#It was apparently part of a collectible series of Mother marbles sets that you could play with multiple people it was cute

[sysig]

I got about 700 words into my Notes app and then decided, yeah actually I should probably write this down somewhere for realsies

[doiefy]

dandelion seeds // lee donghyuck

part of the visions series; inspired by and set in the world of genshin impact.

Childish wishes made in the wind.

pairing: lee donghyuck x gn. reader genre: angst, fantasy word count: 1.5k warnings: discussions around death and suicide, implied suicide, major character death

taglist: @jenoxygen @zlmzym​ @vantaecult (dm, ask or reply to be put on/taken off the masterlist for this series)

finally finished inazuma archon quest today. no clue why it took so long but sheesh the cutscenes still have me shaking in my boots.

YOU WERE SEVEN when you met him.

Your first glimpse of him had been beyond the cobblestone walls of the city, in the dandelion fields—where the wind whispered sweet melodies and foraged a shifting path through the tall grass. It carried the aroma of sweet flowers from the wilderness and freshly-baked bread from the bakery, and a multitude of golden specks as the children scattered the dandelion seeds. Hopes, dreams and visions carried off into a boundless expanse of sky; you’d always hoped one of yours would one day reach the gods. It was a common wish amongst the children, but apparently not for the boy who sat alone at the edge of the field.

He did seem rather sullen. Not exactly hostile or withdrawn from the rest of you, but sulky. He always looked a little too busy to join the others, poking images into the dirt with a stick and mumbling to himself. When you walked up to him, he had a single dandelion in hand—one that still hadn’t turned white and wispy, with yellow petals that matched the golden glow of his eyes. He was tearing the petals out one at a time in some sort of silent temper tantrum, flinging them into the tiny pile of sand and pebbles he’d collected earlier.

“You shouldn’t be doing that,” you told him bluntly. He looked up at you in surprise, and instantly froze—a stark contrast to whatever sass you were expecting from him. “Mother says dandelions are…” You wracked your brain for the word you remembered her teaching you the night previous. “Scared.” That wasn’t right. “Scar… sac… sacred. That means they’re special. So you shouldn’t hurt them.”

“And you shouldn’t tell other people what to do,” he mumbled, looking away once he’d overcome the initial shock and embarrassment of being confronted. The other children didn’t usually talk to him. “I’m making dandelion wine.”

The bitter yellow liquid adults drank. You looked down at his pile of rocks, and then the wooden cup of water he’d scooped up from the lake. “I don’t think you can drink rocks.” He looked unimpressed, so you stopped to think of a better argument. “The rock god made rocks for us to dig up and make into things like… houses and jewels and jewellery! Not to… drink.”

He scoffed. “I don’t believe in gods.”

“Why not?”

“Just because.”

“Oh.”

You’d never heard of anyone who didn’t believe in the gods. They were real. You knew they were. You could even see them in the sky: a jagged formation of stone and marble far beyond your reach, where all the greatest heroes went after their time on the earth.

“What’s your name?” you asked him curiously, though you had secret intentions of running home and telling your mother about the strange boy you just met. She would surely give you a lecture for being out at play while dinner grew cold on the table, but you already had the most wondrous stories dreamt up to recount to her.

The boy shrugged, but his eyes flashed with a sort of mischievousness: specks of gold in his iris like scattering yellow petals and amber bits of stone. He handed you the rest of his dandelion—albeit half-destroyed, but a silent peace offering. “Donghyuck.”

So began your friendship.

You were fifteen when you received your Vision.

Bright red, inlaid with flames, infused with a fervent passion and determination you didn’t even know you had. It appeared soundlessly on your desk while you were scribbling a letter to your older brother, and you didn’t even notice it until you’d returned from the postal office. Too tired from the day’s work, you could only attach it to your jacket and put out the candles with your newfound abilities before collapsing into bed.

“How come you get a Vision?” Donghyuck asked the next day, while the two of you skinned and cleaned the carcasses of the rabbits he’d hunted. He was a good shot; a single arrow through the eyes of all of them.

“It’s not like I’ll use it for anything,” you shrugged. “Why are you so upset? You don’t even believe in the gods. They’ll never give you one if you keep up with that attitude.”

“I never said I don’t believe in their existence,” he countered swiftly. “I just said I don’t believe in them. They’ve never been here for us. And they never will be.”

Donghyuck received his own Vision only a couple days later, and he immediately flung it off the highest tower of the cathedral. Though unsurprisingly, as a gem crafted by the archons themselves, it survived unscathed.

Donghyuck was only upset because the stone was turquoise and inlaid with the sigil of your own patron god, the one who’d disappeared long ago. In his eyes, it was mockery. A reminder of all the tragedy in his own life, and how the supposed supernatural beings in the sky had no intentions of doing anything more than giving him a stone and some vague instructions to fix everything on his own.

But he got over it quickly. Soon, he was dousing your flames with gusts of air strong enough to blow down the entire house. He was summoning wind currents and gliding around the city with you, grabbing your hand and bolting down the streets when the knights learned of all your mischief. He was charming girls in the park and stealing bread from the bakers simply for the thrill, running as free and wild as the wind in your hair.

You were eighteen when you noticed.

Sometimes, Donghyuck jumped from the church towers and unfurled his gliding wings just a little too close to the ground. Sometimes he went diving off the cliffs and swimming in the freezing ocean water without telling anyone. Sometimes he walked too close to the edge of a drop, like he was just waiting for a breeze to knock him over. Sometimes, you thought the freedom his Vision had granted him would make him do something he regretted.

“Wonder what it’d be like,” he murmured to you one night, when you’d climbed up to the highest windmill in the city. He was looking up at the mountains, where the peak met the cosmos in a swirl of snow and ice. “To go up there.”

“How would you get back down?” you asked, without really thinking too much about what you’d just insinuated. The adventurers who loitered around the tavern—even the most seasoned ones—always said it was easier climbing up than it was climbing down. The winds made it too difficult to glide, and the slope was always noticeably more slippery on the way down.

And besides, Donghyuck would never go that far, would he? He was a trickster, a tease, a show-off; he jumped and did things he wasn’t supposed to only because he wanted to show off. Because he wouldn’t actually—

“Jump, I guess. Hit the ground hard,” he shrugged. “Or just never come down. They say the temperatures are low enough to kill you in minutes.” He took a thoughtful pause. “I’d reassure you and say I wouldn’t do something like that, but I suppose I can’t lie to you either.”

You couldn’t find any words, so he continued.

“Mom’s sick again. Holed up at the apothecary’s place with medicine that doesn’t work and people telling her she’s gonna make it when we all know she’s not. And you know Dad turns into a demon when she’s gone,” he laughed. “It’s selfish, I know. But I’m just so… tired.”

“It’s not selfish to want to avoid pain,” you said. “But you know, there are people who are willing to help carry those burdens.”

He gave you a soft smile, and again you wondered why he hadn’t been given the same red stone you wore on your back; Donghyuck was all warmth and comfort when he was with you, like an open hearth and a glass of dandelion wine. “I couldn’t possibly put you through that now, can I? Couldn’t possibly be selfish if it would hurt you.”

His lips brushed against your forehead like a cool breeze, ever comforting and gentle, ever reassuring—though some part of you felt as if he was simply holding off the inevitable.

You were twenty when he left.

Renjun arrived early at dawn with the news, teary-eyed and shivering in the frigid air of an early winter. When he’d gone, you went down to the field where you first met Donghyuck, where you felt as if there could be some remainder of his rocks and dandelion petals. The dandelions were gone this time of year, their seeds had already been carried off in the wind—but you knew his dreams were with them someplace beyond the horizon.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Diplomatic Daemati Part 2

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+

Original Idea: @itscheybaby recommended doing more parts for this series and I had more ideas so we’re going for it. Part 1 Here

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) At 2,310 words this isn’t quite as long as the first one, but given I wrote 1,200 words per one shot for years, I’m apparently doing better lol

^^^^^

The week between the High Lords’ meeting and my first visit to the Night Court passed quickly. My soldier training was temporarily halted in lieu of diplomatic training. As well as Thesan giving me the rundown of what was known about the reclusive Night Court.

The day arrived for my departure, and I realized I didn’t know how I was supposed to get there. I could fly—but that would involve crossing the Day Court territory and would take more than all day. Hours longer than I could afford without angering Rhysand. Rhys, I guess. I didn’t have enough power to winnow, either, but I doubted Thesan would know where to drop me off; if he could even take me at all.

I mused over breakfast how I was supposed to get there when a crack of thunder almost made me drop my toast.

High Lord Rhysand stood in the mess hall otherwise empty of any legion soldiers besides officers, posture relaxed, hands in his pockets, tendrils of night wafting off of him. “Good morning, emissary,” he greeted casually. My fellow officers stared. “Ready to go?”

“Allow me to grab my bag,” I said, rising from my bench. He waved me off. Dismissive, casually aloof. I went to my officer’s quarters, grabbed my bag, and went back to the mess hall. Rhys held a hand out for me. “I’ve never winnowed before.” My trepidation made him smirk as I reached out and took his hand.

His grin was feline. “I’ll be gentle then.”

I doubted that, but didn’t dare say so out loud.

Winnowing was darkness and wind buffeting me from all sides. Pulling me apart and slamming me back together simultaneously. I clenched Rhys’ hand so tight my knuckles blanched.

Then it stopped. “Welcome to the Night Court,” Rhys remarked.

We were standing in a beautiful palace of moonstone. It reminded me of the sunstone of Thesan’s palace, but different—grand in a simple but elegant way. I found I liked the aesthetics of it better.

Rhys let go of my hand.

“Being daemati,” he began without preamble as I stared at the palace perched atop a mountain peak, “is about more than just reading the current thoughts of those around you. It’s not just speaking mind-to-mind or taking control of someone entirely.” He strode down the open-air hall to a glass table and sat. I took the seat opposite him at his indication and set down my bag.

“Being daemati,” he continued, “is having everything they are laid bare before you. Every memory, every secret, every muscle, under your control. You can alter their memories, stop their blood from flowing, shatter their minds to turn them into a living ghost. It’s a gift not to be taken lightly.” He lounged on his chair without a care in the world, but his eyes burned as he stared at me. “You understand?”

I nodded. “I understand.”

The High Lord seemed satisfied by my response. “Good. Then let’s get you settled in and then we can properly begin your training. Daemati lessons in the morning, diplomacy in the afternoon. You’ll be here for a week, and then you will return home for the time being. High Lord Thesan will be in touch discussing when you will return. When you’re alone in the Dawn Court, I suggest you practice what we work on here.”

I nodded again.

Rhys stood, I followed. He strode back the way we came down the hall.

“You’re allowed to fly, too, by the way, while you’re here. But please do not go farther than this peak and the ones adjacent. All the mountains in this range look the same and I do not have time to find you or send out a search party if you get lost.”

Reasonable. “Of course.”

“Thank you. Shall we get started?”

We made it to the back of the hall, where a large wall of marble with doors inset in it was waiting. I followed Rhys through one, down a flight of stairs, and into a beautiful guest bedroom. I stared around at the room, jaw gaping. “This… is not what I expected. No offense,” I said.

An amused smile appeared on his face. “No screaming, no torture chambers, no blatant debauchery?” he asked.

My ears and neck burned in shame. “Well… the Night Court has a… harsh reputation,” I admitted.

“It’s not an unwarranted one. But the wicked members of my court reside elsewhere. Deep beneath this mountain, actually. They’re not allowed up here. And you will not be interacting with them. Your business with me has nothing to do with them. So, you won’t be subjected to the worst the Night Court has to offer.”

“Thank the Mother,” I breathed. My wings drooped a bit with relief. Rhys smirked, crossing his arms across his ribs and leaning against the doorframe.

“Go ahead and unpack, if you wish. Then meet me upstairs in the hall.”

“Okay,” I said. Rhys slipped out of the guest room. I set my small leather rucksack next to the armoire. I hadn’t brought much in the way of clothing. A few semi-formal outfits, my ceremonial uniform, some sleep clothes, and that was pretty much it. There wasn’t much to unpack, so I didn’t bother. Just stared around the incredible room—including the pool-sized bathtub that allowed water to flow into thin air off the side of the mountain.

When I’d stared my fill, I went back upstairs to the open-air hall. Rhys was lounging in that chair at the table again. He must have known I was there, but he didn’t turn to acknowledge me.

I hadn’t made it halfway when claws slammed into my shields. Dark ones. Powerful ones. My shield held strong, but I felt it strain. I grunted.

“Huh,” Rhys mused. “For a self-taught daemati, you’ve got a pretty good shield.”

“Thank you,” I said, walking forward to retake my seat across from him.

His power slammed into my shields again, before I could reach him. Much stronger this time. My shield shattered before I could reinforce it.

Those claws dug into my mind. I wondered if they hurt non-daemati. They made me stagger, landing on one knee and definitely bruising my kneecap. Push me out, Rhys’ voice said in my head, so loud and so overwhelming that I put my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to block it out. Shove me out!

“How?” I demanded. Tears welled up in my eyes. The claws twisted—and the tears drained. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t blink. Everything was under Rhysand’s control.

He stood from the table and strode over to me. I couldn’t move my eyes to track his progress. His boots appeared in my line of sight and he crouched in front of me. A claw twisted and my eyes looked up to meet his. Out of my control.

“Shove me out of your head,” he said. Calm. Collected. Controlled.

How?! I pleaded internally. Everything was so dark—overshadowed by such immense power… it must have dwarfed even the other High Lords’ reserves…

Shove. Me. Out.

Darkness. His power was darkness.

I was a Peregryn soldier of the Dawn Court.

In my head, I clamped down my surging panic and released my own power. The streaks of dawn broke over his shroud. I sent each shaft of light to his claws. Pushing them out of my head, building my shield behind them. More rays of the rising sun pierced the clouds of night. With a final push, I hurled those claws away from me, slamming my shield back into place and reinforcing it. Once. Twice.

Control of my own body flooded back to me. I slumped, face-first, to the moonstone floor. Panting. Sweaty.

I heard a soft thud. Rhysand sat on the ground. “Not bad,” he remarked. “The light. Not a choice I would have thought of from you. I’m impressed—and, bear in mind, that’s not a compliment I give easily.”

Chest heaving, I pushed up to meet his eyes. He was sitting with his ankles crossed, long legs stretched out before him, arms braced on the floor behind him in an easy-going posture. “You don’t believe in starting slow, do you?” The demand came out as more of an exhausted plea—which I hated. I wasn’t weak. I was a soldier—an officer—not some downy fledgling. I was just new to this level of skill.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t taught slowly. Besides, I had no intention of doing you any harm. There was no real danger. But teaching you the most important skills right off the bat will give you greater advantages if you ever come across another daemati.”

My breathing finally slowed. I wiped my sweat off on my sleeve. My wings were still trembling. I flapped them half-heartedly to ease out the tension. Rhys’ eyes followed them.

“What… what did you see?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You said—” I cleared my throat. “You said every memory is laid bare before you, when you’re in someone else’s mind. What did you see?”

“I didn’t. This is a training exercise. Despite what the other courts are led to believe, I’m not heartless. I understand that as an officer in Thesan’s aerial legion, you probably know a few secrets of the court.”

I scoffed. “Bold of you to assume High Lord Thesan trusts me that much. Did you see me at the meeting last week? At the far end of his left-hand side? The lowest rank?”

“He trusts you enough to defend his life in a room full of the most powerful men in Prythian,” Rhysand pointed out.

My expression dropped. I’d never thought about it like that.

Rhysand laughed. “Did that just occur to you?”

I didn’t reply. Just pushed myself to my feet. I fluffed my feathers with a shake of my shoulders and shook my hands through my hair in an attempt to fix it up a little. Rhys stood in one smooth motion.

“Can we sit for the next part? That trip hurt my knee.” I gestured to the bruise forming on the bottom of my kneecap, exposed under the hem of my trousers.

“Sure.”

I preceded him to the table and sat down. The chair—I hadn’t paid it any mind before, due to being used to it in a Peregryn legion—but the chair was built to accommodate wings. I looked back at it, and then faced the front again. Rhysand sat opposite me. I pointed to the chair. “This is made for wings,” I said.

He nodded. “I have Illyrians in my lands, remember? Two of them are my closest counsel,” he said.

“I remember. I guess I just never considered… that you’d have chairs made for them here. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Making assumptions. About this place. About your court in general. It’s rude.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Assumptions and expectations are how we survive and prepare for the worst to do so.” He shrugged.

“You really didn’t look at any of my memories?”

“No. I will respect the terms of our business.”

“Thank you.”

“I will ask, too, that you do the same. When we get to that point in your training.”

“Of course,” I said. I definitely didn’t want to see what was inside his head. The wickedness of the Night Court’s reputation… any atrocities he’d caused or committed… I didn’t want details.

He inclined his head to me. “Thank you.” He looked out to the mountains surrounding us. “We may not get to that this week, though. We’ll see.”

I nodded.

“The next bit of your training we can discuss before demonstrating. They’re the two biggest rules of being daemati. The first is: if you delve into someone’s mind, keep your exit open so a fellow daemati doesn’t leave their shields down and slam them shut behind you, trapping you in their mind. You become their slave. No control over anything. Unable to get out.”

My wings shuddered as a chill went down my spine. Rhysand smirked slightly.

“Second rule: be prepared to see things you might not like and definitely don’t want to see. Unpleasant memories. Evidence of your father having an affair. Lives are messy and complicated. It’s part of being daemati.”

I nodded. “I know that part already,” I said.

The smile turned from amused to an understanding purse of the lips. “I know you do. Based on what you said at the meeting.”

His claws lashed at my shields again. They glinted harmlessly off. My reinforcements held. Rhysand nodded in approval. “Not bad.”

“The third rule, I’m guessing, is always be prepared for your mind to be attacked at any moment.”

“That’s optional, but yes.”

“So, if I may ask, my lord, what was with the droning at the meeting?”

“I sensed another daemati in the room. Magic brushing my shield, passing through the room against everyone else’s. I just couldn’t pinpoint who. So I sent out a wave to test who it was. You resisted for a long time, actually. Longer than I would have imagined. Then you screamed. Which startled me, actually. I didn’t know it was you, at first. But during the mingling afterward, I saw you alone. Everyone else was talking, but you were shaking. Your wings were trembling. I took a guess. Figured I’d wipe the encounter from your mind if I turned out to be wrong.” He smirked. “But I wasn’t.” There was the arrogance I recognized. I rolled my eyes. He chuckled. “Sorry. That was probably unpleasant.”

“Understatement,” I muttered.

Another laugh. Then he went quiet. “Shall we move on to the next demonstration? About leaving the way out open?”

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Yes. Let’s move on.”

[jasonmcgathey]

Columbus References In Popular Culture

This page is dedicated to fictional works which have either been set in or referenced dear old Columbus, or else nonfictional ones which mention our fair city, though not entirely set here (if interested in documents which were actually created here, and/or by C-bus residents, see my “C-bus Artifacts” tab instead). Many of these occurred when the city was even more obscure than it is now, and therefore felt all the more bizarre:

100% Fresh – Adam Sandler (stand up comedy special). This Netflix offering was filmed in part at the Schottenstein Center. I haven’t seen it but the one pun I’ve heard about calling this the “Schlongenstein Center” sounds pretty lame. Amazingly, enough, however, considering it came out in 2018, this received some fairly strong Rotten Tomato scores – although the weirdest aspect might be that Paul Thomas Anderson filmed part of it. Then again, that could explain the robust reviews.

Family Ties – (TV series). Unless I’m missing something, they don’t come right out of the gate declaring where this sitcom family lives. Having said that, you’re immediately aware that the series has a very Ohio-ish feel to it – someone involved with the show’s creation clearly must have been from here. Many of us thought it completely mindblowing that there was a girl named Jenny Keaton at our school. Elise even kind of reminded me of my stepmom at the time. But I don’t actually remember anyone making a big deal of or for that matter even noticing at the time that this show was supposed to be set in this neck of the woods, probably due to this slow reveal.

As I begin binge watching the seasons, the first Ohio reference I notice at all doesn’t occur until episode 4. This older chick’s trying to seduce Alex and he’s attempting to cool her down with jokes about the Cleveland Indians (safe to say this was a suitably frosty topic circa 1982). And I don’t detect even an oblique mention of Columbus until the 6th episode, when one of Steven’s coworkers jokes about filming Woody Hayes’s house for half an hour. It’s a funny line on its own, but assumes a whole other surreal luster if you are actually watching the episodes in order and have no clue about their location.

Over time, it’s eventually established that Steven works at the Columbus PBS station. Though everyone in my family seemed to agree that he was the funniest character on the show, Alex became the breakout star and it probably explains why Michael J. Fox was the token celebrity here for Hands Across America. Rumors began to surface that the show’s creators had the Bexley area in mind when crafting this timeless family comedy, but, I don’t know, it doesn’t really look like Bexley to me. I’m thinking more like the older parts of Upper Arlington, or possibly Gahanna.

Other references of note:

Season 2, Episode 4 – Mallory receives a letter from the (fictional, as far as I know) Columbus Express newspaper saying she won this mother/daughter modeling contest, and will be featured in the Sunday supplement.

Season 2, Episode 12 – Steven says he hopes to catch the OSU-Iowa game on TV. This would have been the 1983 season. Just for entertainment value I looked up the result of this particular contest – the Buckeyes lost, 20-14, falling to a 2-1 record on the year. In the actual episode, OSU is down 16-12 on the final play of the game and this bratty kid Steven’s babysitting messes up his reception.

Season 2, Episode 14 – Tom Hanks guest stars for the 2nd time as Elise’s brother. Considering that he’s a wee bit too fond of drink these days, the family convinces him to call AA. Upon doing so, he initially makes a lame joke to the receptionist, about selling her a subscription to the Columbus Express.

This is as far as I’ve made it thus far with my binge watching research. However, this topic seems so urgent that I’m rushing to press with what I’ve got. Expect continual reports as I work through all 7 seasons.

Little Man Tate – (movie). While mostly filmed in Cincinnati, some Columbus footage is shot and makes the cut. Found among these scenes are the Wexner Center for the Arts, and downtown’s Ohio Theatre.

Our Towns – James and Deborah Fallows (nonfiction book): It’s kind of a murky, unformed premise, and I also found their writing style a little dull. But this husband and wife duo decide to fly themselves around, checking out what makes certain “small towns” in America tick. Of course even they admit it’s a bit ridiculous to refer to Columbus as a small town, although they usually don’t clarify what criteria made them choose which places, Columbus included. There’s a moderately informative chat with former mayor Michael Coleman, and the library director and a couple of other figures around town, but I wouldn’t really call this a highly engaging read.

Permanent Midnight – Jerry Stahl (memoir): This is a thoroughly engrossing read on its own, as a well-known screenwriter documents his struggles with drug addiction. The Columbus parts all occur early in the book, and are fun for different reasons, as he chronicles his early days working for Hustler magazine (I had no idea it started here, until reading this) while living at a YMCA here in C-bus.

Point Break: Who among us can ever possibly forget that Keanu Reeves’s character, the immortal Johnny Utah, is a quarterback for Ohio State before blowing out his knee, and therefore joining the FBI?

Ready Player One: The novel sets some of the action in Columbus, especially along High Street, but these references feel a little hokey and unnecessary. For the film version, Steven Spielberg decided to move the hero’s home to Columbus entirely, which might be arbitrary but is also less awkward. If I had to hazard a guess as to where The Stacks would be located, I’m going with Marble Cliff. Somewhere around that whole quarry area et cetera on McKinley Avenue.

Road Outside Columbus – O.A.R. (song). Of A Revolution are a curious case. The four original members formed this band and even released a couple of albums while still living in Maryland – and then all four of them moved here to attend OSU, adding a fifth member while doing so. They played out a ton while in school here, and were a popular draw, as I remember for example the girl who lived next door to us was majorly into them, she and all her friends. They were constantly going out to see this band play in bars all around town. Still, having said that, I don’t consider them a Columbus band. To my knowledge they never recorded any music here. I can see the argument both ways, but it feels more like an extended residency.

Road Outside Columbus has to be the best song I’ve heard from them. It’s a pleasant, catchy, Dave Matthews style jam from their 2003 album, In Between Now And Then. The subject matter is fairly obvious as Marc Roberge sings about having found his second home, though only living here a short while, even namechecking Riverside Drive and High Street in the process. And actually I think these lyrics even bolster my case that they are technically not a Columbus band, seem to be admitting as much themselves.

Roadshow – Neil Peart (nonfiction book): This really entertaining and in-depth document, written by the drummer for rock legends Rush, chronicles his decision to travel from show to show on the 2004 tour via motorcycle. He briefly mentions a show at Polaris, though no details are provided. Apparently has some family living just outside of Columbus, though, and he visits that Motorcycle Hall Of Fame in Pickerington.

The Simpsons – (TV series). Season 29’s Grampy Can You Hear Me episode is partially set at OSU. It mentions Brutus Buckeye and there’s a scene depicting the Oval.

“The Soul Is Not A Smithy” – David Foster Wallace (short story). In this tale from the Oblivion collection, a 4th grade teacher suffers a meltdown and takes hostages. I remember the kid narrating it mentions goofing around along the Olentangy River. Also trying to decide where this fictional school would be located, based upon the vague descriptions, and figuring that it must be in Upper Arlington, somewhere around Reed Road.

Teachers – (movie). This inner city school drama was filmed entirely here in town. It’s an okay if somewhat cheesy flick mostly recommended to those interested in spotting landmarks around town, and/or Nick Nolte fans. The soundtrack is probably better.

Traffic – (movie). Some of the scenes were filmed in Columbus, I think all of them downtown. Back in their snarky, pre-Dispatch ownership days, The Other Paper ran a pretty comical piece detailing how Michael Douglas successfully avoided them while filming.

Vitale – Dick Vitale (memoir). OSU had never enjoyed much of a basketball program as of this book’s creation in the late 1980’s. Nonetheless, Dick predicts that freshly minted coach Gary Williams will elevate the Buckeyes to regular top ten threats and national title contenders. Williams lasts three seasons, displaying very little of this alleged prowess. 

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