#maritsa-met

[wkyarts51243]

Shax's parents

Scox

is a former Marquis of Hell, who met his end in an annual extermination and was replaced by his son.

Maritsa

is the daughter of King Sirius, being Stolas' cousin, but does not obtain the same title as Princess.

🙏🙏🙏Like, share and comment I would appreciate it very much🙏🙏🙏

#hazbinhotel #hazbinhoteloc #helluvabossoc #helluvaboss #hazbinhotelfanart #helluvabossart #helluva #hazbin #vivziepop #hazbinhotelart #hazbinhotelkalion #helluvabossshax

[xanadontit]

maritsa-met

replied to your

post

:

maritsa-met replied to your link : Help! My...

“Is she making an informed decision”

“Did she take my d*ck into consideration?”

[tealandsympathy]

maritsa-met replied to your post:

I have never seen a single episode of The Bachelor...

Ok but which episode are you on

It was about five minutes near the end of tonight’s episode.  I know, I know, that is really not fair but the very little I saw was so cringing in it’s artificiality I was getting uncomfortable.*

BUT, I love a good/trashy reality show (I eagerly await each new season of Vanderpump Rules which stars nothing but the dregs of humanity) and this show has been on the air for years so I feel like I’m missing out on something.

*TBH, I don’t think it was that bad. It’s probably because it’s essentially supposed to be a dating show (and dating is supposed to be something between people who are being genuine with each other) that just rubs me the wrong way and even worse than a bunch of middle-aged white women getting drunk on Chardonnay and calling each other bad mothers.

[motivatedslacker]

maritsa-met

replied to your

post

:

First off, if you’re going to use bookmarks or...

Who are these monsters? Tape??

Art/design students, usually. I’ve seen masking tape more than once. These were like the labels you would use on an envelope or folder. You know, labels that are not really designed to come off.

Sometimes people are horrible.

[callioope]

building my D&D characters in Hero Forge is self care...

Maritsa Stormwind, Human, Cleric, Life Domain, Lawful Good Tomb of Annihilation Campaign Number of Sessions: 18 First Session: June 2018

Maritsa hails from Neverwinter, but has spent most of her recent months in the jungles of Chult, searching for the cure to a horrible curse that ultimately took her good friend, Mirren. She worships Ilmater and would lay down her life for her party -- even if they are a bit, erm, odd. 

Upon her arrival in Port Nyanzaru, she picked up the taste for dancing monkey fruit, and then promptly lost it after the fruit compelled her to dance (rather embarrassingly) in front of the entire bar. Her initial venture into this remarkably foreign region continued to go poorly when a desperate man beseeched her aid in rescuing his innocent husband from imminent execution. Maritsa’s high insight confirmed the man’s innocence (or, more specifically, the desperate man’s belief in his husband’s innocence), so she agreed to help. But it’s against Chultan law to interfere in executions. When she was caught, she was given an ultimatum: prison or hunt down an infamous pirate captain plaguing the Chultan shores. (Maritsa maintains the man’s innocence to this day, despite the records of his crimes, which must have been fabricated.)

Maritsa’s party ultimately was successful in hunting down this pirate captain (an escapade that included commandeering a pirate ship and rescuing a fellow cleric), though it took several weeks and greatly delayed their mission.

When the dust had settled over Maritsa’s intervening, the party hired a guide named Eku and ventured forth into the dense jungles of Chult. They’ve seen beautiful dinosaurs the likes of which they could never imagine, fought hordes of terrifying zombies, and narrowly escaped a trapped temple (thanks to Maritsa’s clutch healing abilities). They also encountered a hag, who tricked them and stole a lock of Maritsa’s hair; she’s been cursed ever since.

Eventually, their trek led them to Camp Vengeance. They expected this camp to be a welcome refuge, as they’d enjoyed only one long rest during their weeks in the jungle. But instead, they found the camp waylaid regularly by zombie attacks. They agreed to help with the next one. During the battle, Maritsa met and fought alongside an impressive guard named Perne Salhanna. A powerful fighter, Perne dealt damage left and right, taking out ghouls and the like -- and, well, Maritsa couldn’t help but take notice of her. 

Perne accompanied them to hunt a second hag, who had apparently been the source of the zombie attacks. During their second battle together, Pern proved her battle prowess even more. But sadly, after the hag fell, Perne had to return back to Camp Vengeance, while Maritsa and her party’s mission called them deeper into the jungle.

They parted ways with a hug: after a contested strength check, which Perne won, lifting Maritsa off her feet. Surprising Maritsa even more, Perne handed her a charcoal drawing of the two of them, which Maritsa takes out sometimes, on long, muggy nights when she can’t sleep. She hopes that some day she’ll be able to see her again.

Most recently, the party’s journeys led them to a temple. Shortly upon entering they discovered a crypt that, when disturbed, appeared to be the resting place of a rakshasa. The beast stole a precious heirloom from one of Maritsa’s friends, and as they explore the rest of the temple, she’s hoping she can figure out some way to help him get it back. But they don’t know where the rakshasa has gone, and they can’t afford to deviate any longer from their original quest...

Details of Maritsa’s adventures can be found in my “From the Diary of Maritsa Stormwind” tag and sometimes my “liz plays dungeons and dragons” tag, although there’s other stuff there, too.

[wis-teria3]

Master post of resources for BLM and protest

Carrd: https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/

http://chng.it/yxXpXZxnWj

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619640525201522689

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619632309830893568

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619632283638546432

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619600390355402752

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619600172390973440/ways-to-supportbe-an-ally

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619600134887620608

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619599734851731456/geek-ramblings-america-has-looted-black-people

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619599365911314432/percvshelley-percvshelley-oi-guys-for-the

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619598929605132288

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619589588596441088/queeranarchism-queeranarchism

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619589523097190401

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619585141190377472

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619585134517239808

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619584766763728896/incorrect-harry-potter-quotes-anyway-it-is-the

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619578537000730624

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619572092526100480/mothpoem-so-direct-action-is-not-an-option

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619572003213574144/kiixiies-hey-guys-because-of-the-protesting-in

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619571922702860289

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619565076326793216/treefish-t-aeycng-ways-to-support-the-blm

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619555605033648128

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619555595868094464/you-can-donate-to-the-minnesota-freedom-fund-to

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619555556186865664

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619489850062684160

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619489820708847616

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619778323675054080

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619489579254349824

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619489065904013312

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619462950781140992/unknowncallersworld-matchgirl42

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619462995048857601

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619687137408892928

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619689331912818688/harrysdimples-if-you-are-struggling-to-know-which

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619689526018932736

https://tcglesbian.tumblr.com/post/619416660997242880/maritsa-met-madrassoup-there-are-lots-of

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619733258018701312

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619733222983614464

https://wis-teria.tumblr.com/post/619943483168391168/miss-major-is-still-out-here-protesting-police

[branza]

omfg

@madrassoup @bricksandmortarandchewinggum @maritsa-met @akamuffintop and @ whoever else loves bravo lol

[polka-dot-swirl]

Quarantine Survey

Quarantine survey tagged by @garbagefingers

Name: Angela

Nickname: Angeeelia (coworker), Angelica (another coworker), has been Sparky and Milky in the past

Sun/moon/rising: had to look it up

Age: 53

Sex: female

Favorite musician: changes daily

Favorite anime: n/a

Favorite video game: Mario Bros

Favorite vitamin supplement: magnesium, for the dreams

Favorite addiction: changes daily

Favorite book: Csardas

Favorite way to breathe: Regulary

Favorite element: earth

Last time you were in a body of water: Does a bath count? if so, a few weeks ago. 

Tagging @francescaridesbikes​, @blizzardofjj​, @violetseye​, @maritsa-met​, @blueinaseaofred​

[signaturetheatre]

via Tumblr Staff

[velocipedestrienne]

@maritsa-met no lol but she said hi to my friend, who promptly expired from this life

[xanadontit]

maritsa-met

replied to your

link

:

Help! My Boyfriend Wants to Hire an Ex as His...

My first impulse was “what a bastard” then I thought that was very heteronormative of me and THEN I concluded it was heteronormative but also it probably was a man because thats a very male thing to do

No, I had the exact same thought process. It’s a very specific type of delusional and trying to rationalize. “Make sure she has all the information.” Jesus. 

ETA: I had an ex do this. He broke it off with me (for the millionth time HAHA WHO IS THE IDIOT NOW NOT ME) and when he heard I met E and things were going well magically resurfaced, worried we had given up too soon. 

Then he married someone who looks like me.

[theblerdgurl]

Librarians win everything. (Via Maritsa-met on tumblr) #librarians #alternative facts #fiction #newreality http://ift.tt/2kEupH5

[tealandsympathy]

maritsa-met replied to your post:

I just saw that I have a book in a few weeks on...

Southwest. I think they still fly to Islip?

I can fly Southwest but rarely do because AA is always cheaper (it’s the major airline here in Charlotte). I never thought to check Islip, I’ll definitely do that when I go to book my travel. 

[ambivalentalumna]

@maritsa-met

I keep forgetting about the Schwartz thing due to the extreme lack of evidence. There are great, free, public beaches if they took like a ten minute uber to the actual ocean. There are probably a lot of filming restrictions because there are bars/clubs that are so packed they write off giant noise violation fines regularly and they went to that weird bar... the whole thing was so odd.

[welcometophu]

Not Your Destiny: Chapter 23

Marked Book 1: Not Your Destiny

Chapter 23

[ Previous | First | Next ]

The party gets smaller as the hour grows later. Abuela stays in the living room talking quietly to some of the older family members. The teenagers stake their claim on space outside. The families with younger children drift away between ten and eleven with well wishes for the good year. Some of the smallest children are laid to sleep in one of the guest rooms.

And meanwhile, Ángel drinks, and hangs out with his friends.

He spends some time with Tanner, Hayley, Maritsa and Cleto, all of them lying on their backs on the grass in a circle, heads at the center and feet out. They stare up at the sky and talk about everything and nothing, making up constellations.

There comes a point, though, where Ángel realizes that the other two are couples—holding hands, periodically exchanging kisses—and he’s feeling awkward. He leans over, kisses Hayley’s cheek. Maritsa grabs his shoulder, pulls him toward her so she can kiss his cheek, then whispers, “Go on, find someone else.”

She points at the house, then up, but Ángel isn’t sure where she means. When he follows her gesture, he thinks he might see someone on the high roof of the back porch, where it juts out from the third floor.

He finds Sam, Max, and Luca inside the kitchen. Max leans back against the counter, his arms wrapped around Sam, who leans back into him. Luca sits on another spot on the counter, long legs swinging idly, heels tapping against the lower cabinets. Luca looks up, grins and points. “Beer,” he says, and why would Ángel resist that order?

It’s late enough, and he’s had a couple of drinks, and each one seems to make the night easier. He ends up leaning back against the counter where Luca sits, his shoulder close enough that he feels the movements of Luca’s arm as he talks, gesturing with every word. It’s a story about some guy at a club, or a girl, or… he loses the thread of the story, but he’s not sure it matters.

When Sam hands him another beer to replace the one he has in his hands, Ángel takes it, but doesn’t drink this one.

“I feel like I should be clear-headed tonight,” Ángel says, even though he’s not sure he is. The world is gently fuzzy, soft all around him. “To face the new year.”

“Any luck finding your girl?” Sam asks, and Ángel frowns, momentarily confused. Sam shows his own, blank, wrist, and Ángel shakes his head.

“Haven’t found whoever it is yet,” he admits. He’s warm and comfortable and these people say they’re family, so he should clarify. Get the point across. “Don’t even know if it’s a girl or a guy. Wouldn’t matter either way.”

Max raises his beer in a silent toast, and Sam nods. Luca makes a soft snorting sounds, like he disbelieves, and Ángel can’t blame him.

Because right now it would matter, and that’s just… fuck. He’s going to get his heart broken again and that’s going to be the perfect capstone on the perfect winter break.

Ángel sets his untouched bottle on the counter, tilts closer to Luca when Luca drops an arm around his shoulders, nuzzles the top of his head.

“Don’t worry so much,” Luca says. “It’ll all work out. Isn’t that the point of knowing that someone is your soulmate?”

“I don’t want them to hate me for marking them,” Ángel mumbles, because he gets the feeling that’s going to be an obstacle. Well, that and the fact that he has a thing for Tony.

Damn it. Why can’t anything be easy?

It all seemed so easy before, when he was with Hayley. She was perfect. They were perfect. And they were perfect together. It worked.

“Love is a house of cards,” Ángel says.

“That’s why you have to cheat and glue them together,” Sam offers, and Max silently toasts that statement as well.

“Ángel!”

He disengages himself from Luca, meets Papi at the door to the kitchen. When Papi’s arms open, Ángel goes into them, rests his head against Papi’s shoulder with a sigh. Papi cradles his head like he’s five years old, kisses his temple.

“Just how much have you had to drink, mijo?” Papi murmurs.

They’ve been there a long time, and when Ángel thinks back, it isn’t really all that much. “Two drinks earlier, before I went outside,” he says. “One since I came back in. It’s been hours. I’m just—it’s been a long week.” Long few weeks.

And the last time he let down his guard, something went wrong.

He glances at the beer sitting untouched on the counter. “That one’s probably my last. I’ll see if I can make it last until midnight.”

“You don’t have long to go. You’re all set for staying tonight, right?” Papi has his hands on Ángel’s shoulders, looking at him as if he can somehow see inside his head.

Ángel’s gaze narrows. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want anyone reading his mind.

“I’m set.”

“We have plenty of space, multiple couches, and loads of floor space,” Luca volunteers. “Most of us expect to have a few people crashing in our rooms. It’s just how this works.”

“Are you going to be able to fit Emerson in your car, or is he staying here tonight?”

“Mary would like him home, so he’ll be going with us. He’ll fit,” Papi says. He squeezes Ángel’s shoulders. “If I don’t see you later, happy new year.”

Ángel isn’t going to let that be it; he grabs Papi and hugs him hard. “Yeah. Happy new year.”

“We need beer!” Gabi’s voice rings out, and she pushes past Papi and Ángel with a murmured apology. “Luca, give me one for Tony and one for me and oh, hey, Ángel.” She turns, head cocked. “Do me a favor.”

It’s said like she thinks she’s Zita, like Ángel will just snap to attention and do it.

On the other hand, why not? It’s not like he’s doing anything else.

“Sure.” He reaches past Luca, grabs his untouched beer, just in case. Gabi presses a fresh bottle into his other hand, and Ángel looks down at it, raises his eyebrows.

“Go up to the third floor, into the last door on your left. Go through the living room, into the bedroom, and climb out the open window,” she directs. “Deliver that. And thank you.”

Ángel opens his mouth, closes it. “You’re not going to tell me why,” he says, and doesn’t bother making it sound like a question.

“I need to talk to Luca, Sam and Max are making out—”

True. With enthusiasm, too.

“I don’t know where anyone else is other than Zita, and she’s with Danny trying to convince their kids to sleep on the couch in one of the guest rooms. Have you ever met kids who don’t want to sleep? Even Zita’s failing on this one,” Gabi says. “If you hear her voice, avoid that room. She’s cranky. That means that right now, you’re the only one available so go.” She wiggles her fingers at the door. “Do. And don’t even try to tell me you don’t want to explore the house.”

“Why would I want to explore your house?” Ángel asks.

“Because we keep telling you to leave your things here, and you want to know where. And why,” Gabi says. “So go on. I’m giving you permission to pry as long as you get that beer delivered before someone starts shouting for it.”

It’s not the kind of prying Ángel likes—he’d rather talk, get answers to questions—but he’ll take it. He raises both beers in a salute and ducks out.

He pauses on his way past the living room, gives Abuela a hug and a kiss on the cheek, lets them all know that Emerson’s still out back with the teens.

The stairs to the second floor are familiar, and he has a good idea which rooms are which. He knows where Gabi’s and Luca’s suites are, and he knows that the guest suite next to them is as big as theirs  are. Zita’s voice rises, and Ángel doesn’t linger to think about the fact that he can hear voices in most of the guest rooms already.

He pauses on the little landing between the second and third floors, looks again at the bookshelf. He doesn’t want to set down the beers, but it’s interesting that things have been moved. That there’s a model car there now, a 1965 ragtop Mustang. His smile quirks. Definitely Tony’s.

He climbs the stairs slowly to the third floor, pauses at one end of the hall.

There’s a door all the way at the end, and a door almost at the end on the left. The closer door on the left is slender, with slats, and is probably some kind of utility or linen closet. There are two doors on the right, and Ángel remembers that he was supposed to bring his things and Emerson’s up here and somehow claim these rooms. He should do that.

Later. When he’s not carrying two open beers.

The door on the left stands slightly open, and Ángel goes through it shoulder first to nudge it open enough to fit. He can hear the sound of the crowd outside drifting in through what must be the open window Gabi mentioned, but he can’t see it, not yet.

He walks through a sitting room that’s bigger than the living room at Ángel’s house. Bookshelves line one entire wall, with a heavy desk at one end. There’s a comfortable couch with lumpy, overstuffed pillows. The art that hangs is all rustic, thick broad slashes of paint that create a feel more than an image. Still, it makes Ángel think of freedom. Running at night. Chasing and being chased. There’s energy in the images, and he wants to look more closely at them.

Some other time, maybe. If he’s allowed.

The bedroom is smaller, two doors leading off from it. One door is propped slightly open, to a good sized bathroom. Maybe the other is a closet.

The bed itself dwarfs most of one end of the room, high enough to have two levels of drawers under it, with a thick mattress and richly warm comforter. It looks nice. Comfortable. For just a moment, Ángel has the awkward thought of changing direction, setting the beers down on one of the two oak nightstands, and just curling up for the night.

This is not his bed, and that would really not be appropriate. No matter how nice it looks.

Instead he makes his way to the open window just as Tony leans on the sill, looking back in and blinking at him.

“What happened to Gabi?” Tony asks. He leans back, takes the offered beer and gives Ángel room to step out.

The roof is flat enough to be used as a deck, easy to keep his footing. It’s high, though, high enough that it’s almost unnerving to look down on the people below. Ángel carefully follows to where Tony sits down again, drops to take the spot next to him.

“She asked me to bring this to you, said she had to talk to Luca,” Ángel explains, and even in the darkness he can see the way Tony rolls his eyes.

“Of course she did.” Tony takes a pull from his beer, leans his hand on the roof, fingers wrapped loosely around the bottle.

Ángel sits up, knees bent, heels dug in to keep his balance. He nods. “You’ve been up here a while, right? Maritsa was pointing to you earlier. Is everyone a couple except for Luca and Gabi?”

Tony laughs, sounding startled. “Please don’t use Gabi and Luca in a way that makes them sound like a couple.”

“Oh, God, no.” Ángel shakes his head. “I just was thinking about everyone else that’s our… generation.” Our age doesn’t sound right, not with the six year difference. “Maritsa and Cleto. Tanner and Hayley. Sam and Max. Zita and Danny. Then Luca doesn’t want to date any one person and Gabi—” He cuts off, because he has no idea what Gabi wants. She never talks about it.

“Someday Gabi will be off and chasing the scent of something fantastic, but until then, she’s fine on her own,” Tony muses. He leans back, ending up propped on his elbows, head tipped back to look at the night sky.

“You’ve got Daphne,” Ángel says quietly.

Tony tenses, one leg drawn up with his knee bent, expression sour.

“Don’t you have Daphne?” Ángel remembers the way Daphne had invited him to the party, had intimated that she’d see him here. Although he hasn’t seen her. He hasn’t even had to avoid her.

Tony’s eyes close, and he falls back, lies there with his arm across his eyes. “I’m trying not to have Daphne,” he mutters. “Which really should be easier than it’s turning out to be.”

“But you went out with her,” Ángel says, and Tony grunts. It was more than that, though. “You said you loved her. She invited me here, said it was your party. Together.”

“It’s never been her party,” Tony growls. “This is a Mollicone party. She’s been here in the past, yes; it’s hard to date someone for that long and not have a few new years eves together. But this isn’t her party.”

Ángel lifts his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault.” Tony lowers the hand that covers his face, inhales roughly. He moves again, gets his arms behind his head, both knees bent. He glances up at Ángel, and Ángel takes that as a hint and rearranges himself to mirror Tony’s position while lying next to him. Tony lets out a soft breath once Ángel lies there, and they’re both staring at the sky instead of looking at each other.

“Daphne’s not a nice person,” Tony says. “She can be a good person, and she can be a bad person, but she’s not nice. And we’re not good together. At all.” He stops, and Ángel glances over, sees the tightness in the corner of Tony’s jaw. “It’s all pretty complicated. We got together young.”

“Because she smells like cherry blossoms?” Ángel asks.

Tony shakes his head. “I was young, and I thought she did, though. Not cherry blossoms. There was cinnamon under her scent. Vanilla. Apple trees in an orchard when they’re heavy with apples, and I have never been anywhere that has apple trees. It was there when I first met her, and maybe it was just perfume or shampoo or something, because it faded. But we were already dating then, and I fell in love fast. She said she loved me, and I thought I loved her.”

“You don’t?”

“I did. Do, maybe. Sometimes.” Tony huffs. “You love Hayley, right?”

“I get the feeling we had a lot healthier relationship than you and Daphne,” Ángel says dryly. Maybe it’s the beers, or maybe it’s lying here in the dark with only the stars for witness. The sounds from below are muted, distant. “She seems like kind of a bitch.”

A low snort. “She is exactly, completely kind of a bitch. And she’s not one of us, and she never will be.”

“Does she even know what it means to be one of you?” Ángel asks, because that seems to be a complicated thing as well.

“More than you,” Tony says quietly, and those three words twist deep in Ángel’s gut.

They rip him apart and he curls up to sit again, hunched over his bent knees, like he can press to hold everything in. “Yeah, well, it’s not like you guys like to explain anything,” Ángel mutters. “The best I’ve figured out is Gabi licked me so I’m an honorary Mollicone, despite the fact that if I do magic—and I’m a Mage, I do magic like breathing—everyone yells at me.”

Tony sits up, his knee knocking into Ángel’s. “It’s not easy to explain,” he says. He touches Ángel’s shoulder, and Ángel turns to look at him, and shit if this were any other time, he could just lean across the small gap and brush his lips against—

Ángel pulls back, puts space between them. “It’s okay,” he mumbles, searching for his beer, surprised to find that it hasn’t fallen over and rolled off the roof. “I get it. You guys are secretive, and you’re not Clan, but believe me, you’re a lot like them.”

“We are,” Tony agrees. “And Daphne….”

Oh, they’re back to that. Ángel swallows. “And Daphne?”

“That’s not what she wants.”

“Then why does she want you?” Ángel wishes the words back as soon as they’re out, but it doesn’t seem to bother Tony as much as he thinks it should.

Tony simply shrugs his shoulders. “I just don’t think she wants anyone else to have me. And that wasn’t bad, once. I didn’t mind it. Having Daphne meant I’d always have something to go back to. I could have someone in my bed without having to hook up with a stranger. There was someone who loved me, who wasn’t family, and they still gave a shit.”

“Are you sure about that?” Because Ángel doesn’t think Daphne cares about anything but herself.

“Yeah,” Tony says. “You might not see it, but she does love me. She’s just weird about it.” He licks his lips, pushes the words out like they aren’t easy to say. “And it’s not healthy. She’s—we’re—it’s a bad thing. So. I’m trying. I’m done with her, and she’s not here. Because this is the new year, and I don’t want her in it.”

“Tony! Ángel!” Gabi’s voice rises sharply.

Ángel refuses to crawl to the edge of the roof, but Tony does, then raises a hand to signal something. “It’s almost midnight,” Tony says, standing and offering a hand to Ángel. “Gabi wants us to get inside for the countdown.”

Tony lets him go as soon as they’re inside; Ángel follows him downstairs to where the television is noisily counting the last minute. He loses track of Tony immediately in the crowd, but ends up with Hayley’s arm hooked in his.

They shout the countdown at the end, from ten down to one. As everyone screams, Ángel suddenly has an arm full of Gabi, who leaps up on him, legs wrapped around his waist as she plants a quick kiss on his lips.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Ángel spots Hayley and Tanner wrapped up together, lingering over their kiss. Ángel lets Gabi slide down and Luca grabs him, whirling him around for a kiss that lingers long enough that Ángel hears a growl somewhere in the background. Sam and Max each catch him in quick succession for perfunctory kisses, and the press of lips from Hayley is fleeting.

Tanner yanks Ángel, and as he falls off balance, Tanner catches him, kisses his cheek wetly.

Everyone’s still yelling happy new year, cheering, screaming, as Ángel stumbles out of Tanner’s arms and ends up flat against a broad chest.

Tony smirks slightly, and Ángel swallows hard. Tony raises one hand; Ángel catches a fleeting glance of inked wings passing by him as Tony cradles the back of his head, leans down to just barely brush his lips before murmuring, “To new beginnings.”

Tony falls backward, spinning as someone pulls him away, and Ángel finds himself sandwiched between Maritsa and Cleto, Maritsa hugging him hard.

No kisses, though, leaving Ángel with the taste of Tony on his lips.

The shouting fades, but Ángel’s ears ring with the after effects. The crowd splits slowly, some going for more beer, the younger teenagers separating themselves in an attempt to stay just a little longer. Joey stops to hug Ángel and whisper good wishes as she culls Emerson from the crowd, convinces him to leave with her, to meet up with Papi and Mary, where they wait by the door.

Ángel’s chest is tight, like he’s holding his breath, and he forces himself to exhale slowly. There’s no sign of the Mollicones he knows, and he wonders if they’ve gone outside, or if Tony’s already back up on the roof. He cocks his head, but his hearing isn’t that good, not in this crowd; he can’t tell where they’ve gone.

In the distance, down by the start of the drive, a car revs, then the engine sound fades. Ángel stands there, breathing deeply, trying to settle himself, and a few minutes later there’s a loud thump, as if someone pounds on the front door of the house.

No one moves. No one opens or closes the front door.

A few minutes later, tires squeal as a car peels out.

Ángel drifts outside and finally sits in the silent aftermath, falls back to lie on the grass and look up at the stars.

Yeah.

Here’s to new beginnings.

[ Previous | First | Next ]

[smashpages]

Davis, Ostertag and more take home 2018 Ignatz Awards

Eleanor Davis, Richie Pope, Molly Ostertag and Carta Monir are among the winners of the 2018 Ignatz Awards, as presented last night at a ceremony held in conjunction with the Small Press Expo (SPX) in Bethesda, Maryland.

The Ignatz, named after George Herriman’s brick-wielding mouse from his long running comic strip Krazy Kat, recognizes exceptional work that challenges popular notions of what comics can achieve, both as an art form and as a means of personal expression. The nominees for the ballot were determined by a panel of comic artists: Mita Mahato, Carolyn Nowak, kevin czap, Leila Abdelrazaq and Taneka Stotts. The votes for the awards were cast by the attendees at the show

The complete list of nominees can be found below, with the winner in bold.

Outstanding Artist

Yvan Alagbé – Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures

Ivy Atoms – Pinky & Pepper Forever

Tommi Parrish – The Lie and How We Told It

Richie Pope – The Box We Sit On

Sophie Standing – Anxiety is Really Strange

Outstanding Collection

Beirut Won’t Cry – Mazen Kerbaj

Blackbird Days – Manuele Fior

Language Barrier – Hannah K. Lee

Sex Fantasy – Sophia Foster-Dimino

Super Late Bloomer: My Early Days in Transition – Julia Kaye

Outstanding Anthology

La Raza Anthology: Unidos y Fuertes – edited by Kat Fajardo & Pablo Castro

Comics for Choice – edited by Hazel Newlevant, Whit Taylor and Ø.K. Fox

Ink Brick #8 – edited by Alexander Rothmans, Paul K. Tunis, and Alexey Sokolin

Bottoms Up, Tales of Hitting Rock Bottom – edited by J.T. Yost

Lovers Only – edited by Mickey Zacchilli

Outstanding Graphic Novel

Why Art? – Eleanor Davis

Run for It: Stories of Slaves Who Fought for Their Freedom – Marcelo D’Salete

Uncomfortably Happily – Yeon-sik Hong

The Lie and How We Told It – Tommi Parrish

Anti-Gone – Connor Willumsen

Outstanding Series

Ley Lines – Czap Books

Nori – Rumi Hara

Bug Boys – Laura Knetzger

Gumballs – Erin Nations

Frontier – Youth in Decline

Outstanding Minicomic

Dog Nurse – Margot Ferrick

Greenhouse – Debbie Fong

Common Blessings & Common Curses – Maritsa Patrinos

Mothball 88 – Kevin Reilly

Say It With Noodles: On Learning to Speak the Language of Food – Shing Yin Khor

Outstanding Comic

Recollection – Alyssa Berg

Hot to Be Alive – Tara Booth

Hot Summer Nights – Freddy Carrasco

Whatsa Paintoonist – Jerry Moriarty

Baopu – Yao Xiao

Outstanding Online Comic

Woman World – Aminder Dhaliwal

The Wolves Outside – Jesse England

A Fire Story – Brian Files

Lara Croft Was My Family – Carta Monir

A Part of Me is Still Unknown – Meg O’Shea

Promising New Talent

Yasmin Omar Ata – Mis(h)adra

Tara Booth – How to Be Alive

Xia Gordon – The Fashion of 2004, Harvest

Rumi Hara – Nori and The Rabbits of the Moon

Tommi Parrish – The Lie and How We Told It

Outstanding Story

Yellow Negroes and Other Imaginary Creatures – Yvan Alabge

Why Art? – Eleanor Davis

Rhode Island Me – Michael DeForge

How the Best Hunter in the Village Met Her Death – Molly Ostertag

The Lie and How We Told It – Tommi Parrish