#go look at our roster and come back and maybe self reflect and make some changes to yalls lists

[release-th-kraken]

the twitter name 30 hottest nhl player trends and almost none of them including the kraken VERY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER for all of you

#go look at our roster and come back and maybe self reflect and make some changes to yalls lists #hottest team. no it's not close! #seattle kraken #kraken lb

[popculturebuffet]

The Legion of Super Heroes Reviews: The Legion of Substitute Heroes or Unsung Heroes

Happy 29th Birthday to Me! Yes it’s my birthday which means it’s time for reflection, griping about getting older and cake. And after an exausting weekend of grappling with a growth, i’m not going to go into anymore detail, I can finally, relax celebrate and get back to reviewing. And since i’ts my big day, that means I decided to dedicate today’s reviews to things that mean a hell of a lot to me and in one way or another shaped me as a person. A self indulgant way to reflect on my past, look to the future and show y’all some stuff I really like. So with that out of the way let’s talk about the Legion of Super Heroes.. and their oddball sub team I love dearly. 

This is also my first chance to talk about DC Comics on my blog. I’m honestly shocked that in the year i’ve been reviewing stuff regularly, the other half of the big two superhero comic publishers hasn’t come up. While I do tend to lean towards marvel, in part because Marvel is simply better at collecting their stuff and putting it on sale more often, it’s still the home of some of my faviorite properties: Justice League International, The Green Lanterns (Minus Hal), Teen Titans, Wonder Woman, Oracle, Batgirl (All of them, particularly Steph and Cass), Young Justice, Supergirl, my personal boy The Martian Manhunter.. the list dosen’t go on by much but it indeed goes on. I”ve been reading dc comics since I was in middle school, and I haven’t stopped since and don’t intend to stop now and maybe in the next year I can get around to tackling some of their awesome cartoons and comics more eh? But yeah among these titans, including the actual titans, are the Legion, one of the most unique and awesome super team concepts in my humble opinon and , even for DC, one of the teams with the most tangled up histories. 

First created in the Silver Age by writer Otto Binder and Artist Al Plastino, The Legion of Superheroes is DC”s first successful teen superhero team, predating the titans by a few years, though I dearly love both wildly diffrent teams. The Legion is defined by their high concept: A thousand years into the future, three super teens from diffrent worlds who happened to be on the same ship with billionare RJ Brande, saved Brande from some goons hired by his crooked buisness partner. 

And exposed him. Inspirired by their courage, heart and skill, Brande latter called the three together to form them into a super team, one inspiried by the legends of teen hero Superboy. 

No not Conner though it was nice to get to show off my poster of him. While he was part of the second continuities legion, we’ll get to that, he’s not the superboy we’re looking for. He is damn great though and it’s good to have you back bud. 

Not Jon either, though I do miss this kid’s pre-bendis version and he was the inspiration.. for another version of the legion. (SIGH). Try. AGAIN IMAGE SEARCH. 

...... 

No not the cool bad boy turned troubled good boy, not the child who was inexpciably aged up by that bald smeghead, and not the great idea turned into a editiorial mouthpiece. I”m talking about THIS superboy. 

This is where the name came from: From the silver age till crisis on infinite earths, Clark Kent was active as a kid in smallville, and thus was Superboy, superman when he was a boy. He dealt with similar stories just with Lana replacing Lois, and Luthor as a ginger teenager. And it was these deeds as a teen hero on his own, one of the first honestly, that inspiried the legion and brande and forged the team. 

And it was naturally a super boy story where they were first introduced as the legion’s founders went back to recruit Superboy after putting him through some trials, and were intended as just one of many silver age one off concepts.. but caught on with the readers so much they were brought back, and had their ranks expanded and eventually not only added supergirl, yes the one your thinking of this time, to their ranks, and yes sometimes she and superboy were in the same place at the same time, Clark willingly had founding member and telepath Saturn Girl put a mental block in his head for any info he’s not supposed to know yet so it’s cool . But yeah not only that but they eventually became their own feature in Adventure Comics, where Superboy’s stories were published, but overtook him in popularity with time.  Over time a number of distinct aspects were established: The roster eventually got as large as 20 plus legionarres, almost all from diffrent worlds, and they eventually set up bilaws. Some are silly and dated such as “Legionarres marrying means they retire” which was eventually done away with in the 70′s, but others were simple logic: each member must have a unique power, no using weapons and such which rather than be super power snobbery is so said tech dosen’t fail and the legion later fully allowed Karate Kid, a martial artist, to join, no killing.. just common sense stuff that adds to it. And one of those is the centerpiece to today’s story, which we’ll get to in a moment.  Obviously given they’ve been around since 1958, there is a LOT more to the Legion’s history I will dig into at a later date: The short version is that Crisis on Infinite Earths, Dc’s first big reboot, fucked the team up badly by retconning superboy out of existance and dc editorial made it worse by shooting down EVERY solution the team came up with to fix the issue. So eventually things got so messy they nuked the whole thing during the event Zero Hour and rebooted fresh with Mark Waid taking the helm and updating the concept for the 90′s and being a more lighthearted, if still not without weight, comic in the sea of 90′s edge. Waid would reboot the team again due to sagging sales, a far weaker reason this time, with a more rebllion slant, the original team would be reinstated, and then ended for a while before recently being rebooted by Brian Micheal Bendis... who sadly is long past his creative prime from books like Ultimate Spider-man and alias and is instead stewing in his own toilet dinner these days and thus it’s not pretty.. well okay art wise i’ts VERY pretty, it’s just story wise it sucks dirty ass in thunder storms. There was also an awesome cartoon that sadly lasted only two seasons that I will DEFINTELY be digging into, especially since unlike x-men evolution, it’s not you know 50 some episodes and me biting off way more than I can chew but a slim 26 that still has fans to this day. I”ll get into ALL OF THIS, some ohter time hopefullly and I mostly outlined it since some of you might be familiar with another version or “Sigh” the reboot and this helps clear things up.  So yeah with all that out of the way we’re going back to the silver age and the first story I ever read of hte team, how I met them with “The Legion of Substitute Heroes” and a later subs story I genuinely love. I first read this story in one dc’s old expensive archives collections I got from the library. Oh how I miss the library. Your probably wondering who the legion of susbstite heroes are.. but since the first story covers that we can jump right in after the break!

So we open with a teen in a parka uniform disembarking from a spaceship from another planet, which a passerby notes is just like the airplanes people used to ride from country to country. 

But we meet our hero, Polar Boy, whose in a winter themed outfit and has come to try out. This is the tradition I was saving for now: The Legion Tryouts. Like a club or sports team would, but I like it because it makes sense: The Legion NEEDS to be as big as it is because while their headquartered on earth, their mission scope is anywhere in the united planets which spans GALAXIES. They could be called on any time and need their full force or need to have severa l members on a smaller mission and frequently having members away on a mission was cleverly used to reduce the cast to whoever was needed for the story. 

So it only makes sense to frequently look for new membbers to help strengthen their ranks... but given their teens and are recurting teens they need to be careful and need a logical way to reduce crowd flow. I mean you saw how many people used to line up for american idol before that died a justified death, people will do anything to be famous and they need to weed out those whose powers and skill just aren’t up to snuff yet, or those who are just dicks as, unsuprisingly, several stories have been built on assholes who applied and were rejected turning evil and attacking.. even though the Legion wasn’t even paticuarlly harsh. They also are more than fair as applicants CAN try again or if they prove themselves in other ways can be let in, as Bouncing Boy, my favoirite legionarre, was intially rejected for his power of .. well...

Yeah.. on paper inflating like a ball and bouncing around is kind of silly. In practice he can ricochet off enemies, walls, and obstacles and is fairly durable in that state. It’s why I don’t really brook mocking the guys power: yes it’s goofy.. but say that again when he hands you his ass. It’s the same with matter eater lad who yes is an actual character: While being able to eat anything is gloriously goofy.. it means he can chew through ANY substance and digest ANYTHING. Hell in the cartoon episode intorducing the subs they used both of these guys to great efffect: Bouncing Boy, who in the cartoon had to try out multiple times in his backstory, encouraged the future subs while Matter Eater Lad got in by EATING A FUCKING BOMB. He also had shades which I dind’t know he was missing but now I do. My point is the process is fair and well thought out and leads to some really fun scenes. 

But yeah joining the legion is naturally Polar Boy’s dream, as he walks down the avenue of heroes, basically a series of statues honoring the legion and hopes all his hard work paid off. We then cut to the auditions, where he apparently waited all night. What I like about this story is that unusually for the silver age legion where it was mostly a sea of powers attached to a bunch of cardboard, really the dc silver age in a nutshell and why marvel broke out so much for having more dynamic and realistic characters, Polar Boy has more of a personality. It’s not MUCH but he’s a dedicated, hard working kid who just wants to join his heroes and seems really in awe of htem, a feeling we can all relate to. We’ve all had people we’ve looked up to, admired, and we’ve all had groups we wanted to join as kids, teens or what have you. And of course.. we all know what it’s like to be rejected by someone or something you badly wanted to be a part of.  And that’s what happens to poor polar boy, who comes from a world with an intense sun thus his people developed super cold powers.. but he can’t control them well so while their impressive, they also freeze the legion. HIs powers are good... but due to their strength and radius he’s also a liablility. They give him an consolation anti-gravity belt.. they had these before eventually compressing them into the much cooler flight rings.. which I still desperatly want one of. I have the flash’s costume ring and a green lantern corps ring, but still no legion ring. 

Naturally this devistates the poor boy and he wonders around dispondent till nightfall, convinced he’ll never be one of them. He soon meets Night Girl, a fellow reject with super strength given to her by her dad’s formula.. but only in darkness as she’s from a world without sunlight. She also faces a “hopeless future” but it’s then Polar Boy’s true strength reveals itself: he decides screw giving up on their dream and if they can’t be in the legion they’ll start their own Legion. 

Though not to compete but to serve as a subtistute, in case the legion is ever incapacitated. So Night Girl gathers the other rejects the next morning. Cleverly one of them, Chlorophyll Kid was seen with Night Girl herslef at the tryouts behind Polar Boy. We soon learn about them and each of their origins: Stone Boy can turn himself into an immobile stone statue, as his world has half a year long nights and thus his people hybernate, Fire Lad who can spit hot fire literally and set anything combustable on fire and Chlorphyll Kid who can make plants grow rapidly. Each were rejected for resonable powers: Stone Boys powers too static, Fire Lad’s is too dangerous and Chorlpyl Kids toos pecific. But upon seeing all of this Polar Boy says they STILL have fantastic powers and still can help people and the legion. 

Thus the Legion of Substittue Heroes is born. And I love them as much as the originals. As a bit of a misfit myself I relate to these guys: They have strange specific powers, got rejected by the big team.. while that trope is nothing new at the time it was unique and even now it’s a nice and inspiring message. Instead of giving up they form their OWN team to do what htey can anyway. They might not be the best like the legion but they can still help and still do what’s right even if not on their scale. It’s a great concept and really makes them endearing. Again I have a thing for the underdogs but I still really like these guys. It’s why it annoys me they got kind of spat on with time: While I love Keith Giffen and Paul Levitz run on the legion, and feel it’s the best of that contnuinty it’s not without fault and the two basically spent a full issue mocking the team and split polar boy off from them before making their own subs with only ONE of the originals. It just felt.. disrspectful. And so far no continuity has used them again until the recent bendis run, which has them announced for the Future Slate special. It took BENDIS, who dosen’t get how to use the team properly and is up his own ass, to bring them back in a new continuity and I find that obnoxious. The subs are a great concept and deserve to be honored as such and as such are one of my favorite superhero teams. 

But their careers don’t start well as they doubt themslves, except for Polar Boy who boisters them along, and constnatly just end up going to missions the legion already has covered and when the legion go to fight some robot ships, they refuse the subs help.. which is fair though, as Brainy puts it they can’t risk putting untrained volunteers in harms way. Their about to just quit, in a really sad moment.. when CK, because I can’t spell cholophill and hate having to use spell check notices some odd seeds spread about.. and when he grows one a horrifying tree man shows up. They struggle with it till the setting son finishes it’s job, meaning Night Girl is at full power and whollops it and the subs spend the night destroying the seeds.  They  find out the next day the seeds came from the same planet as the robot ships, meaning the ships are a distraction for whoevers doing this and since they can’t just call earth, as the full force of the legion is needed with the robots and all it’d do is cause a panic, it’s down to them. Night Girl however is scared.. and I like that. It shows that while their regaining their confidence.. it’s sitll risky. Their a bunch of barely trained fanboys, and girl, going up against an alien invasion, with it down to them. They CAN save the world but it’s alright to be entirely terrified when your thrust into it this fast. 

They make their way to the planet, having built a ship earlier and lie low, finding out what’s going on: The plant men are fully intellegent, and grow themselves..though how they know to attack and go to the bathrom and what not out of the seed I don’t know but I assume it’s a genetic thing or they might be some form of hive mind. point is the seed plan is to grow troops all over the world via rockets for an invasion, and it’s a brilliant concept for one too. Aliens who simply GROW the troops right into battle, born with the knowledge to do so, and right where they can ambush them. It’s down to our heroes and Stone Boy, whose been the most pesemistic, valiantly dives in to provide a distraction so they can destroy the factory and the seeds. Turns out he is useful as the most the treeple have is a space lead pipe.. yes really. I love the silver age. But they’ll bring ray guns soon, so Stone BOy knows it’s a suicide mission and now our heroes have a timer. But luckily.. our heroes are stronger than they think. Night Girl punches a way in till Night passes, while Polar Boy and Flame Lad use their powers in concert to make an opneing.. but with time running out Polar Boy finishes things by having CK grow all the seeds now they have acess.. thus exploding the planets population, destroying several cities from the number of bodies, and thu discourguing the treeple from trying again. Stone boy is able to flee with the rest of our heroes and the day is saved. 

The heroes opt not to tell the public, as to take away glory for the Legion. It’s a noble gesture.. they do DESERVE credit, but they choose not to take it, preferring to let the legion get theres for stil lsaving the world from the robots. They stand firm, now confident they may someday make it to the big leagues.And it’s this that really makes me love them: Thier not the strongest or best, but they try anyway for the reasons a hero should: to help people, and not for the glory. THey remain unsung heroes and are fine with that.  Eventually the Legion WOULD find out about them, but naturally instead of being dickheads about it, fully accepted them, even offering them some contests for membership, but that’s a story for another day. THey’d remain stalwart allies and valuable backup in crisis situations for years to come until the bollocks outlined above. But they’d never leave my heart and thanks to them.. the legion never left either. 

Final Thoughts:  While I do love the story for it’s personal signifigance to me, It’s stilll a really good story for the time. A bit stilted as was the style, but still good, well paced and with an endaring cast of underdogs who prove themselves in the end. It’s something diffrent from the usual clean cut ahead in life wasps these stories usually followed at the time. While the team’s still all white and all that, their outcasts and misfits who just want to help and have trouble beliving in themselves. Their a good standard to live up to.. and a good inspiration for me and my constnatly self hating self doutbing self. And I hope you enjoyed htem too.  If you’d like to comission your own review, just dm me. It’s 5 bucks for individual issues. Later days. 

#the legion of super heroes #the legion of substitute heroes #polar boy #fire lad #night girl #chorophyil kid #stone boy #silver age #comics #comics reviews #birthday

[evajellion]

Why Suketoudara is (one of) the most well-developed characters in Puyo Puyo

You ever just look back at how far the Puyo Puyo and Madou Monogatari franchise has come, and think about how much the characters have changed over the years? 

Some have become main stay recurring cast members, while sadly some others have been completely left in the dust or remain in Quest or other spin-off titles. Others become more amazing in hindsight, such as Schezo and Rulue (even if most can argue SEGA dropped the ball on their character in recent times), starting off as slightly minor characters, getting their own arcs.

Witch is also pretty incredible to think about, what once was a mere mook enemy became one of the most popular characters, obtained her own spin-off title, and co-starred in a Madou game with Schezo.

Then you have the most interesting case imo, which is Suketoudara. What makes him so incredible? When you look at his actual personality and character, and how it’s changed across games… for the better!

Since I said I would talk about this after seeing @superbuffalo007​‘s post, I decided it’s time the unspoken truth is finally said-- which is Suketoudara’s character across the games.

So originally, Suketoudara started off no differently than Witch and Draco. The only huge key difference was his character design, in which rather than being a cute humanoid girl… Suketoudara was a funny fish with human arms and legs that liked to dance. His design was goofy albeit uncanny (especially in the PC98 Madou), which probably got some designers at Compile to chuckle, nothing more.

He was a blank slate enemy, nothing more, nothing less. And once we got the first two Puyo Puyo games, which had “Manzai” based dialogue for comedic purposes. We learn that this funky fish prides himself and his beautiful legs. I mean, to be completely fair… he does. Usually in these games (and Puyo Sun), Arle was the straight man while Suketoduara was the goof.

Out of nowhere, the guy skyrocketed in popularity. He, Nasu, and Carbuncle were easily marketable characters due to their distinct, funny appearance which I assume made them very popular with younger fans. In commercials, you would probably often see this character be frequently used-- that’s how iconic his design was. His personality though, was about as shallow as everyone else’s.

This changed of course, in 1996 and onward, where Compile decided “hey, maybe we should do more with this character besides just having him dance”.

In 1996, Madou Monogatari Hanamaru Daiyouchi Enji (Big Kindergarten Kids) would be released for the Super Famicom. Rather than the usual dungeon-crawler, this game took inspiration from the likes of A Link to the Past, Final Fantasy, and Earthbound in terms of its overworld design. More importantly though, it took what was once mere mooks, the most popular characters, and made some of them into full-on major bosses you had to fight.

Amongst those characters are Nasu Grave, Skeleton-T, Mini-Zombie, and Suketoudara (called Jr. in this game).

You know who wasn’t? Uh… Witch and Draco, if you can believe that. Yeah, that’s right. Suketoudara was a major, if not the main antagonist for a good chunk of this game, while Witch and Draco remained mere mooks. That’s pretty incredible if you ask me!

He’s the typical schoolyard bully/delinquent, going around causing problems for several towns and even stooping as far as to steal eggs from dragons. Suketoudara constantly meddles in Arle’s quest, and it only comes to an end one day after sending Arle a letter, in which he challenges her directly at her school. Turns out he just happens to have the last Secret Stone.

And at the end of the game, after Arle defeats Devil, the true main antagonist? Suketoudara has a complete change of heart, asking for Arle’s forgiveness, realizing he focused too much on his training, even saying he wants to be Arle’s henchman instead.

He even calls her “sis”, in a relatively friendly way, after everything he had done.

Whether or not you consider this game canon, it added a lot to Suketoudara (if this is the same as the one in the Puyo Puyo titles, and not Jr. as in a child of his). Suketoudara was a foul-mouthed bully in his youth, a complete contrast to the innocent, playful Arle. But he changed for the better after Arle told him to reflect on himself. That is way more characterization than Draco has ever received.

Suketoudara got fleshed out further in a couple of DiscStation games, both a year before Hanamaru and two years after, we would get some really interesting development, which would of course come from his interactions with another character.

DiscStation Volume 9 is (presumably) when we would first see Suketoudara interacting with Serilly in the game “Madou Sugoroku”, a Mario Party-esque game that seems to have no real story, pairs of characters are just competing while Harpy serves as the game hostess. This would be one of the earliest instances of Suketoudara being shown to have a crush on Serilly.

DiscStation Volume 18 would give us Serilly’s Happy Birthday, a game where Serilly uses a magical stone to go up to the surface in the hopes that she’ll make a friend that will celebrate her birthday with her, rather than leaving Serilly to celebrate it alone.

While I am sadly uncertain about the full details of this visual novel, it seems that in Suketoudara’s route, he collapses due to a drug Witch had made, so Serilly nurses him back to health by making an antidote. This leads to Suketoudara, a normally brash and selfish character, to become warmer and open up to Serilly. Again though, this is a loose translation of what transpires.

Lastly for DiscStation, we have Madou RUN! 

A game featuring Arle, Schezo, Witch… and not Satan, not Rulue, not Draco, but Suketoudara! In this game, our four protagonists compete in a game of tag set up by Momomo, for an object known as the Dragon Ball, which can grant any wish.

Oddly enough, rather than it being about his dancing, the only wish on Suketoudara’s mind is that he wants to be closer to Serilly. Mind you that the other three characters are more interested in the power of the Dragon Ball to become stronger, while Suketoudara just wants to improve his relationship with a friend he has feelings for.

His attitude in this game is notably far less aggressive when compared to how overly competitive Witch and Schezo are, a far cry from how Suketoudara used to be in the earliest Puyo Puyo games.

In Puyo Puyo~n, we have yet another cheerful Suketoudara, as opposed to the grouchy, territorial one we saw in past mainline Puyo titles. Much like the previously mentioned DiscStation games, Suketoudara is primarily just interested in Serilly’s presence, stuttering in a shy manner around her, and feeling crestfallen when Serilly says that he’s only a friend.

He only starts to lash out against Arle once he thinks that Serilly only called him a friend because another person was embarrassing her. To be fair, pretty rude of Arle to make comments or butt in. Overall? It seems that Serilly has had a positive influence on Suketoudara, but he still had some of his temper.

In Puyo Puyo Box, nothing interesting happens, but Suketoudara definitely mellowed out in the Quest Mode. Similarly in Minna de Puyo Puyo, Suketoudara only wants Arle to watch him dance, which she ignores in a rude manner.

After a couple years of going missing, Suketoudara returns in Puyo Puyo! 15th, and is arguably, the most friendly of the returning Compile characters next to Zoh Daimaoh.

Unlike Satan, Rulue, and Schezo, who are rude and dismissive of the Fever characters, Suketoudara seems happy to meet new faces and actively encourages them through dialogue usually related to dance. No mention of Serilly is made, but that just proves that unlike Rulue, he can go without thinking or talking about his love interest for every two scenes.

And also unlike 90% of 15th’s roster, he doesn’t get screwed over by the fake wishing medal. He makes a simple, short wish where he says he wants to be first to do solo dances.

Puyo Puyo 7, in my opinion, is the peak, friendliest Suketoudara has been in any game. Ringo runs into him, and rather than being actively antagonistic, he explains that he was with Arle (possessed by Ecolo) and got lost, so he asks for her help. In exchange, Suketoudara assists for a short period of time. He tries to persuade Rulue out of attacking him, manages to hold a decent conversation with Satan and Carbuncle, even showing concern about Arle’s strange behavior! 

He, along with Satan, are the only Madou characters in 7 that were genuinely worried about Arle. Schezo, Skeleton-T, Draco, and Rulue did not care in the slightest. He has grown from not wanting Arle around at all to being a friend that does care about her!

Puyo Puyo 20th… sadly took a step back, with Suketoudara obsessively searching for his shoes. A lot of the characters were jerks in this game though, so it’s not a problem exclusive to him. If anything, I’d argue he’s the tamest example and just being plain comedic.

Thankfully, in Puyo Puyo Tetris and Puyo Puyo Chronicle, Suketoudara was back to being his cheery self, unlike in 20th. He just wants to show off his dance moves, has friendly enough conversations with Arle, Ringo, and Ally-- playing Puyo just for fun rather than an offense reason…

Ess on the other hand… yeah, she’s straight-up rude to him, and he rightfully defends himself. I should note that through all of these games, Serilly went completely unmentioned, which might mean that Suketoudara actually got over his infatuation for Serilly. Even with her grand return in Puyo Puyo Chronicle, the two never have a conversation.

That being said, I definitely do think that Serilly’s kind personality, and if taken as canon, Suketoudara’s rivalry with Arle in Hanamaru, definitely molded him into being one of the most grown characters in the entire series. He went from being the typical jerk with only thing on his mind, to being an upbeat, helpful character that is willing to put dancing aside when there are greater matters at hand. Puyo Puyo 7, Tetris, and Chronicle are the arguable proof of this.

That’s why I like this character so much. That’s why I feel the fan-base kinda takes him for granted-- they don’t know about his evolution throughout the games. He went from a funny jerk, to a guy with a crush, to someone with a confident and friendly personality.

Because of that… I am honestly completely fine with Suketoudara staying for future mainline games. Even if he doesn’t add much, at least he isn’t as actively unpleasant as he was in Compile’s early run.

#puyo puyo #madou monogatari #suketoudara #serilly #long analysis post!!

[onlyshadowkin]

Sylvanas Loyalists still Exist

I Would like to Preface this with the understanding, that this is my reply to Blizzwatch. I am a 16 year fan of WoW, and I have been playing since Vanilla. I have played both sides, Horde and Alliance. I know a Crunk ton of Lore, and I have some pretty strong opinions about in game events, and Lore Characters. if you are an Alliance player, this rant, is not for you. if you are a Horde Member, who likes Thrall, and the current state of Alliance Boot licking, this Rant is not for you. save yourself the pain, read something that will give you happy thoughts! go Read Ms. Roux’s new book, she is a wonderful writer. I support there being Writers who are good at what they do. if you want something a little more informed Lore wise, by all means go pick up a Kristy Golden book, I recommend Arthas or Warcrimes! both Excellent reads! Lore lovely, and thick with understanding of the world. Horde and alliance friendly! 

Now, for those of you who are My Loyalist Brothers and Sisters! Please, join me! let me know what you think about My thoughts! do you feel the same? if not, then why? what am I missing? what do you think the ending should look like? I am just fed up, with being told I do not exist.  I am fed up with the Alliance! I am fed up with the Horde leaders who should not be in power to begin with. I am sick to death of people who do not know the Lore having their say about what happens. 

I am sick to death of the Hypocrisy of the Alliance, of their Self Righteous Arrogant demented thoughts on what is right and wrong, and their trying to impose it on other races and cultures! I am tired of their Xenophobic bigotry, and their ham handed claim to being the “Good guys” which is utter nonsense. 

I am sick to death of Thrall, who abandoned the Horde, leading the Horde, and being put in power, or putting in power, the leaders of the Faction he abandond to Garrosh. I am sick of Alliance Members being put in charge of the Horde Quests, like Valeera Sanguinar, or Baine Bloodhoof, or Thrall. Because, let’s face it, these people are Alliance Members. 

I am sick of Leaders who have done eff all to help their people or heal the wounds their people have suffered under Alliance hands. Like Lortharmar, and Talanji, and Gaeyra! 

I am sick to death of Calia Menethil who may as well be Alliance, and Lillian Voss who was never a Forsaken to begin with. Both of whom Refused any responsibility for their people, and Fellow undead, until it suited them to do so. Calia was capable of treating with the Alliance on her people’s behalf, she could have come forward at any moment before, as the living heir to Lordaron and told Anduin, or Varrian to leave Lordaron to those who belonged there, the Forsaken. to let them alone, or invite them back into the Alliance. She does none of this! instead she starts an insurrection on a field that is supposed to be peaceful, and gets people Killed, who were innocent of crimes, she basically forced upon them.  Voss, she wanted nothing to do with the Forsaken, wanted not to be a part of the Horde, did not want to Serve Sylvanas, and basically tells everyone to leave her alone to kill Scarlet Crusaders. Which we do. She becomes Neutral in WoD, and can be conscripted by Horde or, wait for it, Alliance! Basically an Alliance Member. So, how is she leading the Forsaken?  Neither of these women should be in charge of the Forsaken, even if Sylvanas never returns! 

I am pretty much done, with all of it. there needs to be some serious fixes to the way things are going. Sylvanas was right, the Horde is nothing! because it pretty much does not exist with the Roster we have going for the leaders here. I want my warchief back. I am not foolish enough to think that is possible, however. I want Sylvanas in charge of the Forsaken as she always has been, not that I think that will be a thing. So maybe, there is a third option! Maybe, there is a way to go to a totally new side, and have Sylvanas be it’s leader. it could be done! 

I am not foolish enough to think Blizzard will listen to my ramblings. I do not think I have a snowballs chance in hell, of ever getting them to listen. I think though, this will probably be my last Horrah. I think this will be the Last expansion I play in, since they have forced me into a corner, where the Game, and it’s Lore is no longer fun for me. There is new stuff I Like, but none of it has to do with my Faction or my supposed leaders. none of it has anything to do with my character as she has been. it all has to do with the Shadowlands, and when they go away, I am concerned that my joy for the game will go with them. 

“No. Nathanos is not tied to Sylvanas, and no, they really have not been trying to please anyone but alliance Sympathizers. Not that I have seen at least. If there is more, in the Shadowlands, to prove we are about to get something wonderful in the story, then great! At this point, I do not think there is any appeasing the Majority of Forsaken players, who want Sylvanas back. None of those I know Like Calia, or Lillian, at this point, they are all of the Forsaken I know, and including myself angry about how the story has played out, and the Forced take over of the Forsaken and indeed of the Horde by the Alliance and those who would be friends to the Alliance. when you talk about the "Faction" of blight Loving Forsaken, you are talking about the Majority. When you are talking about the Traitors, you are talking about 1 in 100 maybe, because I have not come across these Alliance loving Forsaken in my 16 years of playing WoW. I am pretty ticked there is no mention of the Loyalists, as we still exist. We did not just go away, and we are not about to stop following Sylvanas. Those Forsaken who ran to the Alliance Side in Before the Storm, they were Traitors, and those who returned immediately as instructed before this meeting, they lived. Calia's Presence got those all who did not make it back in time Killed. The Sister of her Abuser on the Field shows just how dumb Anduin is. She should have been in the chapel and stayed there if she wanted to come. Traitors deserve a Traitor's Death. Like Saurfang and the Forsaken who died before him, they owed their Loyalty to Sylvanas. the Forsaken more so, because they were given the choice to follow her, return to undeath, or go about their merry way, so long as they did not directly appose Sylvanas and the Forsaken. Lillian Voss, was one such undead, who was raised, who went her own way. she did not swear Fealty to Sylvanas, and she continued to live in undeath unscathed by Sylvanas. Derrick Proudmoore, was a weapon, against the Alliance, who are our enemies. Who committed more atrocities, than Garrosh and Sylvanas combined. Teldrassil was deserved. Baine, who owed his loyalty to his warchief and his people, Killed Horde members to free the weapon, and give it to the enemy. Sylvanas did not kill or oust any Horde member, In fact she was more inclusive in her decision making than Thrall even was. Saurfang not only defects to the Alliance, he murders Horde Members in Swamp of Sorrow, and Causes insurrection against his Warchief, who he owed his Allegiance to. Any of those who Followed the Quest line know, that as Loyalists, Sylvanas has no dastardly plan. She tells you to go along, to stay out of it, that what ever happens happens, she at one point wants you to let Baine go, as part of her plan. She never mentions burning thunder Bluff, Thrall is the one who suggests this. She never says she is going to Execute Baine, though she should, she never says that is what she is doing. In fact, Thrall and Saurfang murder more Horde members when they Free Baine, who is blatantly a Traitor. Baine who hands a weapon back to our enemy, the same exact enemy who murders the King of our new Allies, the Father of Talanji, in his home. He had not attacked the Alliance, he was not a part of the Horde at the time, and Jaina and Genn break into his Castle and murder him along with many of his people. Sylvanas makes a deal with one of the Ruling houses of Kultiras, She makes a Deal, instead of bust up into the Alliance aligned Capital City of Kultiras and Murder Kathrine Proudmoore. Who at this point, is an Alliance Supporter. Jaina Proudmoore is an Alliance Supporter, and She becomes Lord Admiral. Then, the Dark Lady sends us to Azshara. We both Free and kill Nzoth because of the Dark Lady. Nathanos Delivers the Blade that is used to weaken Nzoth. She is Directly responsible for Nzoth's downfall. Lortharmar, pissy that he mussed his hair on the way down, not only decides to turn traitor, but then Works with and Befriends, the woman who Murdered his people in Dalaran with her own hands, who kicked families from their thousands of year old home, imprisoned them, or killed them, if they refused to leave their homes. She flat out tries to Execute Romath, Lortharmars closest friend, and then she murders the King of our new Allies, and the Father of Talanji, but Lortharmar sides with her. Baine Sides with her. Saurfang sides with the Alliance. Traitors, ALL. We are expected to Just, accept the Alliance puppets as leaders? The Traitors, who ousted the woman who was responsible for our Survival on the broken shore, for our survival on Dark Shore, as we followed Saurfang's plan. She was the reason for our Survival in Icecrown, through the pit of Sauron and the Halls of reflection. She is responsible for weakening Arthas, and his death. she is Responsible for being the first on the shore to fight against Garrosh forces in Siege of Org. She won the Battle of Androhal, and the Fight for Gilneas! Maybe sometimes using questionable tactics, but she won them for the Horde. she Fought on the front lines in all of these! at the Broken shore, who was first to touch down for the Horde? Who was it who used her most Precious Resource to pull all the Horde out, and Save their lives as we were clearly about to fall? Who was the one, who sailed our Ship, the only one, back to Org, Herself? the ship, You the player wake up on, the only one in the Harbor? Sylvanas, saved our lives, time and time again. Through the expansions, she has fought on the front lines. She is the single most effective Military tactician the Horde, or Alliance has ever seen, and has personally saved the lives of ALL of these Traitors, and they still, chose to help our Hated enemy, the Alliance. The Self Righteous Alliance, who do not even know the Significance of the phrase, Loktar Ogar! Who disrespect the Mak'gora. Who think they have the moratorium on honor, on Loyalty, on the freedom of choice.   They presume to dictate what the Horde should and should not do. What Resources the Horde is aloud to have. Where the Horde is aloud to go. Who the Horde can Allie with. None of that is up to the Alliance. They do not have the moral high ground. Sylvanas won the Mak'gora. Saurfang said of Garrosh, that he would see him forgiven, if he won a Mak'gora against Saurfang. Sylvanas won! Even though Saurfang cheats. She wins. She is Still Warchief! Traitors. Then what happens? The Alliance is let into Orgrimar! by who? by the very people who owe the MOST to Sylvanas, those who she rules over and cares for the most, the ones, who's lives she saved, the ones who she gave a home to! the ones who she fought to get Justice for. the ones she saved from Garrosh war machine, that would have seen them spent to the Last. The Forsaken betray their Queen, and let the Traitors and Alliance into Orgrimar. The Horde Loses the War, because of Traitors, and Deus ex Machina. By Plot armor, and Stupidity on the part of the other Horde "Leaders". Traitors. I am a Loyalist, obviously. I followed Sylvanas away, when the Alliance entered the City, and now, I have been told, I do not exist. That I am not a Loyalist, that all of them were murdered by Thrall, or imprisoned. Thrall says this himself. Thrall who would have died on the broken shore, if not for Sylvanas. Nathanos, owes his very Sanity to the Dark Lady, and if he does turn on her, there is no saving this story. That means, that I am the Most Loyal, that my fellow Loyalists, who Still would serve the Dark Lady given the Chance, really Are, the MOST Loyal. She was right, the Horde is nothing, not anymore. The only Leaders at this point I do not actively hate, or I do not think are Traitors, are Kiro, and Gazlow. That makes me absolutely Sick. Talanji has forgiven the Traitors? who sided with the Alliance, who Murdered her Father? Great. The Horde is nothing. none of them would know what Honor was if it bet them in the face. there has been no concession made to those who like Nathanos. there has been no attempt thus far to try and bring the Loyalists back into the fold. Or Punish us! Either way, it tells me they think I do not exist. The Champion of Azeroth, does not exist. Along with all my Brothers and Sisters, who are STILL Loyal. So, please, do not try to tell me, that they want to show or serve all sides a decent answer. Because My side has not even been considered in the story thus far. It is an impossible task to please everyone. I do not want to be Alliance, The war is not over for me, as with Most Veterans of war. There is no healing to be done for my character, and her story, because the Alliance has not payed for their hand in so many Atrocities. No one has been put on Trial, on the Alliance Side, and All of them are guilty at this point. They are Hypocrites all of them.  Baine deserved punished for his Betrayal, Thrall, and Lortharmar, and the rest, with him. At the very least, they should no longer be aloud to serve as leaders of their Races. They should not be representing the Horde in ANY capacity. They do not belong ruling over the Horde on a Counsel. At the Very Least! I think Baine Deserves execution for his hand in all this. Thrall, does not belong in the Horde anymore. He abandoned the Horde to the hands of Garrosh, and he put Gallywix in power over the player Character after you free him from Gallywix and the Alliance, and help Aggra. The Alliance who fired on a ship, because they did not want there to be witnesses to their capture of Thrall. Who fired on a Ship, full of the LAST of the Kezzan Goblins. Genocide, right? and Gallywix, tries to enslave all of us, and only is fought off by the player, and Thrall, and Thrall puts him in charge of the Goblins. Thanks Thrall, you absolute Jerk. Like I said, zero room for the Alliance to be the Moral police here. I realize this rant has kind of gone on, but it has been building for a long while. There has been a Grievous Wrong done to my faction, to my favorite Lore character, to My Warchief, and to my player Agency. I am still hoping Blizz fixes this. If not, this will be the last time I play a WoW expansion. I am not apposed to a good wrap up to the story, so do not get me wrong. I am not apposed even to Sylvanas Death, but it better be well done.  If Tyrande runs up at the last moment and Kills Sylvanas, or we are forced to kill her, or Thrall steps in again! I will not be forgiving. Nathanos betraying her, not going to have me forgive anyone either. I honestly do not know what the answer is here. I have my ideas on how I would like the Shadowlands to end. both with Sylvanas living, and with her Dying. So there is a chance! there is a chance they can pull it out of the fire, but it is a Slim one. I will say this, the new Alliance leaders, gives me hope there could be new leaders for the Horde! Leaders who are not wrapped up in 16 years of blood. I Like Shandris! I Liked the Gnome you get to play through BFA with, Steelspark? she was awesome! Keshan?! great! Flynn, Great! Lorna Crowly, and Taelia Fordragon! Great! now just do this for the Horde. Kiro and Gazlow! Wonderful! Nisha! she is awesome. Lady Liadrin, I might be ok with her taking over for Lortharmar, maybe. Guess we will see. “

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 6

Chapter title: Hideouts and Hangups Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3  | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: Smut A/N: You’ve been asking for it, and I have delivered, but don’t be fooled. This series promised you drama, and there’s so much more to give. I hope you soak up every sweet moment of this chapter! Enjoy! X

Two weeks flew by without me having much chance to do anything about the boy situation. Between my roster of classes, Rocketman rehearsals, and screen tests, with actual filming coming up far too soon, I couldn’t find enough time in my schedule to sit down with Markus and tell him how I was feeling. I refused to let him down in an off-hand manner at the end of rehearsal - he at least deserved more than that from me. I also felt suspended in a weird sort of juxtaposition, considering I was talking to Taron on the phone every night before bed but still had this weird emotional hangup because Markus was still attached to my life. I couldn’t fully move forward if I was still holding back. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became how I was feeling about the two men.

“Alright, hold still, honey,” a costume assistant said through a mouthful of pins clenched between her lips. I was used to costume fittings at this point in my life, having gone through many of them for the stage too, but I wasn’t used to Taron just walking in the dressing room in nothing but a robe and his skivvies, cup of coffee in his hand. I jerked in surprise, got stabbed by a pin, yelped “ouch!” and nearly toppled off the dais I was standing on. Taron, for his part, only pulled the edges of his robe around himself and grinned at me, but it was far too late; I’d already seen the hair lightly splayed across his chest, the taut muscles of his stomach, and those thighs that could make anyone melt.

“Good afternoon, Juliette,” he said as I tried not to blush but I could feel the redness creeping up from my neck.

“Taron, h-hi,” I stumbled slightly.

“T, your costume is set up in the other room. If you need any help Brigette will be back shortly,” my assistant said, still dutifully pinning away as I tried to remember how to breathe.

“Ahh yeah, thanks, I think I’ve got it,” he said, giving me a small wave and disappearing into the other room. Did he really just walk around set like that? I wondered. Not that he had anything remotely to be ashamed of. I knew Taron was obviously busy with scenes us dancers weren’t a part of, and nothing was ever shot in order. But his apparent lack of self-consciousness had also taken me by surprise.

“You’re all done, sweetie. Let’s get you out of this and on your way,” the assistant said to me. I quickly shimmied out of the pink outfit and handed it off so it could be finished and then slipped back into my regular clothes, which really just included a leotard and sweatpants. I never claimed to be fashionable. The assistant hurried off to go do something and so, having a moment of courage, I knocked on the door of Taron’s dressing room and then slipped inside.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise,” Taron said as soon as I had the door closed behind me. I turned around and spied him sitting on the couch, sipping his coffee still but dressed in a pair of red pants and a white button-down shirt.

“I… I missed you,” I said quietly, a bit unsure of myself.

“Come here, love,” he smiled, opening his arms for me and I gladly walked into his embrace, hugging him tightly for a long moment before laying my head on his shoulder.

“I’m not used to seeing you with long hair,” I smirked, teasing my fingers through the ends of the wig lightly.

“It takes some getting used to,” he grinned. “But I can handle the wigs much better than what they’re going to have to do to my hair later. Unspeakable things,” he said with a shudder.

“It’s fine, Taron, I’ll still find you cute,” I joked lightly, making him grin and pull me in for a kiss. These were the kind of moments we had lately, stolen bits of time between rehearsals and call times. I spied a blue plaid jacket hanging on the edge of a chair. “So what scene is it today?” I asked curiously.

“Me and Kiki Dee, or the ever lovely Rachel Muldoon,” he grinned. “It’s the ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ scene,” Taron replied. “Which Richard Madden interrupts whole-heartedly,” he said with a cute grin; I loved how much he adored his friend and co-worker.

“So, you should show me more of your costumes,” I giggled, just teasing him really but he instantly hopped up off the couch and pulled me up with him.

“Why not, love!” he grinned, pulling the door to the dressing room open and then peeking out to see if anyone was nearby, but we were mostly alone in the costume department. He sweetly took my hand and led me to where the rows upon rows of costumes were hung. “Holy shit,” I said under my breath, a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of sparkle.

“It’s a bit full on, innit?” he grinned, as I carefully ran my hand over the fabrics.

“Yeah, just a bit. I know you haven’t had a chance to wear all these yet, but do you have a favorite?” I asked.

“Oh, I do. And it’s the craziest one of them all!” He chuckled, showing off a bright orange neoprene number with rhinestones (I’d later be corrected that they were real Swarovski crystals) and devil horns and massive feathered wings.

“You’re going to be wearing that,” I said, staring agape at Taron slightly.

“Didn’t you say you’d find me cute anyhow?” He teased lightly, ruffling my hair until I slapped his hand away playfully.

“It’s just a bit intense is all. And really orange,” I smirked, pulling a feather boa off a rack and wrapping it around myself playfully. “I couldn’t imagine dressing like this every day,” I giggled, picking a pair of sunglasses and carefully placing them on my face as well.

“Well look at you,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around me from behind and resting his chin on my shoulder as his green eyes met my own blue ones in the mirror’s reflection.

“Have you managed to talk to Markus yet?” he asked gently, knowing it was a bit of a touchy subject with me.

“Haven’t had a single chance, Taron. I’ve barely seen you, you know,” I sighed, turning to him. “I’ll do it, I promise.”

“I know, I know,” he said, sweeping my hair back off my shoulders. “I’ve just found I don’t like sharing all that much after all,” he said, his voice reaching a deeper timbre as he leaned in and kissed me, taking my breath away as he always did. His hands drifted down to my waist as I kissed him back, getting lost in the feel of those soft, needy lips against mine. He walked me back until my butt hit the edge of a table, then hoisted me up on it so I was sitting and melting a bit into the racks of costumes behind me.

As our kisses heated up, Taron knocked the glasses I was still wearing askew on my face but I could care less as he slowly slipped the shoulder straps of my leotard down my arms, leaving his trail of kisses along my jaw, down my neck and scattering them across my collar bones. I couldn’t help the tiny moan that escaped, Taron pressed against me between my legs. I felt his lips working their way across the skin of my chest, drawing lines of fire across my skin as I let my head drop back, and when he groaned slightly himself I instantly felt the throbbing response in my groin.

But then he pulled back, panting and looking slightly unnerved and quite obviously turned on, as my eyes drifted below the belt. “Why did you stop?” I asked, trying to sound anything but the desperation I felt in the moment.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a costume closet,” he said, running his fingers through his wig with frustration. “You mean more to me than that. I shouldn’t have gotten carried away,” he tried to apologize as I awkwardly hiked my leotard straps back into place.

“It’s...um… fine, T,” I said, clearing my throat and hopping off the table.

“I want to, believe me,” he said, turning his intense gaze on me, his eyes full of lust still. “But this is not how I carry myself. And not what you should accept either,” he added, though he couldn’t resist stealing another kiss from me before we finally had company.

“Oh, Taron dear, there you are. They’re asking for you,” a brisk woman said as we nearly jumped away from each other and Taron tried to hide his obvious bulge.

“I’ll be right there, Brigette,” he replied in an oddly strangled voice, and whether Brigette thought anything about what we were up to or not she didn’t let on. I quickly returned the glasses and boa to where they had been and brushed a feather or two off my leotard, still feeling turned on and awkward.

“I’ll see you later then?” I asked, and Taron sighed and nodded.

“Yes, of course. We’ll figure out dinner soon, promise,” he said, giving me one of his signature adorable grins. I was often the subject of such sweet smiles that always made me melt a little inside. We parted ways and I swung into the bathroom first before returning to rehearsals, trying to calm my body down but that was difficult with thoughts of Taron still racing through my mind. While I was washing my hands, another girl bounced in and seemed thankful to see me there. “Oh please tell me you have a tampon on you,” she pleaded. “Having a bit of an emergency.”

“Mmmm, yeah, I think so,” I said, digging one out of my purse and handing it to her.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver!” she said, disappearing into one of the stalls as I stood frozen to the spot with the sudden realization that I was overdue for my own. By a week. Oh fuck, I breathed out slightly, my stomach clenching uncomfortably as I tried to think back. But I couldn’t think my way around it; I was regular without exception and I was a week late. Maybe, I thought, reaching for any straw, maybe because I’d been dancing so much more now my body was thrown off and having to adjust. That could totally be it, I thought, desperate for a way to not freak out about this possible scenario. I had to force myself to go back to rehearsals and try to focus on the routine.

I fairly fled the studios when we were done, running to the nearest convenience store and trying to not hate myself as I pulled a couple of different tests from the shelf. I stared at the floor as I was rung up, the girl behind the register exceptionally chatty. I bounced impatiently, nearly leaving my change at the counter just so I could get out of there faster, shoving the bag deep in my purse before taking the tube across town to pick up my daughter from my mum’s. After homework, dinner, cartoons and lights out, I finally had a moment to shut myself away in the bathroom, my bladder screaming at me as I’d been holding it the past hour.

I stared at the tests in my hand for a long moment before chickening out, not sure I was ready to know that answer yet. I peed and shoved the unopened boxes in the bathroom cabinet, sighing to myself and feeling things I couldn’t identify; fear, probably, anxiety, sadness, but also a little bit of hope and maybe even joy. But how this could potentially affect my life, if it were real, I wasn’t ready to face just yet, and so I tucked myself into bed and tried not to think, ignoring both Markus’ and Taron’s texts.

It took me a week before I could face that reality, another week where my period had yet to make its arrival, another week of anxiety and worry. I’d finally managed to nail down another dinner date with Markus for the following evening, and I needed to know this answer before I faced him again. But almost as if my prayers had been answered, when I went to use the bathroom at the studio knowing full well what awaited me at home, I wiped and there was blood and I screeched “yesssss!” out loud and heard an answering giggle in the next stall over. “Sorry, don’t mind me,” I said, crying slightly out of relief. Thank god, I thought, not even caring that I’d slightly bled through onto my underwear and leotard. I wasn’t pregnant, and that’s all that mattered.

I practically floated through rehearsal and the rest of my day, texting rather steamy things with Taron long into the night and then slightly regretting that when I woke up exhausted the next morning. I slogged through work at my studio and got ready for my date with Markus, repeating in my head what I had decided to say to try and let him down gently but firmly. I needed to make it clear my heart was very much elsewhere.

But damn if he didn’t look fantastic that evening, in a blue-checked button-down and grey jeans and his signature beanie. We ended up actually having a fantastic dinner together, laughing so much my sides hurt and I somehow forgot I was supposed to be breaking up with him. We went back to his place to watch a movie and cuddle a bit, and my moment not only came but passed me by as well. Because instead of breaking up with him, I ended up making out with him instead. Which led to us sleeping together (and yes, he wore protection this time, no question) and me waking up in the morning naked next to his sleeping form, and feeling a mix of things but not one of them regret.

What the hell has happened to me? I wondered, watching Markus sleeping. He was more my type, and we understood each other. He didn’t light the fire in my chest, certainly, but I liked him and I belonged with him, more than I would ever belong to Taron. I knew that intrinsically as I reached over and gently ran my fingers through Markus’ curls. He woke up and captured my hand in his, lifting it to his lips and kissing my fingers sweetly.

“Morning,” he smiled at me beatifically, tugging at my heart a bit. This is the person I should be with, I thought, but somehow there was a sadness that crushed me. I still did my best to muster up the good feelings I had with Markus and had an enjoyable breakfast with him before heading home, my tail figuratively tucked between my legs. I had failed my mission miserably, and I’d have to find a way to admit that to Taron too.

Once I was home I called Madison and begged her to come over and help me sort the mess of my life, and she was all too happy to oblige, bringing over tacos and chips and salsa which we gorged on as we talked, our legs tucked up under us on the couch.

“So let me get this straight. You went on this date to break up with Markus, and you slept with him instead?” she said, shaking her head and trying to hide her smile behind her fake sternness.

“For lack of a better explanation, yeah,” I said weakly. “He’s not a bad guy, Mads, and I can’t make him into one. He was so sweet and fucking handsome too and we just clicked really. One thing led to another and, well, you know.”

“Mmm, yeah, I don’t really but… Why be with a guy you don’t have feelings for?” she asked.

“But I do like him, and he gets me,” I said. “And he’s more on my level,” I added, and Madison rolled her eyes at me.

“But he doesn’t make your little heart pitter-patter like Taron does. You’ve told me that yourself,” she smirked around a bite of taco, half of the filling dropping back into the wrapper when she took a bite but she seemed none too bothered. Troy, however, lifted his head up from where he’d been laying on the floor and licked his chops, eyeing her food carefully.

“Yeah but maybe that’s just lust, I don’t know. Just because I want to jump his adorable little Welsh bones at every second doesn’t mean we’re in love,” I sighed. “I’ve made wrong decisions in the past, you know.”

“Oh, I know, Juliette. I’ve scraped you out of a few of those. But the thing is, you just really need to sleep with the guy and get that out of the way and then make your decision from there,” she said, making my jaw drop as I stared at her.

“Did you, innocent little Madison, just advocate for me to sleep with Taron?” I asked as she giggled.

“Well, you’re on unequal footing here. You’ve already done the deed with Markus. How can you compare the two when you haven’t had sexy times with your actor boyfriend?” she giggled. “Give him a little something,” she smirked, shimmying at me slightly until I threw a balled-up napkin at her.

“You’re the actual worst,” I laughed, and she just grinned.

“I’m invested in this now! I need to know what he’s packing!” she teased, making me blush hard.

“Shit, Mads, I’m not going to survive this,” I laughed, almost nervously.

“I have a feeling it will make your decision incredibly easy, that’s all,” she said, scooping up her taco fillings with a chip and shoving it all in her mouth.

“Let’s hope so, Mads,” I sighed. “I need a sign from the Gods.”

*********

The next week flew by in a bit of a blur, as we got ready for actual filming of the Honky Cat scenes. We did a few screen tests with our costumes and the lighting and sets, and I unfortunately managed to see myself on that screen test. When they say the camera adds at least 15 pounds they aren’t lying; I couldn’t stop staring at how chunky I looked in that bubblegum pink outfit. I needed to lay off the takeout and start eating more restrictively, that was for sure.

Even if Taron had whispered in my ear the sorts of things he wanted to do to me in that costume, and even if the other snotty girls still called me twiggy bitch when they knew I could hear them, I couldn’t help feeling a bit insecure. I’d be immortalized on film now, and the last thing I wanted was to forever hate how I looked.

Letting myself go had never been intentional, and I stood in front of the mirror in my unders and bra, scrutinizing myself extra hard that night, poking at my stomach and my thighs and my hip bones. Places I wished Taron would touch me, of course. Almost as if I had summoned him with that thought, my phone rang and I nearly tripped over my discarded jeans to get to my phone. “Heeey!” I answered, flopping on my bed unceremoniously.

“Tomorrow. You and me. It’s happening,” he said, and I gasped slightly before my brain caught up and I realized he just meant dinner. “I’ve weaseled my way out of night shoots because I can’t stand not having time with you for weeks on end. I was thinking we could have a nice dinner at Circolo Popolare if that suited you. I mean, if you had someone to watch Clara, of course,” he added in haste.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I said a bit faintly, still reeling from the thoughts I’d just been having. “I miss you too, Taron, but you shouldn’t take time off on my behalf.”

“Nonsense, you’re my girl,” he replied, making me squeal internally to hear those words. “I’m also bloody exhausted. Dex could tell, so this was an easy decision. So after we finish Honky Cat tomorrow I’m free.”

“It’s the big tap sequence tomorrow. You sure you’re ready?” I teased lightly.

“I’ll smash it. After all I had the best mentor ever,” he said with a grin. I could just imagine the way his eyes crinkled up when he did that.

“Not going to lie, it will be nice to move on to something else. I randomly hum the lyrics all the time now, in the grocery, on the tube. It’s driving me and everyone else around me mad!” I laughed.

“Well then you’ll just get the next thing stuck in your head, but is it really a bad thing when it’s Elton?” he chuckled.

We chatted a bit longer but soon I was tucked away in bed, trying to fall asleep but too excited over my impending dinner with Taron - and what might happen after. The inevitability of it felt both intimidating and exhilarating at the same time. My period had been shorter than normal, only a few days and not so awful, but I figured that had to do with my sudden increase in physical activity, which made sense. Some elite dancers circumvented their cycles entirely for years until they finally slowed down, so it wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon. Either way, I was just happy to have that out of the way now and be able to fully enjoy my evening with Taron, whatever that entailed.

The next day of filming went as smoothly as possible but also felt excruciatingly slow. How Taron managed to keep up his energy through take after take after take was beyond me. But seeing him play off Richard and seemingly having the time of his life felt like a special thing to witness. Even when he tripped up their stairs he laughed at himself good-naturedly. I could see why all of his co-workers always spoke so highly of him. He kept everyone at ease and laughing between takes and was just truly a professional about the whole thing.

When Dexter called the final cut, all of us, actors and dancers, were none too happy to hang up our platform shoes. “See you in a bit, pick you up at 7?” Taron smiled at me, but I could see the exhaustion in the tight lines of his face. He trusted me enough to let me see him that way, beyond the performer he was to everyone else.

“I’m looking forward to it,” I grinned back, our fingers linking briefly when no one was looking before he wandered off to go talk to Dexter about something.

I hurried home and showered quickly, needing to rid myself of as much dancer sweat as possible and shaving every inch it was possible to shave, half-wondering if Taron even cared about that. I had a quick phone call with my daughter, who was safely stowed away for the night with my mum after Zayn had picked her up at school. I was seriously shocked at my ex’s newfound level of responsibility, even asking me for more time with Clara after having missed out on so many years of her life.

Once my hair was somewhat dry, I quickly tousled in some product to make my waves stand out and not look like such a frizzy mess, quickly did my makeup and changed my outfit about 13 times, figuring I was being completely silly because Taron had already seen me slouching around in leos and sweatpants. If he could think I was cute then, did it really matter what I wore to dinner? The place he’d chosen was mostly casual, so I finally decided on a pretty flowered blouse I loved and a cardigan and skinny jeans, and pulled those on over my lacy underthings just in time for the doorbell to ring and Troy to sound the alarm.

I grabbed my purse and managed to hold Troy back from attacking Taron when I opened the door. He looked simply beautiful in a fitted burgundy blazer, white tee and the tightest jeans known to man. They were probably skinnier than my own pair, and the thought made me giggle. “Hello beautiful,” he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek before patting Troy quickly. He offered his arm for the simple walk to his car, and I couldn’t help enjoying every little thing he did to make me feel special.

We made our way across town, arriving at the packed restaurant but Taron had wisely called ahead and made a reservation. The vibrant place was a sensory overload - There was a bank of windows that let plenty of the fading evening light in, but other walls were covered floor to ceiling in bottles of wine in every shape, size and color, while greenery, flowers and lights hung down from the ceiling. It was beautiful and overwhelming all at once. The food was much the same, the Sicilian fare both mouth-wateringly good and incredibly indulgent. I’d have to start my diet tomorrow, I thought, as Taron and I both tucked into carbonara pasta, burrata pizza and tiramisu. And oh the wines, though I was careful this time; no too-drunk rejections for me this time.

The company wasn’t half-bad either; I could stare at Taron all damn day if I was given license. We laughed and he was affectionate, touching my knee or my arm, leaning in to steal a kiss every so often, and generally being attentive and sweet. I was having a hard time understanding why I had ever given Markus a chance when I was with Taron. But there was still always a part of me that felt like I was an interloper in his world; like I was the lucky fan who had won a date on some reality show. I was borrowing my time with him and some day I’d wake up and find this was all too good to be true.

“Something troubles you?” Taron asked, breaking into my thoughts; I must have been frowning or something.

“Oh, no, I was just thinking,” I shrugged. “Not sure about what,” I said, as he gave me a measured stare.

“I have a feeling you know exactly and don’t want to divulge,” he said quietly, so I could barely hear him over the din of the restaurant. “I don’t want secrets between us, Juliette. You can tell me literally anything.”

“I know, Taron, and I’m grateful for that,” I smiled over at him. “We could take this somewhere else though,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking with sudden nerves.

“Sure, we could go back to my place for a small nightcap if you wish,” he offered, but I shook my head.

“I can’t forget about Troy, he’ll be needing let out,” I replied, and Taron playfully smacked his forehead as if to say “I forgot.”

“Of course, we’ll swing back around to your place then,” he said, and with that decided, he paid the tab and we headed out. We made small talk on the way back to my place, and I was relieved once we were distracted momentarily with my dog, tossing a ball and letting him eagerly fetch it in the back garden. The porch light deepened the shadows on Taron’s face and I couldn’t read his expression. Once Troy was done with his doggy business, we retired inside, as it was still cold in the late evenings. I found us some wine, which neither of us drank much of, and we settled in on the couch to talk.

“You didn’t end things with Markus,” Taron asked, interpreting my silence as such, and I cringed slightly.

“I was going to, but I chickened out of it, and I don’t know why, and I’m sorry. Because I thought you’d be mad at me. I know how you feel about him,” I started to explain.

“I’m not mad. If anything, he got to you before I did, really, but I am jealous. I don’t understand why someone else gets your heart,” he admitted.

“But that’s the thing, Taron, he doesn’t, not really. When I’m with you it feels so easy and so simple. But there’s a part of me that still doesn’t believe I belong with you. Like somehow the world will figure out I’m just an imposter by your side,” I said, biting the inside of my lip until I tasted blood.

“No one else gets to decide that for me. I rather like to think I decide who belongs in my life. I don’t understand why you think you’re not good enough. You could be a janitor or burger flipper for all I cared about what you do. It’s your soul that I admire, your spirit that you keep hidden from the world but that you let me see. It’s the way I feel safe with you to just let down the defenses, to stop being the performer. You bring peace to my soul in a way no one else has.” I gazed at him, my heart tripping through every possible emotion at lightspeed. How did he manage to make me feel more in a single sentence than I’d spent a lifetime trying to feel?

“Taron, I…” I tried to say, but my brain utterly failed me in that moment.

“You let me see into you, but all I see are walls. I want to be let past them, and I’m trying. I’ve been trying. I get glimpses through the cracks and I only want more. Open up to me, trust me, and I’ll give you everything I am, Juliette. You can have it, it’s all for your taking. I don’t ask for much but please just let me in.” He leaned in, cupping my face with his hands, brushing the fingertips over my cheeks, gazing so deeply into my soul I felt undone. “Please,” he pleaded with me again. 

All the past pain and mistrust, the hurt and mistakes, the being left behind and completely invalidated, the fear of trying again, rushed to the surface, but Taron was none of those things. He’d only ever sought to support me, and be kind to me, never asked for more than I could truly give, and put my needs before his own. The way he felt about me was purer than anything I had ever experienced; I knew without a doubt that he was sincere in every word he said to me. He wore his heart on his sleeve and now he was extending it to me. Take it, Juliette, I thought. What was there left to fear but the fear itself?

“Okay.” It was one simple word that would change the course of my life forever. Because it was then that I finally discovered what it was to truly find someone who couldn’t get enough of you, who complemented your soul in every way, who filled in the cracks and made you shine again.

When he brought our lips together, it was simple and sweet. He was still cupping my face as our breaths mingled, our eyes gazing into each other’s for that one moment that felt frozen in time. I could kiss Taron forever, and get lost in the feel of his lips against mine, and the way he looked at me like I was truly the only person in the world he saw.

I nudged his nose playfully with mine before kissing him back, a little more purposefully, my hands finding their way to the soft hair at the nape of his neck and he gasped slightly at that. We both wanted more from each other and it certainly hung in the tension between us as we deepened the kisses once again, his hands finding their way under the hem of my blouse and gently whispering over my skin. We weren’t going to stop this time, and there was no reason to now.

“May I?” he asked, tugging at the hem, and I nodded as he pulled the blouse up and over my head and set it aside gently. His gaze lingered for a long moment on my breasts in their lacy bra, and he had to take a steadying breath before going back to kissing me, nipping at my lower lip slightly before traveling his kisses along my neck again, right in the spots he had discovered I liked best, his fingers never leaving my skin either as he slowly leaned me back on the couch. He rid himself of his own shirt and though I’d seen his bare chest before, it wasn’t in this capacity, and I couldn’t resist reaching out and splaying my hands over his skin, a slight sheen of sweat already present and it only made him sexier to me.

He dropped his kisses lower, over the lace of the cups, making me gasp slightly before he reached around and unhooked my bra, sliding it down off my arms and tossing it unceremoniously somewhere. He heard it land and then Troy’s nails skittering across the floor and both of us had to laugh at that. “I think you startled my dog,” I giggled lightly before Taron shut me up completely by taking one of my nipples in his mouth, rolling it about with his tongue. I’d never felt that sensation before, and I moaned loudly despite myself. Holy shit, I was well and truly losing myself to him.

“Bedroom, now,” he said, pulling me up and holding my hand as we fairly raced to my room, half-naked and desperate for each other, knocking into the walls a few times as we tried to steal kisses from each other. He pulled me into more heated kisses as we both clumsily rid ourselves of our pants before falling into the bed together, his weight settling over me, pressing me into the mattress as he buried his face against my neck for a long moment.

“No turning back now, love,” he said softly, his teeth grazing along the shell of my ear and sending shivers along my spine.

“I want you, I’ve been wanting you. I have no doubts about this now,” I whispered. He looked at me, his eyes searching mine for a second but found no trace of doubt there.

His hand slid down my body, over the curves of my hips, before dipping below the waistband of my lacy panties and between my legs. I gasped at the same time he groaned, feeling how wet and ready I was for him. He captured my lips in another kiss before pulling those panties off me entirely, and then his boxers followed quickly after. I couldn’t help but stare, his erection springing up against his stomach, already glistening. “Bedside drawer,” I managed to choke out, as he reached over and fished out a condom and wasted no time in rolling it on.

He nudged my legs apart and settled himself between them, his thick cock nestled against my thigh. I keened softly in anticipation; he was so careful with me, so caring, as he lined his hips up with mine, slowly pressing his way inside me, letting me adjust, but oh the sensation was delicious. I wanted nothing more than to feel him filling me up completely, and I moaned out my pleasure as he joined out bodies together, his eyes dark with lust as he gazed down adoringly at me.

“Fuck, love,” he said roughly, holding himself up over me and looking about as undone as I felt before he started to move those glorious hips of his. There was no pain with him, only pleasure, and more than I’d ever really felt before. But there was something else happening, something in my heart unlocking, as we brought ourselves higher and higher. There was having sex, and there was making love, and now I finally understood the difference. Because Taron didn’t just want the physical act, he wanted to connect in a more meaningful way. 

Even as his hips snapped powerfully against mine, as he hit every delicious spot inside me and drove me wild, he also touched something deep inside my soul. Our climaxes built and we lost control with each other, our moans and grunts and groans ricocheting through the empty halls of my house as my orgasm rocketed into and through me first, and Taron not far behind. He collapsed on top of me, and I could feel his heart hammering away in his chest as we laid there, trying to come down from our highs. I gently ran my fingers through his hair, tears in my eyes, having experienced something I didn’t even have words to describe.

“You amaze me,” he finally whispered after long moments of us trying to catch our breaths.

“Not so bad yourself,” I teased him softly, as we shifted slightly on the bed so we were laying face-to-face, pulling the covers around us thanks to the chill in the air despite my heater being on.

“Juliette, I… I love you,” he said softly, caressing my cheek and looking like he was about to cry, which got to me slightly. “I knew it before but you’re the most incredible woman I have ever met in my life. I love everything you are,” he said, nuzzling his nose against mine sweetly, such a deep look of vulnerability in his expression tearing at my soul.

“I love you too, Taron,” I said, knowing it was 100 percent true. I didn’t have to worry over that feeling for days; it was bursting open in my heart right there. I wanted to spend every last minute I had with him, and give him everything; maybe even marry him someday. He loved me, he loved Clara, he loved my life and wanted to be a part of it; I could see it all spelled out so clearly in front of me. The corners of his mouth twitched up in a sleepy smile. He kissed me a few times, soft and slow and sweet. I felt loved and adored by him in everything I was.

We laid like that for a while before he slipped into sleep; he was so exhausted, I hoped he was resting well. I managed to not wake him as I got out of bed to take care of the house quickly, picking up our discarded clothes, putting the wine away, making sure Troy was settled and the house locked up tight, before slipping back under the covers with him. Even in his sleep he turned to me and wrapped an arm around my body, making me feel secure in that embrace. I loved him, the words and thoughts and feelings rolling through me in waves of light and color. I hadn’t believed it could be this way, but now I had experienced it. How had I ever thought settling for just okay was good enough?

I watched Taron’s sleeping face for as long as I could keep my eyes open, wanting to take it all in, the vulnerability and sweetness of his sleeping expression. I never thought I’d be one of those lucky women who had the privilege of seeing this but here I was now, skin to skin with him, his body heat keeping me warm, his tiny little snore endearing to me too. As I drifted off to sleep, I could only think how truly, madly, deeply I had fallen for Taron Egerton.

Will Juliette truly be able to move forward with Taron? Or will her secrets tear them apart? Keep reading to find out in Chapter 7 HERE!

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron smut #rocketman fanfiction #taron x reader

[crew-of-the-detz]

Patty

(Inspired by and dedicated to our own little Opportunity, rest easy pal)

Three engineers had not shown up for their shifts. Ketlek wiped the grease on his overalls and his feathers bristled in annoyance, where was his help? He checked the roster for the shifts today and found out the names of the missing engineers.

L. Rivera

W. Levison

P. Johansson 

All Humans, was today some sort of holiday that didn’t get marked down? Regardless he went to go find them. As he walked the corridors of the ship, he noticed an eerie silence had taken hold of the ship and there were no Humans to be seen. Ketlek walked past the bar and noticed through the window on the door that almost every Human was standing, staring at where the G-net TV would be. He entered the bar and was about to call out for the three engineers before the TV, which was turned up louder than usual, interrupted him. 

“- contact was lost at around 15:00 Houston time on Earth. We can only assume the worst, the chair has refused to speak on the matter for the time being. However, I believe that Patty will not be coming back home.” Ketlek looked around the room and saw the faces of the Humans, each portraying genuine sadness. 

A Human jumped up on top of the bar and turned down the TV, Ketlek immediately recognized her as Johansson. She raised a bottle of booze, “To Patty, rest easy pal. You did good and went far.” The Humans all raised a bottle or glass before doing something that Ketlek had never seen before. They all poured out a drink on the floor. Now, the floor in the bar was never a clean place, but now booze was everywhere. Slowly the Humans left the bar, silent and with tears in their eyes. 

Johansson approached Ketlek, “Sorry for not showing up today, it’s... it’s been a rough day.”

Ketlek looked at Johansson, he had never seen her cry before. “What has happened?”

All Johansson could get out in a cracked voice was, “We lost a hero and friend.”

Later, after Johansson had calmed down, Ketlek and Johansson went to the bar and Johansson explained everything.

She took a shot and sighed before beginning. “Before Humans even joined the galactic scene, Patty was sent out in deep space with the means to go for 6 thousand years under ideal conditions.” 

This immediately rose questions in Ketlek’s mind, was Patty some sort of immortal creature? Was Patty an Artificial Intelligence? Was Patty a couple that had to procreate and teach their predecessors the trade of space travel? He wouldn’t put any of these past pre-galactic Humans. 

“She was supposed to go out of the galaxy and report daily back to our global space organization, we knew what the galaxy looked like and thoroughly mapped it we just didn't know about the different intelligent species that inhabited it yet. So Patty was sent to take pictures and map the other galaxies, starting with Andromeda, because Humans just need to know everything”. Johansson scoffed and took another drink. “So off she went, like 2,500 years ago and ever since has been sending back reports and pictures from deep space. Some of her pictures actually helped us figure out clustering of stars and how to better spaceflight. She became the poster child for space exploration and anyone who wanted to go to space as a kid saw Patty as some sort of idol. But today,” Johansson got all choked up. “Today, we got a message from Patty that didn’t make sense. She sent us, ‘It’s too bright, I can’t see’. We tried multiple different modes of contact, but nothing sent was received and we haven't heard from her yet.”

Ketlek sighed and reached out for the words that might best provide comfort, “I’m sorry, an influential figure in your culture has passed. May her soul find rest.”

Johannson chuckled, Ketlek was shocked. Not even a Human would laugh at the passing of a hero. “No Ketlek, I think you misunderstand. Patty, her full name was Pathfinder. She was a self-sustainable FTL exploration drone. But myself and every other member of the Human racs are damn proud to call her one of our own.”

Ketlek sat and reflected. Humans have been known to take different species into their family groups, maybe the same is true with machines. Every Human has turned a machine into a hero, and Ketlek liked the idea.

“Well, sorry to let you down Ketlek. I’ll get back to work.” Johansson stood up and was heading towards the door. 

“Wait,” Ketlek raised his hand. “Regardless of what Patty is, your race has lost a hero. Take today off.”

Johansson hinted a smile, and thanked Ketlek.

#humans are space orcs #space #spaceship #human #humanity #humans are weird #literature #original #project orc #original fiction #short story #opportunity #rest in peace oppy #alien #aliens #oppy #rip opp #rip opportunity

[1wngdngl]

Pokemon Shield playthrough

I’ve been playing this game a lot since last night, and I still haven’t gotten on the train yet ;) I like to take games slowly to make sure I notice and experience everything along the way. It looks like the best way to share my game progress is through screenshots, so that’s what I’ll do. Cut for length and spoilers - I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers and leaks for the past couple weeks, so if you want to be able to experience the games fresh yourself, now might be a good time to click away. [This post covers up thru getting the Dynamax band]

I went ahead with the “standard” female character, but you can bet I’ll be customizing her as soon as I can. What’s with that knock-kneed stance, anyway? Pokemon trainers should stand strong and confident!

Chairman Rose greets us. Everyone online was guessing he’ll turn out to be evil or something. He certainly looks suspicious, doesn’t he?

And here comes the first surprise of the LP - a brand-new Pokemon, not even seen in trailers! (except for that fuzzy 1-frame image from a while back.) Its trunk looks kinda like a soup ladle. Maybe it’s a play on a teacup/teapot elephant? I wonder if it evolves...

Here’s Leon fighting an unknown trainer - maybe a Gym leader?

I really like the art style of the map - it’s so whimsical :)

The map also shows current weather for all locations. Look at all the different stuff going on in the Wild Area at the same time! I’ve been to the real England, and I don’t remember it having such extreme weather...

The map also has a few useful features, like displaying your next objective, and showing the facilities in a town (but only once you’ve been there yourself). The towns and such all have really interesting names that emulate that old English sound.

First thing I do when I gain control in a new Pokemon game? Change the battle style to “Set”. It seems more fair, plus it helps make the game just a bit more challenging.

I’m a little sad that the old option to change menu/text box borders seems to be forever abandoned, though... >.>

My house. It’s a pretty decent-sized place. We have a pet Munchlax and a few Budew outside. My character practices her whistling.

My mom. Or “mum” as the game calls her. The dialog is noticeably slanted toward a more British dialect - I wonder how they handled the accent in other languages?

Speaking of my mom, she seems rather big compared to me, doesn’t she? Quite a bit taller. I’m guessing my character is around 12 - when I was that age, I was the same height as my mom and done growing. Maybe they think people won’t believe this character is the mom’s child if she’s too tall?

Also, my dream is to one day have a /dad/ in a Pokemon game. Seriously, why does every other house I visit have a husband and wife, and my character is always stuck being the only child of a single parent? What if in one of these games, my dad was the champion or the evil team leader - how fun would that be?

My bedroom. The pink clock on the wall reminds me of one from a previous Pokemon game - was it ORAS that had those round clocks on the wall that you could set?

My first step on my journey. Looks like my mom spends every minute gardening - I guess the Budew help her?

Ah yes, every Pokemon game needs a “power of science” guy :)

Here’s another surprise - how many Pokemon games give you a fishing rod right at the start?! Usually you have to track down three different fisherman to get the three versions of the fishing rod. I’m also happy to see that Pokeballs have their own pocket again :)

The handy map tells us where to go next, with even a little picture of our destination.

The champion of Galar, of course, has a huge house.

Wow, a Purrloin! I forgot that they stood on two legs. I like its little bed.

Also, Leon’s family decorate their house mainly in trophies.

I guess this is Hop’s room - I like his artwork. I know Leon has a Charizard - does he have these other two Pokemon too, and that’s why Hop has posters of them?

Leon’s room is mostly a shrine to hats.

Speaking of Leon, he really knows how to play to the crowd ;)

So, some people are wondering if /Leon/ will turn out to be evil in the story. I didn’t really get that vibe from him. He seems like a genuinely nice guy, but he does seem like he has some worries on his mind, like his cheer is sometimes forced?

Maybe he actually hates the limelight and gets uncomfortable with attention? Maybe he’s secretly terminally ill? Maybe there’s some massive threat about to attack the Galar region? He seems really concerned with making sure that Galar has lots of strong trainers. Maybe he knows something about the legendaries?

Alternately, some people were saying that maybe Leon isn’t actually a great champion, and his fights are rigged in his favor by the chairman. /If/ that were the case, I bet that Leon is actually unhappy with that situation and wants to make the tournament more fair.

Or maybe everything in the game is exactly as it seems ;)

Nothing important here, I just like this screenshot. I wonder if Fletchling are native to Galar too?

My first Pokemon! (in this game, at least...) I picked Sobble because he’s the most endearing.

My first battle! I like how the interface is laid out, and how detailed the background is beyond the fighters - you can even see Leon standing there.

My Pokemon's details. I don’t play competitively so I don’t know if it’s a particular “good” Sobble. It seems like this species is a fast special-attacker, so I’ll have to keep that in mind.

The Slumbering Weald (my spellchecker doesn’t even recognize that word :) ) It’s very spooky and seclusive - and it’s right next to the starter town too! You’d think if it was really that dangerous, people would put up more than a flimsy wooden gate to keep trespassers out...Hop, of course, is an idiot and runs right into it; and I, the spineless protagonist, have no option to say no. >.>

My first wild encounter! This starts the trend I noticed all during the opening hours of this game - most of the wild Pokemon are brand-new, totally-unrevealed species. Like this squirrel thing. (Although some people guessed we would get a new squirrel based on that shirt design). I wonder if it evolves?

This part was actually pretty scary, with the Pokemon (I can’t remember its name...) suddenly appearing out of the fog. The Pokemon acted almost like a hologram in battle though - my attacks couldn’t touch it.

What if the twist is that the legendary wolf Pokemon are just illusions, perhaps even man-made ones created to keep intruders from discovering some secret in the forest?

Anyway, we escape from the situation perfectly fine, because of course we do ;)

I noticed that this particular generation gives you quite of a bit of money at the start, but I guess that’s because you encounter the first boutique so early. There’s a fair number of affordable options too. Some of these Pokemon shirts I wish were /real/ shirts.

My new look :) Mostly I just ditched the dress for jeans. This looks like a comfortable outfit, although that knapsack is a bit unwieldy.

We visit the professor’s lab. She has a lot of books, plants, and a tea set. I wonder if she ever has problems with Polteageist?

The new Pokemon center design. I love that the move deleter/relearner and nickname functions are all in one place - I always hated flying around the map trying to remember where they were.

That Pokemon behind the counter is another totally new one. Could this be a Galarian Audino?

Using mystery gift, I was able to get this “Gigantamax” Meowth. However, due to my rule of only using Gen 8 Pokemon, it’s just gonna chill out in the box >.>

Leon is very generous with Pokeballs. Even the items you find on the ground are generous, often containing 2 or 3 “copies” of an item when you check it out. Is that a new thing for Pokemon?

Here I battle my first trainer that isn’t named Hop. He has that squirrel shirt and is a total pushover.

Just chilling by the professor’s house. It looks like maybe you can only fish in fishing spots (those darker circles on the water), but at least you get your fishing pole right away.

Also, I discovered that while I could not sit on beds or chairs inside, I am able to sit on this bench :)

The way the Pokemon mill about in the tall grass is very interesting. Some will try to avoid you, others like this Yamper will chase after you. It makes the routes feel a lot more populated.

I guess this is Sonia’s room. It’s very pink. I wonder if she even /wants/ to do Pokemon research, or if she’d rather be a fashion designer or something.

The in-game time of day doesn’t seem to match up with the Switch system clock, at least not from what I’ve seen so far. For example, suddenly it is sunset and I catch a falling star. (look how the reflection in the water changes :) )

I haven’t decided yet if I want to buy the Switch online service, but in the meantime I decided to at least pick my profile picture. The icons you can choose from actually reveal quite a lot about the trainer classes and gyms that are in the game. For the first time ever, we have a Dark-type gym! Their logo is a sideways version of Team Yell’s logo - does that mean that Team Yell or Marnie is the Dark gym leader?

I spent a while catching Pokemon around the professor’s house. I can’t tell if I got every possible species without looking online, but I did build up a good roster.

I found it really cool how many new, surprising Pokemon showed up this early in the game. There’s the fox one (which is a Dark type and reminds me of Zoroark), the turtle one (which has got to be a pre-evolution of Dreadnaw, probably the 1st of 3 stages), the bird one (based on the “Rook” in its name and the fact that it learns Dark-type moves early, I’m guessing it’s a pre-evolution of Corviknight), and the bug one (can’t wait to see what its final stage looks like).

I went through the party to find the best Pokemon that fit my self-imposed rules (only new, Gen 8 Pokemon, no overlap of types). I know that this means I won’t be able to use Galarian forms or Gigantamaxes of old Pokemon, but just because I’m not using them in my main playthrough doesn’t mean I can’t catch them :)

Next time: I step onto the train and leave my home behind.

#pokemon #pokemon shield #pokemon gen 8 #let's play #lps

[bitwarm9-blog]

Modifying the world normally takes heart.

The following three years as hentai games's unique launch, I have considered it nearly daily. Its luxurious style religiously captures its own spirit of rebellion and breathes life to its own dynamic combat system. The evocative, slamming soundtrack perfectly encapsulates the emotion of every minute. The down-time spent in Tokyo together with your pals delivers you nearer into each of these, and invigorating your fight for what's right. All those properties feed right into a bold story that unapologetically sets down its foot from the injustices that reflect our personal culture. Even the drawn-out version, hentai games, brings all around. But over and above a plethora of exceptional gameplay refinements and functions that strengthen an already-rich RPG comes a momentous fresh story arc hammered within the first narrative and paid down in full at the ending. It delivers some thing truly astonishing, resulting in awe-inspiring moments and emotional conclusions that recontextualize exactly what I believed that the game had been. Through its lengthy 120-hour runtime, hentai games reveals it self since the authoritative model of today's traditional. Even the instant you begin P5R, you're awarded the incredible media res debut that brightly showcases the trip you are in for--also provides a glimpse at the Royal-exclusive personality Kasumi. Next teaser, you are brought for the following beginning of the story that then walks you through the occasions that emphasized the flame in our protagonist (aka Joker) and kicked his travel since being a virtuous trickster. The opening hours may take some time to choose the speed back up, but by easing you in to the match's systems, you're setup for that remainder of its stream. P5R expertly intertwines the daily structure of living life being a high school student and a supernatural-powered vigilante battling bad in a different dimension. Because the social sim aspects and RPG dungeon crawling are stitched together effortlessly, you expand attached to the world you are battling to shift. It has a format that is that the series base since Persona 3, and it is at its most effective here in P5R having a scope of new and possibilities small UI components which will help convey your options. Vigilantly deciding how to spend your own precious days and nights by simply balancing faculty existence, customs, and also your own duties like a Phantom Thief through this calendar year also makes the mundane exciting. You'll spend time together with characters to learn about that which pushes them and witness their own growth since they internalize and over come their traumatic pasts. Among the relations will be kind-hearted adults tired by means of a system that has neglected adolescents and them chased by their own earlier and dreading their future. These are very human stories which often hit near home and also inspire inside their very own tiny way (although some are inherently awkward). Along with these connections along with your Confidants bestow powers you carry into conflict. P5R makes the Confidant process less difficult with fresh scenes, in the kind of calls, to help rank up them quicker, effortlessly granting the ability to determine more of these stories that are appealing. It truly is important because there really are a few new Confidants to bond with as effectively. The key new opportunities are with Goro Akechi, who is now somebody you opt to spend some time together with, which finally leads to a deeper understanding and advancement of this time approximately. Kasumi Yoshizawa was touted since the major addition to this roster; she fits in very well and you're going to realize her appetite to become a elite competitive gymnast originates in the darker, complicated location. Although her screen time is limited from the first 1 / 2 the match, she becomes vital to the delivery of this newest story beats and also a welcome ally to resist along side the rest of the gang you know and love. Most importantly, the school counselor Takuto Maruki, an enormous character who elevates P5R's story. He's an exceptional thematic fit, offering perspectives on emotional wellbeing that had not been touched at the original. His narrative was integrated into the heart story, also he's also key for unlocking what's beyond hentai games's authentic narrative and some of P5R's very best minutes. Associations are what drive you, however, also the hard-fought struggles happen within the Metaverse, a physical manifestation of tainted cognition. Demonic shadows lurk as you work to metaphysically conquer the distorted wants of those who've uttered your pals and several others--and also you do this using a hyper-stylized, certain swagger. With most Palaces comes with a brand new party member and story thread about what led them to combine the cause. These aren't solely tragic back-stories to the sake to be striking, however --it really is the best way to are to know their battling spirit till they turned into a beloved comrade. Accepting those story-critical Palaces never loses its allure, as their trippy, ingenious enemies and designs appeal you into the wild conflicts throughout. Sometimes, the first assumption of Palaces is subverted to great effect; some-times evildoers are not the only ones who need a change of heartdisease. It farther compels you to search that which goes ahead. Beyond plenty of excellent gameplay refinements and capabilities that enhance an already-rich RPG includes a brand new narrative arc seeded over the unique narrative and paid in full at the ending. Palaces comprise some tiny but bright variations in P5R, too. Re-arranged dungeon designs accommodate Joker's brand new grappling hook, so enabling you to swing into fresh locations. They often lead to Will Seeds, a collectible that divides SP and mildew to accessories that are useful. Returning players may even see that a few dungeon designs are compact, making exploration simpler. Mementos, the Metaverse's collection of procedurally generated floors, also has some much-needed overhauls. Driving about to advancement within those twisted subway depths because the Morgana bus was book, but grew insistent from the game. P5R yells in new mechanics like collecting flowers and stamps to money in for things that are useful and advantages to enhance battle rewards. And probably the most welcome change is the fact that, as an alternative of the exact same song throughout, new songs play at deeper degrees. Apart from jelqing browsing these surreal dungeons, you're going to be investing a huge amount of time participated in P5R's dynamic turn-based combat. It's fast and fashionable, and builds on the sturdy base of Shin Megami Tensei, that has you emphasizing exploiting elemental weaknesses and bringing extra turns. Typical enemies might also be fodder once their affinities are exposed, however rougher kinds, minibosses, and supervisors tap to battle intricacies. P5R levels more onto conflicts, like the ridiculous Showtime attacks which possess twoparty members associate to get a high-damage combo which initiates clutch situations. Even the powered-up Baton move mechanic is even more essential because it can certainly promote damage and replenish HP and SP. And supervisor battles finally have various stages that present new, ambitious troubles that require you to think more intelligently, analyzing your control of the combat method. The dripping swagger of it extends into the smooth and effective UI that helps keep combat up's speed that is fast. Everything unfolds such a quick and stylish manner that you can't help but fall in love to it along with the Phantom Thieves who pull all these flashy moves. Even in a second version of the match, implementing onscreen attacks and watching them unfold hasn't lost a single bit of its own charm. Never has a turn-based overcome system been this thrilling. hentai games is many things: some selection of little motivational tales, an ambitious harrowing travel with some good buddies, a stunning visual and auditory experience, a resounding call to action. However, P5R isn't here to just look rather much. Beneath the mask of its own unrelenting style and enchanting silliness are the friendships you naturally form and motivate one to stick to the struggle through to the first conclusion. From their persona awakenings to this minute you view them completely comprehend their objectives, your fellow Phantom Thieves become your trip die in this heavy-hitting narrative. In concentrating on perpetrators of sexual attack, employee misuse, and filthy authoritarianism,'' hentai games brings a very clear line from the sand--people like this have no place in our society and deserve no winner. There is no middle ground, no compromise to be made, so no more both sides-ism. Your crew's individual drama sometimes seeps to the wider message, however maybe not without demonstrating why you're battling so tricky to shift matters. Even if uncertainty about their vigilante ways begins to creep into characters work , stay glued for their beliefs, also realize there was not a choice in the situation.

Ironically, P5R is often subtle like a brick. It is simple to nitpick where its writing falls right into being overly simplistic or perhaps a bit rote--although it has improved in several instances it may still be crude sometimes. It's not especially pithy in its storytelling, however it does not need to function as. In currently being evident as day in its own narrative, the messages along with characterizations are unmistakable. It's also so wild to me that the match's almost-caricature villains have been significantly less and less far-fetched in only the three years since the initial launch --that the blatant abuse of power, their wrong doings set bare, and the masses shrouded in seeing them face consequences. In end to this original narrative arc simply hits differently now, and the game's dramatic battles have become increasingly more laborious. Transitioning into the Royal-exclusive third semester, there's a tonal change that's effortlessly executed. Stranger things start to take place, at a strangely unsettling manner, especially throughout the seemingly relaxing winter. Here, P5R takes a twist toward genuine moral quandaries. Within this semester, there is somewhat longer to learn about your buddies, and there is one last Palace to infiltrate. And it can be, without a doubtthe very best one in the entire game. These brand new events have been attractively captured with brand new Royal-exclusive songs that amplify what was already an iconic, yet genre-bending sound-track. The puzzles in will shock you, and intriguing revelations about personalities propel them nicely beyond that they introduced themselves to really be. The pace at which it has educated and by what method the set of events have been framed paint hentai games in a new, attractive light while keeping true to the original spirit. This new narrative arc achieves a grand sense of scale and finality, nonetheless captures a more intimate, private tone. And it all builds as much as what is also the greatest boss combat all the game, pushing your battle abilities with their limits. P5R efficiently simplifies among the initial shortcomings: its somewhat surprising ending. From the vanilla version, even after around 100 hours, it felt like there is still a lost slice; P5R has that missing bit. There is 15 to 20 hrs worth of excellent content that accepts hentai games at an alternative way while moving all on its very best traits. It supplies a stunning, stunning finish despite the initial bombastic, over-the-top finish. These brand new events have been beautifully captured with brand new Royal-exclusive tunes that shorten the thing that was already an iconic, genre-bending sound track. Without exception I realized"living Will transform" and"Rivers From The Universe" as perfect examples of the way hentai games works by using its own songs to portray precise thoughts of the moment--tunes which exude the infectious optimism of this Phantom Thieves going in to have a corrupt heart. In the instance with our old favorites, then the new evocative jams eventually become a potent story device. "I Think" stands as a bold recollection of the lengthy, hard fought travel that dissipates into one last conflict, while"Throw Away Your Mask" carries the sign of jealousy between a clash of ideals. The brand new Tower's theme includes a wistfulness that illuminates the situations that unfold. Songs is inseparable from the Persona experience--that the show thrives for this --and somehow, some way P5R produces again to produce an even more profound affect. Thus, just like in the initial, the track"Sun Set Bridge" brought my moment together with P5R to some closefriend. This is a bittersweet tune which is used across the game to signify an instant of significance of its characters. But since the final background track before having to abandon the sport supporting, it became my own personal instant of emotion, understanding how much I've treasured my time , and now for all-new explanations. Since P5R comes to an in depth, it tries to facilitate you to the end together with heartfelt scenes, some fresh and a few recognizable. But in doing this, it simply makes it more difficult to say goodbye again. hentai games is many things: a selection of little inspirational stories, an ambitious harrowing journey with a few decent friends, a magnificent visual and auditory experience, a resounding call to actions. By optimizing exactly what was already great and building on its best qualities with a dazzling new narrative arc, hentai games asserts as a memorable and empowering RPG which should be named one among the greatest matches of our time.

#video games #video game #games #mobile games #android games #pc games #online games

[junker-town]

10 way-too-early predictions for the next NFL season

Lamar Jackson will try to defend his NFL MVP Award in 2020.

We take our first guesses at the next MVP, where Tom Brady will be playing in Week 1, and who will be the Super Bowl 55 halftime show performer.

The book has just closed on the 2019 NFL season. But even as the Super Bowl 54 tweetfetti is still being swept up in Miami, it’s time to turn our attention to 2020.

A lot will change between now and September. Rosters will take new shape thanks to free agency, the draft, and the inevitable retirements and injuries. With that, our thoughts about what next season will look may evolve.

That’s not to say our knee-jerk reactions after a season ends don’t matter. They give us a chance to reflect on how we’re feeling in the immediate aftermath of the season and about the future of the NFL. It’s an added bonus that when we can look back a year from now and laugh about how wrong we all were.

So what will everyone be mocking us about next year at this time? Let’s dive into our way-too-early predictions for the 2020 season to find out.

2020 NFL MVP

Russell Wilson — Christian D’Andrea Russell Wilson — Harry Lyles Jr. Russell Wilson — James Brady Lamar Jackson — Morgan Moriarty Kyler Murray — Sarah Hardy Patrick Mahomes — Adam Stites

Why I picked Wilson: Poor Russ keeps having to play bridesmaid to these emerging young quarterbacks. One of these years he’ll be recognized for what he is: one of the most efficient players to ever take the field, and the reason why Seattle’s been able to survive the sunset of the Legion of Boom without suffering an ugly rebuild. — D’Andrea

Why I picked Jackson: Yes, I understand how difficult it is for a player to repeat and win this award twice in a row (see: Mahomes), but Jackson is just getting started. 2019 was his first full season running the offense, and Baltimore should pretty much get everyone back from that unit in 2020. Call me crazy, but Jackson should have another MVP and Super Bowl run next season. — Moriarty

Why I picked Murray: This seems like a long shot, but I like trends. Mahomes was named MVP as a second-year quarterback in 2018 and Jackson won the award as a second-year quarterback in 2019, meaning we are one away from making this a real trend. Murray, the NFL Offensive Rookie of the Year, is the best bet of QBs from his draft class to keep it rolling. — Hardy

Comeback Player of the Year

Cam Newton — Harry Lyles Jr. Cam Newton — Christian D’Andrea Tom Brady — James Brady A.J. Green — Sarah Hardy David Johnson — Adam Stites

Why I picked Newton: Newton will likely be staring down a new opportunity in 2020 and should be 100 percent healthy for the first time in two years. He’s got to prove he’s still a starting NFL quarterback — and that should motivate him to a massive bounceback season. — D’Andrea

Why I picked Brady: Because the NFL is stupid. It genuinely doesn’t matter that Brady had an OK season and the Patriots were a playoff team. He’s not coming back from anything, but he’ll have a good season and win this award anyway. — Brady

Why I picked Green: Whether it’s with Joe Burrow and the Bengals, or a new team for the first time in his career, Green should finally be healthy again and back to his seven-time Pro Bowl self. — Hardy

Why I picked Johnson: It’s been a while since David Johnson was anything like the player who had 2,118 yards from scrimmage in 2016. He had a decent 2018 season, but back and ankle injuries slowed him down again in 2019. If he can stay healthy (and stay on the Cardinals roster), an improved Arizona offense could finally lead to a Johnson resurgence. — Stites

Player who will regress the most

Shaquil Barrett — Adam Stites Ryan Tannehill — Christian D’Andrea Ryan Tannehill — Harry Lyles Jr.

Why I picked Barrett: Leading the NFL in sacks with 19.5 is presumably going to get Barrett a ton of money in 2020. And deservedly so. Expecting him to do it again might be overly optimistic, though. Only Reggie White, Mark Gastineau, Michael Strahan, DeMarcus Ware, and J.J. Watt have had multiple seasons with at least 18 sacks. Can Barrett continue to rack up sacks now that he’s earned the league’s attention? Probably not. — Stites

Why I picked Tannehill: I mean, come on. Tannehill was great in the 2019 regular season, but I’m pretty sure he’s not going to lead the NFL in passer rating again. — D’Andrea

Why I picked Tannehill: What he said ^. — Lyles Jr.

Team that will surprise us and make the playoffs

Miami Dolphins — Adam Stites Arizona Cardinals — James Brady Las Vegas Raiders — Sarah Hardy Cleveland Browns — Christian D’Andrea

Why I picked the Dolphins: Going from tanking to the playoffs that quickly would be an incredible feat, but not that wild when you consider how the Dolphins finished 2019. They won three of their last five, including a win over the Patriots. They have five of the first 60 picks in the 2020 NFL Draft and can add some serious talent to a young roster in the offseason. — Stites

Why I picked the Cardinals: Kyler Murray. Another offseason working with Kliff Kingsbury should be huge as the quarterback takes the next step. We just saw the 49ers go from 4-12 to 13-3, and while the Cardinals probably won’t be that good, I think they stand a chance of being the second-best team in what should once again be a very competitive NFC West. — Brady

Why I picked the Raiders: The Raiders still had a chance to make the playoffs in Week 17, but ultimately they couldn’t overcome their last-season slide when they lost five of their last six games. Two more first-round picks, a new city, and maybe a new quarterback (don’t hold your breath, though) could be just what they need to take that next step. — Hardy

Why I picked the Browns: Cleveland was a tangled mass of talent squandered under a rookie head coach. Now Freddie Kitchens is gone, and in his stead is Kevin Stefanski, who just coached Kirk Cousins to the best year of his career as the Vikings’ offensive coordinator. Add in Myles Garrett’s revenge tour, and this could be the year the Browns playoff drought finally ends (although, let’s face it, it probably won’t be). — D’Andrea

Team that will disappoint us like the 2019 Bears

Minnesota Vikings — Christian D’Andrea Minnesota Vikings — James Brady Dallas Cowboys — Morgan Moriarty San Francisco 49ers — Adam Stites Buffalo Bills — Sarah Hardy

Why I picked the Vikings: Minnesota went 1-4 against playoff teams in the regular season. Now the Vikings have to improve their roster despite currently having a projected -$12 million in cap space for 2020. — D’Andrea

Why I picked the Cowboys: The Cowboys had one of the most loaded rosters in the NFL, at least on offense, and they sat at home in the playoffs. Jerry Jones hiring Mike McCarthy is basically just another Jason Garrett, so I have low expectations for this team already. — Moriarty

Why I picked the 49ers: A dominant defense couldn’t quite get the job done because of questionable play at quarterback. Where have I heard this story before? Oh that’s right, it’s the Bears of last season. And the Jaguars the year before that. If the 49ers defense takes a step back at all, they could be the latest Super Bowl hangover victim. — Stites

Why I picked the Bills: I agree with Adam, except on which “great defense, iffy quarterback” team will miss the playoffs. — Hardy

Team that will lose in the playoffs in excruciating Saints fashion

New Orleans Saints — Sarah Hardy Dallas Cowboys — Adam Stites Baltimore Ravens — Christian D’Andrea San Francisco 49ers — James Brady

Why I picked the Saints: It’s always the Saints. The only thing that changes is the round. — Hardy

Why I picked the Ravens: As Marlon Humphrey pointed out, that’s kinda the Ravens’ thing now. — D’Andrea

Why I picked the 49ers: Because nothing matters and happiness is an illusion. Potentially related, I am a 49ers fan. — Brady

Team that will employ Tom Brady next season

New England Patriots — Sarah Hardy New England Patriots — Christian D’Andrea New England Patriots — Adam Stites New England Patriots — Harry Lyles Jr. Oakland Raiders — James Brady

Why I picked the Patriots: A few years ago, Terrell Suggs shared some wise words about Ben Roethlisberger: “I know what he’s doing. I’m not going to let him fool me with trickery and Jedi mind tricks.” We should apply that knowledge anytime Brady hints about possibly going anywhere. — Hardy

Why I picked the Patriots: Because the Raiders are going to offer him $35 million, and then he’ll sign with the Pats for $20 million. It’ll be a pretty good heckle. — D’Andrea

Why I picked the Raiders: Because when Jon Gruden wants something to happen, he’ll bulldoze everything in his path to make it happen. It’s unlikely the Raiders will have to do anything to employ Brady other than pay him too much money to be not that much better than Derek Carr (at this point in his career). — Brady

Team that will employ Philip Rivers next season

Tampa Bay Buccaneers — Christian D’Andrea Tampa Bay Buccaneers — Morgan Moriarty None — Adam Stites His kids — Harry Lyles Jr.

Why I picked the Bucs: Rivers lives in Florida now, and the Buccaneers are the only team that can either afford his services or will be in need of a 38-year-old QB. — D’Andrea

Why I picked the Bucs: The Dolphins are going to draft Tua Tagovailoa, and the Jags are doing just fine with Gardner Minshew. The Bucs will be much better off with Rivers than Jameis Winston, so if I were Bruce Arians, I’d call up Rivers ASAP. — Moriarty

Why I picked none: Rivers hasn’t retired yet, but he could go that route if his playing options aren’t to his liking. Considering he threw 20 interceptions in 2019, there might not be many teams banging down his door to be a starter. — Stites

Why I picked his kids: He doesn’t have much more to prove outside of winning a Super Bowl, and it’s hard to envision some team that would pick him up and accomplish that. Go be a dad. — Lyles Jr.

Team we’ll pretend will win Super Bowl 55 because, I dunno, maybe Patrick Mahomes will get bored and try to play a whole playoff game left-handed

Seattle Seahawks — Christian D’Andrea New England Patriots — Sarah Hardy Baltimore Ravens — Morgan Moriarty San Francisco 49ers — David Fucillo Pittsburgh Steelers — Adam Stites San Francisco 49ers — James Brady

Why I picked the Patriots: Last year I said it was going to be the Patriots and then it wasn’t. I’d like to jinx them again. — Hardy

Why I picked the 49ers: I’m a glutton for punishment? Super Bowl runner-ups have a habit of taking a step back the next season, but this 49ers fan doesn’t expect his team to do it. And nothing bad ever came from expecting great things from your sports team. The 49ers return most of their starters, and will hopefully get a full season from center Weston Richburg. If Richburg is healthy, I don’t think we see Chris Jones dominate the 49ers interior nearly as much, and that proved as big a game-changer as anything in their Super Bowl loss. — Brady

Super Bowl 55 halftime performer

Imagine Dragons or something else heartbreaking — Christian D’Andrea Elton John — Morgan Moriarty Ariana Grande — Adam Stites Drake and Future — Sarah Hardy

Why I picked a steaming dose of shit: The NFL, hearing your complaints about all the Spanish spoken at Super Bowl 54’s halftime show, will instead opt to put America’s dullest band (non-Maroon 5 edition) on stage. The whole thing will be sponsored by Jeep, whose CEO once wished so hard upon a Nickelback album that Imagine Dragons was born. — D’Andrea

Why I picked Elton John: Look, I realize that this is stretch, given that Elton is British and probably doesn’t give a damn about the NFL or other American sports. But he is retiring from touring this year, and the NFL might give him enough money to convince him to get back on the live performance horse one last time. What a better option to have one of your last live performances be the Super Bowl halftime show, too? — Moriarty

Why I picked Drake and Future: Almost five years ago, the two rappers released their insta-hit collaboration, What a Time to Be Alive. In the first month of 2020, the duo leaked two songs amid rumors that they’re working on a new project together. Now that Drake is back on good terms with NFL partner Jay-Z, and considering how much of a sports curse fan Drake is, it makes too much sense for him to be next year’s headliner. Especially if it gives Future another chance to get under Russell Wilson’s skin. — Hardy

[ratherhavetheblues]

INGMAR BERGMAN’S  ‘SHAME’ “There isn’t much that gets through…”

© 2019 by James Clark

     With many Bergman films now having thrilled us by their confrontation of distemper and ecstasy, we could conclude that a standoff has reached its outer limits. But we would be far off the mark. Our film today, Shame (1968), has something very new to impart. But it doesn’t come in a straightforward way.

As we’ve often found in these treasures of semi-theatrical drama, the very endings turn out to divulge the marvel, and here again it brings to light our foothold in a slippery terrain. A former musician, Eva, finds herself, with civil war rampant, in a small fishing boat crowded with escapees (including her husband, Jan), where the seas are strewn with corpses. She tells Jan of a dream she’s just had. “I was walking down a very beautiful street. On one side were white houses with flowering arches and pillars. On the other side was a leafy park. Dark green water flowed beneath the trees lining the street. I came to a high wall overgrown with roses. Then an airplane came and set the roses on fire. But it wasn’t all terrible, because it was so beautiful. I looked down into the water and watched the roses burn. I held a baby in my arms. It was our daughter. She snuggled up to me… and I could feel her mouth against my cheek. And the whole time I knew there was something I should remember. Something someone had said. But I’d forgotten what it was…”

Neither ecstasy nor distemper has enveloped her. What that was is the heart of this very strange film—a vision ripping the constraints of not only cinema (the first seconds entail a reel of film shredding), but also theatre and every kind of art. In many ways, this conundrum looks to Bergman’s early film, Sawdust and Tinsel (1953), where physical triumph is a drug and machination and advantage have saturated the landscape. (However, the death march there would be a Rose Bowl Parade beside what’s in store here.) A second ingredient to consider is the aura of goofiness and malignancy being a specialty of the suspense films produced by Alfred Hitchcock. (Hitch, however, would be Violence Lite in light of Shame.) To cast some light upon this virtually incomprehensible phenomenon, we should remember that the term, “shame,” covers many degrees. Mainstream morality is never at a loss to hammer a roster of the “shameful.” Mainstream morality and the reflections of Ingmar Bergman have nothing in common. Maybe someone had suggested to Eva (that name being about the primal) that the crowning shame of world history, a factor reducing social and scientific action to childishness, is the fakery of immortality and its compensatory  assaults in lieu of fully creative power.

Along a trajectory of the pair, in single beds, being woken by an alarm clock—Eva, Hollywood-style (with a Swedish supplement of her nudity), quick to get into action, while Jan remains inert, has trouble finding his slippers and fusses with a wisdom tooth—Jan gives us the other bookend of a dream. He gets going, at last, with, “You know, I had the strangest dream last night.   Know what I dreamed? We were back with the Philharmonic, sitting side-by-side [she being the Concert Master, he being a second fiddle], rehearsing  the 4th Brandenburg Concerto, the largo tempo [slow and dignified style], and everything happening now [the orchestra having been shut down, due to the sporadic deadliness] was behind us. I woke up crying…” Eva’s only response is to wonder if he’s going to shave this morning, in meeting a delivery of two flats of loganberries for the mayor of the town across from the island where now they own and work a small farm. Before they hit the road, Jan has a panic attack. As he huddles by a window, she reasons, “You mustn’t be so sensitive. Try to control yourself. I do.” Tearful Jan replies, “Can’t you ever shut up?” Soon he apologizes, and nothing is right going forward, toward excitements you’ve seen many times before; only, you’ve never seen what this excitement brings your way. On the ferry to the client, they encounter him and his wife, and bourgeois patter clicks in like a nice brunch. “We just went out to check on the summer cottage… We won’t be home today, but Mrs. Almberg should be there… Why don’t we get together for dinner sometime and make some music? I’ve missed our soirees…” Thrilled by the generous transaction by the leading lights’ servant, they visit an antiquarian friend, Fredrick, who also sells wine they can now afford. He’s been drafted and is very unhappy about it; but he counters his anxiety by showing them, “the finest piece I own,” a rococo ceramic music box which his mother left for him. “I’ll never sell it!” Eva and Jan furtively smile at the indulgence, never noticing that the practice of their musical energies have dwindled to music-box proportions. Or, was this regime never more than about correctly following others’ initiatives to secure cozy elegance? While they clamor for wine and chat about civilized overtures, they feel no need (or no hope) to counter the plague of domination on the move. (And yet the essence of music–a carnal action illuminating problematic dynamics and against facile conclusions–invokes a significant rejoinder against the mayhem having its way.) The mayor’s wife had remarked, “My sister was evacuated to a transit camp, and they’re bombed almost daily.” A cut away from the precious music machine reveals a clock face with Hercules struggling to support it. Herculean effort, seemingly not for mortals. Also in view, an old photo of a royal family, prominent by way of mass murder.

The little stopover does allow something else, from out of the forgotten wisdom Eva presumably brushed past, lost forever within her shabby recollection. Fredrick’s homage to his mother’s taste (perhaps deeply felt) does involve, for the wide-awake, the modesty of reaching out to others who may not derive the real deal, but a facsimile from which to be brushed and to constitute a player, of sorts, in the motion of primordial creativity–involving a transaction with the cosmos itself, a transaction of disinterestedness, the antithesis of the savagery having its way and bragging about it. During the early moments of the protagonists’ resembling forgettable movies, Eva nags Jan for failing to repair their radio. Fredrick, asking them, “Do you listen to the radio?” poses an exigency to be fully alert about what the rest of the world is doing. The conscript spoons out, “Yesterday, our side threatened to take the most atrocious measures. And the other side congratulated us on our imminent destruction…” Slipping, it seems, Fredrick calms himself with, “I suspect we needn’t take it too seriously… Taste this [wine]. It’s quite good… Cheers!… When I sit here all alone among my things, I start feeling so miserable. I’m not sure why. [A tug in the dark, like Eva’s forgetfulness.] Maybe because no one would miss me if I were gone.” Jan would have to say, “You’ll be back before you know it.”

Of course, that miasma would presage some kind of downfall. The descent to their disaster here is not at all confined to the register of bemusing coincidence. Back home, there’s an al fresco dinner with that lovely, head-turning wine, comprising new (but dubious) frontiers, ranging from her supposed resolve to take up Italian again (“You have to tell me every night to study”)/ He promising, “I’ll be very strict”); to, “practice our instruments a half hour a day” (Did anyone say, “music?”); to, have a baby (her idea)–in fact three, before she’s 40: “It’s not something one can explain” [another wisp of errant essence, with the addition of his seeing a doctor to discern if during their separation Jan’s promiscuousness may have compromised the plan]. She ramps up   the pressure, by questioning his knowing what love is–“Self-love, you know a lot about that!” He tries, “I’ll be a better man next year, next week! I believe one can change completely if one wants to… I’m not a determinist, you know…” (As she runs amok with the term, she manages to look about 13.) He ends the discussion with, “Let’s not do the dishes, now.” She sails him to bed with the knowing smile, “What should we do instead?” During the chores with the chickens and such, next morning, several deafening air force jets dive close to the yard of invention, and one of the heroes of a parachute drop lends up in a tree close to their property. (Bourgeois plans on hold.)

The fantasy converts have, in the midst of that crude show of shock and awe, commenced to deal with each other and the world on a basis of obliterating every irritant. The sighting of the man in the tree, subsequently dead, elicits sharp opposition. Jan, seeing Eva racing toward the casualty, asks, “Where are you going?” Her response is, “He’ll die hanging there.” He argues, “It could be the enemy…” “You coward!” she cries out, after his holding her back, and her slapping him. “Then go!” he screams; and despite qualms he does want her gone, as she wants him gone. Precious gestures notwithstanding, their patience with each other–requiring sharing of mature objectives–has ended, replaced with sporadic and desperate damage control. Soon he’s fetched his rifle and she, now again an ally (for a bit longer), tells him she’ll phone for an ambulance. Seeing that the invader has died, Jan returns to the house where the skies scream with more planes, more pronounced troubled kinetics. A partisan unit arrives, and the officer asks him if he was the one who shot the sitting duck. (Not then, but soon, Jan becomes a mass murderer.) “I suggest you clear out,” was how the leader of the supposed security force left them. That figure wears a contraption on his head, resembling a helmet of mail, a medieval throwback, bringing the era of jets back to burning witches and invoking Death to give good news, as in Bergman’s film, The Seventh Seal (1957). Also prominent in that film are the crusades and the plague.

Car trouble, on the part of the semi-gentle and inept farmers, lands them in the midst of the forces who wield machinery to deadly  effect. The other parachutists of that day are particularly galvanized by the cheap shot; but they also get down to making the best political (machinational) outcome for the world at large. (The preamble had Jan proposing, “I’ll put it in gear, and you push. It’s downhill, anyway.”) One bright aspect of their capture is the flashing of their headlights about to hit what they think is the open road, after they actually repair the vehicle, but only as the enemy arrives to stop their escape. The play of lights, all-round, affords a topspin from out of an execution. But the process to particularly watch is the instance of ugly mobs appointing themselves to crush their like and the unaffiliated. The commander of the aerial unit uses Jan, and especially photogenic Eva, to dish out special insult to those they, the invaders,  love to hate, and contribute to the sense of impossibility of anyone choosing integrity. Jan and Eva, bereft of creative traction, cannot, unlike protagonists and secondary figures in many other Bergman films, carry us to viable, though outnumbered, illumination. Smallish touches–like that flare of light, and the medieval helmet–dimly guide us. But the heavy lifting must entail an incisive renunciation of the mantra of advantage, by which disinterestedness may come to bear.

The clever jumper has brought along a movie camera to bring about a propaganda coup, whereby irresistible Eva is encouraged to put out inane personal facts to be dubbed over by a seeming cri de coeur against the homeland. The klieg light bathing her in the night catches her blonde presence in such a way that she emits an instance of uncanniness which has force, while being entangled in a cheap fraud. After the soldier/ director has enough fodder to swing the trick, he asks Eva about her “political affiliation,” and learns that she doesn’t have one. “Don’t you care what political regime governs you?” the pushy one asks. Though her discernments are shabby, her vague skepticism from out of the world of music gives her some room to move, if she has initiative beyond wine. As the politician turns to Jan, the latter cries out, “I have a weak heart,” and then faints. This prompts the ugly documenter to order, “Keep rolling! Get him passing out.” (This moment being a couplet with the clever and malevolent actor/ prize fighter slaughtering the ringmaster in Sawdust and Tinsel.) The locals then rebound and run the strangers away. And the patriots catch up with the pacifists regarding the bogus hatred to the home team. (In the interim, that same night on the silver screen, they are wakened by a blazing bombardment all around their supposed sanctuary; and their abortive escape finds them operating on empty. Before the shattering of their sleep, Eva agonizes, “It’s good we don’t have kids…”[vapid Jan smoothing over, “We’ll have kids when peace comes”]. “We’ll never have kids,” she ripostes. The bombs scare them, but (Hollywood-style–Hitchcock’s Tippy always immune to those damn birds) they’re spared to provoke us to imagine what real trouble looks like. Eva initiates an evacuation, while Jan holds his head. (This being a stage before that self-sparing protagonist turns out to be a Psycho, for our edification.) Her move is to head for the seaboard–Jan insisting, “as long as you drive;” but before that Jan proposes killing the chickens during the paucity of food. But neither of them has the nerve to slaughter the hens. On their junket, they see many corpses. Eva stops to regard a dead toddler in a farmyard. At this, she realizes there is no leeway to avoid a steady assault of Byzantine madness. (Its impossibility comprises a clue to a never-ventured range of logic.) Once again, her demand, “Pull yourself together,” hasn’t a hope. The surface of their vehicle has become encrusted with the industrial-level detritus, as if an ancient wreck, an ancient poison. Back in their dining room, Jan remarks, skittishly, “It sounds that they’re at the crossroads…” The complainer complains, “I can’t stand it!” And Eva goes to the window that does not constitute a window of opportunity. He suggests hiding in the basement, and she tells him, “I won’t be trapped like a rat!” (Easier said than done.) After a bomb blows open their door, their barnyard becomes fiery but not fiery enough for their plight. (Jan crazily commences to babble about the provenance of his violin, which he might touch one day, for half an hour. And yet, such a seeming cop-out, regarding a soldier/ artisan–serving in the Russian army against Napoleon and his stunted vision of power–and that soldier’s loss of a leg and return to musical machinery to the point of majesty, may have been the coward’s brush with lucidity. From there, he lobbies for a declaration of love from Eva. Do you care for me a little? She, now fully cynical, replies, with no warmth, “Yes, I care for you a little…” He proceeds to have a cramp in his leg. The busy, but fragmentary, day ends with her command from her bed, “Get over here…”

They’re rounded up at a grocery store. Then, along with other suspected traitors, they’re trucked to an elementary school being used as a detention centre. Along with other “intellectuals” en route, the protagonists nearly disappear in the public hubbub of the event. (Their being loaded into the truck is filmed from an abstract distance.) In their case, we eventually come to realize that the mayor, doubling as the last word for military order in this pocket of stress, would have realized from the first that Eva’s declaration of “longing for liberation” was a crock. But within the sadistic talent pool of amateur or semi-amateur soldiers, intent upon crushing some supposed evil ideology, the opportunity to rough up rather recent and rather odd arrivals gets legs. Those, including the vicar, who were misinformed that the other side (very rich in aircrafts) had won the war, and went on to welcome the neighbors, receive savage beatings. Eva (and Jan), along this current of paranoia, are made to hear her heresies–“We’ve been suppressed for too long, etc.”–and the projectionist relishes spewing “Lights out!” and fondles her breasts in dumping her into a holding room, where a corpse and someone dying from torture are seen. The officer of the division has argued, “How do you explain the fact that paratroopers liquidated every civilian within almost two square miles of you, and spared the two of you?” Her response was, “I don’t understand any of this.” Soon Jan is tossed into the room where she is trying to make some sense of her homeland. (A jailer makes light  of the vicar’s dislocated shoulder. “No tennis for a few weeks.”) Jan’s typical complaints do ring an important bell, namely, Jof, in The Seventh Seal, being beaten up by an ugly mob in the 12th century; and reporting, “They hit me on the head…” Eva notes, “I don’t see anything.” Jof and his wife, Marie, go on to hold the powers of acrobatics and juggling–as hopelessly far from the goons as you can get. And hopelessly far from Jan and Eva. Later, after Jan misbehaves abominably (as we’ll soon set out its timbre), they find themselves in single file on a ridge at twilight, the echo of the Dance of Death, in The Seventh Seal. (The holding room displays multiples of two patterns which the kids had colored-in: a three-leaf clover; and a bull’s-eye.)

Their music associate, the mayor, shows up, in the courtyard, where all the suspects have been herded. He addresses the disappointing by pointing out a figure having been dragged to a stake and covered by a cloth bag. “This man collaborated with the enemies and caused us heavy losses. But the government has pardoned him and commuted his death sentence to life at hard labor. The rest of you will also receive more clemency than you deserve.” The chief, not completely on the same page as the “government,” points his cane, as if effecting a benediction, to indicate those who can go home immediately. He announces, “Some of you will be freed immediately and transported home.” “Transported?” (Just as the execution was to go off unofficially, Eva, now in his office, was to be made a bogus example to dilute the tyrant’s massacre. “I gave orders not to touch you.” Eva replies, “They behaved… almost correctly.”

The mayor, one Jacobi, now  has Eva as his mistress (another event shimmering under the radar). Also down there, Jan has figured that out. Digging potatoes and looking like medieval serfs, they quarrel in such a way you’d think they’d never been exposed to the chance to love music in its dynamics in the form of mortality being also a vital correspondent of the cosmos itself. Jan, fed up with the work, announces he’s going into the house to listen to the radio Jacobi has given them. “You do that,” she sneers. “It’ll be a relief not to see you.” He recalls, “Just the other day you said that it was good we had Jacobi as a friend…” She declares, “I’m going to ask Jacobi to stop coming here. Filip [a friend and source of fresh fish and another loose cannon having put together a gang] says it could make things worse for us.” For the nonce, Jan, implicitly often drunk, goes out of character: “It’s none of Filip’s damn business who comes here!” She, finding transparent his insipid bravado, accuses him of being “such a suck-up” in dealing with both of the men. (Her also being a lover of Filip.) She threatens, “I don’t suck-up!” “Suck-up, suck-up, suck-up,” he disagrees. Eva says, “When peace comes, we’re going our separate ways. It will be heaven to get away from you and your childishness!” He sits down beside her and apologizes. “You say that, but you don’t mean it. The words just fall out of your mouth,” she pursues her hopeful attack. Root-systems shot, if ever they seriously functioned. Hence, Jan’s, “Can we be friends?” And her rush to embrace him. Jacobi knocks (now a daily drug). She opens the door and, to his, “Am I causing trouble?” she assures him, “Not at all.” “Jan!” he yells, “Where the hell are you?” [he had been hiding]. The Big Daddy of the North brings to him the score of Dvorak’s Trio in E flat Major. “An uncle left it to me” [a bid for a placid musicale?] To Eva he gives a ring, “an old family heirloom.” “Eva, talk to me… Don’t be sad,” he pleads. She eventually tolerates his embrace (as with Jan, not long ago), as the trio proceeds to get drunk on something strong. Before Jan collapses on the table, Eva suggests he not come anymore. He tells them, “I happen to like you two… I could have sent you to a labor camp… Jan Rosenberg, are you afraid? Are you an artist or a mouse?” “Oh, I’m a mouse,” he replies, in a non-mouse register. At that, Jacobi smashes his cane on the table. He goes on, unpleasantly, “The sacred freedom of art. The sacred gutlessness of art…” After a long and stressful pause, he goes out to take a piss. Eva reasons, “God, I wish I could sober up!” “We have to get rid of him,” the unimpressive farmer declares. (Soon we’ll see that the mild-mannered hanger-on has a reservoir hitherto hidden. As with his adversaries, Jan proceeds to short-circuit the phenomenon of force.) Before we see Jacobi, we hear him announcing, “The woods are full of people”–people following Filip’s lead. “I’d often wondered what they’d do to me. They have no reason to torture me. I have no secret information… But perhaps they just feel like making me suffer… Don’t worry, I’m just kidding. This part of the island has been pacified” [wiped out by the enemy]. (Fredrick had used a similar pacifier.) With Jan dead to the world, the militant mayor turns, sadly late, to introduce a new incisiveness with Eva. “Can you feel that I’m here? Touch my eyes. Can you feel who I am?” “No,” is her answer; and pragmatic Marie comes by, from the 12th century, by way of, The Seventh Seal. Jacobi keeps trucking, “It’s odd, you see. I’ve only felt close to others a few times… It’s not something you can talk about. There’s nothing to say. Nowhere to hide. No excuses. No evasions…” (An oracle, in the oddest way, within an extended work springing with rare direction.) He concludes with, “Just great guilt, great pain and great fear… Damn, it’s cold!” Prosaic Eva wants to shoo him out. He, though, takes her to the bedroom and gives her his life’s savings. (More instinctive discernment appears in his feeling the change in the weather hurting his lame leg. Power of a different species.) In face of Eva’s adamant hostility he perseveres with stories of his grandson and the death of his mother–each vignette endeavoring to open a new world. “There isn’t much that gets through…”

The preamble of his familiar lovemaking with her in the greenhouse posits a maelstrom of nonsense in both of them. He divulges that he accepted his leadership because he was afraid of going to the front. She jangles drunkenly, “I’ll never be unfaithful to Jan. Sometimes it frightens me to think about it. So I don’t.” Jan wakes up and drinks more firewater. He rushes to the bedroom, sees the wad of money and puts it in his back pocket. (A Hitchcock touch, for a shredding purchase upon the cosmos per se. Implying a whole different [mundane, advantage-drunkenness] direction of cogency.) He holds his head. He calls out, “Eva!” Church bells ring. He sees them emerging from the tryst. He experiences a silvery atmosphere, recalling Alma’s intensities, in Sawdust and Tinsel. He cringes in the dark stairwell. Eva fetches Jacobi’s cane, and then he leaves. She sees Jan crying, and tells him, “Cry if you think it will help.” As she prepares a pot of tea, that throng noted in the woods materializes as Filip’s rebels apprehending Jacobi and demanding all of his money to finance a stand against the expensive armament of a superior (and yet pathetic) force. Filip and Jacobi enter the house (at which Jan retreats to a nook). Jacobi explains, “Filip says I can buy my freedom because their organization needs cash. So, I’m asking you, dear Eva. Lend me the money I gave you.” “Jan has it,” she tells him, from out of a precinct of careless contempt. Jan, now with a coward’s advantage, declares, “I don’t know anything about money…” Eva, in shock, sees a hard setback, in the making for many years. Thus ensues a futile search, the removal of her recent present, and Filip’s commanding Jan (all now in the yard) to shoot Jacobi. The troopers proceed to trash the house in the mode of a tornado (depths going nowhere), the end of the farmers’ supposed haven in the wake of a feeble grasp of music. Jan cradles his violin of a noble craftsman, while soldiers slaughter the chickens. The house is firebombed. On the first wave of his molten assignment he aims the handgun, and then throws the weapon to the ground. But the juggernaut of humiliation clicks in and he discharges several volleys into a Jacobi who screams and crawls under a wagon where the execution continues. Eva leans upon what’s left of a wall.

The soldiers leave and the soldiering of Jan and Eva crashes into the realm of metaphor. Eva asks where he hid it. Jan tells her it was in his back pocket. (Amateurs? Hollywood? Too much, to continue in that vein?) Next morning they leave their retreat and stage a retreat to death. Still unconvinced that Jan wasn’t a pushover, she demands, “Why didn’t you hand over the money?” His shot is, “They’d have shot him anyway.” Her feeble, “That’s not true,” is followed by a roar of crying. “Stop it! he commands. Then he smashes her face, sending her to the ground. (An itinerant not wise enough to beware of a killer, as in Sawdust and Tinsel.) Now it is she who covers her face with her hands. Along a war-blasted road, he pushing their effects in a wagon, Jan marches jauntily and menacingly. She is slouched over and far behind him. She falls down, being heavily disoriented. He doesn’t miss a beat. (Killing becomes him.) She catches up. At a charred farm, someone shoots in their direction, in fact an adolescent in uniform who has deserted in seeing his war not ending happily–that latter term seeming hard to place for a youngster with a mind of his own. Jan claims to be peaceful. Eva asks, “Are you hungry? We’ll give you food…” He’s in another greenhouse–another point of transport, another coincidence stemming from a Mad Hatter. She asks, “Did you hurt your hand?”/ “A dog bit me” [He’s lucky]. “Shall I have a look? I’ll bandage it up… I’ll get you something to eat…” He’s not hungry–the atmosphere sucking up all taste. Jan, quickly getting past the boy’s name (Johan; music), wants the location of “Hammass” (where a boat, for hire, plies). Over tea, they learn that the boy hasn’t slept for days. His alert having flagged in the vicinity of Eva, Jan strikes like a rattler. Now holding the gun, he hunts the stranger along the coastal path, as if the kid were a rabbit. And, with Eva onscreen, the fatal shots come very easily to the killer. Her eyes are beyond horror.  They trudge to the port and they coincide with the Dance of Death on a ridge not without powerful beauty they can’t read. Jan’s shapeless (Death) cap goes medieval. The prime of the neighborhood has convened. On embarkation, fine hors d’oeuvres are distributed. Jan seems to be seasick. and thereby he doesn’t share the rowing. But he hops to it in using an oar to push away the hundreds of corpses in the still water, comprising another link of lostness. In the same vein of this vision of absolute dead-end, the skipper quietly steps overboard, joining the drowned. Trouble in Paradise. Jan covers his face. There is beauty in the texture of the harsh sea. And then Eva musters her feel-good poem, with its forgotten theme.

That tincture of another direction holds for us a new twist, in lieu of very poor sports: one is obliged to generously shore up and celebrate little, and maybe big, overtures.

#ingmar bergman

[andrewuttaro]

New Look Sabres: Midseason Thoughts

Happy New Year! The Buffalo Sabres game against the Florida Panthers tomorrow will be their 41st game. By my calculation that’s the halfway point of the season and I think my math skills are at least good enough for basic division. This landmark of the season had me thinking we ought to take a look at the season as whole here when we’re about halfway certain what it’s going to end up looking like. Yea, perhaps we can be a little more than halfway certain with our predictions at this point but just let me show off my basic math skills, ok? I initially started thinking about the grand scheme of things about this season back after the Sabres met the Leafs the first time at the start of December. True rivalry games like that always get me thinking. There is a lot more to digest about this season based on the first half than my most optimistic self would’ve thought in September. I remember predicting the Sabres would have a winning record in October like I was going out on a limb. The expectations clearly changed this season, early on two: like the first twenty odd something games it became clear the corner had finally been turned. There’s a lot to that and I will dive into some of the minutia of that in later thoughts but perhaps it’s wiser first to reflect. Before I started New Look Sabres I wrote hockey articles on and off for different outlets and even freelance like this. I have no writing degrees so my thoughts were encapsulated in slick declarative titles: 2013-2014 was the Dawn of the Tank, 2014-2015 was the War of the Tanks, 2015-2016 was the New Guard Rising, 2016-2017 was the lost season and 2017-2018 was… *shutters* … the trash season. Jack Eichel’s rookie year had its optimism as you can see but the seasons to follow showed the things wrong with the team needed fixing. Certainly not all those problems are fixed but what might this season be called? I feel that the first half of this season has already given us a pretty solid idea…

…2018-2019 is the Reclamation. The season the Sabres reclaimed not only relevance but the mantle of the minimum level of quality Sabres teams have had over the last forty nine years. Moreover, the Buffalo Sabres as a club reclaimed their fans: not just the diehards who look at draft rankings in January, the casual fans and the ones who just don’t want to be miserable watching hockey. The runner up name was the Found Money Season. That’s where my first thought starts. This team has turned a corner; they’re a playoff contender now. At least they acted like it in the first half. Expectations should remain there. Make the playoffs, please oh please make the playoffs; divisional or a more likely wildcard, just make it. Anything that happens beyond that is a gift; found money if you will. If the Sabres win a game there: excellent if they win a round, fantastic! If they get swept, okay whatever. I want to say this now not just to get ahead of crazy March and April sound bites but to remind us all not to sell the farm. The playoff race, the playoffs themselves and everything that comes before is a learning experience more than anything else. I would say some young guys on this team don’t know what the Stanley Cup playoffs are like but really it’s true with every member of the Sabres core including Jeff Skinner. Pominville is really your only guy who’s not a former Blue who can tell you about that. Bank points through the second half, make the playoffs and from there on out its whatever this season. No expectation past game 82 except learn. Learn what it means to be in the playoffs and play like it. The second half will be decisive if not for playoff positioning than simple team building. Not the roster building GMs do, no: Build Buffalo Sabres hockey. Learn it, and then teach us what it’s like. Playoffs are just proof of competitiveness, that’s all the Sabres need to prioritize right now on that front: growth in competitiveness.

They’ve found some kind of groove already this season but in the second half the Sabres need to lock down their style, their game, their groove and put it to the test in the playoffs against whoever they face. It seems cruel to use this phrase sometimes as a Sabres fan knowing what we’ve been through but we’re still in a building year. I am not going to be offended if Jason Botterill goes out and acquires a small piece or two but it better not be expensive and it better not be a rental. Reward these guys with a weapon that will be here a little while. Rental players you get for a playoff run or a season and a half rarely make the huge difference you want them to make. Reinforce the defense or shore up secondary scoring if you make a move. That’s how you’ll reward a Sabres team that turned it around this season. The Playoff window is just opening, the Stanley Cup window has not opened yet. Don’t buy a lot by selling futures when our focus is experience and growth as a team. So yes, reward them for what they’ve done with a cheaper move but don’t make the move that will be seen as demanding a deep run at the Cup. That rewarding the group is important in its own way. Maybe, although cheap wouldn’t be the word I use to describe it, that reward is signing Jeff Skinner since he wants to stay? Hmm.

My second thought I already touched on a little bit: it’s consistency. This Buffalo Sabres team is remarkably streaky and that’s fine when there’s enough wins in there to make it work but that’s not a habit of Stanley Cup teams. Consistently winning, or being damn close to it, requires not just one line action like we saw almost exclusively in December, but secondary scoring and a defensive core that contributes as well. Some of that you develop and call up in house but maybe, once again at a good price, you bring in a piece for the parts here that are not producing at all. My third point is a discussion of goaltending. The Carter Hutton-Linus Ullmark tandem has been top ten in this league in goals against and save percentage. Given where each of those guys is in their careers you expect a drop off at some point. That drop off has not come yet and any strategizing for it seems a little moot right now. That said, it would be good if Ullmark good get more starts in the second half. An 8-1-3 record in his 13 starts is safe enough a bet to trust him. Trust in him will build confidence and if he is the goalie of the future in Buffalo, which I truly believe he is, he needs that. Yea, he got pulled before the third in that one game, he’ll have his mistakes like any goalie does but I could not feel happier about the Sabres situation in net right now.

My fourth point: SIGN JEFF SKINNER! LOL, no that’s important but it’s not actually a midseason thought. No, I want to talk more generally about the season now; where we’ve been and where we’re going. The beginning of the season can really be thought of us as before and after Jeff Skinner got put on Eichel’s wing. After that 5-1 rout on the road against San Jose Phil Housley took a blender to the lineup and got some good results. Four wins came in the next eight games and then the next major phase of the Sabres season happened when everyone kicked into over gear and the ten game win streak hit. For three weeks the Sabres felt invincible beating teams like Tampa, Winnipeg and San Jose pulling in every Western New York Hockey fan that had since gotten tired of Sabres sorrows. The five game skid that followed the win streak wasn’t as bad as it felt and the wins came back although Buffalo is still in a post-win streak hangover from a standings perspective barely playing .500 hockey since the big one. From here on out the road map to the playoffs is simpler than seven years outside the playoffs might lead you to believe, at least until the end of January. It’s banking points, particularly in Western Canada before the bye week late in January, before suiting up for a stretch run in February and March that only sees two breaks of more than two days. The back half will be a crucible after the bye week and there will be teams, even ones not names Boston, Montreal or the Islanders, who will give you fits and make you work for that playoff berth we’ve all been dying for.

This blog is going to change a little bit in the second half of the season as well. Hopefully it won’t be a crucible to get through but I am making myself think harder for my comedic bits starting now. Instead of the burn book for all our reasons to hate divisional rivals in those games, each game against an Eastern Conference opponent will feature a bit on what facing them in the first round of the playoffs would mean. This will be understandably silly against some opponents like Ottawa and New Jersey but it should be fun. Some programming notes: seasons for this blog will revolve around the post season. The blog season ends when the Sabres are eliminated from contention for Lord Stanley’s Cup whether that be March *shutters* or early May. The blog season will formally end with a 2018-2019 Season retrospective followed by a break before the draft that may or may not see some kind of “Playoffs according to the Sabres” and or another Schedule breakdown depending on when that releases. If you care enough about the blog to read through that then thank you, I wish you had cared enough to drop me a comment or two going into this but I’m not bitter: it’s a super chill hockey blog, I don’t expect my writing here to attract deep thought. That said, deep thoughts appreciated.

Thanks for reading.

P.S. I want to signal boost the opinion that if the Sabres do not make the playoffs in 2019 then Phil Housley’s job should be at stake. A collapse great enough to ruin the 11 point lead on a playoff spot they had in November is already well in progress. Lots of hockey left but there’s the objective.

#buffalo sabres #hockey #nhl #blog

[tatiltutkusu-blog]

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[mitchkiper]

The Friendzone Fenoms: And How Mitch Kiper Learned to Admit a Mistake

The following article was written weeks ago, in a semi-delirious state. Mitch Kiper has since recovered, and after a long journey of self-reflection, decided to edit this to the best of his ability and publish “as is.”:

Greetings from Midway airport in Chicago, where Mitch Kiper has been upset at an astronomical level by the removal of Potbelly’s, which has been replaced by a shop called “Home Run Pizza,” a White Sox themed bar that doesn’t even serve Giordano’s or Gino’s or anything not resembling cardboard covered in candle wax. For those who are interested, Mitch Kiper had a sad hot dog. Chicago Midway is officially the worst airport in the Greater Chicago Area.

Speaking of things that were at one point officially the worst, welcome to the preseason analysis for everyone’s favorite Friendzone Fenoms!

2017 – High Scoring, but Keeping Things Friendly

The Fenoms had one of the more interesting seasons last year, scoring 4th overall in total points, but placing 9th overall in the standings. For those who are paying attention (mainly Thatcher, Will and Ben, because Mitch Kiper doesn’t trust that anyone else actually reads this), the Fenoms scored enough where on points alone they should be in the winners bracket, but ended up in the toilet bowl instead. Even though the Fenoms scored enough to be a title contender, they kept things friendly and decided “Nah, let other people have the glory. We’ll just chill and discuss our dreams on the beach.” 

How did this happen? Or, as Will once said in a shitty student film, “What’s the dealio, Emilio?” Well let’s take a look.

Our First Clue: Expected Scores vs. Actual

What you’re looking at above is a comparison of Actual Standings to the Expected Points for a team in that slot. (This was calculated by finding the difference between the highest and lowest weekly averages in the league, and dividing into 12 equally distributed “Expected Weekly Scores”)

Right away, you can see that the biggest overall disparities belonged to the Yeshivas, who seemingly overperformed their weekly average. A 2nd place team, according to Mitch Kiper’s Expected Weekly Score™, should score in the range of 110.48 per week. YESH scored 99.01 per week.

We see the opposite picture when we look at the Fenoms. A 9th place team should be around the 90 point mark, if life were fair and Chicago Midway still had Potbelly’s. But they don’t, and the Fenoms had to fight their way out of a toilet while the likes of Gakusei Kai managed to play in the Midwest Living Bowl.

Yet as we all know, Total Points aren’t the whole story. And as we all remember from the most important of tests—the eye test—the Fenoms were not as strong a team as their total points indicated, mainly due to their reliance on the…

Apologies, Mitch Kiper’s resident artist thought I said to make a logo on Adobe Pumpkinshop. Who the hell hears it as Pumpkinshop?

When the Cheefs went off, so did the Fenoms. When they didn’t, the Fenoms tanked. The questions for us are: 1). can we demonstrate this through stats, and 2). Do our Mitch Kiper Roster Ratings™® have any metrics that could better predict the standings, even more than total points or points projections? Answers: Yes, and Maybe! (See what I did there? It’s called dangling a hook to keep you reading.)

Weekly Deviation: Demonstrating Jordan’s Wild Swings

Not to be confused with his wild swinging; that crazy guy.

I want to put this up top: part of this is an exercise to show objectively the limits of grading a team by Total Points. Obviously, points are important—they are how you win. But the strength of a team should and cannot be measured by Total Points alone. If they could, Neil would be winning a lot more (Sorry Neil.)

To hammer the point home with a simple example, look at the following two hypothetical teams after a hypothetical Week 3.

Team A: Averages 89 points per week.

Team B: Averages 100 points per week

Right away, you’d assume Team B was better. But then we look closer…

Team A: Scored 66, 100, 100 in the first three weeks. (+/- 34 max score v. min)

Team B: Scored 150, 75, 75 in the first three weeks.  (+/-75 max score v. min)

Total points, and the weekly averages that we derive from them, are not the whole picture. They are a piece of the puzzle. Another important piece is weekly deviation (hat tip to the one and only FLEAFLICKER for calculating this over the years in my other league, and inspiring me to try it out in Dynosteve).

So how do the Fenoms Fare when it comes to deviation? Here’s how they stack up against the rest of Dynosteve 2017:

 Well shit. As we can see from the chart above, a low standard deviation is in fact NOT a pre-cursor to success, nor for failure. The results are pretty widespread. There’s really no correlation at all between raw standard deviation and the success of a team. Some successful teams have wild swings, and vice versa. All this really teaches us is that while we thought the Fenoms were a boom-or-bust team, they had one of the lowest deviation rates in the league. Go figure.

So what’s the story here?

Based on weeks 10 and 11, it looks like a simple diagnosis of “They got fucked,” something Fenoms owner Dr. Rees is used to saying, although usually it involves an inanimate object of some kind, usually in tandem with an anus and an X-ray. He’s got a weird job.

2018 Outlook: Are the Fenoms for Real, or was Last Year a Fenomenal Fluke?

Considering I couldn’t even explain why the Fenoms did so poorly last year other than blind bad luck, there’s very little I can do to predict the Fenom’s 2018 performance.  Yet even though my deviation theory was debunked (something that happens to Mitch Kiper from time to time), I’m Mitch Kiper, so I’m going to plow ahead with a prediction anyway, with all the unearned confidence of my namesake.

This is my prediction for the league standings, based on a complicated predictive score that mixes Projected PPW with 3 Year Average PPW, and the %ile ranks of each team’s starters and bench. Don’t ask how or why I think this will work. I’m not sure it will, but I’m going to blindly stick to my guns, and use it to figure out where I think the Fenoms will land.

What’s actually interesting is that the Fenoms potentially have the best starters in the entire league (highest %ile rank of Dynosteve), yet a middling bench (7th). Yet even with the highest percentile rank of starters, his composite points prediction is low. This would imply that his top-tier players are in low scoring positions.

On a related note, the Juneboshers have a weirdly low %ile for their starters, yet a very high composite PPW prediction. So how is it that the Fenoms have the highest average starter %ile, yet a low PPW prediction, and the Juneboshers have a lower starter %ile than half the league, but are predicted to score more points than all but Goose?

… Because Mitch Kiper has a flaw in his system©.

No, it’s not lactose—well, not at the moment. It’s that he’s ranking all positions equally when it comes to %ile rank, i.e., top tier %ile TEs are given equal weight to top tier %ile RBs and WRs. To be fair, this is part of his thesis: a 2 point differential in a TE battle is just as important as a 2 point differential. What is not being accounted for at the moment, however, is the massive disparity that can pop up in the RB and WR categories. The difference between a 95th percentile RB and an 80th percentile RB is much more pronounced than the difference between a 95th and 80th percentile TE. Case in point:

This is a flaw Mitch Kiper will have to adjust, so he can better assess team strength and his future predictions. For now, though, we’ll work with the numbers we’ve got. And those numbers say… *sigh, I hate typing these words*… the Fenoms aren’t half bad, and will likely land in the middle of the pack.

… With one caveat!

The Fenom’s lack of bench strength seems to imply that a single injury will derail them. Aka, if Tyreek Hill or Kareem Hunt goes down, so do the phenoms.  ZIMBAB or YESH do not have this problem, because they back up their great starters with phenomenal benches. Also worth noting: Neil. Poor guy really never gets a break.

So that’s it for this long awaited section of Mitch Kiper. Tune in next week. Hopefully he’ll get his act together and write a new article quickly. The Longships await.

#Dynosteve #Dynosteve2018 #DynostevePreSeason #MitchKiper #ff #friendzonefenoms

[kidsviral-blog]

How Fueled By Ramen Has Stayed Relevant For 20 Years

New Post has been published on https://kidsviral.info/how-fueled-by-ramen-has-stayed-relevant-for-20-years/

How Fueled By Ramen Has Stayed Relevant For 20 Years

The label, started in a Florida dorm room in 1996, is still thriving. Here’s why.

View this image ›

Hayley Williams of Paramore. Frazer Harrison / Getty Images

Fueled by Ramen, like many record labels, started in a dorm room. Somewhere in Gainesville Rock City in 1996, a young John Janick shook hands with Less Than Jake drummer Vinnie Fiorello, and the hottest property in north-central Florida pop-punk was born. Its first clients? Ska-punk dilettantes The Hippos and The Impossibles, bands you’d only know if you, like Janick and Fiorello, were in it for life.

“We were operating out of a 150 square foot room, maybe less, with bunk beds and CDs, just running everything from my desk,” said Janick over the phone from Los Angeles, where he now lives. “I’d go over to Vinnie’s apartment to do mail orders. It was an interesting time, and maybe a little bit naive.”

Fueled by Ramen had its first major success when it issued the 1998 self-titled EP from an upstart group of Arizona kids named Jimmy Eat World. It sold enough for the still-fresh-faced label to buy its first office space in Tampa, and served as a sign of things to come. Eventually this Florida-bred, rude-boy indie label became a tastemaking stalwart. It’s where Fall Out Boy got famous, selling 250,000 copies of Take This to Your Grave over the course of two years. Gym Class Heroes and Panic! At the Disco would soon follow, and they remain signed to this day.

But shouldn’t Fueled by Ramen be dead? We’ve seen this story before. An era-defining label goes rags to riches with some smart business partnerships and a savvy A&R — swallowing up every hot act in the scene until their brand becomes synonymous with the genre itself. Replace the guyliner with MDMA or a couple bodies hung over hotel balconies, and it’s the exact same legacy of powerhouses such as Factory or Death Row. If there’s one thing we learned about iconoclastic, hyper-specific record labels, it’s that the gravy train doesn’t run forever. Suge Knight is bankrupt and locked up; The Haçienda is an apartment complex. By any reasonable estimation, Fueled by Ramen should be floundering, or downsizing, or absorbed — that’s just how these stories are supposed to end.

But that hasn’t happened. Fueled by Ramen continues to thrive. The old mid-2000s guard of Fall Out Boy and The Academy Is… have been cycled out for a younger, hipper, more dynamic generation of acts such as Twenty One Pilots and fun. That’s right, fun. — the band who won a bunch of trophies for Some Nights are signed to Fueled by Ramen. Paramore, the long-standing Hot Topic icons, tasted true, transcendent crossover success with their 2013 self-titled record, propelling their name into nondenominational pop radio, and scoring singer Hayley Williams a guest spot on Zedd’s “Stay the Night.” Gym Class Heroes are still getting on TV, your mom listens to Young the Giant — Fueled by Ramen’s current roster remains an influential modern rock record label.

That’s no small feat in 2015. Fueled by Ramen might never be able to escape its emo-pop peak, but you’d be hard pressed to come up with any imprint that’s been able to stay so relevant for so long. It’s managed it, in part, by becoming a subsidiary of Warner Bros., which earned the until-then indie criticism from punk rock purists. But that, like everything else Janick has built, was a means to an end.

“We wanted to make sure there weren’t any ceilings for our artists, while also keeping our culture independent,” said Janick. “There were other major labels filling artists’ heads with stuff like, ‘Oh you’re being held back by Fueled by Ramen, they don’t have the resources.’ For me it was about being an indie label with major ties, where we can build the foundation with a big company there to take you all the way.”

That environment is what resonated with a 15-year-old girl from Meridian, Mississippi, who was screaming her lungs off in a band called Paramore.

View this image ›

Fall Out Boy. David J. Bertozzi / BuzzFeed

“I remember meeting with John at a Cheesecake Factory,” said Paramore frontwoman Hayley Williams via email. “I was with our manager Mark, and doing some acoustic shows at Taste of Chaos 2005. We talked about the scene and where I saw Paramore fitting into it. I was so happy to be hanging with a label guy who got it. He didn’t see me as some answer to Avril Lavigne’s success. He just always understood what Paramore was. Who we were. That sort of thing means a lot to a 15- or 16-year-old kid.”

Paramore would carry Fueled by Ramen’s banner for years, through the bloody triptych of All We Know is Falling, Riot!, and Brand New Eyes, three of the best albums mid-decade emo-pop ever produced. But then, around 2010, the bubble burst. Two-thirds of Paramore quit and looked for greener pastures elsewhere; Fall Out Boy, who had left Fueled by Ramen for Island, called it a day; and Panic! At The Disco were well past their crossover, VMAs-headlining peak. As far as era-defining labels go, this was par for the course. Eventually pop-culture fixation moves on, and the sound you’re known for becomes a lot less hip. But Janick adapted. In perhaps the most important signing in Fueled by Ramen history, he inked fun.

“I tried to sign Nate (Reuss) when he was 18 years old and in The Format,” said Janick. “But he went to Elektra instead. That was back when we were in Florida and didn’t have much money. Five years later we had the partnership with Warner and Nate was still in the Warner system through Elektra — I tried to work with him but he went off to do his own thing. But the third time around he had started fun., and we finally managed to get a deal done. He’s one of my closest friends now. They spent a year and a half figuring out what Some Nights is going to be, and it was one of the biggest albums of that year.”

Fueled by Ramen has kept an iron grip on a very specific part of the industry — from Jimmy Eat World to Fall Out Boy to Paramore to fun. — for its entire 20-year run as a company. It has shifted with the generations, while never alienating its core audience. It’s hard to think of a label that’s been more tenacious.

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Nate Reuss of fun. Kevin Winter / Getty Images

But then, at perhaps the height of its powers, in the moment where Fueled by Ramen proved it could keep up with everyone, Janick left. The primary entrepreneurial force of the company, the man who’d become an icon in the scene, who sat down at the Cheesecake Factory to sign Williams, was leaving his baby after perhaps its greatest crossover success yet.

Janick is now the CEO of Interscope, and working with everyone from Kendrick Lamar to Lady Gaga. For the first time in its history, Fueled by Ramen was out of his hands.

“I’m trying to keep the label moving forward, I’m trying to grow the label, but at the same time I’m always thinking about how John has built this amazing brand and all I want to do is not screw it up,” said Mike Easterlin, the current head of Fueled by Ramen. “You try not to freeze up and overthink everything, but sometimes you can’t help yourself.”

Easterlin worked alongside Janick for years, and got the nod to take the reigns of Fueled by Ramen in 2012. He seems appropriately aware of how daunting it is to become the adoptive father of a label with such a distinct legacy, but he also understands the way forward. If fun. proved anything, it’s that Fueled by Ramen is perfectly capable of transcending its kiddy, Warped Tour reputation.

“There was still this perception that FBR was a ‘scene’ label instead of a modern pop brand that’s had dozens of major hits,” said Easterlin. “The first one I encountered was with Young the Giant, who were on Roadrunner, and The Devil Wears Prada, who were on Fueled by Ramen. I thought, ‘Wait a minute, you guys should be switching,’ but I’d be lying to you if I said that Young the Giant didn’t have concerns. They still saw it as a scene label, despite the huge success of Paramore and the huge success of fun. I had to convince them that at this point what I wanted to do was grow the label up.”

A few months later, Easterlin asked Janick what he thought of the label’s progress. His response? “I’d be doing exactly what you’re doing.”

It’s a philosophy that’s best exemplified in Paramore’s self-titled album, which was the first album Fueled by Ramen released under Easterlin’s authority. Poppy, cheerful, and energetic, it was all the things you loved about the band, but now getting play on Clear Channel. It won a Best Rock Song Grammy over Jack White and the Black Keys, the first of Paramore’s career. After a decade of incubation, Paramore emerged lockstep in Fueled by Ramen’s new, post-Some Nights era.

“I tried to position it that way,” said Janick, reflecting on his last couple years at Fueled by Ramen. “I watched labels that were in a specific scene, and I don’t want to say they died, but they weren’t as relevant anymore because the scene they were tied to wasn’t healthy. For me it wasn’t about being a part of the ska-punk scene or the emo scene or the pop-punk scene, it was about being culturally important and transitioning in a way that felt natural.”

Throughout all this, the shifts in leadership, mission statements, and scene associations, Fueled by Ramen has managed to keep its core group together. Paramore, Panic!, Gym Class Heroes, even never-beens like Cobra Starship. In an industry that relies on turnover, Fueled by Ramen looks out for its own.

“We have a core group of 9 or 10 people who work here, and at the end of this year our artist count will total, like, 14 or 16, and that’s it,” said Easterlin. “We want everyone to feel a part of the family. There’s a band that we’re signing that said, ‘You guys all seem to really like each other.’ We’re brothers and sisters, we want a personal relationship with our bands, and because we’re small, we get to really, really focus on each of them. I’d like to think we have a very unique situation here.”

“There have been plenty of changes, and I know that’s pretty normal in the industry, but we’ve never had a reason to want to leave FBR,” said Williams. “We like the history that’s there. They have always believed in our vision for the future and they also know our roots. It’s having so many people on the team who we grew up with. We like the reminder of where we came from. It’s nice to share stories and say ‘remember when?’ with some of those people. Not to mention FBR actually have put out so many cool punk rock records and they’ve been a part of so many kids’ experience with the scene. Whether it’s someone else’s idea of punk or not, to me, the fact that two punk fans built a label out of their college dorm means something, and I’m proud to be a part of that.”

Read more: http://www.buzzfeed.com/lukewinkie/fueled-by-ramen-feature

#fall out boy #fueled by ramen #gym class heroes #jimmy eat world

[junker-town]

Stephen Curry is on the brink of another MVP

Stephen Curry awaits his moment without Kevin Durant in Golden State this season.

With Kevin Durant out of Golden State, everything is breaking for Curry to win his third MVP.

“There are no limits. There are plateaus, but you must not stay there, you must go beyond them. If it kills you, it kills you.”

These words come from the infinitely quotable martial arts expert Bruce Lee, who died in Hong Kong at 32, one month before his most notable Hollywood film Enter the Dragon was released. Lee is a legend, the very best at what he did, because he didn’t believe hardwired obstacles were real. In other words, he strived to avoid “the autonomous stage”: that last level of skill development coined in the 1960s by psychologists Paul Fitts and Michael Posner, wherein one loses conscious control over an action once they figure out how to sufficiently execute it.

As Joshua Foer summarized in his book Moonwalking With Einstein: The Art and Science of Remembering Everything: “You could call it the ‘OK plateau,’ the point at which you decide you’re OK with how good you are at something, turn on autopilot, and stop improving.”

People need the autonomous stage to go about their daily lives — imagine having to think about typing when you’re typing — but experts in their craft, like Lee, force themselves to stay in “the cognitive phase”, one step before autonomous, when they’re “intellectualizing the task and discovering new strategies to accomplish it more proficiently”.

On the surface, similitudes between Lee and Stephen Curry are few and far between. Curry turns 32 in March. He’s alive, well, and emerging from the fog of five straight NBA Finals runs that have cemented him as an all-timer’s all-timer. But strands of similarity do exist. Both transcended their respective professions, overcame career-ending injuries, and squeezed an inconceivable amount of accomplishment from their youth. Even after they earned universal recognition as the very best at what they do, neither stopped finding new ways to improve — both understood that a hunt for the best version of one’s self never lets you out of the woods.

On the cusp of his 11th season, with the Golden State Warriors having just crashed back to Earth in spectacular fashion, that mentality makes Curry — someone who’s “mastered” the game of basketball — a terrifying figure. His numbers — raw and advanced — have either letup or declined since his magical 2015-16 season (an instantly mythological campaign), but it’s worth wondering how he’ll perform when no longer restrained by the most complementary ensemble in NBA history. Kevin Durant, Andre Iguodala, and Shaun Livingston are gone. Klay Thompson can’t run. According to Cleaning the Glass, over the last three years Curry only played 245 non-garbage time possessions without any one of those four on the court. Their absence creates reasons for doubt but also unprecedented opportunity, the chance to watch an unleashed version of Curry who’s at odds with any we’ve seen since the meteoric rise that carried him to one scoring title, two MVP awards, and three championship rings.

Maybe he’ll drown in the flood of defensive attention that was once directed towards Thompson and Durant. Perhaps the physical toll and mental strain of yet another grueling season will crack his 190-pound frame. Or, maybe the exact opposite will occur and Curry will run away with a third MVP trophy, tying him with Larry Bird and Magic Johnson. (For more perspective, three MVP’s would be one more than Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant combined. It’d also equal Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook, and James Harden’s bounty all by himself.)

Curry is still in his prime and arguably the best point guard ever, someone who ended last year eighth in True Shooting and fifth in scoring despite so much star power on his team. To the point, this year can be for Curry what 2018 was for LeBron James, when he had to devour the Eastern Conference for 82 games because none of his teammates were up to the task.

When the 2019-20 season’s MVP odds were released in early June, Curry’s were 8-1. They dropped to 5-1 once the money started pouring in. “We’re just trying to protect our position a little bit,” Adam Burns, a sportsbook manager for Betonline.ag, says. “We have to manage our risk.” The only player with better odds right now is Giannis Antetokounmpo (3-1) and Anthony Davis is the only one who’s taken more bets. (Curry has taken about 25 percent more bets than the third-place Antetokounmpo.)

A lot can change in a year. Curry entered the 2018-19 season with 16-1 MVP odds. He trailed seven players. That bet felt unnecessary because narrative matters and Curry’s superiority dulled his. Right now the opposite is true. The NBA’s proliferation of dynamic duos, evenly stacked pseudo-super teams that make 2020’s title chase as unpredictable as any in recent memory, carve a clear path for Curry to skate through. With built-in excuses should he or the Warriors struggle, the only place to go is up. For almost every other serious MVP candidate, the space is below, be it statistically (James Harden) or via their team’s performance (Giannis).

Curry is not only his team’s undisputed primary option every second he’s on the floor, but also their oldest and most experienced player. In that way he’s unlike every other star in the league: There is no spotlight to share, or championship expectations to meet. We’ve never really seen this before. The last time he failed, Durant’s free agency decision robbed us of a traditional response. There was no opportunity to rise from the canvas and fight back himself.

Curry’s next three years were like an extended Marshmallow experiment: a showing of patience and sacrifice for the sake of his team’s success. Winning made it worthwhile, but just imagine how enjoyable it would be to slide splinters of ice down the back of everybody who’s rooting for your jumpers to miss, when you both know it’s going in. if every time a jump shot left your fingertips it also sent splinters of ice sliding down the back of opposing fans across the globe. Now, Curry can let it fly more than he ever has.

His usage rate last year was only 2.2 percent below his career high in 2015-16, but there’s a strong chance — thanks to the third and seventh-ranked all-time three-point shooters in NBA playoff history no longer being around, along with the departure of invaluable institutional knowledge dispensed by Livingston and Iguodala — Steve Kerr alters Golden State’s offense and puts even more on Curry’s plate.

Molded by countless possessions over time, the Warriors’ system reflected their collective intelligence. D’Angelo Russell will help some, but it’s unfair and impossible to plug him into how they played the last few years and expect greatness. The Warriors have no backup point guards on their roster. These are reasons to worry. There are also reasons to believe that a different, more vibrant and assertive version of Curry that was never able to to exist will now appear.

Corralling him off the ball for an entire game has always been preposterous, like jumping rope to a Miles Davis record, or catching individual pieces of confetti as they float to the ground. It was a staple of his generous effect—that rare ability to elevate those who can’t produce on their own—and Golden State’s dynasty would never have happened without it. Those days aren’t entirely over, but a younger, less-capable supporting cast changes Curry’s role. He’ll still space the floor for those who can’t do the same for him, but the Warriors will also play him on the ball, more in situations where he directly sets teammates up and generates his own looks. He needs to be selfish, which shouldn’t be a problem. Despite finishing fewer possessions than Derrick Rose, DJ Augustin, and Jordan Clarkson as a pick-and-roll ball-handler last season, Curry scored in the 92nd percentile, averaging 1.02 points per possession. (In the playoffs, his frequency climbed nearly 10 percent and he averaged 1.13 points per possession.) Over the past few years he’s isolated far less often, but in 2016 Curry finished in the 94th percentile, and never below the 86th percentile. He’s a heart-stopper in all these spots, marvelous enough to pull everything off for no better reason than he has to.

Like Lee, Curry erupted ahead of his time, on a scale that came out of nowhere. He won’t be eclipsed anytime soon by the millions he continues to influence, either. The opposite of pastiche, he’s traveled so far in such little time that everyone trying to keep up can’t help but get lost. Someone will make 400 threes in a season at some point, but not before Curry attempts to raise the bar even higher. (He sits 490 behind Ray Allen for the all-time lead.)

No player ripples the Earth’s crust like he does. No player culls the same desperate creativity out of bleary-eyed opposing coaches. Assuming he spends this year filling the void his team suddenly needs him to, expanding and even improving skills that spent time on ice over the past three years, the MVP race won’t be close.

Objectively, Curry has nothing left to prove. But, like all true greats, that doesn’t mean he’ll ever be satisfied, either.