giovanni was clearly marked as a trainer. Aboard the S.S. Anne that fact drew a lot of attention from bored passengers looking for a bit of excitement, so it wasn’t surprising to receive a challenge from one of them. The compliment didn’t hurt either, and Giovanni smiled unabashedly when he turned and saw his challenger.

Her long red hair was drawn up in a ponytail, bangs brushing against the top of her reflective shades. The Dewgong beside her suggested either experience or wealth—either way, its presence cemented her appeal.

“It would be my pleasure,” he said, withdrawing a Poké Ball. “Three on three?”

She tapped her chin with a Kalosian tipped nail, an appraising look on her face. “Sure… if that’s all you’re up for.”

She clearly didn’t know who he was, a feeling Giovanni had grown unaccustomed to. Most people in Kanto had heard of the hotshot Viridian Leader and his unstoppable team of ground-types, and were sufficiently awed upon meeting him. He’d given out several autographs on this cruise alone.

“If you want to fight my full team, you should come by my gym instead.”

She tilted her head slightly at the mention. “A gym leader, hm? Maybe I will, then.” She smirked, placing a hand on her hip. “Consider this a warmup.”

Her confidence was amusing—and, admittedly, alluring. Giovanni found himself hoping she would be able to back it up as he stepped back to make space for his Nidoking. A well-trained Dewgong was a not-inconsiderable threat to his team—best to take it out as soon as possible.

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said, bracing for an Aurora Beam. Nidoking would attack in the opening after the Dewgong made its move, and hopefully finish it in one blow. His Pokémon stood at the ready, aware of exactly what Giovanni had in mind.

“Ice Beam!” she called, catching Giovanni off guard. The Pokémon was much stronger than he’d been expecting, and as a blast of frigid blue energy shot out from the Dewgong’s horn he found himself rapidly reconsidering his strategy. There was no way they were going to take Dewgong down in one hit, not if it was experienced enough to know a move like Ice Beam, and Nidoking wasn’t going be able to withstand a second attack.

The ice hit Nidoking hard, leaving it dangerously close to a knockout. The Pokémon staggered but refused to fall, righting itself to go on the offensive. “Focus Blast!” Giovanni commanded. A ball of energy formed between Nidoking’s claws and it took aim at the ice-type, throwing the ball with all its might.

Giovanni stared intently as the attack zeroed in on its target, but the Dewgong was faster than the blast. It slid out of the way in time to narrowly miss being hit, and its trainer called out for another Ice Beam. Damn.

“Focus Blast, again!” He had to at least try to damage their opponent; unchecked, the Dewgong would shred through Giovanni’s two other Pokémon, regardless of which ones he chose.

Both Pokémon readied their attacks, firing them at the same time. This time Nidoking’s aim stayed true, connecting with the Dewgong even as Nidoking took the second Ice Beam hard on the chest. It stumbled again, but Giovanni had already withdrawn its Poké Ball. A disappointing performance, but it had managed to do something, at least. He called it back just as Nidoking hit the ground, fainted.

With the Dewgong sufficiently weakened, Giovanni was certain Nidoking’s counterpart could finish it off. He called out Nidoqueen, and the blue ground-type let out a roar that turned heads around them. Giovanni grinned, and across from him his opponent did the same.

“Thunderbolt!” 

“Dewgong, Rest!”

Nidoqueen roared again, thrusting its head forward. A blast of electricity shot forth from its horn, fast as lightning and just as deadly. And rather than shutting its eyes and regaining its strength, the Dewgong stared wide-eyed at the oncoming attack, wailing as the electricity hit it.

Its trainer clenched her fist, but called the Dewgong back after it fainted on the deck. “Nice moves,” she said. “See how you like this!” She released her next Pokémon, and a Kingdra appeared to hover between them.

For someone who didn’t know who he was, she certainly had a read on counters for his team. Thunderbolt was no longer the best play, and Giovanni didn’t have any dragons of his own to take hers down. Nidoqueen would have to do for now, and Giovanni would have to hope she was out of water-types. 

“Surf!” she called, spurring her Pokémon into action. The Kingdra conjured a giant wave of crystalline water, and Nidoqueen widened its stance to take the impact. Water surged over it; Giovanni lost sight of its blue scales as it took the brunt of the attack, but when the water faded down it was still standing, hurt but not incapacitated.

“Earthquake, now!” Giovanni called. A golden glow surrounded Nidoqueen before sharp rocks erupted from the ground beneath Kingdra with a booming crack. 

The Pokémon cried out, but its trainer was undeterred. “Finish it with Surf!” she commanded, pointing directly at Nidoqueen. Kingdra began to gather energy for another wave, and Giovanni pulled out Nidoqueen’s Poké Ball.

It would undoubtedly go down as Kingdra’s trainer had said if he left it in to take the hit. He didn’t have many options; most of his team had a double weakness to water, and those that didn’t were liable to go down instantly if luck wasn’t on their side.

With no time left to make the call, Giovanni withdrew Nidoqueen and sent out Marowak, just in time for the Surf to crash down upon it. Marowak was knocked to the ground, washed around by the residual current. “Get up!” Giovanni commanded.

Their opponent barked a short laugh. “You can’t seriously expect it to—” She stopped mid-sentence as Marowak staggered to its feet, supporting itself with its club. 

His gamble had paid off, and Giovanni wasted no time in taking advantage of it. “Use Bonemerang!” 

Marowak sent its club spinning at the Kingdra with all its focus, collapsing on the deck the moment the bone left its hand. It hit the Kingdra hard with an audible crack, and—as its trainer cried out, “No!”—came spinning back around it whack it across the back of its skull. The Pokémon fell from the air, collapsing on the deck, and Marowak reached a paw up to grab its club as it returned.

Their opponent wore an agitated look as she called the Kingdra back. In its place she released a Sneasel, and Giovanni had to hold back a victorious grin. Even with both his Pokémon weakened, he could win this. She must have been out of viable counters; how disappointing for her.

“Finish it off,” she said. “Icicle Crash.”

Marowak didn’t have a chance. A dozen pointed icicles appeared in the air above it and came crashing down, knocking the weakened ground-type out instantly.

Giovanni returned Nidoqueen to the field, and the dual-type glanced over its shoulder at him. He gave a nod, eyes narrowed, and Nidoqueen returned the gesture before facing its opponent once again.

“Icicle Crash!”

The attack repeated, driving Nidoqueen down to all fours. Its shoulders shuddered, but Giovanni didn’t need to speak a single word to encourage it to rise. It stood on its own, a low warning growl in the back of its throat.

“Earthquake.”

It was over in an instant. The quake knocked Sneasel to the ground, and the resulting stones crashed down upon it. When they vanished, the Pokémon was left sprawled out on the deck, unmoving. Its trainer recalled it brusquely, then closed the distance between herself and Giovanni. 

“Nice job,” he said, recalling his own Pokémon.

She shrugged. “Could’ve been better. You got lucky with that Marowak.”

“I did,” he agreed. He’d been unlucky with Focus Blast, but he didn’t feel the need to bring it up. “Still want that rematch?”

She pushed up her sunglasses so that they rested on top of her head and revealed a mischievous expression. “Eventually. Right now I’m wondering if you have any plans for tonight.”

Her eyes were sapphire blue, as vibrant as the ocean around them. Giovanni moved closer to her, shrugging and cocking his head to the side. “I believe do now,” he said. 

In return he received a quirk of the lips and huff of laughter. “I’m Victoria. Nice to meet you, Stranger.”

“Call me Giovanni.”

She hummed. “Nice to meet you, Gio.”

[djgblogger-blog]

In razing its modernist buildings, Iran is erasing its past Western influence

http://bit.ly/2w6ypRL

A view of Tehran, with its mix of traditional and modern design. Jørn Eriksson/Flick, CC BY-ND

Hassan Rouhani’s re-election as Iran’s president has rekindled hope for liberals in the country. During his first term, Iran began edging closer to the West, and his positions on both international and domestic affairs indicate further openness to its influence.

Current battleground issues in Iran include not just social and economic policy but also cultural concerns. Specifically, say architects and historians, Iran must take action to protect its modern architectural heritage before it’s too late.

Iran is known for its magnificent Persian design but, in the late 19th and 20th century, its capital Tehran saw renowned Western architects, including prominent modernists such as Frank Lloyd Wright (1867-1959), build some of the city’s iconic structures.

Today, some have been razed and many more are in danger of demolition or collapse. Without protection, these buildings, which bear testament to Iran’s historic openness to the West, will be reduced to dust, beams and concrete blocks.

A disappearing modern heritage

On January 19 2017, the Plasco Tower, a 17-story high-rise, collapsed in the centre of Tehran killing more than 20 firefighters and injuring dozens.

Collapse of Plasco Tower.

The iconic building was designed by American architects – Benjamin Brown and Spero Daltas – who set up shop in Tehran in 1957 during the rule of King Mohammad Reza Shah (1941-1979). The Shah had made it his mission to construct in Iran a “great civilisation”. To do so, Tehran had to become a modern globalised city, with vast avenues and planned design.

Iran’s 20th-century modernisation process coincided with that of many other Middle Eastern countries. Nations such as Egypt Turkey and Iran felt a need to infuse their ancient civilisations with new ideas and influence, including Western infrastructure and educational models.

Tehran’s American-designed master plan called for a series of residential and commercial areas linked by highways. Self/Wikimedia, CC BY-ND

In Iran, the process was fuelled by increasing oil revenue, which helped finance massive new developments that would turn its capital into a modern metropolis. For these ambitious plans, the government hired Western architects, urban planners and other experts to come work in Tehran.

The American planner Victor Gruen devised the city’s 1968 master plan, conceiving of an expansive Tehran with commercial centres and residential neighbourhoods connected by highways.

This golden age of urban development also saw wealthy parts of Tehran bloom with privately financed construction.

That all changed in 1979. After the Iranian Revolution, Tehran turned inward, closing its gates to the West.

Tehran’s short memory

Today, Iranian scholars, architects and intellectuals – including Parshia Qaregozloo, who curated Iran’s pavilion at the 2016 Venice biennial and Leila Araghian, architect of Tehran’s new high-tech Tabiat bridge and Ali Mozaffari, founding co-editor of the Berghahn Explorations in Heritage Studies book series – are raising concerns that the nation may have too short a cultural memory.

Many notable mid-century buildings have been neglected in the past decade, including the ornate Sabet Pasal mansion in Tehran, known as Iran’s Palace of Versailles, which narrowly avoided being demolished in 2015. And the 1966 Frank Lloyd Wright-designed Morvarid (Pearl) Palace, in the city of Karaj, which once belonged to the Shah’s sister, Shams Pahlavi.

The Pearl Palace in Karaj, Iran. Ararat-tehran/Wikimedia, CC BY-NC

Important private residences in Tehran are also at risk of destruction. In the affluent Zaferanieh neighbourhood, these include the former home of Queen Turan, the wife of Reza Shah (father or Iran’s last shah), and a villa frequented by Forough Farrokhzad, an Iranian poetess and film director of the 1960s, as well as the Panahi House, which was designed by the French architect Roland Dubrulle.

Villa Namazee

Villa Namazee is probably the most iconic of all the endangered contemporary structures. Designed by Milan-based architect and industrial designer Giovanni Ponti (1891-1979), one of the leading figures of Postwar Italian modernism (and the founder of Domus magazine), the villa has an open plan, a suspended roof and external openings protected by wide overhanging eaves.

View of the internal courtyard at Villa Namazee. © Gio Ponti Archive

Ponti, who built Italy’s first skyscraper, was known for his value of classical order, integrity of building materials, new production techniques and sensitivity to designing around both human need and environmental conditions.

In 1957, he was commissioned by the wealthy Namazee family to design a residence in the affluent Niavaran district to the north of Tehran’s foothills, in collaboration with Fausto Melotti (1901-1986) and Paolo De Poli (1905-1996). The house has sliding doors and internal windows that offer full cross-views, and it demonstrates the same inventive joie de vivre style as Ponti’s projects in Caracas, Venezuela (the Villa Planchart and the Villa Arreaza).

Facade of the Villa Namazee. © Gio Ponti Archive.

Interior of the Villa Namazee. © Gio Ponti Archive.

In 2007, Villa Namazee was registered as national heritage, but it was acquired by a new owner four years ago and removed from the list, paving the way for the construction of a 20-storey luxury hotel.

Porti’s other work in the Middle East was the office of the ministry of planning in Baghdad, built in 1957. Its enormous outdoors portico and greyish blue ceramic tiles were partly destroyed in the Iraq war.

Why do we need to save modern heritage?

When the government removes historic structures such as the Villa Namazee from its national heritage list, it demonstrates a worrisome privileging of certain moments in its past over others that also have cultural value.

Many Iranians remain attached to these modernist symbols, and there have been significant efforts to save them in recent years. Some Iranian activists, calling themselves the People’s Committee for Conservation of Historical Houses in Tehran, have launched a website defending Tehran’s landmarks.

Public outcry against the plan to raze the Villa Namazee has been fierce. Petitions to save it were circulated globally and supported by UNESCO and the Germany-based International Committee for Documentation, and the Conservation of Buildings and Sites and Neighbourhoods of the Modern Movement, among other international organisations. This well-publicised case may also help save other modern buildings in the future.

An anonymous group has started a conservation effort to protect historic homes in Tehran. THHC

The destruction of such structures erases all signs of contemporary Tehran’s modernist heritage. Mid-century residences and office buildings are not only physical links to a time when Iran opened its doors to the West, they are also memories of the aristocrats of the past regime, and of radical poets and writers and intellectuals, whose ways of life are much less visible in Iran today.

Asma MEHAN is a Research Fellow at the Alfred Deakin Institute (ADI) in Deakin University, Melbourne (Australia) and Ph.D. Candidate in Architecture- History- Project Doctoral Program in the Department of Architecture and Design (DAD), Politecnico di Torino, Torino (Italy).

[brumbiescoverage17-blog]

Analysis Piece

Brumbies vs Blues

 The Brumbies were unable to get a win against the Blues, losing 12-18 in a bruising encounter in the Capital. Here, we look at some of the key factors and performances which shaped the score line.

 Defensive Showdown

 With the sun beaming down on GIO Stadium, Sunday evenings game should have been a perfect opportunity for both sides to show off their attack. It was clear from the early going however, that these sides were a great match for each other, with neither side able to string phases together.

 It was a defensive masterclass from both teams. The Blues stifled the Brumbies, playing three full-backs in phase play and coming up hard in a line. When they had the opportunity, they targeted the breakdown, particularly with Akira Ioane. The Brumbies defended admirably throughout the game also. The Brumbies tend to defend quite narrow, and were caught out a few times by the Blues. However, their recovery tackles were executed very well, and the Blues rarely cut the Brumbies open. The Brumbies red-zone defense was excellent. A sign of a team’s desire to win is how they defend in their own 22, and the Brumbies stood up on a number of occasions, stopping the Blues close to their line.

 Brumbies execution in attack

 In these tight, defensive games, you have to take your chances when they come. The Blues did, and that’s why they won the game. If you take Melani Nanai’s try, which secured the win for the visitors as an example. The two passes which put Nanai in for the score, were perfect, Matt Duffie’s inside ball especially. Executing these skills under extreme pressure, is what turns half-opportunities, into tries.

 The Brumbies simply made too many mistakes when they had the ball. Many of these errors can be attributed to the defensive effort of the Blues, but the Brumbies will still be disappointed they let chances slip. The Brumbies have shown in previous rounds, that they have the ability to score with the best. Against the Blues, they had an off night, not executing when they needed to.

    Top Performers

 Blues

 Akira Ioane

 A replacement for All-Blacks legend Jerome Kaino, Ioane was outstanding for the Blues. The fledgling Number 8 has a growing reputation in the game, his ability with the ball in his hands a natural gift that few possess. It was his work at the breakdown which impressed the most. His role in the Blues defense was to roam behind the line of defense, and target the ball when the Brumbies attackers were isolate, and he stuck to his job, getting several turnovers at the ruck. A try in the 54th minute was a fitting reward for an excellent display by the young back-row.

 Matt Duffie

 Can’t argue with Duffie’s stats on the night, one try and one assist. His two contributions went a long way to deciding the result. He had a special moment in the game as well. Early in the game, he had a chance to score in the corner. Tom Banks covered superbly, limiting the space Duffie had to get the ball down. Duffie, a former Rugby-league player (he played 61 times for the Melbourne Storm), took inspiration from his former code, launching himself in the air towards the corner flag. Angling his body mid-air to evade the effort of Banks, he touched the ball down. It looked surely to be one of the moments of the season, but Banks’ incredible tackle meant Duffie placed the ball on the line. No reward for his athleticism and bravery, but it was a special moment, one which I’m sure even some Brumbies fans enjoyed.

 Brumbies

 Andrew Smith

 To keep with the defensive theme, Andrew Smith put in titanic display in the midfield against the Blues. Playing in some ways out of position, Smith certainly more of an outside-centre than inside-centre, he defended magnificently. Especially when you consider the opposition. Love him or hate him, Sonny-Bill Williams remains one of the best players in the word on his day, and Smith shut him down for the entire game. Williams is frightening for oppositions when he takes the ball to the line, his offloading ability means you can’t really commit too many tacklers to him. Smith didn’t need any help. When Williams ran down his channel, Smith set his feet, and chopped him low. Nullifying one of the Blues biggest threats was always going to be important in the game, and Smith’s performance meant Sonny-Bill wasn’t much of a factor.

  Tom Banks

 Banks has impressed early in his Brumbies career, doing all the little things right. Recalled to the starting XV at full-back, after an incredible performance for Uni-Norths in the John I Dent Cup, Banks played an assured game at 15. He looked comfortable under the high ball, kicked well, and put in some good hits when covering in defense. Brumbies fans got glimpses of Banks’ pace too. One moment sticks out early in the game, when Banks tore the Blues apart with his exceptional speed. The Brumbies couldn’t convert off that bit of magic from Banks but there was definitely a lot he can take from the game.

 Where the game was decided

 Taking your chances is critical. This is the highest level of professional club rugby on the planet, and you rarely get away with not capitalizing on chances when you get them. That was really the only difference between the two sides. The Blues executed the necessary skills to score tries and the Brumbies didn’t. The Blues may not be the top side in the New Zealand conference, but make no mistake, they are a fantastic side, full of top talent. The Brumbies are one or two notches away from being one of the best teams in the competition, but those two notches make the difference. The Brumbies will feel this is a game that they let slip away from them, but will not fear any side who travels to Canberra. With finals footy looming, the Brumbies will use this bye week to correct the wrongs of these last few weeks, where they have been competitive, but not winners. A win against the Lions on the 12th of May is a must, and with the support of the Brumbies amazing fans, they will look to get their season back on track.

[freshmusicfreak]

Bethel Woods, NY – Celebrating its fourth annual stateside residency and 25th year in existence, the world’s longest-running electronic music festival, Website, will open a portal to an extraordinary world this June 9th – 12th, 2017, inviting fans to enter the gates of Bethel Woods, New York. Embracing its roots as home to the legendary Woodstock festival, the masterful creators behind Mysteryland USA have completely reimagined the musical landscape of Bethel Woods for this year’s edition, assembling an all-star cast of emerging artists alongside a master class of talent.

Captivating the Catskill Mountains this summer will be the smooth flows of G-Eazy, closing out Friday and the first night of Mysteryland USA. Also joining the roster of headliners are Brooklyn’s own LCD Soundsystem performing on Saturday night amid rumors of a forthcoming studio album and following an epic comeback tour in 2016, plus the always-electrifying Major Lazer, who will undoubtedly leave revelers wanting more during the grand finale on Sunday night. Setting the stage for an insanely dynamic weekend, the headliners offer up a taste of what to expect as Mysteryland USA expands this year’s curation beyond the realm of traditional dance music to include a more diverse selection of music genres, satisfying festival aficionados across the board.

Supporting headliner acts include the sultry horn swagger of Colorado’s Big Gigantic juxtaposed against South Africa’s explosive, rave-rap orchestrators of dance Die Antwoord, plus the imaginative sounds of prodigal producer Porter Robinson colliding across the grounds with relentless beats delivered by kingpin of trap music, RL Grime. Recently dubbed “hip hop’s most intense truth tellers” by Rolling Stone, Killer Mike and El-P complete the full list of 2017 headliners, dominating the stage together as fierce rap duo Run The Jewels.

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Mysteryland USA turned to the concrete jungle of New York to further complement the incredible lineup, bringing illuminating live-act Bob Moses, electro-chill producer Jai Wolf and Founder of Fool’s Gold Records, turntablist and driving force in the electronic-rap movement A-Trak to the fields. Rounding out the list of top names include Eats Everything, Baauer, Louis The Child, Cashmere Cat, futuristic beat architect Clams Casino, Duke Dumont, Robert Delong, Elohim, Skream, Hot Creations label frontman and 2017 Mysteryland stage host Jamie Jones, Patrick Topping, Ekali, tastemaking queen of bass Anna Lunoe, acid house DJ/producer Boys Noize, Ghastly, and Snails. Full lineup of MLUSA 2017 Artists — below!

“Made Event, a LiveStyle, Inc. company, with a great history in New York as the premier festival producer in the market, is joining ID&T in presenting one of the longest running festivals in the world, Mysteryland. It is often said that the elements of a great festival are the DNA of the founders, the talent line-up, and a killer site. Mysteryland has all of that going for it since Bethel Woods is mind-blowing as a destination location for music and the culture behind it.” – Randy Phillips, LiveStyle President and CEO

Consistently recognized worldwide for visionary design and unique stage production, Mysteryland USA has newly employed the ingenuity of three internationally acclaimed vibe selectors to host distinct immersive experiences, pushing each stage to the next level: elrow, Future Classic, and Paradise. Deemed ‘Club of the Year’ by Mixmag and driving force as a global party brand, elrow makes its way to Bethel Woods to transform the ethereal grounds into a lavish party of epic proportions, leaving a trail of confetti and euphoria in its wake. Sydney-based, progressive collective, Future Classic, will be throwing everything but the kitchen sink onto the dance floor, curating an eclectic lineup of artists to select tracks ranging from future bass to acid house and everything in-between. Those in search of more intimate, underground vibes in the midst of the pulsating festival, will find precisely that when they enter Paradise – an offshoot of Mysteryland artist Jamie Jones’ top rated party in Ibiza.

Continuing its tradition of celebrating the works of New York artists, labels and collectives, the festival invites hosting partners: Bushwick A/V, House Of Yes, and Safer At Night to redefine the meaning of Mysteryland USA through their respective lenses. Leading the charge in the NY afterhours scene, Bushwick A/V curates an uncompromising and eclectic roster of talent, bringing together local heroes and the international underground in unprecedented alchemy. Never taking no for an answer, Bushwick-based House of Yes will turn the festival on its head with themed day and night parties, aerial performances, laser beams, and no shortage of champagne. New York and Berlin-based label, Safer At Nigh, will provide festival attendees with a house and techno sanctuary under the cover of darkness, with two out of the three founders, Lawrence Lee and Cranks, at the helm.

Tipping their hats to West Coast culture, Mysteryland USA invites San Francisco and New York-based collective behind “moving sculpture, roaming art gallery and music stage all in one massive vehicle,” Icarus to land their Alien meets Studio 54 ship onto the Woodstock grounds. Dusty globetrotting brigade, Desert Hearts, will be bringing the heat, curating a community-oriented house and techno gathering one of the festival days, achieving a memorable energetic ambience that pushes house and techno to the forefront.

Tickets for Mysteryland USA 2017 are on sale now with 3-Day Nomad, Premium, and Platinum packages. Mysteryland USA also offers luxury camping accommodations with Easy Tents and Bird’s Nest upgrades available. 4-installment payment plans for all ticket and camping options will be available at the current pricing tier through Tuesday, February 14th at 11:59PM.

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2017 Mysteryland USA Lineup G-Eazy (Friday) – LCD Soundsystem (Saturday) – Major Lazer (Sunday) – Big Gigantic – Die Antwoord – Porter Robinson – RL Grime – Run The Jewels – A-Trak – Anna Lunoe – Art Department – Baauer – Bob Moses – Boogie – Boys Noize – Cashmere Cat – Clams Casino – Duke Dumont – Eats Everything – Ekali – Flight Facilities (DJ set) – Frenship – Ghastly – Giraffage – Goldroom – Guy Gerber – Hector – Holy Ghost! – Illenium – Jai Wolf – Jamie Jones – Jazz Cartier – Kayzo – Kungs – Leon Vynehall – Louis The Child – Mount Kimbie – Ookay – Patrick Topping – Robert DeLong – Skream – Snails – Touch Sensitive – Wave Racer – Zomboy – Andres Campo – Bedouin – Bleep Bloop – Brunch Bounce – Buku – Conro – Darnell Williams – DJ Sliink – Dombresky – Elderbrook – Eli Escobar – Elohim – Future Classic DJS – Graves – Loosid – Louis Futon – Minnesota – Nathan Barato – Nebbra – Prince Fox – Said The Sky – SAYMYNAME – Toni Varga – XYLO – Airway – Analog Soul – Cartel Twins – Champagne Drip – Charles Meyer – Cranks – Dede – DJ Aro – DJ Qu Eauxzown – Gio Gulez – Hewy – High Math – Illich Mujica – Kiwi – Lawrence Lee – Lestat – Motum – Myroslaw Bytz – Octo Octa – Pablo Romero – Peter Fonda – Ronaissance – Shahar – Simon Heyliger – White Cliffs

About Mysteryland Weaving dreams into reality since 1993, Mysteryland has reigned supreme as the world’s longest-running electronic music festival, serving as a driving force in the electronic music revolution for over two decades. Cultivating experiences that are focused on music, culture, art and sustainability, Mysteryland is a pioneer in the realm of festival production, building a global reputation for awakening the senses of those in attendance. With roots embedded in the Netherlands, Mysteryland expanded into international waters first to Chile in 2011, then once again in 2014 to Bethel Woods, New York, where the first edition of Mysteryland USA was held. Mysteryland USA will return for the fourth annual edition to the legendary grounds of Bethel Woods, New York, previously host to Woodstock Festival, June 9th – 12th, 2017.

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#Mysteryland USA 2017 Unveils Genre-Bending Lineup Bethel Woods, NY - Celebrating its fourth annual stateside residency and 25th year in existence, the world’s longest-running electronic music festival,