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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Note

This request is the result of a very awake mind at 2 am. How about a part crack, part tooth-rotting fluff fic about and interview with characters of your choice.

I tried my best with this... it's difficult to do crack in such a short piece (hence this one ended up being a little longer) and although I think writing crack is really fun, I have no experience in the field XD. So... hope this is what you were looking for XD.

The Case of the Forgotten Birthday Gift

Summary: When the ninja are invited to the Ivory City of Shintaro for Princess Vania’s birthday, they find themselves in the most devastating predicament of all- they forgot to bring a birthday gift for Vania. In a panic, Cole offers her a chance to interview them as compensation. Not everyone is thrilled about the idea.

“We thank you for attending Princess Vania’s birthday,” King Vangelis said, hovering before the ninja with two winged guardsmen at his sides. “We ask that you leave any gifts on this table.” He gestured towards a table that was practically groaning under the weight of all the presents atop it.

“Um.” Cole blanched. “Gift?”

“Cole!” Jay whispered harshly in his ear. “Don’t tell me. That you didn’t bring a present for the princess. On her birthday.”

“I didn’t bring one? Last time I checked, we were all invited! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, I didn’t, so you better come up with something now or they’ll never invite us back here again!”

“Uh…” Cole’s brain felt like it was whirring a mile a minute, and he reluctantly turned back to the king. “Thank you, your majesty, but our gift to the princess is not something material.”

King Vangelis raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“No, it’s a… it’s um… we’re giving you a free interview.”

“What?!” the other ninja all yelped, at the same time that Vania beamed, clapping her hands together.

“I get to interview the ninja? The ninja? Truly, this is the best birthday present ever!”

“Cole,” Kai groaned, putting his head in his hands, “what have you done?”

---

“When I told you to come up with something to give the princess, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Jay grumbled from where he was sitting stiffly in a chair next to Cole. “Did you really have to offer the girl who’s obviously a bit bonkers about us an interview?”

“I didn’t see you coming up with anything better,” Cole snapped. “Besides, she may be a bit obsessed, but she seems nice enough. Just go along with it. She’s like any other fan.”

“Any other fan, you say? I wouldn’t be so sure!”

Cole sighed, glancing back at where Lloyd was standing atop his chair, glaring down at them. “Lloyd, sit down.”

“She’s no normal fan, I’m telling you! I don’t trust her! She was too excited about this interview! She’s out to get us, she just wants to trick us into giving away information so she can exploit our weaknesses!”

Kai glanced back and forth between Lloyd and Cole. “Seriously, does no one else see what an obvious cry for therapy this is?”

“Lloyd!” Cole hissed. “For the last time! Sit. Down.”

“Don’t worry, Lloyd,” Zane said as the teen plopped down grumpily in his seat. “The odds of our team member’s princess girlfriend turning out to be the leader of a criminal gang for the second time in our lives are practically nonexistent! Under seventy percent, at least.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Cole snapped.

Zane blinked. “Well, then whose is she?”

“Not mine,” Jay told them, grabbing Nya’s hand. “I’m already engaged!”

Kai laughed. “No thanks, she’s not my type. Plus, I already have a girlfriend who stabbed me in the back, although luckily for me, mine came around, eventually.”

“For the last time, Vania is not going to betray us!”

“It’s not our fault we have trust issues,” Lloyd sniffed. “You’d think someone would book us therapy, but apparently that’s not a priority.”

“Well, if she herself isn’t evil, maybe she’s related to someone evil!” Kai said. “Skylor’s evil, psychotic father influenced her to turn on me. Do you think Vania has an evil, psychotic father?”

“Definitely,” Lloyd agreed, at the same time Nya said “No way.”

Nya shook her head. “Do you know how ridiculous you guys sound? How many evil, psychotic fathers can there be out there?”

“Um. There’s Chen, Milton Dyer, Skales, my father- need I go on?”

“Don’t forget Nadakhan’s evil djinn father!” Jay chimed. Lloyd blinked at him. “Who?”

“See? That’s barely any!” Nya exclaimed. “Besides, like half of those people are good now, so they don’t count.”

“But they were, which means there’s a high chance of King Vangelis being evil and psychotic-”

“Who’s evil and psychotic?” A cheery voice interrupted them as Princess Vania pushed open the doors.

“Oh, uh… just an old villain we faced,” Cole covered quickly.

“Oh, you must tell me all about them!” Vania smiled, pushing the doors closed behind her and clicking the lock.

Kai blinked. “Did you just lock us in?”

“Of course! I can’t have anyone else breaking in here and trying to eavesdrop on my very special interview!”

“Do people break into your room often?” Nya laughed.

“Not at all! Only a few times a week.”

“Um… you do realize that we’re crime-fighting ninja, right?” Jay told her. “We have lots of enemies. Maybe you should have some people guarding us while we’re here.”

“Oh, don’t worry! If anyone attacks you, Chompy will scare them off!” The ninja looked to where she was pointing to see a tiny dragon snoozing on Vania’s bed.

“Oh, how reassuring,” Kai said dryly. “The overgrown gecko can keep us safe.”

Vania raised an eyebrow. “You’re lucky he’s asleep. Mr. Chompy does not play nice when he’s angry.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so scared,” Kai grinned, leaning back.

Vania narrowed her eyes at him. “He killed a dire bat once.”

“Yeah, well, we fought off an entire flock of them from our ship.”

“First of all, it’s called a colony of bats, not a flock. Second, I know that a squadron of our guards had to go save you.”

“We didn’t need saving! They interrupted us just as I was about to use my mighty fire powers to burn them to a crisp!” “Chompy would knock them out of the sky before you could do that.”

“Yeah, well, I could squish Chompy under my foot.”

“Chompy could gouge out your eyes.”

“Oookay, as fun as this is,” Cole interrupted, pushing them apart, “Let’s just get this interview over with. Vania, what questions did you want to ask us?”

“Hold on.” Vania jogged over to the wall and pulled over a small table, setting up a camera on top of it.

Jay stared at it. “What is that.”

“I need to record this, silly!”

“What’s the point of locking us in here and not letting anyone else listen in if you’re just going to broadcast this whole thing to everyone, anyway?” Nya asked.

“Because seeing it live isn’t half as fun as watching a recording!”

“Then why record it at all?”

“How else am I going to rub it in all my friends’ faces that I met the ninja?”

“This is a non-consensual violation of my privacy,” Jay grumbled.

“Oh please, your face is over half the city,” Cole sighed.

“Welcome back to Truthful Tidbits! I’m your host, Vania, and I’m here with an exclusive episode today- with me, I have the famous ninja!” “What,” Lloyd said slowly, “are you doing?”

“It’s for my TV show,” Vania whispered.

“You have a TV show?” Nya spluttered.

“Wait, no one told me this was going to be on TV!” Kai yelped. “The camera’s not getting my good side!”

“Wait, if this is a TV show, shouldn’t we have makeup artists or something?”

“Jay’s right!” Kai agreed. “I can’t go on television without a makeover!”

“My database shows no recollection of the show ‘Truthful Tidbits.’”

“It’s not on mainstream television,” Vania grumbled. “I just show them to my videography class.”

“Oh.” Jay relaxed in his chair. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it? People are still going to see me without makeup! Just because it’s a small group doesn’t make this any less of a disaster!”

“I’m hoping to change that,” Vania beamed. “This is the big break I need! An interview with the ninja? Everyone will want to see it!”

“Andddd we’re back to privacy invasion again,” Jay groaned.

“Wanna bounce, Jay?” Lloyd asked.

“Do I ever-”

“Count me in, guys, I’m not doing this without a proper makeup job-”

“If you guys are all leaving, I’m not going to stay!” Nya insisted. “Zane?”

“It seems futile to stay if you all are leaving.” “You can’t leave!” Vania cried. “This is my present! Besides, you’re locked in here!”

Lloyd stared her dead in the eyes. “I will literally jump out the window to get out of this.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ll die!”

“Then tell Chumpy to catch me,” he told her, already climbing into the window.

“It’s Chompy!”

“Oh no, you don’t.” Kai reached out a hand, snatching the back of Lloyd’s gi before he could jump. “I don’t want to spend the rest of our stay in a hospital. What did you think was going to happen, you were going to sprout wings?”

“I’m part dragon,” Lloyd grumbled. “It’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility.”

“I have a much less life-threatening way. Stand back.” Kai’s fist lit up in flames.

“I swear, Kai, if you burn down anything, we are never coming back here,” Cole warned.

“A little arson never hurt anyone.” Hurtling a fireball at the door, it burst into flames. Quickly, it burned a human-sized hole in the door, and Kai, Jay, and Lloyd quickly darted through.

“What about my interview?” Vania protested. “You promised!”

“Technically, Cole was the one who promised you the interview,” Zane pointed out. “He never specified which of us you would be interviewing.”

“And since Cole’s staying, we’re technically not breaking that promise!” Nya added.

Cole blinked. “I’m what?”

“Staying. Have fun, you two!” Nya waved, and the two of them shot out the door, spraying ice and water as they passed to extinguish the flames.

“Sorry about that, princess,” Cole said, scratching the back of his neck.

Vania narrowed her eyes. “This better be the best interview ever.”

Cole grinned. “Mark my words, it will be. Fire away.”

“Speaking of fire, you’re paying for my door.”

“... Yeah, I figured.”

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wrestlingwithhistory · 3 years

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Muhammad Ali vs Antonio Inoki

For many people, they see the birth of Ultimate Fighting in companies like Pancrase which was founded in 1993 by Masakatsu Funaki and Minoru Suzuki. They embraced the method of mixed martial arts and gave an arena for those who wanted to pit style against style. But some people also reflect back to a time, far before Pancrase, where a meeting of two worlds lit a fire behind those who later went on to created modern Mixed Martial Arts.

In 1975, Muhammad Ali boasted in a meeting with amateur Japanese Wrestling association President Ichiro Hatta “Isn’t there any oriental fighter who will challenge me? I will give him one million dollars if he wins!”. This question hit the headlines of every major newspaper and sports magazine in Japan and was eventually answered by Antonio Inoki, who was the founder of New Japan Pro Wrestling established just 3 years earlier.

Muhammed Ali was coming off the back of a fight with Richard Dunn on 24th May 1976 which he won by knockout and was coming towards the end of his boxing career at the time of the proposed fight having fought in the famous ‘The Thriller in Manila’ on October 1st, 1975. His final fight would be only 6 years later against Trevor Berbick.

Antonio Inoki was, at the time, one of the biggest names in Japanese Professional Wrestling. As well as creating NJPW in 1972, he began his professional wrestling journey as a disciple of Rikidozan at aged 17 as part of the JWA (Japanese Wrestling Alliance). Following the murder of RIkidozan by the Yakuza in 1963, Inoki went on an excursion to the United States in 1964, where he continued training under the legendary Karl Gotch. With Gotch, he learned the Catch style that is now synonymous with the Gotch name. Gotch to this very day is still held in high regard and to many fans and players of Japanese pro wrestling is known as ‘The God of Wrestling’.

Following the return from his excursion in 1966, Inoki working with Tokyo Pro Wrestling and quickly climbed the ranks to become its biggest star, before the company folded in 1967. He then returned to JWA, where he stayed for roughly 4 years, becoming a dominant tag team with his future promotional rival Giant Baba of All Japan Pro Wrestling. Inoki was then fired in 1971 due to JWA officials finding out that Inoki was planning a takeover the company. The following year, New Japan was founded and is one of the biggest wrestling promotions today.

So, in March 1976, an agreement was made between Ali and Inoki to fight at Tokyo’s Nippon Budokan, scheduled for June 26th, 1976. It is believed that the financial backers of the fight had to part with $6 million to convince Ali to take the exhibition fight and then began the press conferences to build the hype for this one-off spectacle between pugilist and grappler.

Ali, in his usual manner, would make fun of Inoki’s appearance, giving him the nickname ‘The Pelican’ due to his prominent lower jaw and chin. Inoki would then reply via an interpreter “When your fist connects with my chin, take care that your fist is not damaged”. Inoki also went as far as to present Ali with a crutch at a following conference ‘to use after he has been thrown from the ring’.

Ali’s demeanour during this time appeared jovial and not that he was not taking the fight very seriously. This angered Inoki who began to make more threatening statements to try and make Ali realise how serious the exhibition was to him and many around the world. Inoki said in one Conference “I don’t know how seriously Muhammad Ali is taking the fight, but if he doesn’t take it seriously, he could suffer damage. I’m going in there fighting. I may even break his arm”.

These statements from Inoki caused tension within Ali’s team, many of whom were concerned that going ahead with the fight was still a good thing to do. Ali however, continued with his boxing training but also worked with Pro wrestlers in the US to try and gain experience against a wrestler. He worked with The Sheik and sparred with wrestlers Kenny Jay and Buddy Wolf in televised exhibition matches, defeating both.

Due to the growing concerns within Ali’s team, they began creating a list of rules for this unique match-up. The original concept for the match was agreed to be a worked match, common in pro wrestling, but Ali never agreed to determine the winner before the fight had started. It has been speculated by Boxing Journalist Jim Murphy that the original plan for the match was for Ali to accidentally punch the referee and knock him out and while Ali tended to the referee, Inoki would hit him from behind with an enzuiguri (step up kick) or a roundhouse kick to the back of the head. The Referee would then come to and give a ten-count to the incapacitated Ali.

The result was carried out with the intention of both men looking strong, Inoki in front of his countrymen and Ali only losing as he was kicked from behind following the incident with the Referee.

After hearing that he would lose, Ali point blank refused this result and decided that they have a real one-on-one fight.

In the days building up to the fight, Ali’s team attended one of Inoki’s training sessions and were shocked to him using real kicks and grapples on sparring partners. This did little to quell the concerns of his entourage. Inoki has alleged in in interviews that after the training session, his team reported back to him and he asked Inoki “OK, so when do we do the rehearsal?” and Inoki replied “This isn’t an exhibition, it’s a real fight!”

The ever-nervous entourage then scrambled to change the rules once more. Representatives from both sides were called to negotiate the rules of the fight with less than a week before the fight. The list of rules were effectively things that Inoki was not allowed to do to Ali. He was not allowed to use throws, not allowed to grapple or tackle Ali and was not able to land any kicks unless one knee was touching the mat during the kick being performed. They also placed a stipulation that none of the rules were made public before the fight, likely to try and save Ali’s credibility.

Years after the fight, many have disputed the rules that were in place. Referee Gene LeBell denied there were any limitations on grappling or kicking, however Bret Hart, who at the time of the fight was an employee of NJPW, stated that the team working with Ali had said that ‘if Inoki laid a finger on their champ, they would kill him’. This statement was also backed up by former New Japan referee Mr. Takahashi who also said that all of the changes came from Ali’s entourage and not Ali himself.

Many professional fighters became discouraged with how credible the fight could look given all of the imposed restrictions, with notable correspondent John Roderick stating “…what is called by some the world’s first Martial Arts Championship – and others a multi-million-dollar sham”.

Ali arrived in Japan the day of the fight, swarmed by a mass of Japanese journalists all looking to get a soundbite from the Greatest of All Time. They were not disappointed as the ever-humble Ali made his way through the Airport proclaiming “There will be no Pearl harbour! Muhammad Ali has returned! There will be no Pearl Harbour!”. The fight was highly anticipated, by sports fans for the sheer spectacle of seeing 2 sports come together and for professionals and sceptics curious how the fight would be able to function with the level of suspected restrictions that were imposed.

It was estimated that the fight was viewed by 1.4 Billion people worldwide, broadcast to 34 countries. In New York, Vince McMahon Sr. Sold tickets for the fight to watch on a large screen inside Shea Stadium which drew a crowd of 32,897. The Budokan in Tokyo sold out with the most expensive seat selling for 300,000 Yen.

The Fight

Antonio Inoki was the first competitor to make his entrance. He was wearing his now signature purple robe accompanied by Karl Gotch, Olympic Judoka Seiji Sakaguchi, wrestling trainer Kotetsu Yamamoto and pro wrestler Kantaro Hoshino.

Muhammad Ali then followed to the ring, in a red and white robe, followed by his manager Herbert Muhammad, Trainers Angelo Dundee and Wali Muhammad, Cornerman Drew Bundini Brown, Dr. Ferdie Pachecho, pro wrestler ‘Classy’ Freddie Blassie, Taekwondo master Jhoon Goo Rhee and promoter Butch Lewis.

After the first bell rang, the whole arena was taken by surprise as Inoki ran and leapt across the ring towards Ali’s legs. Ali managed to sidestep this attack but Inoki stayed on his back, spending the round sweeping and kicking at Ali’s legs. This was within the confines of the rules and one of Inoki’s knees were always touching the ground at said time. Inoki did stand up momentarily to try and lure in Ali but quickly returned to the mat, throwing kick after kick towards Ali. Ali taunted the wrestler to stand up but Inoki refused taking the fight to Ali’s legs.

This continued on throughout the 2nd and 3rd rounds with Inoki furiously kicking at Ali’s legs with great volume and power. The tactic was seemingly paying off as Ali was not able to throw punches in his normal way meaning that Inoki was able to avoid many of them during the start of the contest. Ali would take to pining himself in the corner of the ring and lifting himself up out of the way of Inoki’s kicks and stamping downwards, which was deemed against the rules and quickly stopped by referee LeBell. A large wound opened up on Ali’s left knee during the third round and the crowd quickly began to boo due to the lack of action going on in the ring. Ali began to taunt Inoki shouting at him “Coward Inoki! Inoki No Fight!” and “One Punch, I want One Punch!”

By round four, Inoki had frustrated both Ali and the crowd within the arena. Ali would continue with shouting at Inoki “Inoki Girl” and “I thought Inoki could Wrestle”. At one point, Inoki got Ali trapped in the corner using his ground kicking technique and wildly hit a flurry of kicks towards Ali’s thighs, Ali trying to avoid by lifting his legs off the canvas while holding onto the ropes again.

In the fifth round, the same pattern continued by Inoki adopting the ground kick strikes to Ali, which paid off somewhat in this round as he managed to knock Ali off his feet with one of the strikes. Ali danced off the stumble in his inimitable fashion while simultaneously avoiding more kicks from Inoki. Despite the frustrations of what Inoki was doing, Ali was nothing less than himself, doing more than enough to keep the crowd entertained. During the same round Ali managed to grab Inoki’s foot after a failed kick attempt and dragged him across the ring but before Ali could do anything with this small advantage, the bell sounded and both men went off to their corners. The crowd were starting to warm up and appreciate the match for what it was, a clash of styles. They could see blood and bruising starting to appear around Ali’s legs due to the sheer amount and power of the kicks that Inoki was hitting Ali with.

During the 6th Round, Inoki continued with his game plan. One of his initial kicks of this round caught Ali in the groin. Referee Lebell stopped the fight momentarily and gave Inoki a warning about the placement of his kicks before returning to the action. He followed up with 2 more kicks before Ali adopted the same approach as the previous round. He grabbed the foot of Inoki with a view to immobilise him and launch an attack of his own, but Inoki being the proficient grappler of the two was able to grab Ali’s left shoe, wrap his right leg around Ali’s right calf and bring him to the mat. Inoki sat on Ali and attempted a leglock but Ali managed to kick his legs to the rope to force a break. Inoki was then issued with a further warning for throwing a back elbow towards Ali’s face during the rope break stoppage. He was deducted as point for this but as the fight restarted Ali was reprimanded for kicking out while holding the ropes.

To start the 7th round, Inoki became the intimidator. He tried to persuade Ali to meet him on the ground, but Ali refused. Ali threw a few missed kicks but then finally threw a long jab but Inoki was quick to knock him down with a sweeping kick which erupted the Tokyo crowd, but more so in favour of Ali. After the round ended, Ali’s doctor treated the wounds on his legs and Ali’s trainer Angelo Dundee approached Karl Gotch to make them aware that Inoki’s leather boots were damaged, and a brass eyelet was causing the cuts to Ali’s legs. The boots were taped up to try and prevent any further cuts from taking place. They also taped the ends of Inoki’s shoelaces as they were tipped with brass.

The 8th Round. Ali had braggadociosly stated that he would end Inoki in the round during the press conferences, however the pattern of the previous rounds continued. LeBell gave Inoki another low blow warning after mistakenly believing a knock down was a result of another misplaced kick by the wrestler. One of the more uneventful rounds of the fight ended in Ali shouting ‘Inoki Nothing’ to his opponent.

Ali attempted to make progress during the 9th round of the contest, he tried to circle Inoki, looking for an opening to try and hit him with only his second successful punch of the fight. Inoki stuck to strategy and landed a huge kick which stumbled Ali into his corner. Ali was waning and his legs were showing the signs of the repeated damage caused by Inoki.

In the 10th round, Ali finally hit his second punch of the match, a jab which caught Inoki in the face. A good punch, but left Ali open to another leg kick. The crowd began to bellow for Inoki to fight standing and he graced them by charging at Ali who grabbed onto the ring ropes. The crowd were now Ali’s. Inoki’s tactics, although working well for him had not endeared him to his countrymen and they continued to chant Ali’s name as he spoke worryingly with his corner about the next 5 rounds.

After conferring with his cornermen, Ali adopted a different approach to save his beaten legs. It was suggested by Rhee, the Taekwondo expert, to block the leg blows using his arms to avoid further damage to his legs. This was successful but Ali was unable to capitalise on opportunities where he grabbed Inoki’s foot.

Before the 12th Round, Karl Gotch instructed Inoki to try and take down Ali and finish the match by pin or submission. A few have suggested that this was imparted due to Ali’s cornermen being obviously concerned for the Boxing champion. But after the last round, Ali came into the contest more confident after blocking many of Inoki’s blows with his arms. During this round, Inoki finally stood up and hit Ali with a low kick, although clean it was against the rules as one knee was not on the canvas. Ali’s corner tried to convince him to use this opportunity to attack the now standing Inoki, but he quickly went back to the ground. Towards the end of the round, people who were ringside had commented on how Ali’s left leg looked to be ‘double the size of the right’.

Ali took the centre of the ring in the 13th round, trying to push Inoki into the corner. Inoki would fake a takedown attempt, trying to force Ali into the ropes. Ali blocked him with his glove anticipating another kick, but Inoki charged at Ali grabbing a waist lock to attempt a suplex. Ali hurriedly grabbed the ropes, and the referee broke the hold and returned to the centre of the ring. During this clinch, Ali put all his weight onto Inoki which prompted Inoki to hit him with an illegal knee strike – which would also be Inoki’s 3rd warning for as low blow. After this instance, it looked as if Ali was going to leave the ring but was convinced by the referee to continue on. On the restart of the round, Inoki threw a kick but Ali responded by throwing 2 jabs which connected forcing Inoki back to the canvas as per the previous rounds.

By the 14th round, the crowd were expecting Inoki to follow suit with his tactics, but he came out throwing some bare-fisted jabs and faking a takedown before switching back to his ground kicks. Without any attempt of attack, Ali held onto the ropes which annoyed Inoki and both men exchanged taunts. Ali managed to land a jab before the end of this round, leading into the 15th and final round.

Both men shook hands at the start of this round which drew a huge ovation from the crowd. While many were optimistic about how the fight may end, they were seemingly disappointed that Inoki retreated to his familiar style for this matchup. Inoki managed to land a few kicks, Ali a final jab and the fight was over. The crowd were mixed at the ending of this match, knowing that it wasn’t the fight they were expecting and also being more vocal for Ali during the fight.

Both men shook hands after the fight and Ali declared himself the winner of the bout, claiming that Inoki’s ‘Cowardice’ lost him the fight. 2 judges, one a wrestler who scored in favour of Ali 74-72 and one a boxer who scored in favour of Inoki 72-68 left the decision down to referee Lebell, who given the points deducted from Inoki scored the fight 71-71 so a draw result was declared.

The fans were outraged and rioted within the Budokan, chanting ‘Money Back’. Janitorial staff for the arena took a full day to clean the areas due to the unhappy crown throwing items.

Ali’s leg was so severely swollen and bleeding that it led to two blood clots in his legs after an infection and amputation was discussed at one point though Ali himself downplayed this to the press saying it was nothing serious.

Inoki stated in the press sometime after the fight “I was handicapped by the rules that said no tackling, no karate chops, no punching on the mat. I kept my distance to stay away from Ali’s punches”

The fight grossed $20 million in closed circuit television in the US alone after 2 million or more PPV buys at $10 each, 54 million people watched in Japan as the day was declared a holiday for everyone to be able to watch the fight.

Years on from the fight, even though those involved had been divided over the fights legacy, but the impact that it has given to companies to learn from and engineer their own form of MMA has led to Pancrase, Pride, UFC becoming the giants within Mixed Martial arts during the 90’s. Only one of them now stand at present but the groundwork was laid by 2 legends in their respective sports.

Antonio Inoki went on to continue wrestling with New Japan Pro Wrestling, until he officially retired on April 4th, 1998. He did take breaks away from Wrestling to focus on Politics between 1989-1995 and 2013-2019. He successfully negotiated with Saddam Hussein the release of Japanese hostages before the start of the Gulf War in 1990. He was inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame in 2010.

Muhammad Ali continued with his boxing career having 7 more fights before his final fight with Trevor Berbick. His is still regarded as arguably the greatest boxer of all time, his influence on boxing is still evident not only in performance but also, in the press conferences building to the events. He passed away on June 3rd, 2016 aged 74.

Both men, despite their in-ring differences on that day, they became friends later in life. Inoki started using Ali’s entrance music ‘The Greatest’ and in 1998, Ali flew out to watch Inoki’s retirement match against Don Frye. After Inoki’s victory, Ali climbed into the ring and hugged Inoki. Ali asked for a message to be read out to the Japanese fans.

‘It was 1976 when I fought Antonio Inoki at the Budokan. In the ring, we were tough opponents. After that, we built love and friendship with mutual respect. So, I feel a little less lonely now that Antonio has retired. It is my honour to be standing on the ring with my good friend after 22 years. Our future is bright and has a clear vision. Antonio Inoki and I put our best efforts into making world peace through sports, to prove there is only one mankind beyond the sexual, ethnical or cultural differences. It is my pleasure to come here today.’

#wrestling #boxing #mma #goat #japan #antonio inoki #muhammad ali #new japan pro wrestling #pancrase

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toothlessturtle21 · 4 years

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Cold Blooded

So as some of y’all know, I’m a fanfic author, so I figured why not publish some of my oneshots on Tumblr? So, here’s the first one in a (maybe) series of oneshots being posted. Enjoy!

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Jay's talking gets him into a lot of trouble, sure, but when he's faced with a mob boss who wants to work with him to resurrect his dead father, his chatter might be his only weapon. (Mafia AU) (tw: kidnapping, guns, mentioned death)

All of his life, Jay had been told that his excessive blabbering was annoying. His friends and his family were not safe from the chatter, everywhere and all the time. And god forbid that he was nervous, because butterflies in his stomach seemed to equate to words spewing from his mouth like a fountain. So when he found himself tied up and blindfolded after a nasty run-in with some gang members, what else was he supposed to do?

"So, uh, what kind of wood is the chair I'm in made of? It feels pretty strong, but I also can't see the color to make any guesses," Jay quirked his mouth, and one of the men nearby grumbled, having put up with his incessant rambling for the better part of the hour. "Is it grainy? I can't really tell through my pants, but if it is you guys should really sand it. Splinters are no joke, even if you're wearing gloves. They always wait until you're least expecting it and then ouch, there's wood in your hand."

His company was silent, perhaps hoping that he would shut up if left unanswered. After a few beats of silence, Jay tapped his feet on the floor, an uneven rhythm that was in no way musical. He tried to think of some beat to mimic that would take his mind off of his situation. He hummed some jingles, some pop songs, and even snuck a little bit of some showtunes in there before a harsh slap to the cheek stopped him, causing Jay to cry out indignantly.

"Hey, I'm just messing around! What's the big deal anyway? You guys are the ones who nabbed me off the street, why should I listen to- mmph!"

A hand was slapped over his mouth very quickly, accompanied by a sharp shh. For once, Jay decided to listen, and heard another man in the room on the phone.

"Please sir, he's driving us insane, can't we just..."

Silence for a few minutes. Jay's heart raced at the thought of there being a man higher up waiting to get his hands on him, despite his current situation already being pretty undesirable.

"Wait, really?"

Muffled words from the other side of the line were audible now, and the man with him laughed a little, obviously relieved.

"Thank you, boss! We'll get him to you right away."

And just like that, Jay was in the air, the chair he was tied to lifted by some thug, and he squawked in surprise as he was gripped roughly by strong hands, the grunts talking amongst themselves as they brought him along. Finally, they stopped, and set him down onto a tile floor, judging by the sound of the legs hitting the ground. One ripped off his blindfold, and they immediately scurried away, leaving Jay to blink his eyes like a newborn kitten to adjust to the light.

"Ah, so you're the famed Ninja of Lightning. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Walker."

Jay finally found his sight, and discovered he was in an office, of sorts. The walls were a circle, bookshelves lining the room, except for the one area where a cabinet full of guns stood. The furniture was elegant, smooth curves and a sleek black sheen to everything made for a very intimidating look.

What was even more intimidating, however, was the figure perched on top of the desk at the far back. He looked to be young, black leather clothes contrasting with his stark white hair, combed back into a feathery undercut. Clear blue eyes stared the ninja down, and Jay felt his skin crawl under the scrutiny.

"Oh, don't tell me they harmed your vocal chords on the journey over, I've heard so much about your jabber," The man slid off the desk, striding over with quiet steps. Now that Jay was closer, he was quite tall, most definitely taller than himself.

"No, they didn't," He managed to squeak out, clearing his throat afterwards. "And how do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things," The man shrugged. "For example, I know that you were born and raised in a trash heap, your favorite food is blackberry pie, and your name is James."

"If you know so much about me," Jay's cheeks burned from hearing his birth name and from the insult towards his parents' livelihood. "Then who are you?"

The man thought for a moment before answering, almost as if questioning himself. He seemed to finally decide on an answer after a few tense moments.

"Call me Snake."

"No offense, but you don't really don't look like a Snake," Jay blurted, and the man raised an eyebrow in amusement. "I mean, you have a pretty blue, black, white color scheme going on, and snakes are usually green. You seem more like an Spider or Shark to me than a Snake. You don't give me slimy vibes."

"Thank you for the feedback," Snake nodded, stepping back a little. "I suppose I will keep that in mind for the next time I have to choose a persona to give to strangers."

"Was that a joke I heard?" Jay asked, and Snake's expression never wavered. The blonde looked at his gun cabinet for a split second before returning his gaze to his hostage.

"So, Mr. Walker, it has come to my attention that you are especially skilled in robotics, correct?"

"I mean, yeah, but-"

"What do you normally create?"

"Small robots, mostly. Y'know, can sweep things, stack bricks, charge phones, and..." Jay trailed off, mentally slapping himself. "Actually, it's none of your business what I do. You're the one who organized my kidnapping, I'm not telling you anything!"

"Hm, just as we were doing so swimmingly. Very well then," Snake walked away, returning to his desk. He once again avoided the chair, choosing to stalk Jay from his desk like a bird of prey.

"Also, consider changing your name to Falcon. Still fits better than Snake."

"I thought we had moved on from my name, James," Snake smiled amusedly. "Although Falcon does have a nice ring to it, thank you. Perhaps I will keep that one in mind."

He pulled his legs up, crossing them on his desk. It was then that Jay noticed the portrait sitting next to his knee.

"Hey, who's in the picture?"

Snake's expression darkened, and Jay's heart picked up once more at the thought of his last words being so lame.

"Perhaps you don't understand your situation. You are in no position to be asking questions, especially ones about my personal life. As far as guests go, you have been treated rather graciously, Mr. Walker. Although I do consider myself rather forgiving in the face of insubordination, I too have a limit."

Jay went quiet, at least for a few moments, but a sudden bird cry followed by a black shape swooping past his face made him shriek, and Snake laughed at his expense. He held out his arm as a black bird rested on him, and Snake gently took the note from its mouth.

"You really are quite entertaining. I might keep you just for that."

"Usually my jokes are a little more thought out than- wait, what do you mean by keep-"

"Hush, I am trying to read, James. Do be polite."

You could hear a pin drop as the man read, cool blues scanning the page. He bristled as he hit the bulk of the letter, presumably receiving bad news.

Snake scoffed, and snatched a lighter from beside him on the desk. He lit the flame, and held it up to the paper.

"Burning letters is so much safer than texting, wouldn't you agree? Plus, fire can be oh so fun to play with if done properly."

"I'm not really a big fan of fire. I guess I just don't like heat."

"I would be inclined to agree. Ice is often much more effective, anyway. It is a silent killer, with much less destruction than fire."

"Um, killer?"

"I run an organized crime ring, do you think I reached where I am by playing nice and holding hands?"

"How did you weaponize ice?" Jay asked, and then quickly backpedaled. "Uh, sorry, no questions, I'll stop."

"There are many ways, but I will indulge you with my personal favorite," Snake released his bird, the avian flying out the small window it had come in from, and stalked towards Jay. He touched a gentle hand to his bound arm, and Jay felt his breath quicken at the contact.

"I am the master of ice. Blood is half water. If I were to concentrate right now, I could freeze your veins and arteries, leaving you stiff like a doll. My ice does not melt easily, and so it creates a wonderful display if presented properly. Of course, the victim would need to be positioned correctly, but that is beside the point."

"You're sick," Jay strained against his bonds, suddenly comprehending the danger he was in. "Is killing people a game to you?"

"Not necessarily. If I kill by necessity, then deaths are quick and painless. If they have wronged me greatly, however, I enjoy watching them writhe to the best of their ability as they feel their blood freeze under my grasp."

"Then why am I here? I haven't wronged you, as far as I know, and I'm not already dead. What do you want from me?"

"I want your expertise. I am interested in your abilities. You are skilled at creating artificial life, James. While I have trained myself in many areas, capturing the essence of a living being is something I've yet to grasp."

All of a sudden, the puzzle pieces clicked in Jay's head. The color scheme, the white hair, the obsession with birds and robotics, and the ice all suddenly brought back memories that Jay forgot that he had.

"...Zane?"

The blonde smiled sadly, and then let out a small, hollow laugh.

"Ah, so you do remember. It's been a while, I know."

"Yeah, since we were toddlers."

"Are your parents well?"

"As far as I know, yeah, they're pretty good. How about your dad?"

Zane scowled, resting his chin on his hand.

"Dead. Killed in one of your little endeavors fighting Garmadon. Tasteless, really. My father deserved a death more fitting of the great mind he was than rubble crushing his body."

"I'm so sorry," Jay bit his lip, dread filling his bones. "So, uh, you're a gang leader now?"

"In a way, yes. I was already rising to power when he died, and his passing only drove me further. And now we are here," Zane gestured to the Lightning Ninja, still tied up. Jay's fingers twitched from their bound position.

"So why didn't you tell me your name off the bat?"

"What would be the point in that? None of the men under me know my name, so why I would I tell a stranger?"

"Fair, I guess. So why am I here?"

"Considering that you killed my father, I feel it is only right that you bring him back too."

"I'm the master of lightning, not a necromancer!" Jay writhed in his bonds. "And I haven't killed anyone. You're insane!"

"I'm not insane, I'm insulted you would think that way," Zane frowned. "You recall how I told you that my ice was especially cold, correct?"

"Yeah? What's that got to do with anything?"

"I have his body frozen downstairs. My ice takes an incredibly long time to melt."

"You what?" Jay shrieked. "I'm going nowhere near a frozen corpse!"

"You won't need to," Zane reassured, although his tone was anything but lenient. "I have brought you here for your mechanical skill. Together, we can bring my father back to life."

"And if I say no?"

"I have a cabinet full of guns to my side as well as the power to freeze your blood, and you're tied up at my mercy. We may have met in our earlier years, but familiarity has never stopped me from killing before."

"Uh, okay, noted," Jay said hurriedly, annoyed at himself for forgetting his situation. "So you want me to help you bring your father back to life by building him a body? But what about his memory?"

"You leave the software to me. You're here for the hardware."

"Ok, ok," Jay nodded slowly, although his mind was going a mile a minute trying to figure out how to escape. "Can you untie me though? I can't exactly build if I'm stuck here."

"You just called me insane and have been nothing but resistant this whole time. Why would I let you roam?" Zane sneered, crossing his arms. "However, I can release you to some extent, since you will be working for me."

And with that Zane untied and retied him so that his hands were still bound, but had enough wiggle room to work. Zane kept a length of rope knotted around the middle, to prevent the Lightning Ninja from breaking away.

Jay's cheeks burned at the thought of being led around like some pet, although he supposed his captivity could have been more humiliating. At least Zane was holding him by the wrists and not by some borderline kinky rope collar.

"What, don't like it?" The blonde laughed genuinely, albeit a little cruelly. He glanced over Jay, almost as if reading his mind. "I could change the positioning, if you'd rather. I was trying to spare you some dignity."

"No, it's fine," Jay looked down and away, refusing to make eye contact with the man currently holding him on a leash.

"James, if we're going to be working together, you need to be able to look at me."

"Don't call me James."

"Why not? If you call me Zane, I feel as though me calling you James is just as personal. Although I do request that you call me Snake in front of the others. I have worked for a long time to reach my status, and I would hate to have my persona crumbled by one pesky ninja."

"Fine, I'll call you Snake, just don't call me James."

"You are in no position to bargain, but I suppose I could allow you this one reward."

"Don't call it a reward, I'm not your pet," Jay hissed, and Zane raised an eyebrow threateningly. Jay gulped. "Sorry."

"Now then, shall we get started?" The blonde purred, and Jay bit his lip to stifle a snarky comeback. His stomach decided to respond for him in the form of a growl.

"Uh, actually, do you have any food?"

"Pardon?"

"I haven't eaten in a while, and nerves makes me extra hungry once I stop feeling anxious. Do you have anything to eat?"

"I'll have someone grab some food for you."

"Thanks," Jay said quietly, and silence fell over the pair, Zane staring off into the distance as if calculating something. "I really am sorry about your dad. I remember him being pretty nice."

"The last memory I have with him is the day before he died. He was telling me about his newest plans for building a robot capable of passing the Turing Test. It was shaping up to be a wonderful project, I would have loved to have seen it."

"Yeah, that would've been really cool. I wish I was better at programming, y'know? People like hardware and stuff, but it's really the code that makes a machine cool. Like, I wish I had a fraction of the capability that your dad had. Wait, if you're planning on bringing him back, that must mean that you're pretty good at coding too, right?"

"I suppose so. But what does this have to do with resurrecting my father?"

"If you miss him more for his inventions than his company, maybe you shouldn't be bringing him back."

Zane didn't say anything, but his eyes bore holes into Jay's head, blue iris filled with cold fury. If looks could kill, Jay's blood would already be solid. Just as Jay was about to backtrack and retract the statement, sensing that it did way more harm than good, Zane yanked Jay towards the side of the room, holding fast to the rope while rifling through the cabinet holding his guns.

"Z- Zane, wait, what are you-"

"Shut up."

The room was silent except for Jay's panicked breathing and his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Zane pulled out a handgun, the sleek black barrel glinting in the low light of the room.

"Are you religious, Jay?"

"N- No."

"Then pick a god and pray."

Zane loaded it quickly, and pulled Jay closer before he could react, pressing the weapon against his forehead. Jay felt tears form in his eyes, the realization that he was about to die making his muscles spasm and he kicked out, landing a hit on Zane's knee but also handicapping himself, his shaky limbs betraying him as he fell to the floor.

"No-! Don't, please, I'm sorry, just please don't shoot!"

"Too late. We cannot work together, and now that you know who I am I cannot leave you alive."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise! I don't want to die!"

"Neither did my father, and yet you still killed him anyway."

"I- I think I understand why you want him back."

Zane kept the gun pointed at his head, but allowed him to continue.

"You feel like you have no one left for you. Sure, you have your cronies and whatever, but you're just lonely. And you don't have to be," Jay offered, and squeezed his eyes shut just in case the next feeling he knew was a bullet going through his brain. Seconds passed, and nothing happened. The rope around his wrists was still pulled taught in Zane's grasp, but nothing changed.

After a few more moments, Jay slowly opened his eyes to see the gun still pointed at him, but the expression on Zane's face had changed into one of uncertainty.

"What do you mean I don't have to be? I have nothing left."

"You're the master of ice, right? I'm sure Sensei wouldn't mind another student, if you're willing."

"You- you want me to join you?"

"Okay, if I'm being honest, maybe not. You did just almost shoot me. But maybe you could make some friends. It wouldn't do any harm to lower your guard a little."

Zane looked away, and the hand holding the gun shook.

"Damn it," Zane muttered to himself, voice broken, and roughly untied the ropes holding Jay's wrists together. "Just go."

"You're letting me leave?"

"Just get out before I change my mind," Zane mumbled, throwing his gun down on his desk and sitting with his head in his hands. "You're right."

"Hey, woah," Jay couldn't believe his own actions even as he performed them, but he walked towards his captor and rested an easy hand on his shoulder. "I mean, thanks for letting me go, but take care of yourself, alright? We may on opposite sides here, but I'm sure you can be a nice guy if you set your mind to it."

Zane looked up, gaze weary.

"I'm not sure about the truth of your statement, but I appreciate the sentiment. Goodbye, Jay. Perhaps this will not be our last meeting."

"Maybe not," Jay pat him once on the shoulder before walking away, finding his way out pretty easily. Sure, he could run back to his friends and storm Zane's hiding spot if he wanted to, but something told him that would just end up with Zane putting a bullet through his own head instead of Jay's. As he was greeted by the cool night air, he decided on two things.

One, he needed to go back and talk to Zane again sometime, as he was still sure that there was a good guy down there somewhere. And two, never before in his life had been so thankful for his chatter.

#ninjago #ninjago jay #jay walker #ninjago zane #ninjago fanfiction #ao3 #fanfiction #mafia au #mafia #Mob Boss!Zane #not romantic #but could be read as the start of slowburn #gun tw #kidnapping tw #toothlessturtle21 writes

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ashleyjouharphotowords · 4 years

Photo

‘Getting ready to rock - and why we still love a festival, 50 years after Woodstock’.

A potted history of the Music Festival, written for the Superstock Image Library.

Peace and Love, man. And believe it or not, Mozart.

In 18th Century England, the cathedrals would fill with the festival-goers of the day, keen to hear the sublime music of Mozart, Beethoven and Rossini. These gatherings were some of the first music festivals in existence.

The word ‘festival’ itself was first recorded in the English language in the middle of the 16th century. It derives from the word ‘feast’, celebrating the harvest.

Before that, in ancient Greece, they used to hold The Pythian Games, a festival of culture in which art, dance and music were performed, pre-dating the sporting aspects of the games.

Of course 1969’s Woodstock Festival is probably the most famous festival of all and the one that expanded 1967’s Summer of Love experience to really put festivals on the map.

In Bethel, upstate New York between 15 and 18 August 1969, 500,000 hippies sprawled out watching performances by, amongst others Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Santana, Creedence Clearwater Revival, The Grateful Dead and The Who.

The myth persists that it was all ‘peace and love’ and spaced out bliss for those that were there. The reality, particularly for the bands was somewhat different. The Who’s singer, Roger Daltrey recalled “We were due on in the evening but by four the next morning we were still hanging around backstage in a muddy field waiting. And waiting some more.”

This really goes against the grain of the legend of Woodstock, especially when Daltrey goes on to say “Three days of peace and love? Do me a favor. It was crazy even before we arrived. Pete (Townshend) spent several hours in the traffic jams. Other artists didn’t make it at all. The whole place was chaos.”

A few months later on Saturday 6 December of the same year a free concert at Altamont Speedway Race Track was held, featuring bands such as Crosby Stills, Nash and Young, Jefferson Airplane and The Rolling Stones. Thrown together and badly organised, The Grateful Dead declined to play in the end because the atmosphere at the festival was turning increasingly ugly as the day wore on.

When The Stones finally went on stage as the headline act, the Hell’s Angels, who had incomprehensibly been drafted in as security were in fact causing most of the trouble. A melee broke out during The Stones’ performance of ‘Under my Thumb’ resulting in the death of 18 year old Meredith Hunter at the hands of one of the Hell’s Angels.

This concert really signified the end of the Sixties, and the idealism of the hippies was stripped away to reveal the ugly side of the counterculture that now existed underneath.

It’s interesting that the perceived carefree legacy of Woodstock, as well as some of its late 60’s fashion has informed the look and feel of subsequent festivals; and still does to this day judging by the flowers in the hair, the face painting and the skimpy fashions at this year’s Glastonbury festival.

Perhaps Woodstock marked the moment that ‘counterculture’ really entered the mainstream and started to become commoditised. It’s no surprise that things have moved on considerably since 1969 and these days there is an explosion of festivals every summer, in the US, the UK and across Europe.

Woodstock wasn’t America’s first festival though. One of the first was the Newport Jazz Festival, that took place in Rhode Island in 1954 in front of 11,000 people, who had flocked to see legends such as Billie Holiday, Oscar Peterson, Ella Fitzgerald and Dizzy Gillespie perform.

And over in the UK, there was The Reading Festival, which is the world's oldest popular music festival still in existence. Starting in 1961 and still going strong today, it has always embraced all genres of new music and therefore stayed relevant to the music fans who attend. Notable bands who have performed there over the decades include Long John Baldry, Georgie Fame, Fleetwood Mac, Deep Purple, Cream, The Jam, The Police, The Cure, Iggy Pop, AC/DC, Blur, Pulp, Guns ‘n’ Roses, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Eminem, Nirvana… and countless more.

Not long afterwards, in 1967, as the Sixties ‘happened’ in America, its youth embraced the ideas of peace, love, counterculture, and escaping from the rigid conventionalism of their parents’ generation. To prove it they embraced the Monterey International Pop Festival, witnessing the famous moment in Jimi Hendrix’s slot where he sets his guitar on fire. It was also where Janis Joplin really arrived on the music scene as a force to be reckoned with and where The Who launched themselves to conquer the US market. This is where ‘The Summer of Love’ officially started.

Meanwhile in the UK, The Doors, Joni Mitchell, Supertramp, Leonard Cohen, Joan Baez, Chicago, Procol Harum and of course Jimi Hendrix and The Who played to over 600,000 people on a small island off the south coast of England. The year was 1968 and The Isle of White Festival was born.

Some of the biggest bands in the world have played Isle of White since the early 2,000’s including The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, Foo Fighters, Bruce Springsteen, Paul McCartney, Pearl Jam, Kasabian, Amy Winehouse, Kings of Leon, Jay-Z, Muse, The Strokes, Coldplay, The Sex Pistols, Fleetwood Mac, The Police and Blondie.

And of course there’s Glastonbury, possibly biggest current festival in the world. It came into being on 19 September 1970. Sadly, Jimi Hendrix never had the opportunity to perform there, as the day before the inaugural event, he died in his London Apartment.

Founded on the ethos of the hippie counterculture, the Glastonbury festival site still has areas called Green Futures, The Wood and Healing Fields and includes dance, crafts, poetry and spirituality alongside its cutting edge music. Nowadays the festival has hundreds of thousands of fans attending each year and it has become huge business, with the event even offering cash point machines, deluxe tent accommodation and high class catering.

The popularity of music festivals spread throughout the world in the 70’s and massive events started to pop up everywhere, from South America to South Africa. The counterculture vibe that started in the 60’s continued to be felt over next two decades as different subgenres of rock were born – from punk to metal and beyond.

The Burning Man Festival, which takes place annually on the bed of an empty lake in Nevada's Black Rock Desert, was founded in 1986 by San Francisco artist Larry Harvey. His idea was to get a small group of people together on the Summer Solstice and burn an 8-foot wooden effigy of a man.

Burning Man is really an experiment in temporary community – something that extends the original hippie ideal and brings it bang up to date. Its counterculture roots also show themselves with its anti-consumerism stance and interest in self-expression. There is a sense of ‘anything goes’ at Burning Man with activities like performance art, using light or fire, nude body painting and the creation of ‘mutant vehicles’ which to mind the action sequences in the original Mad Max movies.

In neighbouring California, The Coachella Festival launched in the 90s, on the back of a concert by Pearl Jam. Like other music festivals, it includes art installations and sculptures, along with Rock, Pop, Hip Hop and Electronic Dance Music. In 1999, 10,000 people came to see Beck, Jurassic 5 and Rage Against the Machine perform. Today the festival has around 75,000 visitors and has featured some landmark moments like Daft Punk’s revolutionary LED-lit pyramid and Tupac’s posthumous performance via hologram.

We should also mention ‘Acid House’ music and the rave culture that spread first across the UK in the late 80’s and then across Europe and back to the US, on the back of the ‘House Music’ scene that came out of Chicago a couple of years earlier. Epitomised by the yellow smiley face graphic, House music encouraged both community and freedom of expression through dance. Alongside the clubbing, blissed-out groups of ravers, fuelled by the drug of the day, Ecstasy began to meet inside large warehouses and at massive outdoor events in fields, to dance through the night, in what became known as The Second Summer of Love.

Today’s music festivals are almost like mini corporations encompassing everything from retail to tourism and fine dining. But they allow us experiences. A study by ticketing agency Eventbrite revealed that Millennials value experience over ownership: 78% would rather pay for an experience than for material goods, compared with 59% of boomers (born 1946–1964).

Festivals may have lost some of their counterculture credentials - but they are still incredibly popular events in the social calendar and as human beings, we all embrace the idea of community and coming together and experiencing things collectively. Particularly when it’s accompanied by great live music.

#woodstock #festival #rocknroll #livemusic #the who #jimi hendrix #the rolling stones #photography #rock photography #ashleyjouhar

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caroline18mars · 5 years

Text

A Man On Fire - Chapter 47

Up in the air, his mind kept wandering off to that beauty he had left back there in New York, he grabbed his phone to check for the umpteenth time if there was any mail or text from her..but still nothing, wait..what time was it there now? she was probably asleep already. Ok, he would start, so that she would have some news from him the minute she opened her eyes, he switched screens and in doing so, the picture of Val popped back up and he smiled, well at least she was gonna be there to distract him from his loneliness when he landed in Italy, it wasn’t gonna fix anything, but it was something to look forward to. How was it even possible to fall asleep when her sheets still smelled like him? Just close your eyes and fall asleep, it’s not that hard, you’ll see him again soon enough, what is one month without him in the scope of eternity?. This wasn’t gonna work, just thinking about him made her even more restless, ok fine, she grabbed her phone and tapped on her mailbox app, whoopwhoop mailmailmail, yesss, mail from him already.

From: BJLCubbins

To: HCDeRobiano

Subject: Not my first, but definitely my last!

Babe,

I’m sitting here several miles up high here in the sky, and the most rational thing I can come up with is that I miss you, I know how corny that probably sounds to a tough cookie like yourself, but whatever, I just needed to say it! Unfortunately it won’t do anything to keep this blues at bay, but on the other hand, it made me realize that from this moment on, I can start counting down the days, the biggest hurdle => leaving you behind has been taken, from here on it just can’t get any worse, tomorrow when I wake up or go to sleep (see? This jetlag is already getting me all disorientated) it’s gonna be 29 days until I see you again, not 30, because 30 is unbearable, but 29 is not.

Out of the window, I can see this one, amazingly bright star, can you see it too down there? I’ve had a talk with that star and I’ve told her to keep an eye on you, can you see her? It’s the third one from the right and she’s twinkling like crazy, that’s because she’s trying to tell you what I’ve told her about you.

Halfway between America and Europe, that’s what the little screen in front of me is telling me, every mile is a mile more distance between us..and right now that’s hard to live with..

Anyway, I’m gonna try and get some sleep myself, so I won’t be such a jetlagged zombie when I land, and it’ll take my mind off you for a while, although I’m sure you’ll still be there in every single one of my dreams.

I love you x 1000000

Jay

Sweet, beautiful, hunk of a man, my man! She sighed and clutched the phone to her chest, thinking of what she was going to write to him, just not..now..god she was so tired..her eyes slowly fell shut, all the stress and the commotion of the last couple of days, was catching up with her. Touchdown in a rainy Florence, the sound of the screeching breaks and the wheels splashing over the wet tarmac, this was real, life as he had known it for so many years was about to start again, life on the road, with her it had been so much more fun, it had so much more meaning to it. Stop complaining, Jared, do as you told her, count down the days, hidden behind umbrellas he could already see the welcoming committee, he shoved all his belongings into his bag and as soon as the jet had come to a stop, he hopped down the stairs. “Welcome back little brother!” Shannon pulled him in for a bear hug while Stevie bumped fists with him, “did you get my message?” his brother wiggled his eyebrows at him, “yeah, I did, where is she?” he shouted above the noise of the engines, “back at the hotel, she’s expecting you” Shannon said all excited and held open the door for him. “How was NY?” his brother tried to distract him from constantly checking his phone, “haven’t seen much of New York, we spent most of our short time together indoors, we had so much time to sort out and talk about” he breathed absentmindedly, why hadn’t she sent anything back?. “Talking? Is that how they call fucking your girl’s brains out, these days?” Shannon and Stevie burst out into a fit of giggles, “how old are you both? 5?” Jared threw them an annoyed glare, she would have probably laughed about it too if she had been here, but right now their words only bugged him. “Anyway, everything set up for tonight? Is there time to have a couple of hours of sleep before we hit that stage again? I think I’ll skip soundcheck just this once” he quickly changed the subject, couldn’t this car go any faster? He just wanted to be horizontal for a couple of hours.

After half an hour, the car finally stopped in front of the hotel, he jumped out and pulled his hood over his head when he noticed a vast row of fans waiting for them at the side of the entrance, he loved them all dearly but right now, he didn’t exactly want to be disturbed, so he quickly gestured at Shannon to go see them and hurried inside the lobby. His key ready in his hand, he walked out of the elevator and headed for his suite, putting the card in the lock he opened the door, “well hello stranger” her voice startled him, there she was lying on her side, tapping the empty spot next to her. “Val..” he dropped his bag and walked over to the bed, sitting down waiting for her to sit up and give her a hug, “hello stranger” wow, a moist kiss landed under his ear “been way too long” and her hot breath raked across his throat as she pulled him down with him. “Heyheyhey” his hand locked around hers when it ventured down his back to the curve of his butt “I’ve already got someone special to do that” he tried to keep his tone light but her audacity bothered him, ok so they had a thing a while back but that fizzled out because he had lost interest. Yes, she was a model, that type that everyone expected him to fall for and be with but there just wasn’t enough to keep him interested..sometimes he could have sworn he heard the wind blow right through that head of hers, cliché? Maybe but oh so true, intellectually he needed more in a woman than this bubblehead, he couldn’t fill his days talking about make-up, weight loss and whose yacht the vacation should be spent on in order to get maximum exposure in all the right gossip rags. “Someone as special as me? I find that hard to believe” she let go of him with an annoying giggle, “anyway, Shannon reserved a table at one of these cool trattorias for all of us and after that we’re going to party” she grabbed her phone and showed him a picture of what looked like the hottest club in town. “I don’t know, I’ve got a show to play and I’m completely jetlagged” he already knew her answer, “what are you? 105? You’re coming, we’re definitely dancing tonight, a little bit of alcohol will help even more with sleeping off that jetlag”. Purring in anticipation she cupped his chin and pushed a quick, chaste kiss on his lips before she got up, adjusting her hair in front of the mirror, “I’m not making any promises, in the meantime this 105-year old is gonna have a little nap” he so wanted to wipe the taste of her mouth off his lips, “ok, Daddy, or should I call you grandpa now? I’ll let you snooze, I’ll see you at the show” the deviousness lit up in her eyes as she let her thumb seductively caress her lips, throwing him a fat wink as she exited the room. What just happened? He hung his head and shook it, Val happened, that’s what, he had moved on, she clearly hadn’t, he let himself fall back against the cushions, her perfume lingering there, and boy did it smell like trouble.

From: HCDeRobiano

To: BJLCubbins

Subject: Re: Not my first, but definitely my last!

Love of my life,

That’s definitely a first, saying that or writing that down, and boy it’s scary, but I refuse to delete it, so you enjoy that.

I’ve been painting all night and all morning, with a little nap inbetween, and it’s been a blast, don’t take this the wrong way, but in a way I’m glad, for all the obvious reasons, you’re not around, because it’s simply impossible to keep my focus when you strut around my loft oozing pure sex. No, I’m not gonna do this, I’m not even gonna think about having rampant sex with you or I’ll never finish this painting..that being said, I should have made a cast of that amazing dick of yours so I could make a dildo out of it,(hey I’ve had enough sculpting classes to pull it off, no pun intended), and fuck myself silly with it, because I could do with one of your thorough fuckings right now..NO! no dirty talk, no online sex, and definitely not via e-mail, nope not gonna do that, not gonna happen! Do you touch yourself thinking about me at all? Stop it Harper, stop it right now!

Anyway, by the time you’re reading this, you’re probably already on a stage singing, girls fainting in the front row, throwing themselves at your feet..*sigh* it’s hard (I bet it is though! No stop Coco, just stop shooting off that sassy mouth of yours, only filth seems to come out of it today anyway).

I’m gonna take a cold shower and then I’m heading to bed to wake up soaked all over again, I’m sure (I swear I’ll stop)

You know what you are, Jared Leto? A shot of life, that’s what you are, I can feel it more than ever now ‘that shot of life’ has flown away from me. And here I thought I’d prove that romance wasn’t dead and I was planning on writing you a long, handwritten love letter (I used to love writing letters, and receiving them, the waiting, that crazy longing for a mailman to stop by your house, the moment you saw him slide that envelope inside the mailbox..) and all I end up doing is writing some smut on a white screen!

Love you too!

A horny Harper Coco! x

”Jay? You comin?” airhead’s voice startled him, comin? Oh yeah he was gonna come in a minute and on the spot, that was one hot e-mail, suddenly it felt really uncomfortable having an ex-lover stand here in the same room as him, an ex-lover Harper knew nothing about, just don’t get photographed with her, and hope that she soon has some catwalk to grace with her presence. “Jared? Shannon is waiting for us, the end of the show was almost an hour ago, I really want to go out!” she became a little more persistent like a a spoiled brat that was afraid not to get her way, and in the blink of an eye she snatched the phone from his hands “if you want this back, you’re gonna have to come along right now and if you’re a really..” she stepped in front of him and let her finger slide up and down over that part where his shirt met a bare piece of skin of his chest “really, really good boy, I might just give it back to you” she breathed and hopped out of the room into the hallway where Shannon was waiting for them.

#jared leto #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #30 Seconds To Mars #30 seconds to mars fanfic #a man on fire #chapter 47 #harpercoco #Harper and Jared #caroline18mars

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dinoswrites · 5 years

Text

Clothed in Light || Chapter 7: In the Embers

Arranged Marriage AU. Asra/Apprentice/Muriel. Ongoing.

| Previous | Masterpost |

—

Asra tries to heal the rest of Kai’s wounds as she begins to calm a little, kneeling on the floor with her in front of the entire court.

The Pontifex approaches first, waving their hands furiously. “What the hell was that?” they demand, and over the mess of Kai’s hair Asra can see their wild eyes, and the genuine fear they’re trying to hide behind their scowl. “Since when could a useless schoolgirl burn a man alive from the inside out?”

Cinis snarls when the Pontifex gets too close, raising his hackles.

They take a few hurried steps back—and that’s when Asra’s mother catches up to them, grabbing their arm and yanking them farther away. “Kalani just saved the city, you ungrateful shit,” she snaps. “Now if you would do your job and see to the rest of the enemy forces in this room?”

When Asra looks to Lucio’s soldiers, standing under guard, he sees them pale-faced and slack-jawed. One of them, whose armour is decorated with protective magic sigils, clears their throat and stands a little taller, once they realise they are under scrutiny.

“I can confirm that there was no outside interference in the duel—the young lady has won under the terms agreed. Our forces will disperse.”

It seems like the whole room lets out a collective sigh of relief. Some cheer—though they are few and far between. Asra sees fans fluttering and people whispering to one another as they glance nervously at Kai, and he sees guards getting up off the floor and trying to straighten their uniforms, asking one another, what happened?

He only gets a glimpse of Muriel slipping through a side door.

The count’s voice rises above the sudden rush of noise. “Then we will leave you to make the announcement to your troops.”

The room falls still once again. Asra looks to his uncle and finds his face impassive, his expression calm. As if speaking about the weather.

The mercenary who had spoken only glances at the count—instead, they keep their wary gaze mostly on Kai. “If the Sun-Sighted is the least among your magicians, ours cannot best them. You have our word—we will honour the terms of the duel.”

Count Sahir smiles, and leans back in his chair.

No matter how much Asra glares at him, the count does not glance at them even once.

Asra leads Kai away from court, up the back stairs, rushing her past servants and courtiers who look at Kai with a mix of awe and fear. Muriel is already in their room, waiting for them, sitting with Inanna on the floor and stroking her fur.

There are tears tracking down his cheeks already. They begin anew when he sees her, and his eyes follow the lines between her broken nose, her battered cheek, and the dark bruises already forming on her neck.

She starts crying again when she sees him: his uniform torn and scuffed, and dirt on his face. Even as he surges forward to embrace her, she tries to reach for his face and turn it.

Asra watches Muriel hold Kai like glass—and watches Kai cling to him, as if he is a rock and she is drowning in a river. She cries, and cries, and he does not say anything. He just holds her, tears streaming down his face and into in her hair.

Eventually Kai cries herself out again. She sits on the bed, still as stone, while Asra heals her nose. She doesn’t even wince as it snaps back into place—but as his hands ghost over her throat she shivers, closes her eyes, and takes a steadying breath.

She clutches Muriel’s hand with white knuckles.

Muriel looks about to say something—but he closes his mouth, then takes a breath, and lets Asra finish healing her throat.

Asra takes her other hand in his, passing healing magic over her broken fingers and wrist. She inhales sharply as the bones shift back into place, and it trembles as she lets it out again.

“Thank you,” she says, her voice low but whole again. She twines her fingers in Asra’s, and squeezes them tight—tight enough to hurt, but he doesn’t mind.

After a while, after immeasurable heartbeats in silence, Kai opens her mouth and says, “I need a bath.”

They help her out of her tattered and bloodstained dress together, having to peel it off her skin in places where the blood has crusted and dried.

Asra has never seen Kai’s tattoos before—he had caught glimpses of them while they were healing, has seen where they start on her arm when her shirt has slipped down her shoulder. He sees the sun now, over the back of her shoulder, etched into her skin in bold, dark lines.

He finds himself staring at it until Kai steps around the corner, and disappears into the bathroom.

Inanna, Faust and Cinis watch over her as she bathes, while Muriel and Asra give her space, sitting on the couch in the receiving room.

Over and over, Asra thinks of that first meeting with Jay, five years ago. And no good at the other primals? Wind? Water? Fire?

“Your uncle,” Muriel starts to say, then stops.

Asra glances over. Muriel is frowning, as if trying to figure out what to say.

Before Asra can say, I’ll deal with him, Muriel looks Asra in the eye and says, “He wasn’t surprised.”

Asra frowns, uncomprehending. “What?”

Muriel clears his throat, and shifts uneasily. “Nothing that happened today surprised him. Not—not hearing that Lucio wanted a duel, not that he chose Kai, Cinis, not—not the end. He was just… sad. The whole time.”

Asra is still processing that when he hears Faust call to him—and he goes to the bathroom immediately, heart in his throat.

But Kai is still standing by the bathing pool, clutching a robe around herself with a worried Faust looped around her shoulders, and a glowering Cinis standing guard at her side. She has not stepped into the pool—she’s only staring at the gently steaming water with a vacant expression.

“Kai?” he asks, and she takes a sharp breath. “Is it too hot?”

“Yeah,” she says, at length. “If you could—just a little.”

He touches the charms that keep the water hot to turn then down, and then cools the water with his magic until the steam subsides. It’s tepid, he thinks, but Kai gives him an attempt at a grateful smile for his efforts.

He helps her step into the pool, and pointedly looks away while she removes the robe. He takes it from her, and when their hands touch she does not shy away.

“I think I need help with my hair,” she says, into the silence. “Maybe you and Muriel could…?”

As Kai soaks in the cold water, Asra gently washes her back, and the blood from her face, while Muriel combs the tangles out of her hair with short, delicate movements. Asra disposes of her dress and the bathrobe while Muriel starts combing oils through her hair to make it shine again—and then Asra combs her hair a little, too, because it makes him feel better.

After a while, Kai tucks her knees up to her chest, and rests her chin on top of them.

“There was a position for me at court, in Manakea.”

Asra’s hand stills. But Kai keeps staring ahead, so he just keeps combing her hair, gently, waiting for her to gather her thoughts.

“My father had arranged it. Said it couldn’t wait—so he came all the way to school, to convince my professors to take my exams early.”

Cinis, lying next to Asra, lifts one massive paw and rests it on Kai’s shoulder.

“They… they allowed it. And I didn’t want to leave, so… I failed them on purpose.”

Asra keeps combing her hair as gently as he can, and Muriel scratches Inanna’s ears slowly, studying Kai with a thoughtful expression.

“And the headmaster… she got angry. She knew I was faking it, knew I could have passed. She accused me of trying to tarnish the name of the school. And then she said she would be my opponent in my combat magic exam. Which… I had never studied.”

Faust slithers from Asra’s lap to her shoulders, and gently presses her face to Kai’s cheek until she looks up again.

“I guess—I should have started with this. Should have—there’s a test you take, when you first go to the school. To see what you’ll study. And… I was good with earth magic, and plants, and no good at everything else… Except then they had me hold a candle, and light it by thinking about it. And I tried, and someone was yelling at me because I wasn’t getting it…” She shrugs. “I lit their robes on fire, but it was an accident. And then the whole room, and it wouldn’t stop… And it was fine, no one got hurt, but… But I was six. Every time they tried to put me in a class and have me use fire magic, I just froze up, and started crying. Until my botany professor talked to the headmistress, and they stopped.”

There’s a buzz like a low rumble in the air, and Kai turns to smile at Cinis. “I wasn’t afraid of you at all,” she tells him, fondly. “No—you were helping. You were so good.”

That seems to appease the big cat a little. He blinks at her slowly, and then leans forward until she presses her forehead to his.

When she’s settled in the bath again, she continues. “So when I duelled the headmaster, and she was yelling at me, and she was deflecting all my spells and breaking my barriers… I got so scared, I just lit her on fire. I didn’t mean to. And it was—it was bad. No one could put it out, and everyone started yelling at me but I didn’t know what to do…”

She trails off. Eventually, Muriel shifts closer, and places a hand on her shoulder.

“That’s how you were expelled,” Muriel finishes for her.

Kai lets out a trembling breath. “She… She got an awful scar. And I swore I’d never use fire magic again, but…”

She starts shaking. She bites her lip, hard enough Asra worries she’ll bite right through it—and then she starts crying again.

“Hey,” Asra says, softly. He drops her hair and leans forward, taking her shoulders firmly in his hands. “Hey, Kai, it’s not your fault. Nothing—nothing that happened today was your fault. Okay?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t—this time it was one person, what happens next time? Is it two? A hundred? I don’t want this to come around again I can’t—I can’t—”

And Asra doesn’t think about his clothes, or even that she’s naked. He gets into the water himself, at her side—fully dressed, jewellery and all—and she latches onto him, weeping incoherently, as he tries to hush her, and wraps his arms around her, ignoring the cold temperature of the water.

When Muriel makes to stand up, embarrassed, Kai reaches back without looking for his hand. She tugs at him until Muriel joins them as well, still in that guard uniform. Water spills out over the sides of the bath, but no one pays it any mind; Asra only notices at all because Cinis lets out a disgruntled rumble as his paws get wet.

Muriel encircles them both, one arm over Asra’s shoulders and the other protectively across Kai’s back, and tugs them close to his chest, and closer still to each other.

All three of them are shivering in the water before Kai finally allows herself to be led to bed. She falls asleep faster than Asra expected her to—but she’s exhausted to the bone; from crying, from her wounds, from using so much magic. She curls into Muriel’s broad chest, and Asra lies against her back while she clutches his hand close to her heart.

Muriel’s other hand comes to rest in the small of Asra’s back. Their eyes meet over Kai’s hair; Muriel looks a wreck, worry having carved dark circles under his eyes and drawn his face in pale lines.

Asra can’t imagine he looks any better.

They wait together until Kai’s breaths even out, and she falls asleep. And then Asra waits a little longer, feeling her steady breathing, and Muriel’s hand warm on his back. They do not speak, for fear of waking her—but neither can they fall asleep.

Asra’s thoughts spin, uselessly, to keep him from remembering the sound of Kai’s screams. Of her nose breaking. Or the sight of her on the floor, or Lucio’s face when he picked her up by the throat.

Her eyes gone white, burning with a fire to rival Cinis.

Sun-sighted. But—it’s a metaphor. She can see through illusions—that’s what that means.

Again, he thinks of that first meeting with Jay, five years ago: A Sun-sighted girl-child, from our line, practically radiating…

Radiating with what? She hadn’t finished that thought, had she?

He buries his face in Kai’s hair and tries to think—but instead he thinks of his uncle, who was not surprised. Who heard Kai enter the room in the midst of all that chaos, and looked relieved.

What did he whisper to Kai?

Why did he let Lucio choose?

Eventually, Asra gives up on sleep. He slowly untangles himself from Kai and Muriel. The latter only moves enough to watch him, a knowing look in his eyes. Well, trust Muriel to know what Asra wants to do before Asra does, himself.

Kai is too exhausted to even stir—not even as Muriel curls tighter around her, and Cinis slips into Asra’s place.

The great panther’s ember orange eyes meet Asra’s. Asra feels that low rumble in his thoughts again—and he’s not sure what Cinis is trying to say, but he thinks the whole impression is… slightly murderous. Possibly possessive. Not directed at Asra, however.

I’m only going to talk, Asra thinks back, clear and steady.

Cinis huffs, unimpressed. But then he presses his great head into Kai’s hair, and finally settles down around her.

The halls of the palace are surprisingly busy for the early hour of the morning. Asra casts a never mind me spell with a thought, and everyone just moves past him. Mostly servants or guards, each of them too exhausted now to be even hurrying. At this point it’ll have been a full day and more on their feet, for everyone Asra sees—most of them seem asleep on their feet already.

Most people aren’t talking. There’s a sombre air in the palace—grateful, Asra thinks, relieved even, but sombre. Even the usual gossipers seem both too exhausted and too in awe of how close they came to destruction to be chatting now.

Asra comes upon his uncle’s wing just as the Consul is leaving. He lacks his usual polish and poise, but he still holds himself with a straighter back than anyone else Asra’s seen tonight.

The Consul sees Asra through the spell—hard to simply not mind him here, he supposes—and pauses, his expression troubled.

“Young lord,” the Consul says. “How fares your wife?”

Asra opens his mouth to answer. Then, after a moment’s consideration, he closes it and simply shrugs.

The Consul gives him sympathetic, if exhausted, smile. “She performed no small feat for this city. I understand she was not prepared for the reality of combat—such as that was. If she should require a sympathetic ear… I know some who are trained in the art of easing grief. In healing the spirit.”

Asra is too exhausted and too awake to feel indignation, or gratitude. He can only nod. “Thank you,” he says, his voice at once too soft and too loud in the hall. “I will pass that on. Is… the count still awake?”

The Consul inclines his head. “I could not convince him to rest.”

He finds his uncle on the balcony, sitting at a table set with a chess board. He looks out to the faintest hint of sunlight at the horizon, so Asra cannot he his expression as he approaches. There is an open bottle of wine on the table, nearly empty, a clean wine glass next to it and a full one in Sahir’s hand.

As Asra comes to stand on the side of the table opposite his uncle, Sahir finally turns and looks at him, his expression so blank it must have been forced that way.

“Asra,” his uncle says, after regarding him a moment. “How is Kalani?”

The heat of anger mixes unhappily with uncertainty in Asra’s belly. He clenches his fists in his pockets.

Sahir gestures with his wine glass. “Come, sit. Pour yourself a glass of wine. It’s been too long since we played a game of chess.”

Asra takes a deep, unsteady breath. His uncle will not quite meet his eyes, and speaks with the slowness of one who is a little drunk, or one who is watching carefully what they say.

“You tell me what happens next,” Asra says, his voice tight.

Sahir only stares down at his wine.

“Do I get drunk with you on the balcony? Do we play chess? You probably win, since you already know all the moves we’re going to make.”

His uncle sighs, lifts the glass to his lips, and drains it. He reaches for the bottle and pours the last of it into his glass, before saying, “Only my own, Asra.”

Asra wants to throw his hands in the air. He wants to launch himself at his uncle and strangle him. He paces instead, too furious to stand in one place.

“How long have you known?” Asra snaps.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” his uncle drawls. “How long have I known that my sister would have a child with white hair and unparalleled magical power? Since I was four. How long have I known that you would discover my secret and storm in here? Since I was twelve.”

Asra lets out a sigh that sounds more like a frustrated growl. “You know what I mean.”

“Of course I do. I have seen this conversation in my dreams over a hundred times, now.”

Asra rakes a hand through his hair. “Who else knows?”

“No one. You are the first.”

“First?”

But Sahir ignores that question to take a long drag from his wine glass. “I knew a sun-sighted woman would save our city before I knew I would even lead that city. I saw the fires burn in her eyes before you took your first halting steps in my dreams. Before I knew she was your wife I knew her, and I knew she would weep in your arms when it was done before you were old enough to hold anything at all. I have known today would come most my whole life, Asra, and I have not enjoyed that knowing. Not at all.”

He shakes his head, incredulous. “You didn’t try to stop it? You didn’t warn her?”

He keeps watching his uncle’s expression, trying to get anything out of him. Anger, or regret, or sorrow—anything.

Sahir only drinks his wine, and stares down at the chessboard. “Of course not,” he says. “If she were not there to fight for Vesuvia, you would have fallen, and Lucio would be Count in my stead.”

“You can’t know that.”

Sahir sighs darkly. “Have you already forgotten why you came here to yell at me? I can know that, and I do. In every other possibility, Lucio wins. If you and Faust fight him, you hesitate when it is time to strike the final blow, and he tears your heart clean from your chest. Your mother and father attack Lucio to try and save you, the terms of the duel are violated, and the city burns.”

“You can’t know that!” Asra stands over the table, trying to loom but his uncle’s blank expression makes it clear he’s not impressing anyone. “You can’t know that your way is the only way things have to happen. You can’t—decide for us, what we choose.”

“I decided nothing,” Sahir says. “I agreed to the duel, and that Lucio should choose his opponent. He chose the terms—he chose death.”

“Kai—”

“You leaned over your teacup and told her to run. She did not. She came to the palace, when battle was inevitable, and offered her help.”

“She didn’t choose to fight! To kill someone! She didn’t choose to marry me, either!”

“She chose to stay. She chose Vesuvia, its people, over her own assured escape. She became its champion because of those choices, Asra, your marriage only made her eligible for the position.”

“He could have killed her!”

“That,” says Sahir, “was never a possibility.”

“I don’t care,” Asra snaps. “I don’t care what you think, what you’ve seen. You wanted Kai here to win your duel for you? Fine. She’s won it. But I’m not making her stay in this palace a moment longer. She deserves better than that.”

With that, Asra turns on his heel and storms off, stuffing his shaking hands in his pockets.

“She’ll stay where she chooses, Asra,” the count says, as Asra stalks off. “Not where you think is best.”

Asra slams the door behind him.

Muriel and Inanna stay with them for a week.

Kai does not leave the room once the entire time.

By the end of the week, Cinis is restless. He spends most of his time the size of a housecat, and rarely goes farther than a few paces from Kai. If someone knocks at the door, however, Cinis turns back into a panther in the space of a heartbeat, a low rumble in his throat to greet whoever approaches.

The staff are, understandably, terrified of him.

It does not stop them from trying to bring Kai gifts.

Every meal brought up is a rotating selection of her favourites. The second day, a guard goes out of their way to bring fresh pumpkin bread from the city, saying that it always cheers them up—it’s not Selasi’s, but it does make Kai smile a little. People bring potted plants in varying states of health, and it doesn’t take long for Kai to start tutting over the scraggly ones and make room for them on the balcony, where they’ll get better sunlight.

Serris, with her cane and her straight, straight back, is utterly undeterred by Cinis’s posturing. She barges right in the last day of that week, wrinkling her nose and charging right through the sitting room to the bedroom, where Kai is sitting on the windowsill and looking out to the city.

“That is quite enough moping, all three of you,” she scolds them. “It smells like a menagerie in here, and I have just been informed that your wolf is antagonizing the peacocks.”

“They started it,” Muriel grumbles, while Inanna folds her ears flat against her skull, chastised.

She sighs. She turns to Kai, and leans on her cane while her expression softens. “Lady Kalani,” she says, her voice softer than Asra’s ever heard it. “We are all of us, very grateful for what you had to do to save our city, and we all understand how awful it must have been to go through that. But you are not one of your houseplants, and a few hours on the windowsill is not an acceptable alternative to going outside and getting some fresh air. I am sending in people in tomorrow morning, bright and early, to clean, and if I find you here I will be dragging you out into the gardens myself. There’s a sickly tree by the southeast wall, and the gardeners could use your expertise on the matter.”

She leaves shortly after—and Muriel pets Inanna, while Cinis as a small cat once again curls up on Kai’s lap, and she strokes his fur, still staring out at the city.

“I should take Inanna home,” Muriel says, at length. “There’s too many people here… she doesn’t like it.”

There’s a question hanging in the air—Asra can feel it, and can see it written all over Muriel’s face.

But Kai doesn’t turn around, or even acknowledge that he spoke.

“Kai,” Asra starts to say—but Muriel approaches her, and very gently takes her hand in his.

She looks up at him. Her expression is blank, but Asra can make out all the cracks in it.

“I’ll come back after if you want,” Muriel tells her. He doesn’t even blush; he just rubs the back of her hand with his thumb.

Kai tries to smile. “You go on home, Muriel,” she tells him. “I’ll be alright.”

Still, Muriel hesitates. But Asra can see that being in the palace is grating on him, even if he very rarely sees anyone but Kai and Asra. So Asra says, “I’ll let you know if Kai needs you,” and then sees Muriel and Inanna all the way out of the palace grounds.

But before Muriel slips through the gate leading to the south end of town, he turns back to Asra with a thoughtful frown. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Yeah,” Asra says. “She’s—she’s doing great. She’ll be great. Don’t worry.”

From Muriel’s expression, he can tell Asra doesn’t really feel it.

Asra takes his time making his way back up to their room. When he returns, he finds Kai exactly as he left her—sitting on the windowsill, her cat piled up in her lap, and her gaze still fixed on the city below them.

He watches her there a while. He watches her watch the sky, how the sun begins to approach the horizon and the faintest shade of gold begins to highlight the clouds.

“Kai,” he says at length. His voice feels heavy, saying her name.

She finally turns and looks at him.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

Her brows furrow ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

Asra takes a deep breath. “I mean…” He pauses to rake a hand through his hair. He decides, after a moment, to join her on the windowsill. “I talked to the count, a few days ago.”

She raises an eyebrow. If she’s noticed that Asra has stopped referring to Sahir as his uncle, she has not said anything about it. “And?”

He wants, very badly, to take her hand. He does not. “He… Muriel told me that he wasn’t surprised, that day. When everything happened. Everyone was surprised but him.”

Kai’s eyes narrow again, and then widen a little. “He’s a Seer.”

“Yeah.”

Her fingers curl in Cinis’s fur, and he lets out a mrr. “I shouldn’t be surprised he has magical talent, with your mother, but… He knew? That all of this would happen?”

His throat feels thick. “Yeah. He did.”

Kai doesn’t say anything for a while. Asra watches her face for a bit, but she seems to be coming to the same conclusions he had, and he finds that he can’t watch it—so he looks down at the city, trying to ignore the pressure building in his chest.

“That’s why he wanted us married,” she says at length. “Even when your parents suggested just giving me a position at court.”

He closes his eyes. “… Yeah.”

“That’s why he said—”

Whatever she was about to say, she does not finish. She sounds both furious and distraught, and Asra cannot bring himself to look at her to figure out which it is.

In her lap, Cinis starts to purr, but it doesn’t seem to be calming her down like it normally does.

After a while, Asra says, “You don’t have to stay here, you know.”

“What?”

He still can’t bring himself to look at her. “If you want to go and… live in the woods with Muriel, then that’s okay. That’s great. I’ll come visit whenever I can, and I’ll bring pumpkin bread—”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“What?” He finally looks at her, but her expression has drawn neutral, and guarded. “No, no, Kai, I never—I’m only saying that I don’t want to make you stay here any more—”

“That’s what you think,” she says, her voice flat. “You think I’m only here because you’re making me stay here.”

“No—”

“But now I’ve done what your uncle wanted me to, so now I’m no longer of any use to you. Is that it?”

He recoils. He slips off the windowsill and stands. “I never—that’s not what I meant—”

“Well you can tell your uncle that he’s stuck with me,” Kai snaps. “Because—because I’ve earned this, now, haven’t I? I’ve earned calling this place home, and living here, and all the food and the clothes, and you can’t just kick me out now that I’ve killed for it.”

Asra stares down at her, all the words he wants to say catching in his throat.

She stares up at him, and then takes a deep, shaking breath, tucks her knees close to her chest and looks out into the city once again.

“Kai,” he starts to say.

“Leave me alone,” she interrupts him, her voice shaking.

He thinks of reaching out and touching her. He wants to—so, so badly. But she is still angry—he knows because Cinis is on her shoulders now, glaring out of the mess of her hair at him and starting to growl, his orange eyes starting to glow brighter.

“Go away,” Kai snaps.

Asra finally turns away. He crosses to where Faust wavers, distressed, on the bed, and picks her up. She slithers into his scarf, shaking with uncertainty, while Asra walks over to the door without saying a word.

He hesitates a moment before leaving. He looks back at her, curled up into herself on the windowsill.

He opens his mouth to say something—and then shakes his head, and leaves, closing the door behind him.

#the arcana game #the arcana fanfiction #asra #muriel #kai's tag #asra/apprentice #asra/apprentice/muriel #muriel/apprentice

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arrowdaily · 5 years

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This season of Arrow has taken the series’ already awesome action and stunts to a whole new level. With Oliver Queen (Stephen Amell) in prison, things have been incredibly brutal, but what we’ve seen so far is nothing compared to the action of episode 7, “The Slabside Redemption” which airs tonight.

After last week’s triumphant takedown of Ricardo Diaz (Kirk Acevedo) things look like they’re finally getting better for the team, but at the start of this week’s adventure, Diaz neatly escapes his captors and heads into Slabside prison to take down Oliver, before the former vigilante’s release. What follows is a full hour of action, combining a tense cat-and-mouse between Oliver and Diaz, unlikely alliances, shocking betrayals, and jaw-dropping stunts.

There is no B story; there is no villain of the week—just wall-to-prison-wall ass kicking. On our recent trip to Vancouver, BC, we talked to Amell, along with director James Bamford and fight coordinator Jeff Robinson (correction: an earlier version of this article erroneously named fight coordinator Curtis Baconnier), about how this extraordinary episode came together.

“Seven... they just turned the stunt department loose,” Amell said of the episode. “It was the shortest script that I’ve ever read, because it had so little stage direction. It was basically [Showrunner Beth Schwartz] going to James Bamford and saying, “This is the through line of what happens to Oliver from start to finish; do what you can in the time that you have. Go.’”

No one could have directed this episode but James Bamford. Bamford—also known as BamBam—has stunt credits too numerous too name, a bronze medal in karate (!) and a well-earned reputation as one of the best stunt performers and coordinators in Vancouver. Since season 4 of Arrow, he’s added to his resume as a director, and has been a producer on the show since 2017.

This season, he directed the “Elseworlds” crossover, as well as several other episodes of Arrow. He was also a correctional officer back in the day, who used his own experience working in a prison to bring veritas to the Slabside plot line this season.

Bamford was part of the original conception for this mini action movie. “The episode was born of a conversation Mark Guggenheim and I had,” Bamford told us. At the time, Guggenheim suggested doing an episode with “three words, and the rest of it is action!” He upped the ante, suggesting the idea that the entire episode was one shot, a la Birdman.

That concept proved a tad too outside of the box for a network show, but the idea of what Bamford called “a giant oner with no words” evolved, and eventually the creatives came to the concept of “The Slabside Redemption.” The episode plays out almost in real time as one long fight between Oliver, Diaz, the guards, and the rest of the prisoners let loose (including Michael Jai White’s Ben Turner, a.k.a. Bronze Tiger). It was a true collaboration between writers, director, stunts, and actors.

One goal of the episode was to take full advantage of the multi-story Slabside prison set, which Bamford thought had been under-utilized in the top of the season. The fact that the set was built in-studio allowed fight coordinator Robinson to rehearse with his team extensively in the space before the shoot.

This came in extremely handy for the centerpiece of the episode: a single continuous shot that moves through multiple levels of the Slabside set, just aas Bamford and co. envisioned. The shot was accomplished with a technocrane, as well as hours of rehearsals by the stunt men and actors. Even within this long shot, there were many “cowboy switches,” where a stunt double will step into frame as an actor steps out, or vice versa, and stunt men and riggers doing setups out of frame while the camera was rolling.

And it’s seamless. “We’ll rehearse the whole dance, then on the day, we do multiple rehearsals with camera,” said stunt coordinator Eli Zagoudakis (correction: an earlier version of this article attributed this quote to the fight coordinator). Then there’s the actual day of shooting, where Bamford cued every stunt and movement of camera, while the crew, stuntmen, and actors went at it.

“It took about six or seven takes,” on the day, Bamford said. The “second-to-last one is the one you see in the final cut.” The stunts in this episode are so hot that a stunt man literally gets lit on fire in what Baonnier described as a “one of the coolest gags we’ve ever done.” The preparation for such a stunt was meticulous, as well. First, they set just the stunt man’s arm on fire, then more, then the full body, and eventually we see him on fire, being thrown off a ledge. And it’s awesome.

While this episode is staggering in terms of stunts, it’s just one of the many challenging and ultimately extremely entertaining risks the show has taken this season. The premiere episode saw a very naked Oliver fighting for his life in a brutal shower brawl.

“It’s not often that we get an opportunity to do something like that,” mused Amell. “This was obviously incredibly unique insofar as—we’ve had a couple fights in the history of the show where we just can’t double me. This obviously had to be me.”

Bamford incited giggles discussing how “the biggest challenge” was keeping Stephen Amell’s modesty intact and “staying on network television.” That led to a long phone call with the network about what they could and couldn’t show, but also a lot of creative filmmaking.

Another unique element this season has been the presence of The Silencer (Miranda Edwards), a member of The Longbow Hunters who can turn off the sound in a given area.

“Those were very difficult,” Bamford said of the noiseless fights. “It’s a really large challenge to have an action scene come off successfully without hearing a thing, because action sequences depend on the sound just as much as they depend on editing and the choreography and performance. It was a huge challenge and a gamble to actually execute that. I think it turned out really well.”

One trick to selling a silent fight? “It helps when there’s hair,” Bamford shared, a trick learned from Jackie Chan.

“The Slabside Redemption” is a great example of how good television is about collaboration between so many departments and skilled performers. That single long shot is breathtaking, and it came together thanks to the hard work of stunt people, camera men, lighting riggers, set designers, costumers, actors, post-production geniuses, and more who often go unrecognized and underappreciated.

“We’re not going to get nominated for a stunt Emmy,” Amell lamented, “but we should.” What they will receive is major appreciation and admiration from fans, and it’s also well-deserved.

#stephen amell #james bamford #cast #s7 #7x07 #interviews #news

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manikrege · 3 years

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I never thought I'd write about "love" again but here I am

You ever been with someone you can never "be with?" A friendship that you know has much more to offer but also too much to lose?

Crap, it's that cheesy romcom cliché from Christmas 2008. My Jai has fallen for an Aditi. And I'm mulling about whether we should have that "talk" when we Zoom tonight.

Maybe they'll explain that they don't see me that way and this would complicate things. Heck, maybe they'll point out how we're from different backgrounds, countries, jobs, and religions - and I'll have to clarify that it's these differences I love the most. It's starting to feel like a Toastmaster's debate.

If I have to be both realistic and happy, I'm hoping that they'll smile, appreciate me for sharing my feelings, and promise to help me get over it eventually. Such mature discussion. Much wow.

Scenarios. Scenarios. Scenarios. As I'm slinging through the multiverse created by my anxiety-ridden, 23-year-old brain, I have to say that there's something different about this person that's keeping me awake. There has to be.

Because I thought I left behind this topic in my emo teen phase. With poems that I took the effort to rhyme lmaoooo. But its almost after an entire decade that I'm finding myself chirping down this path again. Spring in my step and all. So the writer in me is definitely curious.

See first of all, there wasn't a love-at-first-sight moment. It wasn't full of butterflies and crazy adventures. In fact, I can't pinpoint a specific day when I understood that I wanted more. There weren't any explosive fireworks. The hunch grew more like five sips of chai. Normal, comforting, simple. Like how you move into a new house and then it eventually becomes your home for no good reason. And you get into a cozy routine.

I have spent so much time in their company doing jackshit. This one day we camped in our university's library. On our own laptops doing our own assignments. When the guards told us it was time to leave, we walked out talking about how well-spent the day was and we should definitely do it again.

It's not like we haven't had fun together. We've hung out, flown to new cities. We've eaten with forks at fancy brunches and also ravaged through banana leaf buffets like Savannah lions.

We've also had the craziest of talks. From junk gossips to deep philosophical musings at 3AM. They once looked down at the dimly lit highway and told me how every passing car must have people with complex lives and stories that we'll never hear. Trippy? Well, you should see our chats, you'd think we're in the stratosphere.

But floating in between all that noise are many blank pages that weigh just as much. Silences I never felt obligated to fill. Sometimes, we just lie around and chill.

Which tells me that this new kind of love I'm discovering ... this love isn't all shining and glamorous. After all that excitement fades away, there's a cozy blanket of silence that takes over. You don't have to go on extravagant holidays to relax. You don't have to buy each other costly gifts to feel special. You don't have to upload Stories of everything you do together. There's nothing to prove to the world, nothing to show off.

Instead, it's the simple gestures. They're both noticed and reciprocated. The person's company is more than enough. And you no longer have to do only wild things to feel like you had a good time.

If you can feel happy cutting a cupcake in the dark and call it a party, when its not even your birthday, that's when you realize they're the one.

Mind you, even if there's comfort, there's also discomfort. I like that we call each other out on our bullshit. They don't just pretend to agree with all my decisions or opinions because I'm their best friend. In fact, there are so many things we do openly disagree on and also furiously debate about.

We also hold each other accountable for our mistakes. I have a loud mouth and when I leak something in a public conversation that I shouldn't have, they will remind me that I can do better.

This could've been a toxic or abusive thing where we're constantly pushing each other's buttons. But its not the case because toxic relationships rely on fear. The fear of causing damage. But when we discuss our issues, we're not afraid of permanently ruining or breaking things.

We understand that we cannot realistically always like each other. Sometimes, I will hate her. And I'll say it. They'll say they hate me even more. Sometimes I'll be so pissed off at something silly they did. But I won't feel bad or guilty about it. We respect these negative emotions and agree that we can be imperfect and kinda off on some days. These fleeting currents and tiny problems don't threaten our bond. I speak for both of us when I say we have this unbreakable faith that we'll always be able to 'work it out together.'

When you call someone your 'loved one,' it means they're signing up for the whole package. Which occasionally includes confusion, misunderstandings, disappointment, and hurt.

If you can openly talk about all your feelings and problems without having to worry about losing them, that's when you realize they're the one.

But all that said, I think the most special thing about this special person is how they make me want to be better without ever having to push me ahead.

What I mean is that they're a forever fan. At gatherings, they'll take me around like I'm Barack Obama and introduce me to all their friends, raving about the 'cool projects' I'm working on this year. They're my biggest cheerleader, hyper-supporter, and meme-liker to the point of cringe. When I'm down and sobbing about how I suck, they'll tell me to shut up and refuse to believe that I'm anything less than the best.

I feel immensely relaxed knowing that I'll always be good enough for them, even when I'm not good enough for myself. See, it's not a conditional contract. There's this underlying assurance that they'll be cheering me for me even when I'm behind, even when I finish last. I don't have to constantly worry about proving myself to them or living up to their 'expectations.'

A relationship of any kind and degree shouldn't feel constantly challenging, uncomfortable, and stressful. That kind of bullshit is often sold under the guise of tough love or training. But you shouldn't feel like you're dragging yourself to please or impress the person.

Because love is safety. It's like a soft sandpit in which we can become kids again and build whatever the fuck we want to. And when we have no power left, it's a force that burns through every fiber of our soul and gives us that last bit of fire to hold on. "Hold on," it says, "We're almost there."

This safe zone my special person has created without even realizing it ... it just makes me want to push myself every day. Their fierce belief in me makes me want to fight, even when I don't want to do it for myself. In fact, it was this person who once told me that we can't always love ourselves and that's why we need friends who can remind us of how worthy we are.

If they make you feel empowered to chase your dreams fearlessly, you know they're the one.

Now that I've said these things out loud, I guess I know that they're really the one.

But I don't feel prepared to tell them yet so I'm going to wait for some more time. I'm not rushing into things. It's perfectly acceptable. And anyway, I'm not worried about being too late. I won't regret telling them right away.

You know how I'm so sure?

Because love is, above all, friendship. And I have it right here, right now.

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hydroelectricjaya · 3 years

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Title: Reverse

Rating: T+

Summary: Vampire jaya except Jay is the vampire. Canon Divergent after season 4.

After the team returned from Chen’s island, reunited, they started helping Master Wu with his tea shop. Nya supposed it was Wu’s way of dealing with the loss of his brother. A week into the project, Jay went missing. That was six months ago.

Nya tapped her fingers on the dashboard of her Samurai X mech, growing bored of her overwatch duties while perched on a skyscraper in downtown Ninjago City. The team was responding to a disturbance, but she had been asked to stay behind as backup. And. It. Was. Extremely. Boring. Nya sighed, then noticed activity blocks away from where the team was fighting. Finally. A piece of the action.

She maneuvered Samurai X down to the streets and started her pursuit, realizing the assailants were from the Fangpyer tribe. They were a breeze to handle, and she got out of the mech to integrate one who was still conscious after her onslaught.

“Shouldn’t you be underground minding your own business,” she seethed, her grip on his collar firm as the poor Fangpyer tried to squirm away.

“We were ordered by Him,” he wheezed, shivering in his stance.

“Who is him?”

“The sssssupreme one. Please let me go, He is coming.”

Nya dropped the offending grunt like a sack of potatoes and his body slammed into the snow covered road with a satisfying crunch. “Get out of my sight,” she ordered, and the snake-man scurried away.

“Still a heartless bitch, I see,” said a voice from above. She shot her head up, looking for the source of the voice, only to be flanked by a shadow. Air rushed out of her lungs from the force of the blow and she found herself pinned against a dingy wall in a dark alley. Her chest burned as she scrambled for purchase, flailing about until a heavy body slammed into her, crushing her face into the wall.

“You are not going anywhere, my little Samurai,” the owner of the voice breathed down her neck, hot, sharp and suffocating.

“Get. Off. Me.” she spat, struggling to push buttons on her bracelet to summon the Samurai X mech.

“Uh-uh, don’t be cute,” said the assailant as he grabbed her wrist. Nya tried not to scream as searing pain ripped up her arm. Her remote control bracelet briefly glowed blue before fizzling out in a quick death of pitiful sparks. “Not so strong without your big bad mech.”

Nya felt chills claw down her spine at those words, the timbre of the voice sounding oddly familiar.

“Who are you?” she fumed, trying desperately to push off the wall and pull into a defensive stance. He chuckled, his hot breath fanning over her neck and her skin prickled.

“Don’t play coy. You know who I am.”

Knotts in her stomach leap up into her throat and she struggled to swallow them down. His voice. The short circuiting of her bracelet. Fangpyre. The knotts turned into panic and pooled in the pit of her stomach.

“Jay,” she breathed, or whimpered, she wasn’t really sure. Her voice was airy and light, wavering the cold of the dark alley, every fiber of her being wanting to be wrong.

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner!”

“What-- what happened to you?”

“Something amazing.”

Her breath stuttered, trepidation sinking her heart into her guts. His heavy weight finally lifted, and cool air swirled between them. She whipped around, eyes fierce, guard up, tightly clutching a kunai in each hand. She did her best to keep her fists from trembling.

She was greeted by one of Jay’s stupidly gorgeous, shit-eating grins. He looked almost the same, maybe a skant taller and shoulders wider, but then she noticed his skin was pale and eyes dark. And his teeth . . . it made her heart ache.

“Get back,” she choked out through labored breathing. Jay’s smile grew wider as he stepped forward and Nya found herself pinned against the wall once again.

“What happened to the big-bad tough girl?” he leered and Nya tried not to make a sound as she gulped for air. He grabbed her head and slammed it into his hard chest. “Do you hear that?”

Nya furrowed her brow, momentarily stunned. She could feel his elemental power humming beneath the surface of his skin, yearning to be let loose. Something that she missed terribly. But that was it, nothing else. “I don’t hear anything,” she said.

“That’s because I don’t have a heart anymore. A small price to pay for these upgrades.” He chuckled again, low and rough, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine. “It’s not like I needed it anyway, not after you broke it in two.” His words were sharp and laced with malice. Nya felt knees grow weak.

“Jay, come back home!” she tried, desperation clawing to the surface, “we can find a way to fix this.”

His chest vibrated with a low rumble as he laughed again. “Too late for that.” He pulled back and turned them to face the street. “You can’t fix everything, Nya,” he murmured into her hair. Her feet felt numb and it had nothing to do with the snow. “Now watch.”

Nya watched in horror as a gang of Fangprye ravaged the streets. The chilling screams of the innocent civilians jarred her to her bones. She couldn’t breath, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“These streets are mine now,” he informed her. Somehow those words lit a fire under her and she moved swiftly, driving a kunai into his thigh. He didn’t even flinch. She stumbled backwards, terror growing across the delicate features of her face.

He looked down at the dagger jutting out of his leg, then back to her. “Are we playing the impaling game now? Kinky.”

Nya wanted to run, but she was frozen solid in her stance. Her wide eyes told him everything he needed to know.

“I’ve got a lot of things to impale you with, let’s start with something fun.” His hand found the collar of her uniform and slowly brushed it aside. Her skin slick with sweat glistened in the moonlight.

“Get ba--”

“Or what? Are you going to use the b-word on me again?”

“What--”

“Boundaries.”

He didn’t give her a chance to be offended as he moved into her personal space, electricity lapping her neck as he bit down, hard. Nya sucked in a fast breath with a high-pitched gasp. Her knees buckled and she almost fell to the ground before a strong arm wrapped around the small of her back, steading her. Her voice was trapped in her throat, burning to break free. She wanted to scream, punch him off and flee, but every cell in her being was caught in a trance. She was paralyzed in his grasp and it had nothing to do with his elemental power.

He hummed, enjoying the feed, reluctantly breaking away so she wouldn’t faint. She sagged in his hold, cheeks flushed and body boneless.

“You have power, Nya,” he beamed with a smug grin and Nya felt the blush on her cheeks deepen. “Wu has been lying to you.” His words barely registered. She felt like she was floating on a cloud of warm contentment and his jaw was nice to look at. Her hand reached up traced over his fangs.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered. Jay flinched, almost dropping her. “Come home, please?”

Before she could blink, she found herself pinned against the wall again, hand on the back of her head to soften the blow, his forehead lightly bumping against hers. Their breaths mingled, a gentle push and pull of the power struggle between them.

“You know that is no longer an option.”

“Then at least let me have this.” She crashed her lips to his, pulling his form flush against hers. His elemental power stirred, awakening something inside her as she let out a soft moan. One hand tangled in her hair while his other dug into her hip, and she tried desperately to meld into him. He was her lifeline, her calm in the storm, her lightning in the storm, and she would never admit how badly she missed him these past six months.

Heat pooled into her core, burning out any room for logical thought as she swept her tongue into his mouth, languishing at the tingling surge from a low grade shock. She carefully inspected his fangs, refusing to let panic invade her senses. He was different now, and there may be no going back to normal. Her hand raked down the hard plane of muscles of his chest and stomach, fingers curling under the lip of his belt. Her leg swung up to wrap around his waist, but shot back down as she hit the kunai still stuck in his leg.

He stepped back, breaking the kiss and bracing himself on the wall. He pulled the knife out of his thigh, and Nya was vaguely aware it came out clean. She fell back against the wall, punch-drunk and flushed from head to toe. Jay moved backwards, snow crunching under each footfall, the sound reverberating in the dark alley and piercing her ears.

He brought the kunai up to his face, rolling the expertly crafted weapon in his hand, inspecting it, finally snapping his wrist, twirling it around his finger. “I’m keeping this as a souvenir. See you around, Samurai,” and he was gone as quickly as he had appeared.

Want more? Check out my #vampire jaya tag. 👀

#ninjago #ninjago jaya #jaya #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #in case you haven’t noticed #I am a simp for evil!Jay #fanfic #my fic #vampire jaya

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oddsnendsfanfics · 7 years

Text

Fall to Pieces

Genre: Fan Fiction Pairing: Jai Courtney/OFC (Roo) Warnings: Language Rating: PG13 Length: Short Story Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

A/N: Sorry that this took so freaking long, summer got busy and writer’s block still sucks hairy balls!

Read: Pick Me Up

"Honey, are you out here?" Jai called through the darkness, the air was chilled and he didn't recall seeing her in a sweat shirt or even long sleeves.

Shivering in the breeze, Jai made a noise that sounded something like a horse and a wounded elephant, fuck it because he didn't care. Another shiver ran through his body, in a heavy hoodie and sweat pants, surely if she were out here she'd be freezing.

"Roo? Come on, Roo!" Jai called into the dimly lit yard. "Honest to god, I swear th..." He paused when a hint of light caught his peripheral vision. The garage light was on and the small side door swung open. Being the last person in the garage, Jai knew that it had been left dark and all doors were shut tight.

His stride ate the grass as his slipper clad feet marched toward the large out building, silently cursing the situation at hand. Was there ever a moment in this family, where somebody wasn't throwing a tantrum or somebody wasn't pissed off by another person's life choices?

"Babe?" He poked his head inside the garage, relief washing over him, seeing his wife sitting in Denzi's big green wagon with a heavy sweater pulled up around her chin.

"What?" She snapped not bothering to look away from her feet. So that's where his high tops had gone.

"I wanted to make sure you were alright." Jai answered, lowering himself to sit on a kid sized skateboard. The same one that he'd demanded be picked up three days ago, the middle of the garage work space was not where such things belonged.

Grunting, she pulled her knees tighter to her chest.

"Why don't we go back inside, it's freezing out, and we can discuss this. Yeah?" Jai tried to coax her.

Everything had been a roller coaster this week, this evening was no exception, frankly Jai was tired and not in the best state to referee this right now.

"I can't do this," She sighed heavily. Her emotions difficult to read with the blank expression she wore. Her eyes were fixed on her feet and her body still. Jai wanted to fix all of this, to say some magic word and have it all erased.

They hadn't prepared for this, their own misjudgment, and it had been proving more difficult than either one had expected. Inside they had a house full of family, waiting for and no doubt gossiping about the husband and wife. Everything about this had been a risk and they had willingly accepted that, knowing that their actions were their own and in some ways there would be a consequence.

This consequence was beyond something neither had predicted.

Earlier in the day, while playing hide and seek with her grandson, Karen had taken note of a photo hanging in the master bedroom. A room which was never strictly off limits, providing Denzi followed the specific instructions and rules, giving way for anyone – within reason – to enter. The closet in the master was the perfect place to hide, with the shelves and chaos of clothing. Tucked behind a big suitcase, Denzi would be impossible to find. Or hidden under the king sized bed, his faithful Dorito laying on the floor beside him in waiting.

The photo in question was in no way professional, nor was it of the best quality, but they hadn't cared when Jai had taken it to be printed. An assigned witness had managed to capture the photo, via a cell phone, of a happy man kissing his bride. From an objective point, the photo was nothing more than the couple embraced in a sweet moment. From a mother's point, the small details gave it a different story.

"I knew we should have just left that photo in the closet," She grumbled inspecting her finely manicured, sparkly nails.

"Oh come on, Roo," Jai scoffed. "It's the only fucking wedding photo we have. I'm not hiding it in the damn closet, besides how were we to know my mum would see it?"

"It's in our bedroom, on the wall, anyone who walks by can see it."

Naturally, Karen had asked a few questions in regards to the photo. Stating how lovely it was and that she must have a copy, assuring his mother that she and Cora would both get a copy, Jai had given it little to no thoughts.

They were going to break the happy news over dinner, anyway, what did it matter if his mother had saw a photo?

"What photo is that?" She narrowed her gaze in a suspicious stare.

"The one on our wall," Jai cleared his throat, taking a sip from the coffee in his hand.

"The one over the dresser," Karen cut in, "Have you seen it, Cora? I love it! It's just so...them!"

Side eyeing her daughter, Cora nodded, placing her glass of wine on the counter top. "Where was that one taken? I don't remember seeing that dress, I like it though, the purple looked great."

Lightening on her feet, she had found the perfect excuse to feed the prying mothers. A simple dinner of accolades for her boss, a semi-formal evening that called for such a dress, but nothing overly extravagant. Before she could spin another lie, Jai stepped to the plate in what he knew would be an outta the park hit.

Slinging his arm around her shoulder, he kissed her on the temple, beaming as he spoke. "It's our wedding photo."

Easy going, fun loving, always happy to go with the flow Cora had been the one to pitch the fit. Demanding answers and reasons straight away. Hands on her hips, lips pursed, eyes rimmed with tears of betrayal, she wasted no time expressing her anger and upset to her daughter.

If they thought the fit over the wedding was shameful, adding the news of a baby had only fueled the Cora fire.

Assuring her mother that this wasn't the time, nor the place, she had almost reached the end of her rope when Cora insisted this was nothing more than her daughter's typical bullshit. Getting pregnant, getting married, and getting a divorce before the end of next year because that was just how she did things.

People said things when they were hurt or angry.

Jai was trying hard not to take any of it personal.

Furthermore, he was trying very hard not to lose it at Cora, for the upset she was causing his wife.

Cora could be dealt with later. Once everyone had calmed down and the news had settled, then Jai could talk with her. Until then, he knew better than to try and get between the two women engaged in the argument which landed him and his wife hiding in the garage.

"Oh fuck, Jai," she sniffled, wiping her nose on the tissue, "How do we fix this?"

"I have no idea, Roo, but we'll sort it out. Your mum is just a little upset."

"But it's supposed to be your mother, my mom doesn't get upset."

His parents had handled this beautifully. His father had kept all and any opinions to himself, a wise move, directing his attention to his grandson. Announcing it was time to go watch a video, Chris had grabbed some snacks ad ushered Denzi off to the den. Snacks may be the only dinner the little boy was getting, if this went too long.

Then there was his mother. Karen had sat at the table, one hand with a death grip on her wine glass and another on the bottle. She didn't speak, she didn't move unless it was to pour another glass.

"Well," He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to sort his words and thoughts in order to avoid a fight. "My parents have just gotten used to me doing shit and never telling them. You tell your mum everything, babe. It's not a bad thing, I should really tell my parents more, but this is big and your mum has a right to be upset by it."

In no way did Jai want to sound as though he was defending, or justifying, Cora's outburst. Quickly adding that he was less than impressed with some of the snarks at his character.

"I can't believe my mother," She growled with a cold glare at the wall. "She has no right to say what she did, my life is my life. Whatever we choose to do is our choice, it shouldn't matter when or how we decided to get married or have a baby."

Rubbing his hands over his face, Jai grunted. Cora was in shock, that didn't mean he would let her comparison of him and her ex son in law go. Cora knew how Jai felt about his wife's first marriage and her ex husband.

People would assume and talk, when they heard that the pregnancy and marriage happened almost simultaneously, their family and close friends didn't have to be among those gossiping. Jai thought the world of Cora, to hear her belittle him and his loyalty and love had been like a boot to the gut.

"She owes you a big fucking apology," She wiped her hand across her nose, "How dare she! I'm an adult and even if I did want to get married, again, because I was pregnant that isn't her business. Tomorrow, she is apologizing to you and I am going to make sure it happens. Oh, Jai, I'm sorry."

"Babe," He scooted closer, his hand rubbing hers, "You've nothing to apologize for. Your mum has to make her own apology."

"She knows that you're nothing like him, I know that you're nothing like him." Her whispered words floated through the cold air, almost unheard. "Jai,"

"Hmm?" He kissed the back of her hand.

"I love you and you know that I married you, because of that, nothing else. Right?" Her eyes were red rimmed and her tone made her sound like a timid mouse.

"I know," Jai replied with another chaste kiss on her hand, quietly expressing his own love.

"And my dad," She swallowed hard, shaking her head to try and stop the second flood of tears. "My dad wouldn't have said a fucking thing, against this. She can't ask me what he'd think, because I know as long as I was happy, he would be too."

The only thing her father would have disliked about Jai Courtney was his profession. He worked with actors every day and they weren't always his favourite people; she'd heard enough of his complaints on how they were spoiled, ego maniacs, who wouldn't know faithful if it hit them in the dick.

However, if Jai was the man who made his little girl happy, then her father would never speak such opinions.

"He was upset the first time, but really looking back," She huffed, "I probably should have listened to him."

Cora had stepped over a line, throwing her late husband at their daughter, who was Jai to dispute any of those words? Jai hadn't known the man, nor could he speak freely for him.

"We all make mistakes." Jai muttered feeling a heaviness in his chest. "I don't think this, us, as being one."

Between the two of them they would figure all of this out and make the best of it, as they always did. A crisp knock on the side door startled Jai and rattled the window beside it. Beckoning for the intruder to enter, Jai waited with baited breath, to see who their guest on the other side was.

"I don't mean to interrupt," Jai relaxed seeing his mother.

"You're not." Jai assured her.

"Good, um, Jai. Sweetheart, Denzi wants you to read his bedtime story." Karen smiled softly at her son, "Why don't you head in and put him to bed?"

"Get dad to read it, the joey will love that," Jai replied shifting on the skateboard posing as a bench. "I'm a little busy."

"Jai, you should do it. We've all had a big day and I think Denzi just needs his father, right now." Karen's words indicated that she was in no mood for her grown son to back talk her.

"Mum..."

"Jai, your son is waiting. Go."

"Babe?" Jai squeezed her hand tightly.

Wiping her sleeve across her nose, she coughed to release a lump in her throat from all of the crying. "It's fine, just go put him to bed."

"You're sure?" Jai asked, loosening his grip on her hand. A rasped "yes" answered his question. "Okay," He groaned trying to get up from the skateboard. His bones ached in the chill, hating to admit it at almost 32, Jai was getting older.

"Your dad has him in bed, he's waiting for you." Karen kissed her son's cheek on the way out.

In the garage the air remained cold and the short silence was deafening. Secretly, she wished Karen would turn around and follow her son back into the house. The last thing she wanted or needed was a lecture from her mother in law, on how she was some sort of tart. Ugh, what she wouldn't give for a stiff drink, right now.

"I'm sorry about all of this. Whatever you have to say, go ahead. I know, we've fucked up and made a mess, and we've ruined our lives." She mumbled from her seat in the plastic wagon. Might as well get this over with. "My mother is pissed, you may as well be too."

Jai was a mommy's boy, despite what he'd have people believe, and whatever Karen said would be out of love for her son.

"Nobody has said that you've fucked up, and I doubt your mother is pissed. She did leave, though. Richie managed to find a room at the Plaza. He said to give you his love." Karen pulled a clean-ish looking bucket across the floor to sit on. Not missing the eye roll and scoff that met her previous words. "Cora is shocked and that has caused some upset, but I don't know that she's pissed."

"And you? Hmm?"

Was Karen impressed by this? No. Was she mad that her baby decided to get married without her? Yes! Was she pissed, because he'd found someone he loved and wanted to be with? Never. Neither was Cora. Deep down, Karen knew that Cora was just as pleased as she was that these two had finally for their shit together.

"I'm surprised, yes. For fuck's sake, I'm shocked it took him this long." the older woman laughed. "Sweetheart, there is no sense in being mad, what will it change? At the end of all this, you're still going to be married and you'll still be the mother of my grand kids."

"I'm sorry, I really am."

"Sorry for what? For finding a man you love, who loves you? For wanting to start a family and be happy? Oh, for fuck's sake, Love." Karen sighed at the needless apologies. "We've all seen this coming from miles away. I knew when he bought this place," she waved a hand gesturing to the house, "it wasn't because he wanted a fancy place for Denzi to play around. They were happy in that damn apartment, but he knew that place would ever sway you. Not like this one."

"I'm not a gold digger." She furrowed her brow, defending her honour – or what seemed to be left.

"Of course not, I never meant to imply that, I apologize." Karen smiled, "Jai wasn't thinking of money, when he bought this house."

Karen knew her son well enough, she had known all along that this gesture was more to him than preserving some memory of friendship. Buying this house – the place where they'd met – was a tell tale sign that he'd been looking for a lot more.

"Jai has been in love with you for a long time, he may not have said it but the signs were there. Jai has never brought a girl home, who he didn't have feelings for. The trips to visit while he worked, the endless hours talking to and about you, my god he was relentless."

There had never been a more truthful statement. Jai had been like a damn dog with a bone and she had managed to stay blind, how stupid was she?

Slouching on the bucket, Karen tapped her foot on the concrete flooring of the garage. "I'm only going to ask one thing, one thing only, from you." She pointed at the woman in the wagon. "Look me in the eye, tell me that you love my son, and that is all I will need."

Her forehead creased in a solid wrinkle, her brows knit tightly together. "What?"

"Do you love my son?" Karen prompted with a half shrug.

"Are you being serious? Of course I love him, I...I love him and it scares me at how much I do. Jai is one of the best things to have happened."

"Then what does it matter what anyone else thinks?"

#fall to pieces #little decisions #jai courtney fanfiction #ofc #fanfiction #short story #short series #fanfic #jai courtney

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planttastic · 6 years

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Book List 2017!

Goal: 48 Read: 48 New Authors: 13!: Rebekah Crane, Georgia Hunter, David Machado, Dee Lestari, Garson O’Toole, Tahereh Mafi, Soraya Lane, Courtney Elizabeth Mauk, F.C. Lee, Kory Stamper, Marie Lu, Mohsin Hamid, & Krysten Ritter Re-reads: 2: 1984, & The Stupidest Angel

1. The Hidden Oracle (The Trials of Apollo #1) - Rick Riordan, ★★★★

2. Dragon Fly in Amber (Outlander #2) - Diana Gabaldon, ★★★★

3. Seven Up (Stephanie Plum #7) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

4. Packing For Mars: The Curious Science of Life In The Void) - Mary Roach, ★★★★★

5. Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum #8) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

6. The Odds of Loving Grover Cleveland - Rebekah Crane, ★★★

7. 1984 - George Orwell, ★★★★

8. To The Nines (Stephanie Plum #9), ★★★

9. At Night We Walk In Circles - Daniel Alarcón, ★★★★

10. Ten Big Ones (Stephanie Plum #10) - Janet Evanovich, ★★

11. We Were the Lucky Ones - Georgia Hunter, ★★★★

12. Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum #11) - Janet Evanovich, ★★

13. Twelve Sharp (Stephanie Plum #12) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★★

14. Lean Mean Thirteen (Stephanie Plum #13) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

15. The Shelf Life of Happiness - David Machado, ★★★

16. Grunt: The Curious Science of Humans at War - Mary Roach, ★★★★

17. Paper Boats - Dee Lestari, ★★★★

18. Hemingway Didn’t Say That: The Truth Behind Familiar Quotations - Garson O’Toole, ★★

19. Shatter Me (Shatter Me #1) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★★★

20. Unravel Me (Shatter me #2) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★★

21. Unite Me (Shatter Me #1.5 & 2.5) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★

22. Ignite Me (Shatter Me #3) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★★

23. American Gods - Neil Gaiman, ★★★

24. Wives of War - Soraya Lane, ★★★

25. The Special Power of Restoring Lost Things - Courtney Elizabeth Mauk, ★★

26. Fearless Fourteen (Stephanie Plum #14) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

27. Finger Lickin’ Fifteen (Stephanie Plum #15) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

28. Sizzling Sixteen (Stephanie Plum #16) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

29. Smoking Seventeen (Stephanie Plum #17) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

30. The Epic Crush of Genie Lo - F.C. Lee, ★★★★

31. Word By Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries - Kory Stamper, ★★★★

32. Explosive Eighteen (Stephanie Plum #18) - Janet Evanovich, ★★

33. Little Fires Everywhere - Celeste Ng, ★★★★★

34. The Dark Prophecy (The Trials of Apollo #2) - Rick Riordan, ★★★★

35. Notorious Nineteen (Stephanie Plum #19) - Janet Evanovich, ★★

36. Young Jane Young - Gabrielle Zevin, ★★★★

37. Takedown Twenty (Stephanie Plum #20) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★

38. Warcross (Warcross #1) - Marie Lu, ★★★★

39. Sourdough - Robin Sloan, ★★★★

40. La Belle Sauvage (The Book Of Dust #1) - Philip Pullman, ★★★★

41. Voyager (Outlander #3) - Diana Gabaldon, ★★★★

42. Feedback (Newsflesh #4) - Mira Grant, ★★★★

43. Top Secret Twenty-one (Stephanie Plum #21) - Janet Evanovich, ★★

44. Exit West - Mohsin Hamid, ★★★★★

45. Bonfire - Krysten Ritter, ★★★★

46. Artemis - Andy Weir, ★★

47. The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror (Pine Cove #3) - Christopher Moore, ★★★

48. Mrs. Fletcher - Tom Perotta, ★★★

**WARNING** SPOILERS BELOW!

1. The Hidden Oracle (The Trials of Apollo #1) - Rick Riordan, ★★★★ Here's the thing. I know these are middle school books, HOWEVER some of my favorite modern literary characters have come from Riordan's Demigod books and this one contains the return of two of my favorites. I'm glad that he's continuing to write them, though I wish he would up the reading level, as I'm sure a lot of his readers are into YA levels now. An easy start for the new year! Progress: January 1, 2017 – Started Reading January 4, 2017 – Finished Reading

2. Dragon Fly in Amber (Outlander #2) - Diana Gabaldon, ★★★★ I must admit, I enjoyed this one much more than the first (a surprise, considering I wasn't a huge fan of season 2 of the show). It deals a lot more with history and the coming together of the Rising, which was more interesting than I expected. The ending was still incredibly sad and hopeful (as I did expect) and got me right in the heart. Progress: January 5, 2017 – Started Reading January 6, 2017 –page 79. "This book is long af. I was surprised to see a big reveal for a character (if you could call it that, I guess) in the first chapter. Oh the differences between tv writing and novels." January 12, 2017 –page 389. "Dude just pulled a snake out of his pocket like it was no thing. Wtf was happening in France?! Don't keep snakes in your jackets, gents. That is weird af." January 14, 2017 –page 521 "Sudden POV shift to Jaime is odd and unexpected. It seems that it's just in chunks? Makes it feel uneven." January 15, 2017 – Finished Reading

3. Seven Up (Stephanie Plum #7) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ Stephanie is bad at her job, these are super formulaic and there's a standard love triangle, yet I can't stop reading these. They are the potato chip of bounty hunter novels. Progress: January 16, 2017 – Started Reading January 18, 2017 – Finished Reading

4. Packing For Mars: The Curious Science of Life In The Void - Mary Roach, ★★★★★ Full of science, humor and a lot of information I never thought to ask about space. Mary Roach is my favorite science writer, quite possibly my favorite non-fiction writer. Stiff will probably always be my favorite of her books, but I think this is tied for 2nd with Gulp. Progress: January 19, 2017 – Started Reading January 19, 2017 – Shelved January 20, 2017 – page 133 "It's things like, "buttocks are nature's safety foam" that make me love Mary Roach's books. Give me all the facts in amusing and easily digestable prose!" January 24, 2017 – Finished Reading

5. Hard Eight (Stephanie Plum #8) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ I figure since this book came out over 13 years ago, spoilers don't count, so I'm not going to put this under a cut, but at least a warning. WARNING. Stephanie is still terrible at her job, goes through cars more often than she buys tanks of gas, but at least she FINALLY BANGED RANGER. Unfortunately we only got a paragraph of explanation, which does not do justice to his apparent sexiness. (For the record, I'm still Team Cupcake.) This one did feel a bit different, as she wasn't money-driven to solve the case. It does lend her a bit more... humanity? Progress: January 25, 2017 – Started Reading January 25, 2017 – page 94 "Gdi Stephanie, if you're going to handcuff a FTA to your car, DON'T LEAVE THE KEYS IN IT. I swear 😒 is the only face I make when reading these." January 26, 2017 – page 128 "AGAIN with the wedging herself into a car. A Honda CR-V is a gd suv. Despite Stephanie being repulsed by her 'stomach roll', unless she has the seat very far up, doubtful considering she is also tall, she would not need to wedge herself into the front seat of an suv. Ughhhhhh. 😒" January 27, 2017 – Finished Reading

6. The Odds of Loving Grover Cleveland - Rebekah Crane, ★★★ I got this as a Kindle First Read and decided to read it as a filler between trips to the library. It proved to be a very quick read, and reminded me of Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher, though they aren't really that similar. (I had conflicting feelings about that one, too.) I think it does downplay mental illness, but does a good job of showcasing the power of friendship (less cheesy than it sounds), being there, and how tenuous that can be. Progress: January 28, 2017 – Started Reading January 29, 2017 – Finished Reading

7. 1984 - George Orwell, ★★★★ It's pretty clear why everyone is suddenly re-reading this. It's not going to save us though. Progress: January 29, 2017 – Started Reading January 31, 2017 – page 81 ""The Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears. It was their final, most essential command. His heart sank as he thought of the enormous power arrayed against him..." #alarminglyrelevant" February 4, 2017 – page 199 "I know it's been years since I read this, but did I really just conveniently forget how wordy and dense it was? Oof." February 5, 2017 – Finished Reading

8. To The Nines (Stephanie Plum #9), ★★★ Finally some real character development! Or at least acknowledgement from Stephanie that she has learned things (wearing sensible shoes) and that she feels lackluster in her performance. It was interesting to see her finally evaluate her life outside of who she is as a romantic partner (I know that the romance is a big part of the series, but still). And it was nice to see Vinnie be a little less creepy and explore some different bond types. Progress: February 6, 2017 – Started Reading February 6, 2017 – page 32 "Not really sure how I feel about Stephanie's hatred of a lady she just met, especially considering it seems to tie in with how she looks. Uncomfortable." February 7, 2017 – page 248 "For the second time, Stephanie has mentioned having sensible shoes on in case she has to run. She IS getting better!" February 8, 2017 – Finished Reading

9. At Night We Walk In Circles - Daniel Alarcón, ★★★★ A winding novel with an unexpected ending. I really had no idea what it was going to be about, but I had read Lost City Radio in 07 or 08 for my Writers on Writing class and enjoyed it quite a bit and was excited to see that he had written another novel. Progress: February 8, 2017 – Started Reading February 18, 2017 – Finished Reading

10. Ten Big Ones (Stephanie Plum #10) - Janet Evanovich, ★★ I have a lot of issues with this one. First the good: Ranger and the tiny peek into his life. And the return of Sally Sweet!! The bad: This one feels pretty racist with all of the gang bits. Stephanie seems to suffer no consequences for her terrible actions and she continues to suck at her job. Despite her constant refusal to get a different job, there are times where she's is pretty lackadaisical when it comes to actually doing it. There were A LOT of questionable things that happened, some really awful and terrible things, and at the end everyone is like, "lol, nbd." ARE YOU KIDDING ME. Actions have consequences, unless you're at the end of a Plum novel, I guess. Progress: February 18, 2017 – Started Reading February 22, 2017 – page 181 "So much fat shaming/ guilt happening right now I want to stop reading. This is the part of 'chick lit' that I loathe. Way to reinforce stereotypes. At the same time, if your character is going to eat a dozen donuts a day, she should know that she's going to gain weight and be on the lookout for diabetes because that's is just unhealthy." February 23, 2017 - page 226 "Jfc Stephanie, this is the worst idea, ever. If I didn't know the series was continuing, I'd think this is how the character got killed off." February 24, 2017 – Finished Reading

11. We Were the Lucky Ones - Georgia Hunter, ★★★★ Oh, my heart. This was pretty difficult for me to start, mostly because I didn't want to get too attached to characters that were bound to have a horrific end. However, once it gets going (ie, all the terrible things start happening), it goes pretty quickly. I don't know if if any one novel can encapsulate the spanning horror of the Holocaust, and I appreciate (not sure if that's the right word) that Hunter went for a more focused approach, scattering milestone dates within the story. Progress: February 25, 2017 – Started Reading March 8, 2017 – Finished Reading

12. Eleven on Top (Stephanie Plum #11) - Janet Evanovich, ★★ :Deep, prolonged, exasperated sigh: Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie. I'm so glad you're a fictional character, because I'm pretty sure I'd hate you if you were real. AND YET, I can't stop reading these. I blame Morelli and Ranger. Progress: March 9, 2017 – Started Reading March 11, 2017 – Finished Reading

13. Twelve Sharp (Stephanie Plum #12) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★★ FINALLY. A story I liked! We get a lot of Ranger in this one, a pretty decent story, and none of Stephanie's cars blow up! She's competent and not as silly. I was wrong about the 'turning point' moment! Finally, finally, finally. Progress: March 13, 2017 – Started Reading March 15, 2017 – page 201 "There's usually a point in each of the novels where I think, 'that is how everything is going to go to hell.' This one is leaving her gd panic button at the office and skipping town to get away from "scary stuff" and Ranger, while someone is trying to KILL HER." March 17, 2017 – Finished Reading

14. Lean Mean Thirteen (Stephanie Plum #13) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ I had issues with some of the motives in this one (especially with Joyce) and I continue to be annoyed that Morelli and Ranger pass Stephanie between them while 'protecting' her. The ending seemed a bit trite, but at least her car died in a normal way. Not entirely sure how I feel about her constantly complaining about her job. But perhaps I'm expecting too much. Progress: March 22, 2017 – Started Reading April 1, 2017 – Finished Reading

15. The Shelf Life of Happiness - David Machado, ★★★ I got this as a Kindle First read, so I wasn't really sure what I was getting into. I liked it well enough. I definitely wanted more of the story, the end felt kind of abrupt. Progress: April 26, 2017 – Started Reading May 7, 2017 – Finished Reading

16. Grunt: The Curious Science of Humans at War - Mary Roach, ★★★★ Though not my favorite of Roach's books (that will always go to Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers), I found this a lot more interesting than I thought I would because it's about subjects I wouldn't have immediately thought of when thinking, 'war.' A lot of the 'gross' that Roach does so well, (who thinks about diarrhea when fighting a battle?) along with textile science and shark repellent. Progress: May 9, 2017 – Started Reading May 18, 2017 – Finished Reading

17. Paper Boats - Dee Lestari, ★★★★ I ended up loving this book a lot more than I expected it to. It's very sweet. The characters are charming and likeable. It does a very good job of capturing the awkward personal growth that happens during college and how it affects relationships. I thought I could feel a bit of Tiffany Tsao in her translation, at least I found some similarities to her novel. I can certainly see why Lestari is such a popular writer in Indonesia. One of the best Kindle First books I've read. Progress: May 18, 2017 – Started Reading May 23, 2017 – Finished Reading

18. Hemingway Didn’t Say That: The Truth Behind Familiar Quotations - Garson O’Toole, ★★ Oof. I will say that this is very well researched. Clearly a lot of time and effort went into finding the origins of these quotes, and I do appreciate that. However, I am not a fan of how the information is presented. Most of it feels pretentious ("QI feels...") and stiff. To be completely honest, I don't read many nonfiction books for a similar reason, so it's purely opinion. Progress: May 24, 2017 – Started Reading May 24, 2017 – 1.0% "Holy pretentiousness Batman... This might be rough to get through, but I really love quotes..." May 24, 2017 – 2.0% "There's faulty information on the Internet?! YOU DON'T SAY. (It is possible that I'm not the target generation for this intro.)" May 25, 2017 – 11.0% "Maybe I don't like quotes as much as I thought I did." May 28, 2017 – page 59 14.9% "My last year of college, I wrote this play about a blogger loosely based on my life. I had a draft due, so I pulled a few of my own blog posts, pasted them in some strategic places and turned it in. Almost all the feedback I got was about how the blog posts didn't make sense with the rest of the writing, probably because I didn't bother to edit them. That's how I feel about some of these entries" June 12, 2017 – page 241 60.86% "Not that it's important, but I have no idea what POV is being used here. Sometimes it feels like second person, and others third? All readers know that the writer is from QI, so separating them seems awkward. Oh well." June 19, 2017 – Finished Reading

19. Shatter Me (Shatter Me #1) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★★★ I have to say, I was pretty surprised by this novel. The premise is not new (dystopia, boy meets girl, etc, etc), but Mafi has a very distinct and different writing style that I find quite enjoyable. It's different. I imagine a lot of people hate it? There's several instances where people are commenting on Juliette's body that are gross and super off-putting. I'm hoping this is something that diminishes in further novels. SPOILER: The best part was the end though, SURPRISE IT'S JUST A SUPERHERO ORIGIN STORY. All of a sudden we're in this weird X-Men/Inhumans universe and I am so here for it. Looking forward to reading the rest. Progress: June 21, 2017 – Started Reading June 25, 2017 – Finished Reading

20. Unravel Me (Shatter me #2) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★★ Basically everything I expected to happen, did happen. Ughhhhhh. Progress: June 28, 2017 – Started Reading July 1, 2017 – 30.0% "So far, most of this has been angst and trying to make Warner and Juliette seem So Similar. It makes me want to barf." July 2, 2017 – 64.0% "Every time I read YA novels I always think how I would never want to be a teen again. The angst and drama and omg." July 2, 2017 – Finished Reading

21. Unite Me (Shatter Me #1.5 & 2.5) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★ Destroy Me: I do not understand people's love for Warner. I'm going to put this under a spoiler cut, just in case. SPOILER: He's the embodiment of entitled masculinity. He wants Juliette even though: he doesn't really know her, she hates him, he thinks she'll 'save him, and that he deserves her. It's gross. He literally kidnapped her after stalking her. He manipulated her on more than one occasion, bordering on torture, just to see what she was capable of. And now he's reading her diary/book as though he has the right to know those thoughts. His image of Juliette has been stripped of all agency. I don't care that he has qualms about what the Reestablishment is doing. I don't care that he seems to care about the citizens in his sector (also creepy). I don't care that he's possibly losing his grip on reality. I'm pretty sure he's going to turn over to the Omega's side in later installments so that he can get some kind of redemption arc, and then there might be a love triangle (BARF). I hope Juliette stays far away from him. I hope she never forgives him for the kidnapping, the simulation room, or his general desire to own her. Because women don't owe men anything, because we're not objects to be owned. Fracture Me: 75% of it was just a retelling of the end of Unravel Me, so that was unfortunate. I imagine it was a nice bonus to have while waiting for Ignite Me to come out, but I don't know how much it added to the the series. Progress: June 25, 2017 – Started Reading July 3, 2017 – Finished Reading

22. Ignite Me (Shatter Me #3) - Tahereh Mafi, ★★★ So, I really wanted to like this series. I really did. However, I was so disappointed in how it all played out. The characters were totally OOC in this installment. I still hate Warner, I don't care what he does. The end felt anticlimactic, though that might just be a symptom of reading too much dystopian YA novels. Pretty unsure about there being more books, but I think a lot of people will read them. Progress: July 5, 2017 – Started Reading July 5, 2017 - 6.0% "Ughhhhhhh. This is everything I Did Not Want. Warner, your 'elaborate scheme' was not for your father's benefit, it was your way to stalk her, you creepy asshat." July 6, 2017 – 10.0% "She thinks she should lead the resistance? What? Is that why she trained so hard while she was at Omega Point? Oh wait... She didn't. Excuse me while I don't believe our MC." July 8, 2017 – 29.0% "And we descend into every trope of the third YA trilogy book. I was expecting so much more than this." July 8, 2017 – Finished Reading

23. American Gods - Neil Gaiman, ★★★ I had pretty high expectations for this novel, as I'm a Gaiman fan and a lot of people rave about it. However, I found myself a bit disappointed. The imagery was probably the best part, a lot of awesome scenes were set up that would be visually stunning. I enjoyed Shadow as a character, but I expected more to happen. SPOILER: It feels like 500 pages of build up to a war that never happens. I wonder if I'm just expecting too much 'action' because of other books I've been reading. On a completely tactile note, this edition is incredibly pleasant to read. It stays open when lying on a table, and it has nice bendy covers. I bought this years ago from Borders and it's been sitting on a shelf since. Progress: July 16, 2017 – Started Reading July 22, 2017 – Finished Reading

24. Wives of War - Soraya Lane, ★★★ I actually enjoyed this more than I thought I would. Lane does a very interesting job at skirting around some of the extremes of war. There are no overly gory or visceral descriptions of wounds or death and is generally light on descriptive detail in general. People are explained in detail, (nearly everyone is very pretty or very handsome) and an occasional location will also be described. I actually prefer less description, but I could see that others may find it lacking. This novel is very much about emotions, and considering the subject matter, it makes sense. I found myself wanting less telling and more showing in some cases. What I did find very interesting is the gender politics that were in play. WWII is a fascinating time to explore it, what was expected of our three main 'girls,' how they either defied or followed them, and what it meant after the war was over. It gets a little schmaltzy sometimes, but I'm willing to forgive that. SPOILERS: The Thomas situation is very difficult, considering PTSD wasn't 'a thing' yet, but they did acknowledge combat neurosis. But it pained me to see Scarlet battered, and still feel that she couldn't leave, that she was required to stay with him. And for Thomas's life to come to such a tragic end. It was hard to read, but also expected. And they totally say The Thing at the end. Progress: July 24, 2017 – Started Reading July 28, 2017 – Finished Reading

25. The Special Power of Restoring Lost Things - Courtney Elizabeth Mauk, ★★ I'm not really sure what to say beyond that I just didn't like it. It's possible I would have liked it more if I had read it before Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng (they have similar plots, but beyond that, they have little in common). I didn't like any of the characters, though I did feel some empathy towards Drew and Ben. Carol was completely unlikable, though perhaps that was the point? I certainly don't understand her actions. I found myself wishing I knew more about Jennifer, maybe it would justify the reactions of her family more. It is a very quick read, though. Progress: July 31, 2017 – Started Reading August 1, 2017 – Finished Reading

26. Fearless Fourteen (Stephanie Plum #14) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ I still keep expecting Stephanie (and Lula?) to get better at their jobs. Adding the kid in to this novel was a nice change, glad to see Mooner back too, even though Stephanie is judges them very harshly. I'm mostly reading these to get caught back up on my reading goal. They're easy to read and mostly amusing. Progress: August 2, 2017 – Started Reading August 2, 2017 – page 8 "I was excited to get back to these novels, but less than 10 pages in and Stephanie is hardcore judging a kid for having piercings. COME ON. This was written in 2008. Let's move on from the 'bad people have tattoos and piercings' stereotypes please. He better turn out to be a stellar kid and she feels bad about judging him." August 4, 2017 – Finished Reading

27. Finger Lickin’ Fifteen (Stephanie Plum #15) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ I mostly didn't care about the story in this one. It feels like Lula is becoming more of a caricature in every book, which makes me kind of sad. Not everything needs to be so over the top. Not everything needs to catch fire. Relatively anticlimactic ending. Progress: August 4, 2017 – Started Reading August 6, 2017 – Finished Reading

28. Sizzling Sixteen (Stephanie Plum #16) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ I liked this one a bit more than the last few, it was sort of nice to have Vinnie around again (even though he's pretty terrible). I did notice several spelling and editing errors, which was kind of strange. Progress: August 7, 2017 – Started Reading August 9, 2017 – Finished Reading

29. Smoking Seventeen (Stephanie Plum #17) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ I'm getting too used to reading Plum novels, and I'm figuring them out too early. Enjoyable enough, though there are a few things that are starting to get on me. Glad she finally hooked up with Ranger again. Real tired of the, "I love two men, isn't that just *ca-raaazyyy*" idea. It's not crazy? You can love two people at a time. Dave was creepy af. Progress: August 14, 2017 – Started Reading August 16, 2017 – page 144 "Come on Steph, you can connect the dots better than this..." August 16, 2017 – page 286 "Dots finally connected. Took ya long enough." August 16, 2017 – page 300 "She literally just said 'connect the dots to [character], hahahah. I think I've read too many Plum books in a row." August 16, 2017 – Finished Reading

30. The Epic Crush of Genie Lo - F.C. Lee, ★★★★ YESSSSS SOMETHING DIFFERENT. I really hope we get more Genie Lo books, because I would read many more novels of her kicking demon ass. Progress: August 16, 2017 – Started Reading September 4, 2017 – Finished Reading

31. Word By Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries - Kory Stamper, ★★★★ Even though this took me ages to get through, I really enjoyed it. I've been getting the M-W Word of The Day email for years and was very excited when they announced this book. It definitely helped me realize that the dictionary is not the final say on English, but just a record of how we use it. The bit on dialect is my favorite (and would have gladly read more about it!), followed closely by the discussion of 'nude'. I certainly have a better appreciation of dictionaries and lexicographers. Progress: August 16, 2017 – Started Reading September 21, 2017 – Finished Reading

32. Explosive Eighteen (Stephanie Plum #18) - Janet Evanovich, ★★ While I appreciate the change in narrative structure (slowly presenting information instead of all at once), it's still a Plum novel and feels a little bit out of touch. Poor Lula deserves more than a caricature characterization. I want to know more about Connie. The love triangle is getting old, mostly because Stephanie is stuck in some pretty outdated notions of how her life is supposed to be. It could be said that I'm rather liberal, and I'm looking into too much, but Lula can be more than just a former ho. Stop describing her outfits with such disdain. I just... expect more from a book published in 2011. Progress: September 19, 2017 – Started Reading September 27, 2017 – Shelved

33. Little Fires Everywhere - Celeste Ng, ★★★★★ My. Heart. Ng is a truly gifted storyteller. Though perhaps it feels like a story that has been told before (maybe many stories that have been told before), it's such a nice, solid, slow build. I find myself wondering about the characters, and how their lives played out after the novel ended. Progress: September 1, 2017 – Shelved September 27, 2017 –page 1 "I was the first person in my library to get this and I AM VERY EXCITED" October 3, 2017 – Finished Reading

34. The Dark Prophecy (The Trials of Apollo #2) - Rick Riordan, ★★★★ Though Apollo is super annoying (on purpose, I assume) and there wasn't enough of Nico DiAngelo, my Sweet Baby Death Prince (aka, no appearance and only a single mention), I enjoyed this. I love Leo, and I'm warming up to Calypso. I find Meg very interesting, especially because she doesn't fall into 'girly' stereotypes, SPOILERS also her dealing with the abuse from her stepfather is an important thing for novels to address. However, I'm all about the Waystation. I want an entire series about it, and its inhabitants and the travelers passing through. And as cheesy as it sounds, my favorite part of all of Riordan's series is how he reps families of all types. <3 Progress: October 3, 2017 – Started Reading October 7, 2017 – Finished Reading

35. Notorious Nineteen (Stephanie Plum #19) - Janet Evanovich, ★★ I know that these are meant to be light reading, but that doesn't mean they can't be better. Stereotypes and problematic behavior (and speech, and expectations...) shouldn't be the norm. Progress October 11, 2017 – Started Reading October 12, 2017 – page 72 "I don't know if I'm just noticing it more, or judging more harshly because this book was written in 2012, but there's a lot of things that are problematic af in this. I've stopped counting the moments of casual racism, but some old dude is groping Stephanie and all that happens is she and Ranger switch seats? Hell. No." October 13, 2017 – page 103 "Threatening someone with a fake rape and groping accusation? Wtaf, Evanovich. That is not okay." October 14, 2017 –page 292 "An Arthur Beasley and a Simon Diggery? Someone finally read Harry Potter." October 14, 2017 – Finished Reading

36. Young Jane Young - Gabrielle Zevin, ★★★★ Though lacking the emotional gut-punch of A.J. Fikry, this was still an excellent novel. SPOILERS: I think what I really took away from this was the severe inequity between men and women. Jane's career was destroyed completely, while the Senator went on, with barely a blip. Obviously this is very reflective of our society, which is all too apparent these days, and it's one of those things that gets me in the heart. I know life isn't fair, but damn. Progress: October 14, 2017 – Started Reading October 16, 2017 – Finished Reading

37. Takedown Twenty (Stephanie Plum #20) - Janet Evanovich, ★★★ I don't know why I keep doing this to myself. This one seemed a little bit less problematic at the beginning, and then just went off the rails with the racist stereotypes and constant slut shaming. Ugh. Progress: October 16, 2017 – Started Reading October 18, 2017 – page 122 "Evanovich really has something against fat people. She points out everyone's weight, and just made a show about how a woman who weighs "upward of 200" has wrists that are too big for regular handcuffs. I call BS." October 20, 2017 - page 210 "For the love of all things holy, STOP SLUT-SHAMING LULA." October 20, 2017 – Finished Reading

38. Warcross (Warcross #1) - Marie Lu, ★★★★ Well hello Marie Lu, why haven't I read your novels before?! Warcross is like an amalgamation of Ready Player One and Quidditch with the added bonus of POC characters and a female MC (awww yeaaaahhhh). I expected the end, but it's not going to deter me from reading the rest of the series. Progress: October 20, 2017 – Started Reading October 23, 2017 – Finished Reading

39. Sourdough - Robin Sloan, ★★★★ Confession: I love stuff about San Francisco, and this was no exception. It was a little weird and a little magical, very much like the city herself. Though I guess this technically took place in more than just SF proper. However, the descriptions of Clement St, took me right back there and made me wish I could stop and get some Pad Thai from King of Thai Noodle House #2 and a Genki strawberry and nutella crepe. ::sigh:: Memories. It also made me want to learn how to bake bread. I think what I enjoy most about Sloan's writing is that I'm not quite sure what I'm about to get into, but I'll believe it when I'm there. Progress: October 23, 2017 – Started Reading October 25, 2017 – page 168 "I think I love Beoreg." October 26, 2017 – Finished Reading

40. La Belle Sauvage (The Book Of Dust #1) - Philip Pullman, ★★★★ I am a HUGE fan of the original trilogy, and I was scared/excited to learn that Pullman was going to return to this world with more novels. I was not disappointed. A likable new MC (::cough:: UnlikeLyra ::cough::), adventures, mystery, a little bit of terror, and a few hints about Dust! I likely should have re-read the original trilogy before I read this, but honestly I didn't have the patience. I was the first person in my library to read this copy, and it's a beautiful edition. Progress: October 26, 2017 – Started Reading October 26, 2017 – page 1 "I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS" November 4, 2017 – Finished Reading

41. Voyager (Outlander #3) - Diana Gabaldon, ★★★★ Oh man, what a long read... I found this one much more interesting than the first two, maybe because it was a more complex story. The jumping around of POVs is a bit distracting, as it takes a bit to realize who is talking at the beginning of each bit. But I managed to breeze through this a bit easier than I thought I would, considering how much I struggled through the second one. Bring on more Jamie Fraser, please. Progress: November 5, 2017 – Started Reading November 5, 2017 – page 1 "This book is a long one. o.O Here goes..." November 11, 2017 – page 564 "Was it necessary to give Mr. Willoughby a foot fetish? Really?" November 15, 2017 – Finished Reading

42. Feedback (Newsflesh #4) - Mira Grant, ★★★★ It should be said that I'm a sucker for the Newsflesh series, and would gladly read anything in the canon. I found this to be a very good addition to the original trilogy. I like that it was way more diverse, with a lot of effort put into those differences (pronoun use!!). I wish I had re-read the trilogy before I read it, it's been a while and I found myself forgetting a lot of little things that had happened. I don't know if it diminished it, but a fresher read would have added a lot more to the story. I think what I really appreciated is that it sounded different from the Mason's POV. Ash has a different way of forming her thoughts and sentences, and it showed. What I didn't like so much was the over-explaining (maybe over-defending?) what it meant to be an Irwin, and to some extent a Newsie and Fictional. That might be because I have read the OG trilogy several times and I didn't feel the need to have it explained. Also, not once was Kellis-Amberlee shortened to KA, which seemed odd. This is a world steeped in a disease, and I find it hard to believe that an entire team of bloggers wouldn't shorten it, same with all of the politicians. (I mean, we live in a world with the flu, and does anyone other than doctors call it influenza?) Progress: November 16, 2017 – Started Reading November 22, 2017 – Finished Reading

43. Top Secret Twenty-one (Stephanie Plum #21) - Janet Evanovich, ★★I think I need to stop reading these... Forever disappointed, forever annoyed by the awful stereotypes, fat shaming and repetitive storylines. Progress: November 23, 2017 – Started Reading November 26, 2017 – Finished Reading

44. Exit West - Mohsin Hamid, ★★★★★ A beautifully told story. Some nice, unexpected aspects, sweeping prose that's almost poetic and a very satisfying ending. Ah, lovely. Progress: November 27, 2017 – Started Reading November 29, 2017 – Finished Reading

45. Bonfire - Krysten Ritter, ★★★★ I definitely picked this up because it's Krysten Ritter, who, in my head will always be Gia Goodman first and Jessica Jones second. And oddly enough, this felt like an amalgamation of Veronica Mars and Jessica Jones, especially in the characterization of Abby. I ended up liking it a lot more than I thought I would, though it's not anything amazingly new. There are parts that I was less impressed with, but it was a quick read and I hope she writes more. BIG SPOILER AHEAD: I think the characters could have been fleshed out more, I found myself wanting more from Abby, more of her life in Chicago, why she feels the need to drink herself into oblivion to sleep... A little more in the explanation would have been nice too. It felt to quick and tidy. Not to mention the very obvious 'twist.' IT'S ALWAYS THE GUY YOU CONFESS TO. Ughhhhhhh. Progress: December 4, 2017 – Started Reading December 6, 2017 – Finished Reading

46. Artemis - Andy Weir, ★★ I wanted to like this, I really did, but I found it lacking. The storyline was good and a little different because moon stuff, but I guess I expected a lot more. I can see why a lot of people love this, and why it's ending up on a lot of 2017 best lists, it just won't be on mine. The following cut isn't really for spoilers, but just to be safe: POSSIBLE SPOILERS: I did appreciate that MC could have been a man or woman and the basic plot wouldn't change (ie the whole thing wasn't based on Jazz being a woman), HOWEVER there were a lot of bits that felt unnecessary and overly 'feminized'. I didn't believe some of her language, and some of her mental wanderings seemed really forced (when I'm in a stressful situation, I don't imagine what the dude next to me looks like while working out... "Hey, I'm a girl, it's allowed", etc). Weir has a section in the acknowledgements about the people who helped him capture a female narrator, and I think they failed him a little bit. Why is everyone overly interested in her sex life? Do people just go around commenting on how many sexual partners you have on the moon, because that's just how 'different' society is? That seems weird AF to me. Jazz gets annoyed, but it's rude and invasive. I think some of it was supposed to play on the tension between her and Svoboda, but it just seemed awkward. Progress: December 6, 2017 – Started Reading December 8, 2017 – page 94 "Struggling to enjoy this. It feels like he's trying really hard to talk like a Woman. Which is unnecessary. It also feels like it's building up to a hull breach or fire, due to the repeated warnings of fire, and overstating of the double hull. I hope I'm wrong." December 8, 2017 – page 158 ""I was a helpless, exposed girl with no weapon" SERIOUSLY. You can't write Jazz as a supposed badass, and then pull out that drivel. I expected more." December 8, 2017 – page 178 "That wasn't a good one, it was sexist and gross. Ugh." December 8, 2017 – Finished Reading

47. The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror (Pine Cove #3) - Christopher Moore, ★★★ Not the best of Moore's novels, hardly my favorite, but a fun read for the holidays. It's a little bit wacky and makes me miss CA. Progress: December 23, 2017 – Started Reading December 26, 2017 – Finished Reading

48. Mrs. Fletcher - Tom Perotta, ★★★ I'm not totally sure how I feel about this novel. I've read Perrotta novels since I was in high school, and I don't think this is one of his strongest. However there are a few things that were well done: changes of voice and capturing the 'present day'. I'm getting better at reading new novels, but this one in particular felt very *now*. It might feel dated in the future, or, hopefully, serve and example of what life is right now. Well, maybe pre-45, but I digress. It's full of current cultural and social issues, but I sort of felt like I wanted more. And wasn't a huge fan of the ending. SPOILERS: Thank anything holy that Brendan wasn't a rapist. I thought Perrotta was leaning pretty heavily toward that, and he got dangerously close to assault. Maybe I just wasn't ready to handle it, but it would have made it so much worse. I'm not really sure how we're supposed to view Brendan. Are we supposed to feel bad that he's completely clueless about how to treat women, or are we supposed to dislike him for being totally oblivious? I will say that a lot of the situations made me think about my own assumptions (I would definitely take the Gender and Society class that Eve took), so there's that. Progress: December 26, 2017 – Started Reading December 28, 2017 – Finished Reading

#book list 2017 #book reviews #reading list 2017

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letithappeneverafter · 7 years

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Came across Nicks essay about living in a far-away country and what it means to be a creative human at the arse-end of the world. This comes from a past edition of Griffith Review which is a pretty impressive literary essay magazine. Full of cultural and thought-provoking stuff. Go Nick. I probably shouldn’t just copy’n’paste but I did borrow it from Brisbane library to read in the flesh. Just wanted to share with all you Tame Impala and POND fans.

Creative Darwinism by Nick Allbrook

- This is my city and I’m never gonna leave it. Channel 7 News

WRITING ABOUT MY experience of making music in Perth is a strange thing, because as soon as a ‘scene’ is bound and gagged by the written word it is finished, petrified, swept up into the Rolling Stone archives and forever considered ‘history’. It might be revered and glorified, but it’s still long gone. This could be a very restricting view to take on a community like Perth, which is still just as inspiring and productive as it ever was. I can’t pretend to understand where ‘music scenes’ begin or end. It seems a futile and narrow-minded pursuit. So before I begin, I want to say that this is merely a reflective exercise. There was never a ‘golden age’, and if one does exist I can’t see it, because it’s floating all around, invisible and omnipresent.

For years I suffered serious cultural guilt as a Western Australian. The orthodoxy and banality made me feel isolated, relegated to the company of eccentric long-haired ghosts singing to me from inside my Discman. Every birthday and Christmas, Dad would give me a care package of CDs. This blessed nourishment of Jethro Tull, Lou Reed, Led Zeppelin and David Bowie shone a light into the murky tunnels of my future. Playing music and generally being a flaming Christmas fruitcake became my sole purpose, and me and a few other school friends – Steve Summerlin and Richard Ingham of Mink Mussel Creek, and many other brilliant but criminally under-recognised projects – revelled in our little corner of filthy otherness. This outlook was key to our musical and creative development. We railed against the boredom of Perth not with pickets or protest, but with a head-in-the-sand hubris that made us feel invincible and unique. We found more comrades along the way – Joe Ryan, Kevin Parker, Jay Watson – and together we erected great walls of noise and hair and mouldy dishes around our Daglish share house commune citadel on Troy Terrace where we incubated, practised, recorded, talked and grew. A friend stick’n’poke tattooed a spiral shape into my arm to represent that way of life (which I’d lifted from Hermes Trismegistus and other alchemical mumbo jumbo I learned at university). Look inside and the world can be whatever you want. Look out and it’s ugly and shitty. In Perth, use of public space is regulated to the point of comedy, and Orwellian restrictions on tobacco, noise, bicycles, alcohol and public gatherings breed a festering discontent and boredom because no one likes being pre-emptively labelled a deviant. Being trusted enriches the soul – you can see it on the face of the child who leads the family trek. You can see the flipside on the faces of disenchanted detainees. On weekends, this restlessness is unleashed across clubs and pubs in Northbridge and Subiaco in an avalanche of Jägerbombs (17mL of Jägermeister dropped into a larger glass of Red Bull and then consumed with haste) and Midori and violence and cheap sex. When the Monday sun staggers over the horizon, people rub their eyes and heave a great sigh and the city reverts to its utilitarian state – the ‘bourgeois dream of unproblematic production’, as The 60s Without Apology (University of Minnesota Press, 1984) puts it, ‘of everyday life as the bureaucratic society of controlled consumption’. That this description of pre-revolutionary 1950s and ’60s America is so apt for Perth is damn scary. Or hilarious. I can’t decide. I guess it depends on the depth and colour of your nihilistic streak, or if you actually live here. Whichever way you look at it, it does not paint a picture of a city conducive to creativity. Art is the antithesis of logic and functionality – it is romance and wonder and stupid, pointless lovelies. As good old Mr Vonnegut so often said, it’s an exercise to make your soul grow. So how, in a super-functional and conservative environment whose every will is bent towards digging really, really big holes in the ground, have I seen and heard and felt some of the most brilliant, pure and original creativity in the world? I USED TO dream about living in a cultural powerhouse like Paris or Berlin or New York, but after spending time in these places I’ve realised that the emptiness and isolation of Perth – boredom to some – was a far better environment for creativity. The ‘cultural capitals’ are so rich in art and wonder that it can feel pointless to add to it. Maybe just being in those ‘cultural capitals’ fills us up with wonder? Strolling through Berlin at night, ducking into a bar with fish nailed to the roof, skipping across the cobblestones for some cheap beers in a record shop in a Russian caravan in an abandoned peanut factory…that kind of stuff fills the romantic void. Having a Ricard and a few Gitanes on the terrasse of Aux Folies; stumbling through Camden after a lock-in at the Witch’s Tit or the Cock’n’Balls or the Cancerous Bowel or whatever you call it; recollecting a possible conversation with Jah Wobble over a pint…Perth? It has no secret tunnels to romantic fulfilment. For me, music and art have always been a way to manufacture that romance lacking in upper-middle-class Western Australia. To be honest, if I had lived in New York I probably would’ve been so damn hung-over – or busy ensuring that I would be later – that a whole lot less creation would’ve gone on. Mundane and discouraging places like Perth create a vicious Darwinism for creatively inclined people, where survival of the fittest is played out with swift and unrepentant force and the flippant or unpassionate are left behind, drowning in putrid mind-clag. You have to really need it, and without the mysterious and poetic benefits of a vibrant city culture this has to come from deep inside. Amber Fresh, otherwise known as Rabbit Island, is one person who produces constant streams of music, drawings, essays, poems, calendars, videos and photos from her home. She fills her world with little pieces of homemade, lo-fi, photocopied beauty and magic. They don’t have funding or precedent or material ambition – and the result is something fresh and original. Mei Saraswati does the same thing, although completely different styles of music. She has produced, mixed, mastered and illustrated scores of albums in her bedroom and then released this other-worldly electronic R’n’B brilliance onto the internet with no fanfare, simply to turn around and start making more. These are just two examples. There are many more. SOMEHOW, BY BEING a cultural long-drop, Perth lit a fire under my arse. In more scholarly terminology this could be called a ‘spirit of negation’ – a margarine version of the same zeitgeist that has catalysed most worthwhile movements throughout history, from dadaism to punk to all the intellectual and artistic wonders of The Netherlands freshly unchained from their dastardly Spanish overlords. Being isolated spatially and culturally – us from the city, Perth from Australia and Australia from the world – arms one with an Atlas-strong sense of identity. Both actively and passively, originality seems to flourish in Perth’s artistic community. Without the wider community’s acceptance, creative pursuits lack the potential for commodification. There’s no point in preening yourself for success because it’s just not real. It’s a fairytale, so you may as well just do it in whatever way you like, good or bad, in your room or on the top of the Telstra building, which – as anyone with any common sense will attest – was built for that one potential badass to drop in on a skateboard and parachute off. Growing up in the Kimberley and then Fremantle, the true machinery of the music business evaded me. It was about as real as the Power Rangers and twice as awesome. Led Zeppelin and U2, all the way down to whatever was on Rage that morning, was just a pretty dream. But if I grew up in a city where success in music was common and highly visible, I reckon it would have been far more alluring. I would’ve understood how to go about it, probably before I actually realised how deep my love of music was. With the template for success laid out so precisely – gigs to be got, managers to be found, reviews to be had and the ultimate dream of ‘making it’ tangibly within reach – Perth would find itself producing far less original art. Because as it stands, it doesn’t really matter if you’re crap or silly or unbearably offensive, you wouldn’t get much further doing something different anyway. This helps to preserve a magical purity because it’s executed with love – with necessity. And what’s more, when these artists keep going and practising and advancing – which they must – somehow their crassness coagulates into something brilliantly individual and accomplished, and you can see it performed in an arena that makes the audience feel truly blessed. I saw Rabbit Island and Peter Bibby and Cam Avery play in backyards. I saw cease play in a tattoo parlour in Maylands. Me and Joe Ryan were plastered against the wall by their sound, gawking up at Andrew, the guitarist, precariously standing on his enormous amp wearing high heels and full fishnet bodystocking, slowly trying to drive his guitar through the top of his cabinet like some pagan-burlesque reimagining of King Arthur. After hours they slowed to a halt, and the crowd cheered from the stairs and bathroom door and kitchen and I remembered where we were: in a tiny share-house in Maylands, in the flaming cauldron of hell or the halls of Valhalla. Mink Mussel Creek played there a few times and once, in a flash of drunken inspiration, someone turned the only light in the room off mid-performance. I saw the fourteen guitarists of Electric Toad destroy a warehouse art gallery wearing ’90s WA football jerseys. Tame Impala and Pond played in Tanya’s garage and every time I cried and danced and felt like the breath of God was being embarrassingly saucy all over my skin. We played our very first show in that garage and I can still see Jay demolishing the tiny drum kit – kick, snare, ride, tom – as sparks floated from the forty-gallon drum and lit the faces of the people looking in from the dark. None of us had ever seen anyone play like it in real life, let alone in a garage, sitting on milk crates. As far as genres go, our music ‘scene’ in Perth was an anomaly. A mad mosaic of groups and artists only held together by gallant separation from conventional Perth society. Nick Odell, the drummer of CEASE and Sonny Roofs, still has a poster for a gig at Amplifier Bar that I remember as a kind of microcosmic Woodstock – a tactile realisation of all the beauty and communion we cherished. The line-up included us (Mink Mussel Creek), CEASE (aforementioned stoner/doom/drone lords), Sex Panther (punk-party queens), Oki Oki (Nintendo synth pop) and Chris Cobilis (experimental laptop noise music). I think most members of the bands ended up on stage at more than one time, wrapped in Cobilis’ wires or yelling into a madly effected microphone in front of CEASE. I certainly did. Nowhere else would such a ridiculously mismatched line-up consider themselves a tight community. We all partied together, played together and are still friends. I think this spirit is lacking in a lot of the more culturally enlightened parts of the world. Maybe in these vibrant communities the countercultural idea is so entrenched it becomes capitalist orthodoxy and loses its edge. It is subjected to the rationality it once challenged. In the cultural capitals – Paris, Berlin, New York – creativity and original thinking are accepted and valued parts of mainstream life. In Perth they are not. Paris has over four hundred streets named after artists and writers, and this honour is not restricted to the most unobtrusive or patriotic. Rue Albert Camus, Rue Marcel Duchamp and the recently proposed Place Jean-Michel Basquiat, for example, show the state glorifying revolutionaries, absurdists, libertines and a gay, heroin-using, Haitian–American graffiti artist. Today we can stroll along the verdant Boulevard Auguste-Blanqui, named after the man who led the uprising of the Paris Commune. A revolutionary, a prisoner, an anarchist. In modern terms: a terrorist. There, art is a basic fact of everyday life, while in Perth it is an anomaly hidden in garages and living rooms – deep beneath a conservative fishbowl of productivity. So, all things considered, ‘cultural capitals’ should be havens for art and music, and Perth should not. The romance just seeps into the pores, ja? I always thought this before I left Western Australia, but have since found it to be otherwise. I asked a young photographer and artist in Amsterdam about the music scene there and her reply was wholly negative. A lot of Parisians seem to feel the same way. I look back on my time in Perth and think about the huge number of brilliant musicians and artists who I saw and knew, often not in official venues but in backyards or sheds or the abandoned entertainment centre (yes, CEASE). Perhaps with the freedom – almost expectation – to create, revel and throw it all around the streets, it all just gets a bit boring. Like much good art, it doesn’t really ‘mean’ anything, so writing an essay about it is an odd activity. The experience of a city or community varies so much that it can never be defined while it is still occurring. When it’s actually happening, a ‘scene’ is not really a ‘scene’ – it’s completely intangible and only coagulates into a definitive and convenient ball when history puts it in a cage, when someone from the outside looks in and decides there’s something shared between a bunch of vaguely artistic fools. I guess that’s what I’m doing now, which is pretty ridiculous seeing as nothing is finished and the Perth artistic community is so ethereal that it couldn’t and shouldn’t be labelled at all.

#nick allbrook #nicholas allbrook #tame impala #griffith review #looking west #cam avery #POND #troy terrace #Daglish #perth #western australia

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junker-town · 4 years

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Andy Dalton should get the chance to prove he’s not just the Bengals personified

Photo by Will Newton/Getty Images

Dalton is set to escape the Bengals. Is it too late to be anything other than Marvin Lewis’ perfect QB?

The Andy Dalton era in Cincinnati is all but over.

The 0-8 Bengals announced back in October they would start rookie quarterback Ryan Finley over the man who’d presided over the past eight-plus years of football on the Ohio-Kentucky border. Dalton, the man who has thrown more passes than anyone else in the league through half a season while trying to will an outmanned squad to victory, was headed to the bench. And though he’s been restored to the top of the depth chart after three more Cincinnati losses, he still doesn’t have much of a future in Ohio.

The three-time Pro Bowler had missed games in orange and black before, but all those were due to myriad minor injuries that led quarterbacks like Jeff Driskel and AJ McCarron to play in his stead. This fall, he was purposefully benched in favor of a fourth-round draft pick whose college career at North Carolina State rated out marginally better than Mike Glennon’s. Finlay’s three game audition ended with a 47 percent completion rate and a 62.1 passer rating.

Cincinnati’s intentions are clear. With the team careening toward a top selection in a quarterback heavy draft, the Bengals threw Finley into the fire to see what he’s capable of before setting their blueprint for 2020 and beyond. Though he failed to impress, that doesn’t mean the team will be sticking with its longtime starter for long. With no dead money remaining on the six-year, $96 million extension Dalton signed in 2014, it’s understood those plans don’t involve the veteran QB.

And that’s a shame, because Dalton was the most Bengals quarterback imaginable.

Dalton’s just-good-enough routine was the perfect fit for Marvin Lewis

Dalton, like his since-deposed head coach, existed in a vacuum of acceptable mediocrity. His teams straddled the line between contention and dissolution, leaving Cincinnati stuck in a no-man’s land that gave fans a little to cheer for in December and nothing but heartache come January. His final regular season record as a Bengal, barring a return to the lineup in the second half of the season, will go down as 68-58-2.

Take away 2019’s tank job and his average season (68 victories over eight years) resulted in exactly 8.5 wins. He never won more than 11 games as a starter in a single season (and only did that once), but he also never finished more than three games under .500 until this year’s collapse. He went to the playoffs four times in his first five seasons as a full-time player, a feat shared with contemporaries like Tom Brady, Aaron Rodgers, Ben Roethlisberger, and Philip Rivers. These are all perfectly fine numbers!

And then you get to the postseason, where Dalton made four starts ... and threw just one touchdown and six interceptions in those opportunities. His playoff passer rating was 57.8. His regular season passer rating, at the time of his benching, is more than 30 points higher.

The closest thing Cincinnati got to a postseason win in the Dalton era was an 18-16 loss to the Steelers — and even that was quarterbacked by McCarron thanks to an injury to the starting QB. In eight-plus seasons with the Bengals, Dalton’s name became the perfect descriptor of the break between the postseason’s cutdown from 12 teams to eight. Can’t win your wild card game? Your championship hopes died at the Dalton Limit.

This was a perfect fit for Lewis, who in 16 years as the team’s head coach — half of which came with Dalton behind center — won 8.2 games per season. Lewis made seven trips to the postseason and won none of them. He turned his previous Pro Bowl quarterback, Carson Palmer, into a shell of an NFL player who would rather retire than spend another season in Cincinnati. It ultimately took him two years and a failed stint with the Raiders to become a functional passer again with the Cardinals.

So it wasn’t that surprising that half a season under Lewis’ newly hired replacement (Zac Taylor) surrounded by Lewis’ former guys (minus an injured A.J. Green but PLUS re-signed non-impact players like C.J. Uzomah, Bobby Hart, and Andre Smith) have failed to spark any major positive change for the Bengals. That wheel of mediocrity has pushed Finley’s spoke to its top. Unless he can drastically outshine expectations — and there’s a chance, given his solid preseason campaign — he’ll be auditioning to play backup to whichever rookie quarterback Cincinnati selects next April. That incoming QB will bear a torch that Taylor is tasked with proving can stay lit beyond Wild Card weekend.

It’s time for the journeyman phase of Dalton’s career to begin

For eight-plus years, Dalton was to the Bengals what Jay Cutler was to the Bears — a once-promising beacon of hope who eventually dimmed to something acceptable and then nothing at all. Now the next step in his career will be to see if he can weave a late-career revival like his predecessor Palmer, or whether he’ll fade into a supporting role on an E! Network reality show like his cross-conference colleague. The numbers suggest this could go either way:

Dalton may not have had the arm strength of his Chicago peer or the first pick pedigree of the man who preceded him in Cincinnati, but his more cautious approach, stronger supporting cast, and winning ways ultimately give him the edge over Palmer and Cutler — the latter of whom is now the measuring stick against whom all “eh, he’s fine” quarterbacks are graded. Even so, the three put up some awfully similar numbers in the midwest.

Dalton, however, is only 32 and still has the chance to put an underwhelming phase of his career behind him rather than allow it to define him — something Cutler couldn’t do after briefly retiring, playing one forgettable season in Miami at age 34, then retiring again. Palmer got there, though he had to languish in Oakland before uniting with Bruce Arians in Arizona and becoming an MVP candidate for a contending Cardinals team.

There’s some good news on that front, too. Arians is back in the NFL coaching a Tampa Bay team that currently only has Ryan Griffin under contract at quarterback for 2020. The Buccaneers also have limited avenues to the top of the 2020 NFL Draft where a plug-and-play starter could be found. Would Arians be willing to recycle another half-empty can of beer Marvin Lewis left by the side of the road? Would another team like the Titans, Broncos, or Bears — all in similar situations as the Bucs — be willing to hedge whatever bets they’ll make, or have made, on young developmental passers by signing Dalton?

These are the questions that will have to wait until next spring after Bengals management holds a maudlin press conference and solemnly makes the top-rated starting quarterback in franchise history a free agent. The future can still be bright for Dalton, it just depends on how long it may take to shake the past eight years of football malaise from his shoulders.

Dalton’s final start in stripes before being benched was Week 8’s 329-yard (on 52 attempts), one-touchdown performance in a game against the Rams he hardly had a shot of winning. It was a perfect snapshot of 2019 Bengals — a plodding running game, a slipshod offensive line that allowed five sacks, and a quarterback who had to throw the ball entirely too much in a futile effort to overcome the first two problems.

He was just good enough to earn a demotion from a floundering team who deemed him too dangerous in its race to the bottom. With no need for wins and little room for for a short-term answer at quarterback, the Bengals are moving on from a quarterback who defined “good enough but entirely untrustworthy.” For a solid chunk of the past decade, that was the perfect descriptor of a Cincinnati team that wasn’t threatening in any real way.

The franchise even half-botched his benching, announcing it not only on his 32nd birthday (cold!) but also hours before the trade deadline. This left Dalton unable to find a new home in 2019 and the Bengals unable to glean any compensation for a player they no longer plan to play.

Andy Dalton on the frustration of not being able to explore trade options once he found out he was going to be benched. pic.twitter.com/kjNF4M8338

— Ben Baby (@Ben_Baby) October 30, 2019

Soon he’ll be free to test his fortunes elsewhere and see if that Dalton Limit was really a Bengals Limit all along. But if Palmer is any indication, it might only happen if he can find the right landing spot. And if Cutler is any indication, that’s no easy feat.

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