#seesaw sports

[buzzzchomp]

Stud Pass Catchers Galore In The NFL Draft 2024

Does Bowers belong with Harrison and Nabers? The #NFLDraft 2024 is loaded with star pass catchers. Pick them high, or else. #NFL @sportspinata

Does Bowers belong with Harrison and Nabers? The NFL Draft 2024 is loaded with star pass catchers. Pick them high, or else. Prepare for the intense sports debate that only sibling rivalry can conjure. Seesaw Sports, where Dan Salem and Todd Salem throw down on the NFL, MLB, NBA and more. Only on BuzzChomp. Two brothers from New York yell, scream and debate sports.   This is it. We have finally…

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#buzzchomp #featured #NFL #NFL 2024 #NFL Draft #NFL Draft 2024 #seesaw sports

[syoddeye]

unsolicited

semi creepy little thing inspired by @pfhwrittes's incredible soap x reader roommate piece and this thought i had once upon a time. ~1k words. unedited, because i'm about to be dragged out to watch sports. gaz x reader. cw: dick pic, stalking, masturbation

“That one’s no good,” A tongue clicks. 

You turn from your close study of the tube of tomato paste in your hand and find a man inches from your side. The aisle was empty save for you a second ago. Either he’s light on his feet or a ghost. A twinned tingling of your belly and spine fires off mixed signals to your brain: Are we scared or horny?

Both. 

He's handsome—he knows it, too, judging by the hook of his smile and the slight crinkle of his nose. He sports a scar on his cheek and the right amount of stubble. He looks down at you, all smug, like he's saved you from an unforgivable culinary mistake. He tears his deep brown eyes off you to reach toward the top shelf and selects a beautifully branded sealed box of paste. It's artisanal, not within your price range, and he sets it in your handbasket like you're shopping for dinner together.

“You’ve got to treat yourself to nice things once in a while.”

Oh, he thinks he’s so quick with it, doesn’t he?

You smile so wide it pushes the apples of your cheeks up like a cartoon chipmunk. It usually does the trick of deterring smarmy little bastards like this one. “Wow, thank you, what a gentleman.” The feigned saccharine lilt of your voice hurts after a long day on the phone, but the look on his face when you swap the pastes is worth it. You leave the fancy one on the shelf and continue down the aisle for pappardelle. 

He finds you in produce. He doesn’t immediately approach, giving you space while you grab an onion and garlic, but he circles.

“So, what’s on our menu tonight?” He asks, inspecting the leek as you place a vine of tomatoes into the basket. He’s too close again. His hand lowers the vegetable to his own haul, purposefully skimming your skirt with the spindly leaves, letting the texture catch the fabric before he drops it in. Nutcase.

“I’m making pasta for my friends.” 

He chuckles.

The dance continues around the store. He’s clearly following you through the store, not trying to hide it at all. He ‘helps’ you at the dairy. Heavy cream’s better than light, don’t you think? The spices. Babe, we can afford name brand. The meat counter. Bacon? No, no, here. Pancetta. You want that meat. Trust me. He’s insistent and inappropriate, yet his voice drips with the weirdest charm. Calls you ‘babe’ and ‘sweetheart’. You let him continue. You should find an employee and tell him to buzz off, but he’s not really doing anything other than raising your grocery budget. Maybe you do deserve nice things, though. You sit on a seesaw, bouncing between sick interest and appropriate unease.

You’d always been a thrill-seeker, but stringing along a beautiful, perverted, and officious stranger? Were your last few dates so terrible? 

By the time you reach checkout, you’re bored of his antics. He must be desperate to seal the deal and get your number, given how his approach escalates to trying to pay for your groceries.

“Is he bothering you?” The cashier asks bluntly, glaring daggers at your shadow. At the end of the counter, the bag boy’s head pops up, eyes wide at the question.

You glance at the hand, reaching past again to place a card on the counter. You catch half a name. Kyle. You look at the older man. “Yes, yes, he is.”

It’s a wonder what a few strategic smiles can do. They’re catnip to men like Gerald, the store manager who walks you out. He’s soft-spoken and apologetic and slips you a gift card. Your groceries are free, and so is next week’s haul if you promise to remain a loyal customer. If being followed by a harmless model of a man pays for your food, you’ve done stranger things for money.

Still, you take the long way to Alyssa’s and look over your shoulder. That night, over pappardelle alla Fiesolana, Grocery Kyle becomes a joke. A morbid fantasy you and your friends giggle over between glasses of wine. He becomes a real fantasy that night when you snake your hands between your legs beneath the duvet and imagine him smirking down at you. Condescending the whole time, he talks you through it. He’s the type that likes the sound of his own voice. Your fingers curl, and you cum at the idea of him scolding you for being so easy.

The following day, somewhat hungover on your couch, you warm your hands with coffee and open Instagram. One new follower. It's not so odd; you have hundreds of followers. Mostly bots at this point, but you're too lazy to weed them out. You don't post as often anymore, either, nor do you share exciting things. Flowers, cats you meet on your walks, and the rare selfie. So when you see that the new follower liked a photo from nine years ago, that sick little twinge sparks something in your belly. A spark that grows when another notification pops up. And another. They're on a liking spree, driving through your memory lane.

When they like your very first post on the account, an awkward self-portrait in front of your first-year dorm eleven years ago, you finally investigate.

‘Sgt141’ has no profile photo. No description. No followers. No posts. Only follows you. It’s another bot spamming your notifications for some unknown reason.

You forget about it until you post a selfie from the gym two weeks later. Nothing scandalous, just showing off your growing biceps. Sgt141 is the first to like it, and minutes later, you receive a DM request. You fully expect a generic chain, formulaic message about being your own boss. The dick is a surprise.

A very pretty and completely unsolicited surprise.

In an instant, you know whose dick you’re looking at. 

You should be scared and report the message instead of screenshotting it. You should be disgusted, alarmed, and probably crying. Not stuffing your hand down your shorts.

Definitely shouldn’t respond.

> someone got a crush?

>> you have no idea.

> following me around the grocery store did it for you?

>> did a lot for me, actually.

> maybe you can follow me around the mall next time.

sgt141 changed the theme to Love.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cw stalking #cw unsolicited dick pic

[princessprettyprivilege]

pretty privilege tips?

Pretty Privilege Tips 101

Acknowledging your pretty privilege is simply not acknowledging it. Your pretty privilege is as natural as breathing.

Acknowledge pretty privilege is ALL about your appearance. Only your appearance because that’s what people see first. I call it the Cinderella and evil stepsisters factor. I’m excused more often, tipped, receive better treatment, etc. due to my looks.

Cultivate your pretty privilege efficiently to gain more pretty privileged perks. I could always say “eat healthy & exercise!!” as a blanket statement, but that’s SO easy to say with anonymity and an oxymoron since I have a box of Ritz bits in my lap.

Eat when you can & what you crave in moderation, find a fun exercise regimen and hobby to practice, start enjoying your life.

I found my new method of exercising by gardening since it doesn’t feel like exercise! I dug my first hole in the ground for an apple tree a couple of months ago, and I really enjoyed it, so I dug 3 more.

Appearance-wise, make your own challenges for your face and body such as creating themed shower days such as mango mai tai Mondays, Old Hollywood Wednesdays or New Jeans cookie (I have a speaker for my bath) scrub. For my facial care, I always visualize myself preparing for an event, because I am an event.

You are your own goddess.

Stop acknowledging opinions about pretty privilege that hold no weight to you. “It’s all about pleasing the patriarchy, you’re only a pretty face, men use you and you don’t even know, once you gain weight you’re just like us,” blah, blah, blah.

If you’re in denial about your pretty privilege, suck it up. Far too many people waste their time concerned about what they do and don’t have.

Prepare for the benefits and consequences you may face being pretty.

“A man being rich is like a girl being pretty!”

In contrast to the feminine energy posts you may read, you need to man up and put in your dental guard. It is more difficult being pretty privileged if you equate it to being aligned in your femininity.

Find out your tricks and trades. Are you a walking siren? To find out your natural disposition, you don’t need to search too hard. If you’re having trouble, you could be hiding your true beliefs due to the opinions of other people or denying your disposition since an article or test said it’s “uncommon”.

Your seesaw is on top. In any situation, your benefit is the priority.

Own your pretty. You can feel yourself resisting what you really want to do because of judgment from society. Let the inner woman out!

Flirting should be casual conversation to you, but with your eyes and less words. Many women think flirting with someone they barely like means they share the same attraction with them when I view it as a king of the hill game. Flirt for sport and with yourself!

Flaunt your attractiveness. Being an apex predator is leaving out weaknesses and self-doubt. If I know I’m the most attractive person I’ve seen, everyone else knows I need a worthy opponent to challenge me.

You need to be on top of situations to gauge your options. A realistic proportion I have is for every 2 things that go right, 1 thing can be wrong and so on. You shouldn’t overwork yourself to project perfection since it doesn’t exist.

Actually have fun.

Most people know how to look like they’ve had fun instead of having fun. Fun is when you don’t care what anyone thinks at the moment or looking back.

Peacock. Wear your feathers vividly and without shame. Bitter & jealous people want you to paint your feathers to match theirs. Don’t!

Be Luxury, Live Luxury.

#femininity #high maintenance #pretty privilege #high standards #expensive taste #black femininity #high value woman #femininity tips #level up #princesskhalyiah

[adore-laur]

THE WAY OF LOVE

— brandy meets a mysterious boy who gives her the best night of her life 🪩

——

LONG BEACH, 1972

Tizzy heels teetering like a playground seesaw.  

Fizzy soda bubbling like a carbonated jacuzzi. 

Dizzy vision warping like a kaleidoscopic mirror. 

The Pike Amusement Park holds the key to all these buzzing delights. With striking colors and candy smoke, whirling rides and drunken carnies, electrified screams and chic ensembles, Brandy has been stung by the metaphorical buzz. She feels like she's stumbled into a thrill-seeking utopia or a timeless rotunda of adrenaline. Her focus blurs as she waits in line for the Ferris wheel. The red, blue, and yellow gondolas spin around, almost making her nauseous on top of the pungent scent of powdered funnel cakes and greasy cheese fries wafting throughout the summer air.  

When the wheel stops with a rusty creak, a group of rowdy boys scramble out and usher themselves through the maze of metal bars to go for another ride. They flock behind her and laugh obnoxiously. They can hoot and holler all they want, but Brandy finds boys her age annoying. They're always arrogant and talk like they're taller than the trees.  

The unoccupied red gondola awaits the next passenger, and before Brandy can take a step forward, she's pulled into it by her older sister, Shannon. They set their woven purses under the seats and then sit down. The wheel moves up one spot to let the boys on, and Brandy peeks over the edge to find them jokingly rocking their gondola to mess with their friend, who's still stepping on. She scowls at their immature antics. They're creating such a ruckus! All she wants is a quiet and peaceful ride to the top to admire the fair from a bird's-eye view.  

"I just downed a slushy in record time, so I might vomit," Shannon informs through a hiccup. 

Brandy twists back around. "What flavor was it again?" 

"Cherry. I swear they spiked it with something." 

"Hey, at least it'll match the color of our gondola. Just make sure to vomit in your purse and not on my new sneakers, please."  

She'll be livid if her spotless Nike Blazers that took literally months to save up for get ruined. 

Shannon rolls her eyes, but they quickly widen when the wheel jolts and starts up again. Brandy grips the edge behind her and looks down at the ground, which slowly becomes farther away. She can just barely see the boys doing the same thing.

She peers out at the fair when it comes to a standstill at the very top. Rides swoop, people parade around, and food trucks sparkle in the sun. She's appreciating all the excitement when suddenly an object faintly hits her shoulder. Something falls next to her thigh, and she picks it up with a confused dip to her eyebrows. It appears to be a piece of caramel corn. Is there a hole in the gondola above them? Is she hallucinating from all the vivid colors? Is it raining caramel corn? 

Her ears tune into quiet snickering and hushing coming from below. Of course, it was those ratty boys, Brandy thinks to herself. She grumbles under her breath and moves to sit directly next to Shannon so she's out of their aim. 

The wheel begins to spin again, putting the boys above them. They're prattling on and gesturing wildly about some sports game they desperately need to catch on television tonight. Brandy can hear athletes' names and statistics spewing out of their mouths, but she can't understand anything. Sports genuinely bore her to death. 

Brandy and Shannon get stopped at the bottom after only two rotations. They both huff in disappointment, mutually hating how this Ferris wheel rips people off. Grabbing her purse, Brandy follows Shannon out and carefully watches her step so she doesn't trip in front of anyone. They walk through the exit gate, and Shannon strolls ahead to throw away her empty slushy cup in a nearby garbage can. A sharp whistle makes Brandy stop and look for where the noise came from. It conducts her vision up to the yellow gondola.  

Great. She could've guessed that they were catcallers. 

She just scoffs and continues walking. God forbid her shoulders are showing! All she's wearing is a dandelion-colored jumpsuit that's not even terribly revealing. She went thrifting a while ago to find something that looked like an outfit Cher, her inspiration, wore on television a month ago. It's not an uncanny resemblance, but it makes her proud. 

"Hey!" 

Brandy halts again at the deeply spoken exclamation. She closes her eyes and mentally prepares herself for what one of them will say to her. She's gotten used to hearing strange and creepy comments, especially since she lives in a tourist city, and she usually chooses to ignore them. She doesn't know why she's about to entertain this certain circumstance. 

Rolling back her shoulders, she turns to face the dreaded gondola again. She's surprised at what her eyes land on. A boy is leaning over the edge and looking at her. He has long, curly hair flowing down to his collar bones, and he wears a white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. A few buttons are undone, revealing two gold necklaces glimmering against his sun-kissed chest. Black sunglasses sit atop his head to hold his lion mane back. With a sharp jawline, pink lips, salient cheekbones, hypnotically green eyes, and a dimpled smile with pearly bunny teeth, Brandy thinks his face must have been sculpted by Michelangelo. He appears to be a rich boy who dresses like he's running late to a casual business meeting. What could he possibly want other than to bug her? 

Crossing her arms, Brandy waits for stupidity to leave his alluring mouth. Her gaze is locked onto his so she doesn't become entranced by his pillowy lips, the near exact color of the strawberry taffy that vendors are pulling by hand down at the beach.

The mysterious boy folds his arms along the edge, placing his chin on them as if mockingly teasing her impatient stance. Standing under direct sunlight, she's starting to swelter. Or is it his intense stare and unreadable smirk that's making her sweat? She hastily gestures her hand to get him to say something so she can leave. 

Two of his fingers curl back to beckon her closer. She puts her hands on her hips and begrudgingly marches towards him, tilting her head even more to maintain eye contact. He licks the right crease of his quirked lips and circles his pointer finger. "Are you perhaps a fan of Cher?" 

"Yes... why?" Brandy asks cautiously. If he even attempts to talk negatively of Cher, she'll have to climb up the wheel and kick his perfect teeth in. 

"Your outfit just looks like something she wore recently, that's all," he says while tossing some caramel corn in his mouth. Was he the one who threw it? "I really dig it." 

She rubs the back of her neck, feeling foolish for thinking he'd be another one of those arrogant boys she refuses to waste her time on. "Oh, thanks. She's my idol. Her fashion sense is unreal." 

He nods his head as he chews. "She's far out. Do you watch The Sonny and Cher Show?" 

"Every Sunday night on CBS. I always make sure I have no plans so I don't miss it." 

A dimple indents his face. "They're hilarious, aren't they? They make my belly ache from laughing so hard." 

"Totally." She steps closer when the wheel moves up one spot, raising her voice over the surrounding noises. "When Cher sings at the end, the entire world stops!" 

"Exactly!" His palm cradles his cheek. "Hey, can I ask you something kind of random? I have two—" 

"Let's go, Brandy, it's hot!" Shannon calls out.  

She whips her head around to find her sister tapping an impatient foot and miserably fanning her face with her purse.

"Coming!" Brandy shouts. She smiles and waves to the boy before she begins walking backward. A peace sign and a wink are thrown her way. The last thing she sees before she turns around is his lips mouthing the syllables of her name. 

She speeds up to join Shannon, who has a knowing look on her face as they head toward the gate to leave the fair. Brandy just elbows her waist. She'll never hear the end of it if she reveals the conversation that was exchanged. 

On her way home, she realizes she doesn't know the boy's name. It doesn't really matter; she probably won't ever see him again. 

—— 

Later That Night  

It's nearing midnight when Brandy and Shannon arrive at Ruby's Roller Disco. Brandy is fond of partaking in the disco scene, but this is the first time she's been to this place. Shannon had told her it's where everyone goes nowadays. However, she prefers what she's used to, which is the old, rundown nightclub in West Hollywood that she's sure is going out of business soon because their only customers are her and elderly couples. 

Striding through the open doorway, strobe lights and sequined fabrics immediately set the lively tone. The dance floor is packed with bodies roller-skating and grooving to the music under the spinning disco ball. Brandy has changed into skintight bell bottoms and a front-knot floral blouse so she's comfortable while skating. As she glances around, she can't help but notice how different the energy is here from the place she usually goes to. There are more people her age and much more space to move. Also, better music, she hates to admit. They play "Hey Jude" about three times a night at the other disco. And yes, they play the entire seven minutes of it. It doesn't take long for her to develop a migraine by the time she leaves. She's positive she'll be going home with a migraine here as well since a smoking lounge is to her right, the smell of weed and cigarette smoke penetrating the enclosed area.  

Shannon has jetted off somewhere to rent skates for them both. Brandy sees people either making out to the slow song playing or passing joints around even though they're supposed to be doing that strictly in the lounge. Everyone seems to be minding their own business in their own dome of happiness despite the raging world outside, polluted with protests and violence. If anything, dancing with strangers is an escape.  

Her sister returns, holding two pairs of skates, and hands the pastel pink ones to Brandy. They quickly tie them and then roll out onto the dance floor as a sultry song ends. A guitar riff kicks in, and "Strange Kind of Woman" by Deep Purple booms through the speakers. The skaters begin coasting mid-tempo, finding a partner on the floor or dancing alone. Brandy's not a fan of rock songs, so she moves to the edge of the floor and waits for the next one. On the other hand, Shannon has already found a man to grind with. She looks like she just fell in love with him. 

Just as Brandy starts swaying her hips to the chorus, two hands land on her shoulders from behind. She's about to turn around and smack whoever did it, but the warm palms leave just as fast as they came. Suddenly, a tall boy is standing before her. Not just any boy, though. It's the one from the fair. He's chewing bubblegum with a beaming smile like he just won the lottery. He's sporting a blue, sparkly two-piece outfit made of denim. The trousers are tight against his legs, and the matching long-sleeved shirt is tucked into them with only one button clasped out of the four. Flecks of glitter are spread on his exposed chest. His hair is pulled back into a low bun, and a few curly strands are left out to frame his face. 

"You're the caramel corn boy," Brandy blurts over the music.  

"And you're the girl with the bangin' fashion. I love a pair of bell bottoms." His eyes trail up and down her body. He then snaps his fingers twice as his face twists in thought. "It's Brandy, right?" 

She smiles, watching the lights dance across his face. "Yes. I didn't catch your name at the fair." 

"Harry Styles," he says while tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "I've never seen you around here before." 

"This is my first time here, actually. I usually go to the Slug Bug nightclub in West Hollywood." 

His nose wrinkles with a teasing grin. "Slug Bug? Isn't that where old people go?" 

"No!" She scoffs. "Well, yes. It's just calmer there, you know? I really vibe with the place." 

"I'm just pulling your leg." His hands rest on his hips as he looks around. "You here with anyone?"  

He smacks his gum and raises his eyebrows like the smuggest man Brandy has ever seen. She usually hates people like that, but she finds it somehow attractive when he does it.  

"I'm with my sister. She's probably making out with a guy she just met." 

"Wow," he says with a laugh before glancing behind him. "Wanna dance with me? I can show you some stellar moves." 

As the words leave his mouth, "Love Is Life" by Earth, Wind & Fire begins playing. Everyone starts skating slower as the lights turn from cool to warm tones. 

"You don't have skates on, so dancing with me might be a little difficult." 

"You underestimate me, Brandy," he drawls, leaning closer. "You're looking at the smoothest cat at Ruby's. Ask anyone." 

Brandy juts her hip out and crosses her arms. "You talk a big game, Harry Styles. Show me what you got." 

He blows a perfect bubble with his gum until it pops. "Turn your pretty self around, then."  

Biting her lip, she spins around on her skates so her back is facing him. Harry puts his hands on her shoulders and guides her to the dance floor. He stops amid the dancing crowd, touching her waist and swaying her to the groovy bassline. Brandy uses the toe stop on one of her skates to keep from straying. 

"Weak moves!" she tells him. 

Harry's mouth lingers next to her ear. "Oh yeah? Stay here. I'll be right back."  

Brandy feels the absence of his touch and looks behind her to see him striding over to the DJ booth. She decides to skate a lap around the floor as she waits. She peeks a glance at Shannon, and her assumptions are correct: her tongue is down a man's throat. Good for her.

Moments later, she hears the familiar opening of a song she can never escape — "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass. The song came out a couple of months ago and has been at the top of the charts, playing on the radio constantly. Hearing her name in a hit song is a blessing and a curse. It's a great song, but she always gets teased whenever she mentions her name. 

Brandy parks herself back in her spot and sees Harry shimmy over to her, making jazz hands with a grin plastered on his face that the turquoise lights motion over. He leans back and rolls his shoulders, singing along as he grooves to the horns.  

He spreads his arms out when he reaches her and says, "I just bribed the DJ with a nifty fifty. Please tell me no one has done that for you before." 

"How many other girls do you know named Brandy? This happens round the clock." She grimaces. "Well, not the bribing part. And did you say fifty dollars? Are you joshing me right now?"

Harry clicks his tongue. "Damn, I thought I was being clever. And yeah, fifty dollars. No biggie." 

Brandy shakes her head in disbelief. "Okay, so your name is Harry. Has anyone ever played you "Harry Braff" by the Bee Gees?"  

His arms drape over her shoulders as he sways with her. "My last name's not Braff."  

"My name's Brandy, but I'm not a fine girl." 

"I beg to differ," he says with no hesitation. He twirls her before asking, "What other artists do you listen to, Brandy?" 

She squints one eye as she thinks. "Cher, obviously. Diana Ross, Barbara Streisand, Aretha Franklin... any female powerhouse, really." 

"I think you're the love of my life." 

"Oh, shut it." Brandy holds her palm to her warm cheek. "Why, do you like them too? Shannon, my sister, only listens to Tony Bennett, so I have no choice but to be the sibling with good taste in music." 

"Is she sixty years old?" he teases with a laugh. 

"That's what I say! She's trying to get me to see him at some opera house, and I keep making excuses not to go." 

"My heart goes out to you in this challenging time. But to answer your question, yes, I listen to all those women. They're sick, so how could anyone not?" 

"A lot of men are scared of successful women, especially in the music industry." Brandy shrugs and moves closer to him. "They're just talking a bunch of jive." 

Harry nods. "Personally, I think Cher could kick them all to the curb. Men don't like that she knows what she wants." 

"How have I not met you before? I think you might be the love of my life too." 

His lips tick upwards. "What's your favorite Cher song?" 

She grasps where her heart is at the impossible question. "Gosh, probably "Do You Believe in Magic" from her Backstage album. It's a cover, but it's way better than the original. What about you?" 

He plays with the ends of her hair and replies, "Mine is "Lay Baby Lay." That one is so groovy." 

"That's such a good one. I love the—" Brandy is cut off when someone suddenly gropes her ass as they fly past on skates. She freezes, blood rushing to her ears. The music drowns out as she tries to determine if what happened was real. She feels like she's underwater. The only sound is her heartbeat on high alert. She slowly looks at Harry, seeing his nostrils flare and his darkened eyes gaze over her shoulder with spine-chilling intensity. Seconds or minutes pass by, Brandy doesn't know for sure, before she witnesses his posture straighten and jaw tense. 

When the man flies past again, Harry quickly brushes past her and grabs the collar of his shirt to stop him. The force is enough for him to stumble on his skates and tumble to the floor.  

Harry crouches and sizes him up. "You have a death wish or something?" he threatens, chewing his gum faster. 

"Chill out, dude," says the man as he tries to unleash himself from the tight grip. "You're acting crazy." 

"Go take a look in a fuckin' mirror, you bogue piece of shit," Harry spits before standing back up and kicking the man's calf.  

Brandy's hand is swiftly taken in his grasp as he leads her out the door of the disco. Her skates are still on, so she lets go and moves in front of him to glide backward on the pavement.

"I could've handled it," she mutters, letting the fresh air cool her skin. 

Harry doesn't say anything as he pulls out his car keys. A beep echos, and Brandy turns her head to see the headlights of a yellow Ferrari flash. As he opens the passenger door for her, he asks, "Do you smoke?" 

"Um, only weed. No cigarettes or anything like that." 

He hums and gets in the driver's seat. "Wanna share a joint?" 

She's thankful that what just happened isn't being dwelled on. She'd rather obliterate it from her mind. However, there's palpable tension severely present. 

"Sure," Brandy says, getting in his car. "Wait, I have to return my skates before I forget." 

Harry laughs to himself. "You really think they'll notice they're gone? Everyone who works there is higher than a kite." 

"Oh," she breathes out. "Sorry." 

He starts the car and rolls the windows down. "Want the first hit?" 

"Is it laced?"  

Shannon had taught her to always ask that. His eyebrows scrunch as he shakes his head genuinely. Brandy watches him lift his butt up on the seat, taking out a bronze lighter from his back pocket. The streetlights reflect off the metallic shine of the case as he opens it. He then opens the glovebox and shuffles through junk before finding a container of pre-rolled joints. His nimble fingers pick one up, bringing it to Brandy's lips. She holds it while Harry lights it, never breaking eye contact. She inhales and rolls her eyes back from the addictive smoke filtering through her body, letting it ooze down to her lungs before exhaling it out the window. Harry's eyes are now transfixed on her lips. 

Brandy passes it to him and says, "This is a really nice car." 

"Thanks, I stole it," he mumbles around the joint. 

"What?!" she exclaims with a cough. 

"Psyche. Relax, yeah? I bought this bad boy a couple of months ago." 

"Don't tease me like that." 

"How would you prefer me to tease you, then?" 

"You're a chump!" She takes another hit before passing it to him again. "Listen, I should check on Shannon. If that guy who groped me is any telltale sign of the type of boys in there, I don't want her to be alone." 

"Did you both drive here?" he asks before hollowing his cheeks and inhaling more smoke.  

"No, we walked from our house. We live together on Brayton Avenue." 

"I'll drive you guys home. I'm not letting you walk around past midnight." 

Brandy stares at him. "You're not a serial killer, are you?" 

Harry smirks, spreading his legs more comfortably. "If that were the case, I think they'd have my face plastered in every newspaper." 

"Not unless you're clever," she mumbles under her breath. "I just met you, so I have a right to be cautious." 

"I know, Brandy," he says with a laugh. "I respect that. Now go, I'll find some tunes to play." 

She takes one last hit before she gets out of his car and skates toward the disco entrance. She feels the weed take effect rather quickly; Harry must get the good stuff.  

Sliding across the dance floor, she quickly spots Shannon in her neon pink top. Brandy coasts up to her and takes her hand. "We're leaving!"

"What?!" Shannon replies with a frown. "Why? We just got here!" 

"I don't feel safe. The boys in here are all weirdos." 

"Did something happen?"  

"No," Brandy lies. "C'mon, I'll go to that stupid Tony Bennett concert if we can just leave." 

Shannon inhales deeply. "Fine. But Brandy Jean, you better keep your word, or else I'll kick you out of the house." 

"I pinky promise. That boy from the fair earlier is going to drive us home. And before you say anything, I trust him." 

"He's here?" 

"Yes, Shannon, for goodness' sake. He's very kind." Brandy leads her away from the dance floor and toward the exit. "Also, don't worry about your skates. They won't notice." 

They grab their shoes and skate out the door to Harry's awaiting car. His front door and the back one are open, and she can see him fiddling with the radio dial while holding the joint between his teeth. 

Brandy shoves her sister in the backseat. "Harry, Shannon. Shannon, Harry," she introduces promptly.  

He removes the joint and puts it out while glancing at the rear-view mirror. "How's it hangin'?" 

"Hi! You must be the guy my sister is in love with." 

Brandy twists back in the passenger seat and pinches Shannon's knee with the full intention of having it hurt. She then makes a gesture of cutting her throat before turning back around. 

"Is that so?" Harry asks smugly.  

"Ignore her. Pretend she isn't here. She's a hologram." 

He just laughs and begins driving down the street. On the way, "Someday We'll Be Together" by Diana Ross & The Supremes plays on the radio. The windows are down, and the California breeze whips their hair around. 

Eventually, he parks in their driveway after being given directions. Shannon pats his back as a thank you, then hops out of the car and stumbles through the front door, not even bothering to take off her stolen skates. The door shuts, and she turns on what seems like every single light in the house. She's high out of her mind. 

Brandy faces Harry and says, "Thanks for the ride. I appreciate you not killing us." 

She's joking, but crime in California has been at an all-time high lately, so she's technically not. She won't tell him that, though. 

"'Course," he replies, taking his bun out and messing with his untamed hair. "Look, I'm sorry about that guy tonight. He shouldn't have touched you." 

She sighs dejectedly. "Obviously, he shouldn't have touched me. It's fine. I'm glad you knocked some sense into him." 

"It's not fine, Brandy," he insists with sincerity. "Don't downplay it. The prick should be in jail." 

"I don't really want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay, we won't," he says gently. A few beats of silence pass before he raises his finger and takes something out of his pocket. "Change of topic. Remember at the fair when I was going to ask you a question, but your sister interrupted?" 

Brandy squints at the small pieces of paper in his hand. "Yeah. Go ahead and ask me." 

"So, here's the lowdown. The reason I talked to you in the first place was because I noticed your killer outfit. Then, when you said Cher was your inspiration, I remembered something I had bought a while ago. It's a crazy coincidence." He holds out two paper stubs before continuing, "I have tickets. I was so bummed when I thought I'd never see you again, but fate must be working its magic today." 

"Tickets?" Brandy's eyebrows furrow. "For what?" 

"For the best night of your life," he says with a boyish grin. "Would you like to come to The Sonny and Cher Comedy Hour with me in Hollywood tomorrow night? None of my friends want to go with me because they think it's lame, but—" 

"I thought those sold out in less than a day!" she interrupts, her mouth open in shock. "If you're razzing, Harry, it isn't funny." 

"Brandy Baby. Hush for a second, yeah?" 

Her heart skips a beat. "Don't fake me out, please. I would do almost anything to see her in person."

"Shh..." He rests his pointer finger against her lips. "I wouldn't joke about Cher, sunshine. The ticket is yours if you want it. Unless you want me to sit all by my lonesome." 

She whispers, "You're serious?"  

"Cross my heart," he says, making the gesture. 

"I-I would love to, Harry. That's so thoughtful of you to ask. For you to ask me out of all people, I mean... I'm honored." 

He plays with her moon pendant, looking up at her through his eyelashes. "You've got this energy about you—enigmatic, tantalizing. I think we'll have a wonderful time together." 

"You think so? I might faint when I see her." 

"I think it'll be life-changing, Brandy." 

She can't reply because his palm places itself on her cheek, rendering her speechless. Before she can process his touch, his lips pucker and slowly meet with her opposite cheek. They're damp and cold but somehow spark a flame inside her body.  

Harry leans back and stares at her parted mouth. It feels like minutes pass as she waits for his next move. His hand moves down to the side of her neck. He leans forward slightly and leaves the softest kiss to her pulse point. Butterflies break out in her stomach, her breathing becomes shallow, and her skin grows hot. Her knees almost give out when his teeth nip the spot he just planted his affection on. 

"All right, I gotta skitty," he says, like nothing just happened. "I'll be waiting out here tomorrow at six-thirty on the dot. If you're not ready, you'll be in trouble. Time doesn't wait for Cher." 

Brandy has to blink several times to bring herself back to reality. "Okay. Sounds good. Gosh, I'm so stoked. Wait, what do we wear? I need to plan an outfit. Agh!"

Harry looks her up and down. "Something foxy." 

She smiles shyly and fidgets with the knot of her blouse. "I'll try my best. We both need sleep for tomorrow, so I'm going to go inside. Get home safe, Harry." 

"Always do," he says while twirling his keys. "Peace out, Brandy. Dream with me tonight."  

"I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep. And I expect you to wear something foxy as well." 

He runs his tongue across his teeth with a wide smile before kissing two fingers and holding them out in a peace sign as he retreats to his car. He revs the engine and reverses out of the driveway, speeding off into the night. 

Brandy can't help but agree that fate really has worked its magic today. 

—— 

Tomorrow Evening 

Brown silk and pearls galore. If Harry wants foxy, Brandy is giving it to him tenfold. 

She carefully adjusts the thin straps of her mid-thigh dress in her vanity mirror. The single layer of ruffle that dips into her cleavage is tight against her shimmering skin. The long pearl necklace wraps twice around her neck and then drips down to her navel. White platform heels heighten her generously, and a matching leather purse completes her accessories for the evening.  

She peeks at the Kit-Cat Klock on her bedroom wall--only one minute until Harry is supposed to arrive. She exhales a nervous breath and makes sure she looks presentable. 

Bold mascara on top and bottom eyelashes—check. Glossy lips from her sister's coconut balm—check. Beige eyeshadow with winged eyeliner—check. Lacy black lingerie—check and check again.  

She's gambling with her luck, but from what she's seen, Harry oozes sex appeal, and it'd be a shame if nothing happened tonight. 

She hears a honk from outside her window as she sprays her citrus Dior perfume all over her body. He's here. Shutting off the lights, she practically skips down the staircase to open the front door. Shannon isn't home tonight, so she doesn't have to worry about her big sister's protectiveness about where she's going and who she's with. She walks down the concrete steps and toward his car. She hasn't even looked up yet, too focused on each step so she doesn't humiliate herself and trip over her clunky heels. 

The sound of keys jingling has Brandy eventually gazing up at him, and she almost trips at the sight. There Harry stands, leaning against the door of his yellow Ferrari with his ankles crossed over one another. His hair is let loose, and the curls seem more defined than before. He wears a geometric-patterned suit with plum and olive colors, the pristine blazer left open over a black button-up. On his feet are dress shoes that are polished to the nines. However, the most noticeable part of his outfit is a single strand of pearls around his neck. 

He must notice her staring because he laughs at the coincidence. "Seems like I've got a copycat on my hands," he says. 

"I wouldn't have taken you for a man who owns pearls," Brandy admits as she stops in front of him. "My mistake." 

He hums deeply. "I wouldn't have taken you for a woman that could just about drop me to my knees. My fuckin' mistake." 

She smooths her palms over the lapels of his blazer. "You look very handsome, Harry. This suit could put Sonny to shame." 

"Quite the compliment, doll. Dare I say that Cher has nothing on you tonight?" 

She narrows her eyes at him. "You don't mean that. No one can look as good as Cher, and you know it." 

"Doesn't matter because we" — he attempts to slide across the hood of his car but only gets halfway before he stumbles off slightly — "are going to have the best night of our lives. Got a cassette tape ready and some Cola for the drive there." 

Brandy amusedly watches him open the door for her with a dramatic bow. She maneuvers around the car and sits in the plush passenger seat. He closes the door before jogging over to his side, but not before tugging up his pants, adjusting his collar, and teasing his hair in the side mirror. She laughs at his antics and gets comfortable in the leather seat of his Ferrari. 

Once he's in, he turns the key in the ignition and presses a button on the radio to fast-forward the cassette tape already in the slot. He places a hand on the back of her headrest to reverse out and begins driving down Brayton Avenue toward Hollywood. It's about a thirty-minute drive to the CBS Television City venue where the show is being held. The seating time is at seven, so they should arrive on time.  

The cassette stops at "Sentimental Lady" by Fleetwood Mac. Brandy grins at his choice.  

"Know this one?" Harry asks while turning it up. 

"I do." 

He flicks his blinker on and smoothly merges onto the interstate. "Sing with me. Don't go shy on me now." 

She brings her knees up on the seat. "I'll only sing if you do." 

"Deal." 

They drive down the boulevard and past the palm trees, singing along to the voice of Bob Welch the entire way there and drinking ice-cold bottles of Cola. Before they know it, the building comes into view, which is a black and white structure with a large parking lot in front that's packed. There's orange tape surrounding it for the show being held tonight, and hordes of cars coming in are being directed by security. 

Brandy can feel the excitement and the buzz. It's something she wants to experience all the time. 

"You ready for the night of your fuckin' life?" Harry asks, fixing his hair in the rear-view mirror. 

"Fuck yes," Brandy says. 

"Atta girl." He nudges her side. "You should swear more often. Life's more fun that way." 

They eventually get out of the car and begin following the crowd, tickets in hands and heels clicking on the pavement. When they reach the door, they show their tickets and are ushered to the room where the show will be held. Brandy assumes they'll be part of the live studio audience tonight. She's never gone to a variety show before, and it's exhilarating.

Once they're situated in their seats, which are far back from the stage — but it doesn't matter since she's about to see Cher fucking Sarkisian — they wait for the show to start. 

"Gonna faint yet?" Harry teases from beside her. 

"I genuinely might." 

"I'll pretend to also faint so it's not as embarrassing for you." 

"Gee, thanks," Brandy mutters with a crooked smile. 

Over the next half hour, they converse about what songs they think will be sung tonight or what they will joke about. Brandy can't get over how handsome Harry looks in a suit. She notices his eyes keep gazing down at her pearls, burning her cheeks. She feels so comfortable around him. There are no awkward pauses in conversation since they have so much in common. 

When they're in the middle of talking about what the best flavor of soda is, the lights suddenly go down, making everyone gasp. It's starting! 

A spotlight shines on the stage, music starts, and the screen lifts as Sonny and Cher walk out. The crowd goes wild, whooping and hollering for America's power couple. 

Brandy could cry. Her idol is in front of her, dressed in a white dress with pastel polka dots of pink, orange, blue, and red. Sonny wears a matching button-up under his white suit as they take center stage, holding hands. They sing a short opening song and then introduce themselves before getting right into the jokes. 

Throughout the show, Brandy and Harry laugh until their stomachs hurt. The dynamic between Sonny and Cher is unlike anything she's ever seen. The timing of the jokes, the chemistry, and the love are so magical to witness in real-time. After a hilarious and dirty joke, Brandy looks at Harry and sees him slap his knees in laughter, eye crinkles, and dimples on his gleeful face. It makes her swoon. The venue is cracking up, an infectious joy that only a room full of people gathered for the same thing could bring. 

At the intermission, some people leave their seats to go out and smoke or talk to others. Brandy is admiring the stage when Harry's hand suddenly nudges hers on the armrest. His pinky strokes the back of her hand. Her eyes are glued forward, but she feels it. It's the only thing she can focus on. 

His palm slowly wiggles under hers, and he interlaces their fingers together. They stay in that position until they have to clap when Sonny and Cher come back out. 

At the end of the show, Cher comes out by herself to sing a song to close the night. The golden spotlight behind her sets the intimate ambiance. She walks to the middle of the stage, and Brandy is blown away by her ethereal beauty. She wears a pink, frilly dress and a matching flower clip in her sleek black hair. 

"The Way of Love" starts, causing the room to go completely silent as she sings the bittersweet tune. Everyone's eyes are on her. Everything is still. It's like it's just her in the room.

During the song's crescendo, Brandy can feel Harry's gaze on hers as Cher's powerful voice belts for the audience. She doesn't want to look away, but when she feels him lean in, his musky cologne invades her senses as he squeezes her hand. A kiss to her temple is planted, blooming into heat that spreads over Brandy's face. She turns her head and whispers, "What was that for?" 

His green eyes glimmer in the low light. "You just look really pretty," he whispers back. "And happy."

She smiles giddily and continues watching the performance. When the song ends, everyone gives a standing ovation as Cher bows and exits the stage. The cheers continue long after she's gone, and Brandy looks around the room in awe. She feels like she's in a dream. It went by so fast. 

"Let's skitty," Harry says in her ear while clapping. "The traffic will be terrible getting out." Brandy nods and grabs her purse. Harry intertwines their fingers together and leads her towards the exit. 

It's dark when they reach outside. People are talking loudly about the show and smoking by their vehicles. Harry starts his car once they're both in, turning the headlights on and tapping his finger along the steering wheel. A whole minute passes, and he still hasn't started driving. His eyes are zoned out on the dashboard. 

Brandy waves a hand in front of his face. "You okay?" 

He looks over at her almost shyly. "Would you want to stay at my place tonight? I've got plenty of room for us to chill." 

"Really?" 

"Yeah," he says. "I'd regret saying goodnight to you so soon." 

Brandy contemplates the offer. She hasn't stayed at a boy's house in a while but trusts Harry. She's had such an enjoyable time tonight that she'd hate herself if she just went home. 

So, she says, "I'll stay with you. Do you have a phone? I'd need to call my sister before she calls the fuzz and they show up at your house." 

"I have a wall phone in the shape of a heart if that's what you're asking." 

"I wasn't, but that's cool," she replies, mesmerized by how his lips form around certain words. "You know what else is the shape of a heart?"  

His elbow leans on her headrest. "Sock it to me." 

Brandy smiles and places her forearm on the console. "Your lips." 

Harry swallows, then asks, "What else about my lips?" 

"They're the color of strawberry taffy. Not sure if they would taste like it, though." 

"You know what they say, right?" He glimpses at her mouth. "There's only one way to find out." 

Brandy doesn't know whose lips crash into whose first, but it doesn't matter because they taste better than any sweet in a candy shop. Their lips part with a wet pop, and Harry mimics the noise with his mouth. Brandy giggles and kisses his bottom lip hungrily. 

"Coconut," he murmurs, twirling a strand of her hair around his pointer finger. "Far out." 

Some glossiness from her lips has transferred to his own, so Brandy wipes it off with her thumb. "Let's head back before it ends up in other places," she suggests boldly.

Harry gives her an open-mouthed smile, then kisses her cheekbone before palming the wheel and reversing out of the parking spot. During the drive, he shows her new cassette tapes he bought recently, gushing facts about the artists and pointing out the guitars used in certain songs. Brandy listens the entire time with intrigue in her eyes. 

After thirty minutes, Harry pulls into his driveway. His house is much smaller than expected for someone with decent money. It's a yellow ranch-style home with a collection of neatly trimmed landscaping, including shrubs and a single sycamore tree. The garage door is see-through, and the house's white trim pops compared to the dull neighboring houses on the street. 

Brandy's trance is broken when Harry opens the passenger door for her and holds out his hand. She takes it. He guides her to his front door, lets her step past the threshold first, then flicks the lights on. 

"I'm gonna change really quick," he murmurs in her ear before brushing past her and strolling into another room.  

Brandy takes the opportunity to observe his multifarious decor and interior design. The copper-colored carpet in the living room feels cloud-like beneath her feet as she wanders around. Assorted sizes of orange, yellow, and white low tables are placed around the conversation pit, and potted ferns contrast nicely with the overload of orange. A yellow leather couch is embedded around the pit, and a table in the middle has a vase of dahlias and a collection of glass bongs. An inlet in the farthest wooden wall holds a box television and a piano. Drawers, books, and a radio surround the remaining space. 

To her left is his kitchen. A small island with a basket of bananas is surrounded by oak cabinets. More plants are either on the refrigerator or hanging from the ceiling. Everything is organized. Everything is placed with purpose. Everything is Harry. 

Speaking of the devil, Harry returns wearing what looks like pajamas, and Brandy laughs at their luxuriousness. He has on a red, floral check-print jacket and matching pants that could be straight from a fashion catalog for all she knows. He's shirtless underneath, nothing but a cross necklace on his chest, and his feet are bare as he walks toward her. 

"It looks like you're just wearing another suit."

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in. "It's totally a suit." 

She snorts. "I wouldn't expect anything less." 

Harry flops backward onto the couch and rests his hands on his stomach. Brandy thinks it's the most endearing thing in the world. 

"Stop starin' at my paunch," he says with a grin. "Can't help that Cola makes me bloated." 

She sits next to him. "It's cute. The butterfly tattoo is a nice touch to your paunch." 

"Yeah? Is that a kink of yours? My paunch?" 

"Let's stop saying paunch. And no, you dork, it's not a kink. I'm just not a fan of boys with rock-hard abs and steroid-pumped biceps. I like a natural body." 

His knuckle runs along the exposed part of her thigh. "Same here." 

Her skin heats under his touch. "Can we smoke weed together again? Let's end the night on a high." 

"Oh, she's a comedian now?" Harry groans, gets up, and walks to a table in the corner of the room. "You take a girl to one comedy show, and suddenly she thinks she's Joan Rivers," he mutters teasingly. 

"Get bent! I'm funnier than you; just admit it." 

He cackles, and she turns to watch him put a vinyl on his portable record player. She notices that his hair has transitioned into a middle part sometime throughout the night. 

"Chain of Fools" by Aretha Franklin crackles through. He walks back to her with a joint and a lighter, then boldly straddles her thighs on the couch. Brandy just about dies. 

Harry lights the end of the joint and asks, "Do you know how to shotgun kiss?"

Her eyes widen. "I know what it is, but I've never done it. I've always wanted to try." 

"It'll rock your world." He shifts on her lap to get more comfortable, and she can thoroughly feel his cock through his pants. He must not wear underwear to bed. It should disgust her, but her mind is too frazzled at their current position to care. 

Harry takes a hit from the joint, keeps the smoke in his mouth, and then cradles her cheeks with gentle palms. He leans in and places his thumb on Brandy's bottom lip to open her mouth, resting it on the bottom row of her teeth. The smoke releases down her throat. The feeling is euphoric, intimate, and sensual. 

She breathes out, the residual smoke blowing in his face, and she falls into a trance, looking at his lustrous lips. "I thought you're supposed to kiss someone when you do it." 

He twists her pearls around his finger and gives them a light tug. "C'mere, baby. I'll kiss you all you want." 

His hand holds her head as he guides her lips to his. They connect, and it's like ecstasy unfurls in her heart and stomach. With unhurried movements from the weed, their lips move against each other like they're the last drop of water in the desert oasis.

Harry's tongue slips into her mouth, so she sucks on it tenderly as her hands linger on his waist. He's still straddling her, his bulge pressing against her. His free hand holds the joint away from her as they move their lips until they're numb and swollen. Brandy eventually breaks from the kiss to catch her breath, leaving Harry whimpering helplessly.  

"Can I please touch you?" he begs with bruising kisses to her neck. "Tell me what you like. What makes you feel good. Where it feels good." 

"You can touch me." 

"Where? Tell me where it aches, honey." 

Brandy lets out a soft and short whine. "Everywhere." 

"Where do you need my hands? Talk to me." 

"My neck. It feels good when I'm choked." Her eyes snap open at what she just exposed. She immediately backtracks by adding, "But we don't have to do it if you're not—" 

"Don't move," Harry interrupts, springing off her and dashing to his bedroom. 

Brandy can hear shuffling and drawers opening and closing. She toes her heels off as she waits, then stands up to roam to his record player. She sifts through the stray vinyl on the table, eventually removing the Aretha Franklin disc and replacing it with an Ike & Tina Turner one. She meticulously places the needle so it plays "Come Together."  

Brandy is admiring his wall art when she feels something cold against her arm. She looks down and has to do a double-take at what she sees. Is that a dog collar? 

"I'm not into barking like a dog for a man," she says, head completely empty while gazing at the black leather. 

He kisses the pearls at the back of her neck. "This isn't for you, Brandy. You've already got a choking toy." 

He tosses the collar onto the nearest table, then reaches around her front to wrap her pearls around his hand until they're tight and restrained. His other hand fidgets with the zipper at the back of her dress. 

"May I?" he asks. 

What she's wearing underneath will surely come as a surprise to him. She nods, eyes rolling back from the pressure. His fingers trail along her upper spine until they reach the zipper. Brandy can feel his breath on her skin as he slowly pulls it down until the material loosens against her body. 

"Fuckin' hell." Harry nudges his nose into the side of her neck and moans softly. "What's this, hmm? Been hiding this from me?" 

Brandy feels him bring the straps of her dress down her arms. She turns around, Harry's grip on her pearls leaving, and she shimmies the silk material down her legs the rest of the way while keeping eye contact with him. The lace lingerie is revealed, and Harry's eyes are glued to her chest like a teenage boy. He walks backward until he bumps into the table, bending down and blindly grabbing the collar from behind him.  

"Put it on me," he says breathlessly like he can't get air in his lungs. 

She takes it as Harry turns around, taking off his own pearls so she can fasten them around his neck. He holds his hair up so Brandy can loop the collar belt through the clip. She doesn't tighten it too much, but just enough so a pleasurable pressure should be felt. 

"Good?"

He hums. "Perfect." They walk down into the conversation pit. Brandy waits for Harry to initiate something.  

"Lie down for me, love," he says while he drapes his pearls over the television. "Legs spread." 

She bites her lip to hold back an excited smile, then lies on the couch, obeying his command by spreading her thighs. Harry takes off his jacket and sits on his knees between her legs. His fingers run along the lace detailing of her lingerie. 

Brandy squirms from the tension and whines. "Touch me. You said you would."

"Patience. You said I can touch your neck. I've got two hands, baby, so where do you want the other one?" 

She palms her core and moans at the sensitivity. She's wet already. "Here. I need you right here." 

His fingers move the fabric covering where she needs him, circling his fingers in her wetness and pushing them into her. Her back arches, and she reaches her hand around the back of his neck to tug the collar's strap. His head tilts back, his mouth parting from the choking sensation.  

Harry pulls her strand of pearls as two of his fingers begin slowly thrusting in and out of her. She breathlessly moans, her airway restricted. She moves her hand to squeeze his cock through his pants. 

"Don't do that. You'll make me lose it right now." 

"Make me come. Please, Harry." 

His fingers thrust faster and curl skillfully to hit all of her sensitive spots, his thumb pressing down on her clit to bring her to her climax. He balances on his knees to get more leverage, his necklace dangling over her body. Brandy grabs onto his wrist, which flicks with each movement. 

"You're fuckin' beautiful under me and falling apart like this." 

"I'm almost there. Keep going. I feel it." 

He grinds against the couch. "Where do you feel it?" 

Her hand presses against her lower stomach. Harry removes his hold on her pearls and places his hand over hers. "Yeah? Feel that pressure? I'll make it feel better, I promise." 

He moves his mouth down to lick along her entrance, and that's what does it for Brandy. She cries out as the pressure pops like a needle in a balloon. She comes around his fingers, holding onto his bulging, tattooed arms. 

"Harry... oh, it feels amazing." 

He removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth to taste her arousal. "You did so good for me." 

Once Brandy winds down from her orgasm, Harry gets up and walks to his kitchen. She hears the faucet turn on, and he returns with a damp towel soon after. He wipes her with the lukewarm fabric, then sets it on her stomach for a bit, the warmth feeling heavenly on the slight pressure still there. 

"Come to bed with me," he says lowly, removing the collar. "We can smoke and giggle until we crash." 

"Don't you want me to take care of your... you know, boner?" 

He shrugs. "Sometimes it feels good if I let it ache until morning. Plus, I'm high and drank, like, a gallon of Cola, so I don't think it'd taste any good." 

"Fair point." Brandy reaches out her arms. "Take me away, Casanova." 

He laughs and pulls her up, then quickly grabs his lighter and another joint before guiding her to his room down the hallway. His bedroom is simple, with several shelves and drawers along every wall. His bed is low to the ground and stays with the house's orange theme. 

Harry climbs into his bed and points to his dresser. "You can wear one of my shirts if you'd like." 

Brandy opens it and searches through endless ripped and faded T-shirts. She removes her lingerie and grabs a Blue Öyster Cult tour shirt to put on. She then crawls onto the memory foam mattress. 

"Did you know," Harry says slowly, "I'm fuckin' stellar at doing a Cher impression?" 

Brandy notices the weed he smoked throughout the night, which makes him talk more deeply and languidly than he already does. "Say psyche right now." 

His head on the pillow whips toward her like a meerkat. "No joke. Give me a song to sing with her voice." 

He's totally bullshitting, but she goes along with it anyway because his being high is incredibly endearing.  

"Okay, do "All I Ever Need Is You"." She flips on her side to face him. "Let me sing Sonny's parts. I bet I could do his voice." 

"You go first. I don't want to be outshined." 

Brandy takes a quick hit of the joint before clearing her throat. "Honey, all I ever need is you," she sings, trying to imitate Sonny's unique voice. She feels like she's floating from the weed in her system, and she's never felt happier. 

"Winters come, and they go," Harry joins in loudly, and Brandy loses it as his terrible impression. "And we watch the melting snow!" He belts the lyrics with one hand on his chest and one in the air. "Sure as summer—" He chokes on the last word and eventually gives in to the giggles. They laugh hysterically until tears brim their red-rimmed eyes, and their sides cramp. 

Brandy looks over at him, finding his nose scrunched up. His laughs come out silently, and she's absolutely enamored. 

Once their laughter dies, she sighs happily and rolls onto his chest. "That was gnarly and not in a good way." 

"Like you were any better." 

She sticks the joint between his teeth. "We'd make an awful tribute band." 

"You'd have to dress up as Sonny," he mumbles around it. "Can you grow a mustache?" 

"Better than you could. Can you pull off Cher's wardrobe?" 

He removes the joint and exhales smoke up toward the ceiling. "I think I could wear a dress, yeah. But I don't think it would flatter my paunch very well." 

"Here we go again," she says lightheartedly. "'Bring back paunchy men' should be your new advocacy." 

He laughs, pinches her hip, and then reaches over to shut the lamp off. After stamping the joint out in the ashtray on his nightstand, Brandy feels his arms wrap around her body. She nuzzles further into his cozy chest, feeling his long curls tickle her cheek. 

Pure ecstasy courses through her bloodstream. The weed heightens every touch, every graze of his fingers, and every breath he takes from under her. Suddenly, his lips move to her ear, soft puffs warming her skin as his legs tangle with hers. He murmurs in a sleep-laden voice, "Dream with me, Brandy Baby." 

She stays silent and sinks deeper into his embrace. Little does he know that every second spent with him so far has already felt like a dream that no psychedelic could ever bring about. 

—— 

The Morning After 

Soft, melancholic piano notes wake Brandy from a deep slumber. It's a haunting composition with drawn-out notes that echo into the bedroom, where she lies under the warm sheets alone. Harry must be the one supplying the morning serenade. 

She's too drowsy to place her finger on what the song is, so she stretches her sore legs and swings them over the edge of the bed to follow the wistful melody. It leads her to his living room, the rising sun casting golden light beams on the carpet. Dust particles float, and birds chirp outside the open windows. Soon enough, she finds Harry sitting in the glow of the dawn, his back turned to her as his nimble fingers run along the glossy piano keys like it's second nature to him. The brass pedals groan and creak under his sock-clad feet, his head bobbing to each note that beautifully flows out. He's wearing a grey turtleneck sweater tucked into black slacks, and his hair is pulled into a loose bun.  

He pats the wooden stool beside him, sensing her lingering presence. "Sorry I couldn't give you a morning snuggle. I woke up with weed brain." 

Brandy walks over and sits next to him. "What are you playing?" she asks, watching him press down on the keys. 

""Crescent Noon" by the Carpenters. It reminds me of a mournful autumn." 

"It was a nice sound to wake up to. You're very talented." 

"Thanks," he says with a faint smile. "I always try to play a little before I go to work. It starts my day off right." 

It hits Brandy that she really doesn't know much about his personal life. "Where do you work?"

He stops playing, mumbling, "It's lame." 

"Tell me," she encourages, sticking her cold hands under her bare thighs. "I won't judge. I'm a lousy waitress if it makes you feel any better." 

He sighs and shuts the piano lid. "It's volunteer work, more like. I read books to the kids at the public library on Victoria Street." 

She gasps. "That's awesome! I might have to stop by sometime." 

"My friends always tease me for it," he says, his ears flushing pink. "But I really like it there. Seeing their faces light up when I sit them on my lap or do a funny voice makes my day sunnier." 

"I'm sure it makes their day sunnier too. What time do you have to leave?" 

Harry glances at the ticking clock on the wall. "I need to be there at nine, so in about five minutes." 

"Oh," Brandy whispers, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry for waking up so late. I'll let you get ready." 

"Uh, I can take you home on my way." 

"Sure thing. I'll go grab my stuff." 

While roaming his house, she picks up her dress, lingerie, heels, pearls, and purse. Once everything is messily balanced in her arms, she sees Harry holding the front door open. He has on dress shoes that tap almost impatiently as he waits for her. 

Something feels off. Brandy swallows a lump of trepidation and walks out the door, ignoring the bizarre energy shift. Harry shuts it behind her and quickly slides into the driver's seat of his convertible as she gets in the passenger seat. He starts the engine, then turns on a random radio station before driving toward her house, which she's surprised he remembers. "My Cherie Amour" by Stevie Wonder plays quietly. The drive is otherwise silent, and it doesn't feel right. 

Seven minutes pass before he pulls into her driveway. The sun peeks over her roof, making the pavement sparkle. Shannon's car is parked in the garage. Hummingbirds flutter their wings by the trumpet honeysuckles lining the sidewalk. All these things should bring her comfort, but she feels nauseous instead. 

Harry wipes his palms against his slacks, fiddles with the air vents, scratches his head, then shatters the silence. 

"I think this should be a one-time thing."  

Well, that's definitely not the first thing she wanted to come out of his mouth. 

He clears his throat and continues, "I'm not really a relationship guy, you know? I don't think I could provide that for you if that's what you're looking for." 

Not a relationship guy. Didn't he basically ask her out on a date? Selflessly granted her the best night of her life? Ignited her skin with bruising kisses and touches? Apologized for not snuggling with her in the morning? Did she get the completely wrong idea? 

"Sorry, I'm a little confused," Brandy says, shaking her head. 

Harry lets the car run, its rumbling engine filling the dreadful atmosphere. "You're not the problem. I should've told you sooner, and that's my fault." He shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "I like being around you, yeah? It's just... well, I'm in my early twenties, so I want to coast through life for a bit before I get into anything serious. Figure shit out. Figure myself out." 

The unexpectedness of it all makes her clam up. A surge of humiliation sears her throat when she says, "Oh, okay. That makes sense. I understand where you're coming from." She's saying everything she doesn't want to, but the words keep spewing. "I had fun last night. Thank you for letting me experience Hollywood." 

"Thanks for catching my drift. The last thing I want to do is lead you on." 

"You didn't." He sort of did. "Timing doesn't work out sometimes." It felt like it was working perfectly fine. 

"Timing's a bitch," he says, knocking on his dashboard. He then checks the radio clock and sighs. "I should go before I'm late." 

Brandy swallows roughly. There's no point in trying to change his mind. She won't hold him back from living how he wants to. But why is he being so nonchalant about it? She feels like she's being flung to the side without warning or care. It almost feels like last night meant nothing to him. 

After nodding and unbuckling her seatbelt, she says, "Well, I hope everything runs smoothly for you. With the volunteer stuff and all." 

"Appreciate it," Harry replies, sticking a piece of gum between his teeth. "Hey, what restaurant do you waitress at?" 

This boy is giving her whiplash.

"Um, Cheyenne's Café. It's on Cudahy Street, right off Pacific Boulevard. Kind of a hole-in-the-wall place." 

"I might have to stop by sometime," he says with a grin, repeating her words from earlier.

Brandy suddenly feels annoyed at his apathy for her heart, which he ruthlessly stomped on and crushed, so she opens the car door and steps out before her emotions get the best of her. Boys disappoint her and only keep their word for a short time. She doubts Harry will visit; he's probably letting her down easily. 

"Maybe you should," she says, a hidden bite in her tone. "They have mouthwatering banana waffles." 

He closes his eyes and groans deliciously. "That's it. You've convinced me." 

She plasters on a fake smile and gathers her belongings. "Goodbye, Harry. Enjoy the sunshine today." 

Harry's hand lightly grasps her wrist as she's about to walk around his car to reach the front door. Consecutively, there is a stroke of his thumb, a skip to her pulse, and another crack in her breaking heart. 

"See you later, Brandy." 

One last stroke is given before she reluctantly lets go and opens the door. She slams it shut, making the entire house rattle, then throws her things onto the nearest flat surface. Her sister is sitting at the kitchen table reading the daily newspaper and drinking a tall glass of orange juice. Brandy huffs, remembering she forgot to call her last night. Shannon glances up at the sound and leisurely takes in her appearance. At that moment, she realizes Harry's shirt is still on her body. It makes her bottom lip tremble.  

"Where were you?" Shannon asks warily. "Why do you look like you're going to cry?" 

Brandy covers her face with her hands and lets out a wretched sob. "Harry…"

Shannon immediately envelops her in her arms. "What happened? Are you hurt?" 

"Remember the boy that drove us home? I stayed the night at his house, but he said it should only be a one-time thing because he's not looking for a relationship right now, and I pretended that I was okay with it." She sniffles against Shannon's chest. "But I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it, but I-I got scared because he looked so sure of himself. I didn't want to force him to fall in love with me." 

Shannon sways her consolingly. "Why didn't he say something before he took you to his place?" 

Brandy shrugs. "I don't know, Shan. Boys are dumb." 

"That's very true. Why don't you take a shower while I fix breakfast for you? Let's talk more about it later."

"Okay," she mumbles, wiping her useless tears away and moping to her bedroom. She curls into bed and pulls the covers over her entire body. She can't bring herself to take a shower. Her throat and head hurt. Her heart aches. 

It's impossible not to think about yesterday and how divine everything was. How Harry had kissed her with his strawberry taffy lips, touched her with sheer desire, and made her feel like she was floating through a dream. The words he spoke were enthralling. The music he played her bared his soul. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed could make just about anyone fall head over heels. How could she forget the moment he looked at her in the venue with an expression she thought could be love?

Brandy throws the duvet aside and sulks over to the record player on her dresser. Cher's Gypsys, Tramps & Thieves is already placed on the platter from when she got dolled up last night. She carefully adjusts the tonearm and crawls back into bed. 

The first track begins, and it can't erase her sorrows since it's the same song Cher sang to the crowd. 

Damn those lyrics that will forever remind her of Harry. Damn his ravishing smile, his alluring voice, and his sugarcoated ways of stringing her along. 

Above all, damn their fate. The course of fate can be a cruel thief. It can be by chance or by choice. It can come when least expected and give a person the right feeling at the wrong time. 

Brandy realizes fate is like that Ferris wheel she rode. It led her on with its appeal and took her for a spin. Then, before she could even soak up the feeling, it stopped. It let her off, and she never reached what she yearned for the entire way around.  

Perhaps that's just the way of love.

——

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #the way of love #adore-laur

[absurdlakefront]

Imagine the economic center of gravity of the United States shifting north, and the seesaw effects of that change on the geographic locus of American society. Consider again the lasting cultural implications—for music and arts and sports and labor—of the previous century’s Great Migration out of the South, and what doubling it could mean. One day, a high-speed rail line may race across the Dakotas, through Idaho’s up-and-coming wine country and the country’s new bread basket, to the megalopolis of Seattle, which will have grown so big as people move north that it has nearly merged with Vancouver, at the southern edge of Canada. Never mind that roughly half the country will likely have to experience total upheaval or extreme discomfort—or both—to arrive at this point, or the fact that by the time the Great Lakes region reaches its apex, much of the nation’s southern half will have withered. And of course, every place in America will experience dramatic change and disruption from warming—just look at Canada’s wildfires last summer. But the northern part of the U.S. is more shielded from the primary threats of sea-level rise, hurricanes, drought, and extreme heat. The vision amounts to what Beth Gibbons describes as a chance to shift the climate narrative away from one of exclusive failure. And it suggests that the displacement erupting from climate stress in some places will put others on track toward greater security, wealth, and prosperity.

#midwest #great lakes #climate change #climate migration

[rhythmheavenmonkey]

are you only a golf teacher, or do you have other jobs? (such as, perhaps, helping a pitcher throw balls?)

Ooki ook! (I have multiple other jobs, but sometimes my associates help me with them. I do have some sort of memory of helping a pitcher throw balls, and I think I also helped somebody learn tambourine. I also do some fun hobbies like throwing a pajama party with my associates. I do also teach tap, but sometimes my associates advise me to wear funky outfits for some cinematographies. My favourite being when I teamed up with some screwbots, some seesaw inspectors, and a sports champion! And you may be asking, why do I have so many jobs? It's because the economy sucks so I need many part time jobs for many bananas. I hope you understand.)

#rhythm heaven #tap trial #exhibition match #pajama party #tambourine #screwbot factory #double date #see saw

[chattingwiththelightkeeper]

The World Changed 161 Years Ago Today

The Civil War defined us as what we are and it opened us to being what we became good and bad things. It was the crossroads of our being, and it was a hell of a crossroads. - Shelby Foote

Less than a week ago, the world remembered the twenty-second anniversary of 9/11 and no matter the radio station, TV program, or sporting event all took time to pause and remember and even New York City’s Fashion Week is paying tribute. It is well and good that we honor that day, the lives lost, and how it changed the world, the shock and horror of the attacks coupled with the heroism of those who rushed in where everyone was trying to run out plus those who fought back over Pennsylvania. Today is another anniversary in American history. This is a day that changed the country forever and cost more lives than 9/11, yet it is unlikely anyone will see one news story about it, no sporting events will take a moment for reflection, and certainly, no fashion show will remember it. One hundred and sixty-one years ago in the countryside of Maryland outside of the small village

of Sharpsburg along the banks of Antietam Creek, 113,000 men fought a battle that changed the United States forever.

The battle started shortly before 5:30 a.m. on the right-hand side of the Union battle line when Northern soldiers advanced on Southern positions believed to be just beyond a fully grown cornfield near a small white church. This church was the gathering place of a German-American pacifist denomination, called the “Dunkards” by locals, as the congregation would submerge or “dunk” new members in Antietam Creek. The church looks more like a schoolhouse as this sect believed a steeple immodest. As the Union soldiers advanced towards the cornfield, officers noticed the shiny glint of bayonets among the corn stalks, and the epic struggle began. The fighting seesawed back and forth with each side charging, taking positions, and then being forced back when the other side countercharged. By 10 that morning little territory had changed hands but the armies on both sides in this area were spent and this section of the battlefield grew quiet. While this part of the battle lasted just four and a half hours, over 13,000 were casualties. A soldier after the battle said the corn stalks were cut down with bullets and shells so close to the ground that one could not have done it better with the sharpest of knives.

The sketch is from Battles and Leaders of the Civil War 1887, p. 687, and the cornfield as it is today from the New York Monument. ©CWTK

As the roar of war died down to their right, the Union soldiers positioned near the center of the battle line prepared to enter the fray. The area where this fighting occurred is compact in size, roughly eight soccer pitches in size. Here the Confederate troops had taken a position along an age-old wagon road that years of rain and use wore away the earth causing the road to be five feet below ground level. This “sunken road” offered ideal concealment and the Union troops attacked in wave after wave. Each attack melted away as snow does when it falls on the warm ground. Eventually, remnants of the famed Union Irish Brigade who were trapped on the battlefield by this murderous position found a way to bring their guns to bear on the sunken road creating such carnage this section of the battlefield is now called Bloody Lane. One of the many ironies of the Civil War is that the Northern troops who fought here were primarily of Irish background and the Southerners in the Bloody Lane were Irish as well. The Union forces were able to finally capture the sunken road but like before, they were not able to hold the positions gained. By 1 pm this area of the battle had grown calm and both sides were back in the positions they were in when the fighting started. Causalities now numbered over 19,000.

The Sunken Road ©CWTK

While the battle for Bloody Lane was concluding, on the far left, Union General Ambrose Burnside (best known for his unique facial hair that created a fashion trend that is still with us today, sideburns) set about forcing the Confederate forces facing him to retreat. Although Burnside had a great numerical superiority in men 12,500 to 3,500, the defenders were located on a hilltop with Antietam Creek between them and Burnside’s men. The creek was deep and the only way the Union troops could cross was on a stone bridge just over twelve feet wide. Even though they knew what they were facing, the Union men formed their lines, marched to, and attempted to cross the bridge while shot and shell rained down from the hill. For three long and horrific hours, the Union tried and retried crossing the stone bridge with each attempt failing. Finally, enterprising soldiers discovered a shallow section of the Antietam downstream shielded from view allowing them to wade across and finally capture the hill. This success was short-lived as Southern reinforcements arrived and pushed the nearly victorious soldiers of Burnside’s command back to near where their day started.

The stone (Burnside) bridge over Antietam Creek ©CWTK 

It is now just after 5:30 pm and the battle has essentially ended. After nearly twelve hours of bloodshed, the battle has left 3,650 dead, 17,300 wounded and 1,770 missing for a total of 22,720 casualties. Twenty percent of the men that went into battle that day were wounded or dead. The story does not end here for those unlucky souls who were wounded as modern medicine of that time required the amputation of limbs when an arm or leg was struck by a bullet. The ammunition used at the time was made from soft lead, unlike the modern steel jacketed rounds that ‘clip’ bone possibly allowing leg/arm wounds to heal, the soft lead destroyed bone and tissue leaving the surgeons no choice but to amputate. Those who received wounds to their arms or legs were far luckier than those who received a wound to their core. That same soft lead that would destroy bones would severely damage internal organs and the doctors did not yet have the knowledge or tools to repair such trauma. Soldiers at the time called it being “gut shot” and knew it was a death sentence (often a painful and very slow process that could take days to weeks). This is why if you see photographs of the Civil War dead, it will often look as though someone has rummaged through the dead soldiers' clothing in search of valuables. This was the wounded men themselves ripping away their clothing frantically looking and hoping the wound they received would not mean death. Since even state-of-the-art medical care then was crude and unsterile, twenty-two percent of those wounded later died of their wounds. When the dead on the field of battle are combined with those soldiers whose battle for life ended at a hospital, this day cost 7,456 lives.

This battle produced three significant impacts that touch every American even today. 

First, the American Civil War occurred as the art of photography was developing.  Alexander Gardner, a Scottish immigrant, became well known as well as connected because he managed famed photographer Matthew Brady’s Washington DC gallery (In fact many of Gardner’s Civil War photographs were originally credited to Brady). Through his connections, Gardner became the staff photographer for the Union Army that fought at Antietam. While the cameras of this era did not have fast enough shutters to capture ‘action’ photographs, Gardner’s proximity and the wagon he converted into a traveling darkroom allowed him to record the first photographs of the war that the public had ever seen. Until these photographs were exhibited, the only images of war seen by the lion’s share of people were products of artists’ imaginations which often glorified combat. Starting with Antietam, images of war would no longer be from imaginations but would be told through the lenses of photojournalists.

Here are some of Gardner’s images from Antietam including the iconic photo of Bloody Lane.  He was able to gain access to the battlefield on September 19, 1862, two days after the battle.

Below is Alexander Gardner’s famous “Bloody Lane” photograph:

Another outcome of this battle was the Union victory at Antietam kept the world's superpowers, England and France, from involving themselves in the conflict. A quick history lesson for those who do not know, the United States was not a superpower in 1862. Until this point in the war, all the major battles fought in the Eastern Theater, roughly meaning near Washington DC, (Antietam is less than an hour and 1/2 drive from Capitol Hill even with notorious D.C. traffic) had resulted in Confederate victories. These repeated victories caused the governments of England and France to consider recognizing the Confederacy as an independent country, just as France had done for the Colonies during the American Revolution. France and England were considering this action primarily to get their massive textile factories producing again and bring large numbers of their citizens back to work. The South’s cotton was the raw material that fed huge mills and the Union blockade as well as the South’s decision to drastically limit exports had cut this flow of raw material off. Because of a lack of cotton, these massive mills were shuttered leaving thousands of their employees out of work. In England alone, job losses were around 60% in the textile industry, leaving approximately 295,000 unemployed and the majority of the unemployed being in Lancashire. There was no unemployment insurance at the time and the politicians had a large number of their constituents needing to return to work simply to feed their families. However, the resolve of the Union to repel this invasion led to England and France withholding recognition. Without foreign assistance, the Confederacy would struggle to acquire the provisions needed to wage war as well as develop and grow an economy. The failure to secure diplomatic status as an independent country was a death blow to hopes for the Confederacy.

Most Americans today when asked what caused the Civil War, will answer slavery and with most momentous events, simple one-word answers sound great but there is much more to the rest of the story. Slavery was the root cause and always an emotional undercurrent to the conflict however, if you asked the average Southerner what they were fighting for they would share that they were fighting for states’ rights, and in the North, the majority of the public felt they fought to preserve the Union. This view can be seen in President Lincoln’s open letter to newspaper editor Horace Greeley who had attacked him for not ending slavery: 

My paramount object in this struggle is to save the Union, and is not either to save or to destroy slavery. If I could save the Union without freeing any slave I would do it, and if I could save it by freeing all the slaves I would do it; and if I could save it by freeing some and leaving others alone I would also do that. What I do about slavery, and the colored race, I do because I believe it helps to save the Union; and what I forbear, I forbear because I do not believe it would help to save the Union. I shall do less whenever I shall believe what I am doing hurts the cause, and I shall do more whenever I shall believe doing more will help the cause.

An amazing note about this letter to Greeley, Lincoln wrote it on August 22, 1862, exactly one month after he had decided to issue the Emancipation Proclamation and was waiting for the correct time to release the proclamation. The pundits of the era attacked him for this saying this letter showed a lack of commitment to the abolition of slavery. What Lincoln was doing in reality was subtlety informing the public that when he released the proclamation it was part of the plan to save the Union and preserve the coalition of Unionists and Abolitionists in Congress working together.

On July 22, 1862, Abraham Lincoln summoned his cabinet for a meeting, which was a surprise to its members.  At this meeting, the President announced he had made up his mind to issue an Emancipation Proclamation and this was not up for debate. William Henry Seward, the Secretary of State and today best known for what was called Seward’s folly the purchase of Alaska from Russia offered a piece of advice by suggesting that Lincoln wait until the army had achieved a major victory because “such a proclamation ought to be borne on the bayonets of an advancing army, not dragged in the dust behind a retreating one”. Issuing the proclamation without achieving a substantial victory would give the English and French governments the impression Lincoln’s government was grasping at straws to retain power. Antietam was the victory that Abraham Lincoln needed to release the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation.  The repulse of the invasion of Maryland provided him with the victory needed. Just five days after the victory at Antietam, President Lincoln announced the Preliminary Emancipation Proclamation and that it would be formally issued on January 1, 1863.

“. . . on the first day of January . . . all persons held as slaves within any State, or designated part of a State, the people whereof shall then be in rebellion against the United States shall be then, thenceforward, and forever free.” President Abraham Lincoln, preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, September 22, 1862“

For the full document, click here.

So as we go through our normal lives today, take a second and remember the battle that changed the world for the better. Because of the Battle of Antietam, one hundred and sixty-one years ago, photography gave us images of war’s terrible price for the first time, England and France stayed at arm’s length from the American Civil War, and allowed Abraham Lincoln to transform the war from a conflict about states’ rights/preserving the Union to a struggle to end slavery.

I am naturally anti-slavery. If slavery is not wrong, nothing is wrong. - Abraham Lincoln

©CWTK2023

#Antietam #Emancipation Proclamation #Abraham Lincoln #Matthew Brady #Alexander Gardner

[colesterstrudel]

How does it feel for y’all to watch me experience an insane seesaw of emotions every single time I watch sports lmaoooooo I went from being ready to die to it being horny hours in an alarmingly quick fashion. What’s it like to experience it on the other end 💀

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Cheering Date

🍒 Warning: Detailed spoilers for a date, 呐喊之约, which has not been released in EN 🍒

✧ Prologue l First call

[ Released in CN: 5 September 2022 ]

[ 1 ]

Beep beep beep...

I feel around for the alarm clock and shut it off, wanting to take another five minute nap as usual. Something suddenly occurs to me, and my eyes shoot open.

MC: It’s Friday, so Gavin should be back...!

I turn around, pulling my phone out of the charger. Then, I spot a notification on the middle of the screen.

Gavin: I’m back. Once you’re ready, come downstairs. We’re heading out on Sparky today.

MC: !

I quickly pull open the curtains and look outside. However, I don’t see Gavin anywhere.

MC: That’s strange. Since he’s back, why didn’t he come up directly?

Although I’m a little puzzled, the happiness in my heart disperses the doubt.

It’s the day that Gavin returns from his business trip, and also the day that he’s participating in STF’s sports meet.

This sports meet was organised in honour of the Special Ops Team representing Loveland City in a combat skills competition and winning the first place.

The sports meet will be focused on having fun and participating instead of competitiveness. 

Thinking about how I’d be able to admire Gavin in the “arena”, I happily tie my hair into a ponytail and brisk walk into the bathroom, freshening up quickly.

When I head downstairs, I spot Sparky in an instant. The sleek vehicle is outlined by the brilliant sunlight, exuding a similar air as its owner.

MC: But where is he...

I poke the seat, and the heat makes me retract my fingers. At the same time, I receive an answer.

Turning around, I walk towards the depths of the shade of trees where there’s a resting area. It’s a nice place to cool down.

As leaves and branches crunch beneath my feet, the colourful facilities unfold before my eyes, and a familiar figure enters my vision.

Mottled shadows from the trees land on Gavin’s frame, and the wind mischievously toys with his fringe. He’s sitting on a seesaw and appears to be asleep.

Shallow breaths cause his chest to rise and fall slowly, making this tiny world grow quiet along with him.

I slow down my footsteps while scrutinising him in detail.

He seems slightly thinner, and his sideburns seem to have grown a little longer...

MC: But why is he sitting here... there’s a bench nearby.

I dart a glance behind me, only to find that there’s a string tied around the bench with a sheet of paper hanging on it with the following words in large font -

“WET PAINT”

MC: Pfft...

At the same time, an idea springs into my mind. I walk to the other end of the seesaw. After sitting on it quietly, I exert some force...

...but the other end barely moves. There’s only an extremely tiny gap between the seesaw and the ground.

The “surprise” that I imagined doesn’t happen. Just as I’m feeling indignant and wanting to press down on it again, an incredibly soft chuckle drifts through the air.

MC: !

Seeing that I’ve been caught red-handed, I hurriedly let go, looking into a pair of amber eyes.

[ 2 ]

A breeze leaps up, and speckles of light filter through the rustling falling leaves, making the person in front of me appear exceptionally bright.

Gavin: MC.

Traces of tiredness are in his voice, causing my heart to soften.

MC: Officer Gavin, you’ve worked hard. Welcome back.

As though responding to me, a breeze carrying the warmth of morning brushes stray hair behind my ear.

Gavin: I had a dream earlier, and it was just like this. The moment I opened my eyes, I saw you.

MC: Hahaha. How do you know that you aren’t dreaming right now? It’s common to have dreams within dreams.

I pretend to sound mysterious. In the next second, he leans back, causing me to rise.

The abrupt increase in height causes me to tighten my grip on the handle quickly. When I lift my head, I meet his smiling eyes.

MC: I didn’t expect Officer Gavin to launch sneak attacks...!

Mimicking him, I do my best to lean backwards. However, the other end of the seesaw remains stable and unmoved.

Feeling indignant, I tap on the handle.

MC: Little Kid Gavin, you’re not being fair. If you continue like this, I won’t play with you anymore!

Gavin: You’re too light. It isn’t fair at all. Let me help you.

While saying this, a bundle of wind gathers nearby. I blink, shifting backwards tentatively. Sure enough, Gavin is lifted up gently, and his hair lifts up as well.

He smiles while leaning backwards slightly, causing the seesaw to sway upwards and downwards leisurely.

Gavin: I'm being fair now. Will you continue playing with me?

MC: Pfft... Why are you waiting for me here? You could have woken me up to open the door for you.

Without waiting for me to finish, he suddenly chuckles.

Gavin: I did knock. But you weren’t awake. You even kicked the blanket away.

MC: ...

Gavin: Fortunately, there was a gap in the window and the wind could be put to use.

MC: You covered me with the blanket?

Watching him nod, I feel a little embarrassed and rub my hands together while changing the topic quickly.

MC: O-oh yes, what time will the sports meet start? Isn’t it time to go?

Gavin lowers his head to glance at the time, then slides his phone into his pocket.

Gavin: We could play here for a little longer if you want. With Sparky around, we have more than enough time.

MC: That won’t do. You have a competition today, so you’ve got to go early and warm up.

While saying this, I point at my backpack, feeling pleased with myself.

MC: Also, your cheer captain is all ready. All that’s left is the “breeze” in front of me~

With Sparky’s breakneck speed, we arrive at the location of the sports meet - a training ground outside the STF.

As we walk towards it, the spacious track and grass enter my vision, and a familiar melody used in sports meets meets drifts from overhead, transporting me back to my days of youth.

MC: This is basically the same as a school’s sports meet!

??: Of course! We replicated a school’s sports meet for this. This is called a “nostalgic style”!

A familiar voice drifts from behind me. Turning my head, I spot Tang Chao waving at us as he walks over.

Tang Chao: Reporting to Captain Gavin - the first high jump competition is almost about to start, and it’s time for the roll-call.

MC: High jump? Gavin, you haven’t told me which events you’ve registered for.

Before I can finish speaking, Tang Chao clears his throat pretentiously. He retrieves a sheet of paper from his pocket and unfolds it before my eyes.

Tang Chao: Tada - this is Captain Gavin’s registration slip.

I’m stunned monetarily by the sudden sense of ceremony. Then, I lean over. In the next second, my eyes widen.

MC: ...why did you register for almost everything?!

Seeming to realise how stunned I am, he coughs in an unnatural manner.

Gavin: I didn’t put much thought into it at the time. Since you were going to cheer me on, you’d definitely feel bored just sitting down. Which is why I registered for a few more events.

Staring at the tips of his ears which are flushed from sunlight, I lean towards him and give him a mischievous wink.

MC: In that case, I’ll cheer you on loudly in every single competition.

Tang Chao: I’ll return the registration slip to its rightful owner then. The timing of every competition is on it.

Tang Chao grins while stuffing the registration slip into my hand. Before Gavin can shoot a dagger-like gaze at him, he quickly takes a huge step back.

Looking at the tick-filled registration slip, I suddenly notice that one particular tick seems different from the others. It’s rounded and smooth, as though it was added on at short notice.

Relay race for pairs...?

Noticing my gaze, Gavin leans over as well. The breaths next to me quieten momentarily, and an icy voice drifts over.

Gavin: Tang Chao.

Tang Chao: Reporting to the Captain - I registered you for the relay race. I’ve deeply reflected on my inappropriate act of making a decision without authorisation. After the sports meet, I’ll punish myself with twenty laps. After all, Captain’s sweet reunion is much more important than my punishment. Also, it’s incredibly rare for the STF to have such family events. I couldn’t let Captain miss out on this experience.

Tang Chao puffs out his chest, his gaze sincere and even containing an “unafraid of dying” aura.

Gavin’s brow arches slightly. After a very long time, he speaks calmly.

Gavin: Fifteen laps. And don’t do this again.

Gavin ignores Tang Chao’s gaze, which is reminiscent of someone who has received a great pardon. He turns around, hooking his fingertips around mine gently.

Gavin: MC, I can withdraw from the competition. There’s no need to force yourself.

MC: There’s no need for that. I actually wanted to give it a try. It’s thanks to Tang Chao acting without thinking that Officer Gavin can check the results of my training so far.

Tang Chao: Yes yes yes!

Gavin: Do you want to carry out your punishment now?

Gavin’s gaze lands on Tang Chao coolly, causing the latter to do a zipping motion in front of his mouth.

Gavin turns back, smoothening my windswept hair.

Gavin: The STF has prepared sporting outfits for both men and women. I’ll ask Tang Chao to bring a set over for you later.

I nod, making a display of stretching.

MC: I'll work hard not to be a burden to Captain Gavin!

Gavin chuckles, and the intractability in his eyes is exceptionally bright in the brilliant sunlight.

Gavin: If you want to win, we definitely won’t lose.

[ 3 ]

MC: Gavin, do you want to withdraw from a few events so that you can take breaks in between?

After the roll-call, I stare at the registration slip in my hand. Out of work habit, I’ve arranged “time slots” for him.

Gavin: Don’t worry, these aren’t much to me. For now, you could help to pin the number on me.

With a “mm”, I take the number from Gavin’s hand and carefully pin it on the back of his clothes.

At this moment, a loud and clear voice drifts from behind.

??: Contestants who have registered for the high jump, please head towards the field.

Watching as the other contestants head over in succession, I tug on the corner of Gavin’s sleeve.

The moment he turns his head, I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him on the lips.

MC: Just in case my cheers are drowned out later, I’m warming you up in secret first.

He suddenly chuckles, specks of light slipping into his curved eyes.

Gavin: I wasn’t interested in getting number one at first. But things are different now. I won’t let your cheers go to waste.

A kiss reminiscent of a dragonfly flitting across water lands on my forehead, encasing me in his unique scent.

-

Along the way back to the audience seats, I notice a few members of the STF scurrying around busily around the podium while holding stacks of paper.

They seem to notice my gaze, and signal that I should look at a roll-up banner at the side.

STF Agents: Family members and colleagues, you’re welcome to submit your well wishes here. We will broadcast them during the competitions.

The advertising poster is filled with the colourful race track, and there are incredibly vivid and adorable tiny figures doing different sporting poses.

I smile, struck with an idea.

After sitting down at a spot in the audience section which has a pretty good view, I hear the bright sound of a whistle accompanied by cheers from the field. It seems that the competition is about to begin.

I hurriedly lean over to look, and immediately spot Gavin in the crowd.

He’s currently doing warming up exercises. His long legs are in the shape of a bow. As he stretches, the taut outline of his muscles can be seen instantly.

Sunlight streams down boundlessly over his head, plating him with a clear and dazzling layer of light.

As though sensing my gaze, Gavin turns his head towards my direction. I quickly wave at him, and he lifts his hand in response.

At this moment, I suddenly remember something. I retrieve a tiny blue flag from my backpack and wave it fervently.

Gavin chuckles. His lips move slightly, and he seems to be saying something.

I’m taken aback. Before I can gesture to show that I’m unable to understand him, he turns around and walks towards the preparation zone.

Not long after, my phone vibrates. There’s a voiced text from Gavin.

Gavin: Sure enough, my captain has made very thorough preparations. From now onwards, keep your eyes on me.

Beep!

The whistle signalling the start of the trial jump sounds. I stand up, my gaze locked on Gavin.

His legs are nimble on the race track, as though every step is made in preparation for the jump - they are skilful and move with ease.

Watching as he draws closer and closer to the high jump pole, I once again wave the tiny flag while shouting loudly.

MC: Gavin, all the best!!

In the next second, he turns on his back and leaps with force, instantly putting a great distance between himself and the high jump pole beneath him.

In the blink of an eye, he bends his knees and lands steadily on the mat.

As the difficulty level of the high jump increases, the contestants are eliminated in succession. However, I’m still able to continue watching Gavin crossing over the pole.

That is, until a whistle sounds, signalling that the high jump competition has successfully come to an end.

Unsurprisingly, Gavin had the best score and won first place.

As he walks across the race track and towards the audience seats, I retrieve a bottle of water from my bag and go towards him.

MC: As expected of Captain Gavin - there wasn’t any suspense at all!

He chuckles, hanging the gold medal in his hand around my neck.

Gavin: I have to take part in other competitions, so I’ll leave this in your care for now.

Looking at the gold medal in front of my chest, I can’t help but tease him.

MC: I’m afraid that my neck won’t be able to handle the weight after a few more events~

Gavin: I’ll hold them then?

Knowing that I’m joking with him, he plays along and stretches out his hand towards me.

I quickly cover the gold medal, turning around and not letting him touch it.

MC: No way! I had never won any medals back in high school sports meets. I felt like an observer without a sense of participation... which is why I’d like to experience how it feels for a while.

[ 4 ]

Gavin seems to internalise what I said earlier. Over the next hour, more and more medals are hung around my neck.

The glittering gold and silver draw the attention of more and more people...

Although my face is a little red, I straighten up proudly, letting them glisten brilliantly in front of my chest.

Even though this is a casual competition, these are medallions of Gavin’s hard work.

It’s just that... even though the events are nearly over, the well wish that I had submitted earlier has not been broadcasted yet.

MC: When will it be my turn...

Just as I’m about to head to the podium, Gavin walks towards me with another medal.

Gavin: MC, this is the second last medal.

MC: That quickly?!

He nods, smiling while removing all the medals in front of my chest.

Gavin: There’s one event left - our relay race.

Hearing this, I point at the sports outfit that I had changed into during a gap in Gavin’s competition.

MC: Mm, I’m all ready!

Gavin: Let’s go for the roll-call then.

After noting down our information, we’re allocated to the final leg through drawing lots, and head towards our designated starting line.

Watching as the other contestants practice their cheers, I quickly retrieve the ribbon and tie our ankles firmly together.

MC: Gavin, let’s make a frantic last-ditch attempt!

While saying this, I pull on Gavin’s hand and place it on my waist. He tightens his grip slightly before taking a step with me.

However, making a last-ditch attempt doesn’t go as smoothly as planned. Even though Gavin cooperates by taking smaller steps, we end up stumbling when running...

??: One, two, one two... Steady your center of gravity and follow the rhythm!

Looking at the other contestants who have long since entered the zone and run past us smoothly, I gradually slow down, feeling frantic.

Without waiting for me to speak, Gavin leans over and unties the ribbon around my ankle.

Then, I feel my center of gravity shift. In the next second, he carries me in his arms.

Gavin: This will work.

MC: ?!

Gavin: The rules state that each pair has to be pressed together in some way. This doesn’t count as breaking the rules. Also, I’m able to carry you with one hand. This won’t impact my performance.

...that’s not the point!

MC: I-is there another posture...

Gavin: It’s easy to fall if our feet are bound together. Other forms of cooperation have a high level of difficulty... This way saves the most time and energy.

Listening to Gavin’s dead serious analysis causes my face to grow increasingly red under the gazes of contestants who pass by.

I take a deep breath, wanting to persuade Gavin to change our posture. At this moment, a child-like voice drifts from behind us.

??: Uncle, look! That’s the princess carry that appears in dramas!

??: ...you little rascal, why do you have a sharp eye for such things while you aren’t able to identify wrong words in your exams?

Hearing a familiar voice, I peek over Gavin’s shoulder to have a look.

Gavin turns 180 degrees while still carrying me, and we discover that the person walking towards us is Eli, who is followed after by a little girl who is around 7 or 8 years old.

At this moment, Eli realises our presence. As though he choked on something, he pauses in his footsteps.

Eli: Why are the both of you here? Don’t you have anyone else to flaunt your romance to in the STF?!

??: Big Bro Gavin~

The little girl lets go of Eli’s hand and runs over to us. I hurriedly poke Gavin, and he finally puts me down.

Gavin: This is Eli’s niece, Jing Jing.

Jing Jing: Wow... I’ve finally met Big Bro Gavin’s girlfriend. She’s a pretty Big Sis! Big Bro Gavin, could you let my uncle inherit your secret romance tips? He’s been single for so long...

Jing Jing glances at Eli, placing a hand on her forehead and sighing like an adult.

Gavin: Even if I taught him, he wouldn’t get it. 

Jing Jing: Does this mean my uncle will be single for life?

Eli: Touch wood! I wonder what other “kind words” you’d say about me if I left you here.

He lifts Jing Jing onto his shoulder before looking at Gavin.

Eli: Gavin, we’re heading off now. All the best in getting second place. The first place belongs to us.

Gavin: When have you ever won against me?

Eli waves his fist towards Gavin, then turns around and walks to a spot two tracks away.

All of a sudden, the megaphone over our heads crackles.

Announcement: Next up, we have the well wishes from family members of the Special Ops Team.

Hearing that my well wish is finally about to be broadcasted, I abruptly stiffen up, my ears burning.

This is way too coincidental. Doesn’t this mean my well wish will be read out while I’m with Gavin...

Gavin seems to sense my odd behaviour and chuckles in understanding.

Gavin: Did you write one?

I nod in embarrassment.

MC: Mm. Even though I’ve prepared tools to cheer you on, doing this seemed to be a little more obvious and eye-catching~

I pause for a moment, tidying the stray hair in front of his forehead naturally.

MC: More importantly... I realised that everyone silently acknowledges how amazing and outstanding you are, and how you can easily get the first place in everything. But I’ve never thought of your “victories” as mere habits. They need to be recognised and encouraged too.

Perhaps due to my actions being slightly ticklish, Gavin suddenly chuckles.

Gavin: It’s enough that you think in such a way. I’ve never cared about what others think.

Before he finishes speaking, a whistle sounds, and I pull on Gavin as we return to the starting line.

MC: Hurry hurry, we haven’t decided on our posture!

Gavin is taken aback. He leans down subconsciously, ready to carry me.

Thinking about how the earlier posture was going to repeat itself, an idea strikes me. As he bends down, I jump onto his back.

MC: Gavin, why don’t you carry me on your back while running? It’d be more convenient for you to run, and I can be responsible for holding the baton. Most importantly... I want to look to the front with you as we head towards the goal!

As a chuckle drifts to my ear, he locks my legs in place, enabling me to lean against his back firmly.

Bang!

In an instant, cheers surround us like a wave. I turn my head, realising that the contestant in the first leg has already rushed forward.

Soon after, the second, then the third...

Perhaps due to the members of STF having incredible physical stamina, the distance between contestants are almost the same, which causes the atmosphere to become fiery and intense.

Soon after, the STF agents in the second last leg run towards us.

Gavin: MC, take deep breaths.

His calm voice soothes my sense of panic. I suck in a deep breath, my hand reaching towards the back, ready to grab the baton.

Then, I channel my entire focus towards the runners as they leap towards us on the red and white track.

In the next second, I grab hold of the baton steadily. At the same time, Gavin kicks off on his feet and runs.

Even though he’s running very quickly, his hands hold me steady and I don’t find it bumpy at all.

Cheers from the surroundings continue to surge over like a heat wave, but what envelops me are steady yet powerful breaths.

Although I can’t see his face right now, I know that those intractable eyes are focused on the finish line.

And he won’t sway one bit.

Gavin: MC, are you ready to receive the final medal?

Watching as the finish line gradually draws closer, my grip around his neck tightens.

In the next second, Gavin crosses the yellow finish line as it floats beneath the brilliant sun. The wind blows wilfully, and the broadcast releases a loud and clear sound high in the air.

Broadcast: “Each time you run, you’re always a figure heading towards the light. When you approach the finish line, you’re also the rustling hem of a shirt as it flutters in the wind. Whether you win or lose, I’ll always be proud of you. And I’ll always cheer you on.”

I tilt my head to observe Gavin’s reaction. As expected, I see his unconcealed smile.

He places me down slowly amidst the cheers flanking us from both sides. Then, he grips the yellow finish line and places it in my hand.

Sunlight illuminates his eyes clearly, and I can almost see my entire self in them.

Gavin: MC. Despite what you said, I still prefer for you to be proud of my victories. We’ve got our number one. And you’re not just an “observer” for the sports meet this year.

MC: That’s only because I’m stealing your glory~

Gavin: And I’m stealing your glory. Everyone knows that I have a very incredible cheer captain. She always motivates me to continue going forward.

At this moment, the wind stirs and brushes away the hubbub from the surroundings. All that’s left are the words from the person in front of me.

I stand on my tiptoes, grinning while giving him a gentle peck on his lips.

MC: In that case, Officer Gavin will have to continue running towards countless finish lines. And I’ll be with you as we run together.

✧ Second Call: here

✧ Moments: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

[hindisoup]

Childhood Play Vocabulary

खेलने की जगह - play area (feminine) खेल का मैदान - playground (masculine) बग़ीचा, पार्क - park (masculine) मनोरंजन पार्क - amusement park (masculine) अड़ोस-पड़ोस, मोहल्ला - neighborhood (masculine) आंगन - yard (masculine) बचपन - childhood (masculine) बाल विकास - child development (masculine) रचनात्मकता - creativity (feminine) कल्पना - imagination (feminine)

At the Playground

खेल के मैदान उपकरण - playground equipment (masculine) * this equipment can be रोमांचक (exciting), आकर्षक (interesting, attractive) and चुनौतीपूर्ण (challenging) for children. झूमा-झूमी - teeter-totter, seesaw (feminine) झूमना - to sway, rock, wave (intransitive) झूला - swing (masculine) झूलना - to swing (intransitive) चढ़ाई फ्रेम - climbing frame, jungle gym (masculine) स्लाइड - slide (masculine) * a slide can be सीधा (straight), लहरदार (wavy) or सर्पिल (spiral). * पानी की स्लाइड - water slide सीढ़ी - ladder (feminine) सीढ़ियाँ - stairs (feminine) स्लाइड के शीर्ष पर चढ़ना - to climb to the top of the slide (intransitive) ढलान - chute of a slide (feminine) ढलान को नीचे स्लाइड करना - to slide down the chute (feminine) स्लाइड पर खेलना - to play on a slide (transitive) खेलने का घर - play house (masculine) रेत, बालू - sand (feminine) रेत के खिलौने - sand toys (masculine) खोदना - to dig (transitive) बाल्टी - bucket (feminine) फ़ावड़ा - spade, shovel (masculine) रेत का महल - sand castle (masculine) रेत का महल बनाना / खड़ा करना - to make a sand castle (transitive) पतंग - kite (masculine) पतंग उड़ाना - to fly a kite (transitive) हिंडोला - carousel, marry-go-around (masculine)

Toys

खिलौना - toy (masculine) * toys are often made of लकड़ी (wood) or प्लास्टिक (plastic). गुड़िया - doll (feminine) गुड़िया का मकान - doll's house (masculine) खिलौना गाड़ी - toy car, also खिलौना कार (masculine) से / के साथ खेलना - to play with [toys, dolls, cars...] (transitive) आलीशान खिलौना - stuffed animal, plushie (masculine) फ़रफ़री - pinwheel (feminine) घूमना - to turn, rotate, go around (intransitive)

Games and Play

खेलना - to play (ambitransitive) खेल - game, play (masculine) * a game or play can be संवादात्मक (interactive), संरचित (structured) or सहज (spontaneous). * घर के अंदर खेले जाने वाला खेल - indoor game * बहिर्कक्ष खेल, मैदानी खेल - outdoor game खेलने का साथी - play mate (masculine) खेल-कूद - game, fun, sports (masculine) पहेली - riddle, puzzle (feminine) खेल के नियम - rules of the game (masculine) नियमों में बदलाव करना - to change the rules (transitive) खिलाड़ी - player (masculine) लुकाछिपी, छुआ-छुऔवल - hide and seek (feminine) खुद को छुपाना - to hide oneself (transitive), also छुपना (intransitive) खोजी, खोजनेवाला, ढूँढ़नेवाला - seeker (adjective) ढूंढ़ना, खोजना - to seek, find (transitive) अपनी आखें बंद करना - to close one's eyes (transitive) दस/तीस तक गिनना - to count to ten/thirty (transitive) तैयार हो या न हो, मैं आ रहा हूँ! - Ready or not, here I come! गेंद - ball (masculine) गोल - goal (masculine) लात मारना - to kick (transitive) दौड़ना, भागना - to run (intransitive)

Child-like Activities

मज़े / मस्ती करना - to have fun, play (transitive) मज़ेदार - fun (adjective) हँसना - to laugh (intransitive) हाथ में हाथ डालकर चलना - to go hand in hand (intransitive) बच्चों की कविता - nursery rhyme (feminine) गाना - to sing (transitive) ताली बजाना - to clap hands (transitive) घेरा, गोल, गोला - circle (masculine) गोल घेरे में खड़ा होना - to stand in a circle (intransitive) गोला बनाकर बैठना - to sit in a circle (intransitive) अपनी बारी का इंतजार करना - to wait one's turn (transitive) कूदना - to jump, hop (intransitive) रस्सी - rope (feminine) रस्सी कूदना - to jump rope (transitive) साइकिल - bicycle (feminine) साइकिल चलाना - to drive a bicycle (transitive) साइकिल की टोपी - helmet (feminine) हाथ छोड़कर साइकिल चलाना - to drive a bike without hands (transitive) साइकिल से गिर जाना - to fall off a bicycle (intransitive) अवलोकन करना - to observe (transitive) शरारत - prank, mischief (feminine) धकेल देना - to push (transitive) ठोकर खाना - to stumble (transitive) गिरना - to fall (intransitive) लड़ना, झगड़ा करना - to quarrel, fight (transitive) रोना - to cry (intransitive) माफी माँगना - to apologize (transitive)

#30 days of vocab #vocabulary #hindi #हिंदी #हिन्दी

[joleneghoul]

The most intense thing about dog sports is when little dogs are running agility and they get on the damn seesaw and it takes all their tiny body weight to make it reach the ground.

[buzzzchomp]

New York Giants Are The Kings Of Settling

The sixth pick is supposed to be great, but @Giants will be forced to settle. Good thing they are masters at it, but what does it mean for the rebuild? #BigBlue #NFL #NFLDraft @sportspinata

The sixth pick is supposed to be great, but the New York Giants will be forced to settle. Good thing they are masters at it, but what does it mean for the rebuild? Prepare for the intense sports debate that only sibling rivalry can conjure. Seesaw Sports, where Dan Salem and Todd Salem throw down on the NFL, MLB, NBA and more. Only on BuzzChomp. Two brothers from New York yell, scream and debate…

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#buzzchomp #featured #giants #New York Giants #NFL #NFL Draft #NFL Draft 2024 #seesaw sports

[puppyexpressions]

Tips for Getting Started in Dog Agility

If you’ve ever watched an agility competition, you know it’s basically a canine obstacle course. The dog must run through tunnels, leap over jumps, and weave through poles. But the dog isn’t working alone – this is a sport of exquisite teamwork. A successful run requires taking each obstacle in a certain order, and the dog relies on their handler to tell them what that is. That makes agility an exciting celebration of canine athleticism and the dog-human bond.

But is it right for you and your dog? Well, any purebred dog or mixed breed can participate. From Border Collies to Chihuahuas to Basset Hounds, all dogs compete in this sport. Or do you wonder if you’re athletic enough? Don’t be concerned; you don’t have to run as fast as your dog to be successful. Everyone is welcome. Read on and see how you can get started in this dynamic sport.

Agility Benefits for You and Your Dog

There are many benefits to participating in agility. For the dogs, there’s the exercise, the social aspect, and the feeling of having a job or a purpose. And working with their person (rather than just fetching a thrown ball) builds teamwork, trust, a deeper level of communication, and a stronger bond.

Dog agility benefits owners, too. Going to trials or even just classes gets people together with fellow dog people and is a great way to meet new friends. It’s also a fun way to get exercise. Plus, planning handling strategy and reading course maps work your brain like any other puzzles, and I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about all the studies that show how beneficial it is to spend time with dogs.

Is Agility Right for Your Dog?

Now you know how beneficial agility can be for your dog, but is your pet suited to the sport? Confident and happy-go-lucky dogs are going to have an easier time picking things up. But that doesn’t rule out other personalities. Even dogs with problem behavior can benefit because agility teaches them that there are rules in life and following those rules leads to great rewards.

With patient training, even anxious dogs can gain confidence and conquer their fears. After all, if they can run over a seesaw, the rest of the world seems less scary.

Agility training works great with a high-energy dog who tends to bite to get what she wants. Agility will teach her self-control and how to work for things she wants in a socially acceptable way. 

Even certain physical disabilities don’t have to keep your dog out of the ring. For example, deaf dogs are welcome to compete. And although jump height is normally based on the height of the dog (so a Papillon would be jumping a lower height than a Boxer), there’s a lower jump height available, called Preferred, for any handler who thinks that would be better for their dog. Many handlers with older dogs use that option.

And speaking of older dogs, as long as they are up to the challenge, they’re welcome in the ring, as well. Participating in agility will keep their bodies spry and their minds sharp. With any dog, be sure to ask your vet whether agility is a suitable activity. If you do start training, start slow and let the dog’s muscles build up.

A Sport for All Handlers

It might surprise you to know that agility participants range from seniors all the way down to kids. In fact, if a Junior competitor (handlers under 18 years of age) can control a dog, they can participate. You might think you have to keep up with your dog’s running speed, but that’s not the case. With careful planning of your movement through the course and distance training (teaching your dog to work away from your side), you can compete, regardless of your speed.

And disabilities don’t hold agility handlers back either. AKC gets all types of physical abilities from world-class athletes to, a woman in her eighties  competing. I’ve seen wheelchairs, oxygen tank backpacks, walkers/canes, and more.

Getting Started in Dog Agility

To get a taste of the sport at home, you can start training simple foundation skills and working with homemade obstacles like a large open box for a tunnel, or a hula hoop for a tire jump. There are also plenty of books and videos that walk you through training.

But there is no substitute for getting into an agility class. Find a local club and audit a class to see if the instructor’s teaching style suits you. Look for positive training techniques and lowered equipment for beginners. Full-size equipment should wait until your dog is comfortable and has mastered the basics.

We suggests going to local trials to become familiar with how the sport works. You’ll learn more if you leave your dog at home. Plus, an excellent way to learn is to volunteer – there are lots of jobs that don’t require experience, such as setting jump bars, and it gives you a great perspective of everything that goes into running a trial.

And remember, you don’t have to enter competitions to benefit from the sport. Not every dog will enjoy that kind of environment, and you might not want the pressure to perform in front of a crowd. Classes and a backyard course can provide all the fun, exercise, and challenge you need.

Basic Agility Moves

During a dog agility trial, your dog will be off-leash and free to run wherever they choose. This is where the bonding and teamwork come in. You can’t touch your dog, so using only cues and body language, you must direct them where to go because the order of the obstacles changes every time. It’s essential to communicate clearly with your dog, and they need to keep their eyes on you as much as possible.

Besides encouraging focus, it’s key to teach your dog to work on both your right and left sides. Most trick training is done with the dog right in front of the owner, so dogs learn this is a great place to be. After all, they get most of their treats in that position. For agility, you need to convince your dog to move beside you.

Start by rewarding them for sitting beside you. Then work toward moving, slowly at first, then building up to a run. It can help to use an object like a garbage can or tree as a guide and move in a circle around it. Be sure to go in both directions with your dog on the outside. Only put them on the inside (between you and the object) when they’ve mastered the skill. For an extra challenge, line up two objects and run around them in a figure-eight.

Another basic move is teaching your dog to go out in front of you to tackle an obstacle. You won’t always be able to keep up and run by their side, so they need to understand working at a distance. An easy way to build this skill is by using a low jump (a broomstick balanced on some books will do) and a favorite toy or little bag of treats.

Start by throwing the toy or bag over the jump so your dog can chase after it, jumping the obstacle as they go. Once he understands the game, you can add a verbal cue like “Go” and start adding distance a little bit at a time. Don’t forget to play this game with your dog starting on both your right and left sides.

These basic moves should get you started at home. The more difficult handling is best taught in a group or private class. Your instructor will pick up on any subtle body language mistakes you might be making, such as turning a shoulder.

Basic Agility Equipment

An agility course is made up of a series of obstacles, usually 14-20, depending on the class and level of competition. The big, ramp-style obstacles are collectively known as the contact obstacles because they all have “contact zones” (usually painted a bright yellow) that the dog must touch with at least one toenail when descending. The following list explains the basic agility equipment you will find in the ring:

Jumps are made of a bar between two stands. The dog must leap over the bar without knocking it down.

Tire jumps are donut-shaped rings suspended in the air. The height of the tire is based on the height of the dog, who must jump cleanly through the opening.

Open tunnels are long, canvas tubes. They can be either straight or curved, and the dog must enter at one end and exit at the other.

Weave poles are a series of six to 12 upright poles spaced out along a straight line. The dog must enter to the right of the first pole and weave through the others without missing a pole.

Seesaws or teeters are shaped like a teeter-totter at the playground. The dog must run up the side, touching the ground, then ride the seesaw down the other side as it pivots with their momentum.

Dog walks have an up ramp at one end, a flat, elevated middle section, and a down ramp at the other end.

A-frames are made of two broad ramps hinged together into a peak. The dog must scale the up side, scramble over the top, and descend to the contact zone.

You can purchase most of this equipment online for backyard use. Or you can find DIY plans on the web and build it yourself. Finally, you can make simplified versions by adapting things you already have lying around like tomato stakes for weave poles or a blanket over two chairs for a tunnel.

No matter how you start your agility journey, you can look forward to a stronger bond with your dog and years of fun.

#dog agility training #dog agility competition #dog training #agility training

[tealingual]

Playground vocabulary in Finnish

Leikkipaikka, leikkipuisto, leikkikenttä - playground Puisto - park Kiipeilyteline - jungle gym, climbing frame Kiipeilyseinä - climbing wall Keinu - swing Jousikeinu - spring rider, spring rocker Keinulauta - seesaw, teeterboard Liukumäki - slide Hiekkalaatikko - sandpit, sandbox Karuselli - roundabout, merry-go-round Tunneli - tunnel Trampoliini - trampoline Ketjusilta - chain bridge Köysirata - rope slide, zip line, flying fox Pomppulinna - bouncy castle Leikkimökki - playhouse Puumaja - treehouse Leikkikatos - playground shelter, playground gazebo Lelu - toy Lapsi - child Leikkiä - to play around, to play (children's play) Pelata - to play (a game, a sport) Viettää aikaa - to spend time Pitää hauskaa - to have fun

#Finnish #suomi #polyglot #languages #langblr #languageblr #language blog #langspo #tongueblr #studyblr #vocab #mine #playground

[ryuchaekkeuhyojeonsaejia]

STAR BEAM: AN INTRODUCTION

BASICS

Name: STAR BEAM (스타빔 in Korean)

Name Meaning: "7 stars bound to bring optimism (beam)"

Greeting/Motto: We are STAR B to the E A M! 안녕하세요 우리는 스타 빔입니다! (Hello! We are Star Beam!)

Fandom: "ByulBi" (literally 'star rain')

Fandom Name Meaning: "showering Star Beam with love & support so they can grow"

Fandom Colors: English Lavender & Deep Periwinkle

Member Count: 7 (5 Koreans, 1 Korean-American & 1 Chinese)

Label: MBF Entertainment (Korea), Capitol Records/Virgin Music Label & Artist Services/Universal Music Group (USA)

MEMBERS

RYUNA (류나) 

Born Song Ryuna (송류나)

Birthday/Hometown: September 17, 1995/Daegu, South Korea

Nationality: Korean

Position: Leader, Lead Vocalist

Specialty: Acting, Songwriting, Harmonica

Representative Color: True Red

Representative Animal: Turtle

Face Claim: Yujeong (Brave Girls)

Voice Claim: Yuna (AOA)

CHAEHEE (채희) 

Born Choi Chaeyoung (최채영)

Birthday/Hometown: June 8, 1996/Busan South Korea

Nationality: Korean

Position: Lead Vocalist, Main Dancer, Rapper

Specialty: Dancing, Rap, Singing, Acting, Drums, Volleyball

Representative Color: Classic Blue

Representative Animal: Rabbit

Face Claim: Sihyeon (EVERGLOW)

Voice Claim: Chungha

CHLOE (클로에) 

Born Chloe Morisette Han

Korean Name: Han Sooyoung (한수영)

Birthday/Birthplace: August 16, 1996/San Francisco, California, USA

Nationality: Korean-American

Position: Lead Dancer, Lead Rapper, Visual, Vocalist

Specialty: English, Rap, Basketball, Dancing, Acting, Piano, Songwriting

Representative Color: 803 C

Representative Animal: Deer

Face Claim: Liza Soberano

Voice Claim: Jisoo (BLACKPINK)

HYOSHIN (효신) 

Born Jung Hyoshin (정효신)

Birthday/Birthplace: October 16, 1996/Changwon, South Korea

Nationality: Korean

Position: Main Vocalist, Lead Dancer

Specialty: Guitar, Singing, Dancing, Acting, Songwriting, MC-ing

Representative Color: Kelly Green

Representative Animal: Maltese

Face Claim: Hyojung (Oh My Girl)

Voice Claim: Yeonjung (WJSN)

JEONAH (전아) 

Born Jeon Baekah (전백아)

Birthday/Birthplace: November 11, 1996/Busan South, Korea

Nationality: Korean

Position: Main Rapper, Vocalist, Visual

Specialty: Bass, Rap, Songwriting, Track & Field, E-Sports, Singing, MC-ing

Representative Color: Royal Purple

Representative Animal: Siberian Husky

Face Claim: Sojin (ex-9Muses)

Voice Claim: Moonbyul (Mamamoo)

SAEYOON (새윤) 

Born Kim Saeyoon (김새윤)

Birthday/Birthplace: January 24, 1997/Seoul, South Korea

Nationality: Korean

Position: Lead Rapper, Lead Dancer, Vocalist

Specialty: Rap, Songwriting, Dancing, Acting, Japanese

Representative Color: Flame Orange

Representative Animal: Rabbit

Face Claim: Yujin (ex-CLC/KEP1ER)

Voice Claim: Joy (Red Velvet)

YUJIA (유지아) 

Born Yu Jia (于佳)

Korean Name: Yoo Ji Ah (유지아)

Birthday/Birthplace: February 25, 1998/Beijing, China

Nationality: Chinese

Position: Main Dancer, Vocalist, Rapper, Center, Face of the Group, Visual

Specialty: Dance, Acting, Skateboarding, Drawing, Korean, English

Representative Color: Pink Yarrow

Representative Animal: Bear

Face Claim: Sally (ex-Bon Bon Girls)

Voice Claim: Mijoo (ex-Lovelyz)

DISCOGRAPHY

2017 - Game Changer (Whatever/One Day) - debut album

2017 - Syndrome (Syndrome/Say Yes)

2017 - Mellow Memories (Mermaid Princess/Precious Love & Going Crazy)

2017 - I'll Be There (I'll Be There/Yes or No)

2018 - Memory Lane (Click & Super Boy/Who R U & A Person Like You)

2018 - Starry Moment (Starry Moment/Strong)

2019 - S/S 2019 (I Am & Hit That Drum/Seesaw & 0 Mile)

2020 - Spell Bound (Love is Over & Flaming Heart/Can't Be Friends & Why Can't You See)

2020 - Flaming Heart - US Debut Album (Flaming Heart/All I Need)

2021 - "Rights of the Jealous" (English version) - digital single

2021 - "Chasing The Sun"/"Girl Who Cried Wolf"(Mi Sol Amor & Bad Wolf/So Over It & Shots Fired)

2022 - "Lethal Kiss" (My World/Golden Shot)

We hope that you will welcome us with open arms!

#roleplay #urstyle #oc krp #au #oc intro

[rintosei]

was tagged by @kysoomi but i couldn't reblog from u idk why :<

are you named after someone?

nope!

when was the last time you cried?

during the agust d concert... when he sang seesaw sobs

do you have kids?

nope, and i probably will?? but im terrified LMAO

do you use sarcasm a lot?

obviously

what sports have you played?

used to play basketball and badminton but now i rarely exercise

first thing u notice abt people?

either their personality / outfit

eye color?

dark brown

scary movies or happy ending?

HAPPY ENDING >>> I HATE HORROR MOVIES

special talents?

UM... don't have one ig?? no idea

where were u born?

secret

hobbies?

listening music, writing, playing games, watching movies

pets?

i have 12 dogs :>

how tall are you?

158cm (5'2)

fav subject?

i love english a lot (aka because i am really good and i get good grades lol!)

dream job?

um i wanted to be a vet / fashion designer but im not sure now LOL

tagging: @inariezaki @scarahearts @tim-shii @venusbby @jenoutof10 no pressure! :x