#hes such a sweet boy in kickoff universe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

racingtoaredlight · 3 years

Text

RTARL’s 2020 NFL Season Week 14 Extravapalooza

The Week 14 slate of games is straight doo-doo until the AFC North rescues us in primetime. As a result of this, I found it pretty difficult to get up for this week’s Extravapalooza. I know what you’re thinking: I’m a professional being paid ludicrous sums of money to show up on the weekend and give it everything I’ve got. But, I’m only human. My assistant puts my pants on me one leg at a time, just like everyone else. Frankly, I think this lackluster effort falls more on the coaching staff than it does on me.

My picks are in BOLD, and the lines come to us courtesy of our friends at Vegas Insider. I use the “VI Consensus” line, which is the line that occurs most frequently across Vegas Insider’s list of sportsbooks. Your sportsbook of choice may offer a different number, and if you’d like my opinion on said number A) you are insane, and B) leave a comment below and I’ll try to answer at some point before things kickoff today.

EARLY GAMES

Houston Texans (-1.5) at Chicago Bears

Hey, did you know that the Bears traded up in the draft to take Mitchell Trubisky over DeShaun Watson? It’s true! Today, it’ll look like it was the right move. LOL, not really. But, I’m putting my faith in the ability of the Bears defense to bottle Watson up just enough to allow Mitchell a brief afternoon of sweet, sweet glory.

Dallas Cowboys (-3) at Cincinnati Bengals

OH BOY, ANDY DALTON REVENGE GAME!! This game could’ve been a fun time with Dak Prescott and Joe Burrow calling the signals for their respective squads, but sadly what we have in reality is a hideous slopfest that only the most degenerate among us would dare gaze upon.

Kansas City Chiefs (-7.5) at Miami Dolphins

I think the Dolphins defense can do a reasonably good job holding K.C. down, relatively speaking. The problem is that I’m not sure their Tua-led offense can keep pace. They’re still adjusting to life with Tua as their triggerman, and losing their best RB, Myles Gaskin, to the COVID list is a tough blow.

Arizona Cardinals (-2.5) at New York Giants

The Giants have won 4 in a row, while the Cards have dropped 3 in a row and 4 of their last 5. These twin developments are most unexpected. I just can’t bring myself to pick against my beloved Kyler Murray in this one, even though he’s been scuffling and the Giants made Russell Damn Wilson look like crud just last week. Daniel Jones is expected to be back in the saddle for the Giants, which provides another reason to pick New York that I’m choosing to ignore.

Minnesota Vikings at Tampa Bay Buccaneers (-7)

The Vikings are agents of pure chaos capable of both thrashing anyone and being thrashed by anyone, while the Bucs haven’t strung together two good halves in over a month. I truly have no idea what to expect from this game*.

*Judging by my picks record, I have no idea what to expect from any game

Denver Broncos at Carolina Panthers (-3.5)

Here we have an incredibly resistible force meeting an exceptionally moveable object. The Broncos will be without their top 3 CBs, which is less than ideal. Carolina won’t have RB Christian McCaffery or WR DJ Moore, but I still like their odds of hitting a big play on offense and/or capitalizing on a Drew Lock mistake enough to pick them to win by more than a field goal.

Tennessee Titans (-7.5) at Jacksonville Jaguars

Derrick Henry is the jewel of my fantasy team, and since my playoffs begin this week I’m putting the idea of him cranking out a hilarious yardage total while grinding out the clock out into the universe.

LATE GAMES

Indianapolis Colts (-3) at Las Vegas Raiders

The most non-descript game imaginable.

New York Jets at Seattle Seahawks (-15)

The Seahawks need a get-right game after losing to the Giants last week, and lo and behold the Jets are coming to town. The only thing giving me pause here is the non-zero chance that Pete Carroll got sidetracked during the week and the team spent their preparation time learning the TRUTH about a totally different New York jet situation.

Green Bay Packers (-8) at Detroit Lions

Somebody on Twitter (possibly Jim Harbaugh Scramble?) pointed out how much the FOX cartoon graphic for Packers TE Robert Tonyan looks like White Michael Vick from the infamous “What If Michael Vick Were White?” story from a few years ago, and it cracked me up for a solid 10 minutes.

LOL

New Orleans Saints (-8) at Philadelphia Eagles

I’m morbidly fascinated by this game. Saints QB Taysom Hill has looked shockingly competent...when playing against the Atlanta Falcons. How will he do against a different, larger species of bird? I don’t know what to expect out of Eagles QB Jalen Hurts in his first start, but at the very least I think he’ll take off running to try and gain SOME yards if his first couple of reads are covered, as opposed to holding the ball and waiting to get creamed a la Carson Wentz. The Saints defense is a brutal first matchup for him, though.

Atlanta Falcons at Los Angeles Chargers (PK)

I’m following my “Don’t Pick the Falcons If Julio Jones Is Out” rule here. I have no idea if that rule has actually served me well whatsoever.

Washington Football Team at San Francisco 49ers (-3)

As of this writing, I can’t find any solid info as to whether or not Football Team O-linemen Brandon Scherff, Morgan Moses, and David Sharpe are going to play. Even if they manage to get out there, they’re pretty banged up. The o-line injuries combined with the loss of studly RB Antonio Gibson has tamped my enthusiasm for Washington down considerably.

SNF: Pittsburgh Steelers at Buffalo Bills (-2.5)

FIRE TOMLIN! Seriously though, this is Pittsburgh’s third game in 11 days, which is ridiculous. They’ll also be without CB Joe Haden, which will only tempt Josh Allen to chuck it up even more. Whether or not this is beneficial for the Bills depends on how you feel about Josh Allen, I suppose.

MNF: Baltimore Ravens (-3) at Cleveland Browns

The Browns and their fans are riding too high right now. The laws of the universe require them to be knocked down a peg or two, possibly due in large part to former Ohio State Buckeye JK Dobbins returning to Ohio and running roughshod over the home team.

Last Week’s Record: 8-6

Season Record: 82-91-6

#Sports!#Footballl #NFL #Gambling

5 notes · View notes

accidentalharrie · 4 years

Text

Harry Styles: A Crush for the Zeitgeist

At Harry Styles’s “SOLD OUT ONE NIGHT ONLY” celebration in Los Angeles for his new album, Fine Line, a black Lab puppy with a big soft face and chubby paws is the official security dog. As I wait in line and stare at him, he’s staring at his chaperone, pure love in his eyes. The puppy’s training kicks in when the well-manicured probable model ahead of me drops a bag of gourmet cupcakes. The puppy tries to run toward the cupcakes and is eventually taken on a walk to cool off. He could be a mascot here. The demographic of the Harry Styles’s tour kickoff is urgent, excitable sweet tooth.

At the Forum, approximately 17,000 chirpy fans, mostly femme and seemingly circa Styles’s age (25), prance into the stadium with birthday-girl energy and new shirts. The shirt with an impressive plurality here is sold at the merch table outside. (“Where are your regular shirts?” I ask two friends who’ve been on tour with Harry and they laugh and tell me, “In a bag under our seat.” Obviously.) Fifteen minutes before his set time, the merch booths have been picked almost clean. Another probable model is wearing eight gold rings across her fingers that spell F I N E L I N E like brass knuckles.

Instead of wearing Styles concert T-shirts, some of his fans are just dressed like him. If you were wondering where all the bright, high-waisted trousers disappeared to on Friday night, they were with me at the Forum. Like the most consuming of crushes, there is a dual impulse to both be and be with. I count at least five imitations of his Gucci huge-leg sailor-pants look from his album cover. A leopard suit from his last tour; the “Sex” shirt he wore on SNL. For the life of me I can’t keep a Styles song in my head, but the outfits are emblazoned on my cortex. I was at that SNL taping actually, a fact I forgot until I wrote that down. I am a receptive sieve when it comes to this handsome scamp.

To decode Harry Styles to my date (their cultural interests run more to Björk, 1997–2004, plus 2015), I tell them Styles describes Fine Line as “all about having sex and feeling sad.” My date looks at sea for a second and then asks: “At the same time?”

I can’t wait to know the answer. I’ve heard that Fine Line is testing: Can Styles make soulful and patient ’70s psych-rock and still make fan hearts’ skip a beat in 2019? Styles’s fans have flocked tightly around him since his days in confection-pop band One Direction and they stuck close through his eponymous first solo album two years ago: a moody work in the genre of “nonthreatening bad boy.” This year, things got freakier. In a Rolling Stone profile, he told a story about biting his tongue while recording and high on mushrooms, so blood came out of his mouth as he sang. Intense, animal, and daring. In honor of Styles’s new artistic voyage, my date and I split a mushroom.

The lights shoot up, Styles emerges onto the stage, and there’s a collective intake of breath. Actually, the person next to me gasp-shouts “HIS CHEST!” the millisecond before the screams avalanche.

Styles frisks around the stage singing about sex and candy, “Watermelon Sugar,” and a mandate of radical softness and euphoria. He moves like a tickle: intended to make you feel giddy and impulsive. And it’s felt. Being inside the stadium is like being inside the radiating pink heat of a crush feeling. There’s no hesitancy. Fans have come from Brazil and North Carolina. I meet a coven of teens sneaking vodka out of a water bottle in the bathroom, and they tell me they saw him in 2013 with One Direction: “It’s full circle.” Someone at the front of the pit keeps hoisting flowers up toward Styles, little white, sad carnations. The devotion here is as uncomplicated as I have ever seen devotion. I envy that. The Forum, the entire venue, changes its Instagram bio to “Harry Styles stan account [multiple stars emoji]” in an instant.

The metabolism is also immeasurably fast. As my date put it: “Everyone knows everything in here.” His fans know every song in their bones, from an album that was released that day. They shout the words to prove it. On Instagram, I saw a clip of a fan outside saying she hadn’t listened yet [AUDIBLE GASPS], and then she explains this will be a special opportunity to hear the album for the first time live [DIFFERENT GASPS, ADMIRING GASPS]. It’s a sentimentalist’s scene.

People scream the whole time, in addition to bobbling on command and filming. Until Styles, I tacitly agreed that it was a confusing irony that fans screamed over music they wanted to hear. I realize now that he’s made music to scream over. This is a universe of their mutual creation, the soundtrack is just the mood cue.

It can be alienating: This is the music that launched a million zillion hearts? But I realize that a crush should not be judged on talent. And Styles is a perfect crush. Slinking around in the drama of big pants and a Mick Jagger femme blouse. He looks like a rascal androgyne, he acts like a romantic, he’s all chin scruff and nonthreatening sex appeal.

Because of the pants, he dances in a way that Katharine Hepburn might. There’s a feline backward skip that seems to accentuate the knee caps. And other times, in louche-adjacent but ultimately weightless seduction, it seems as if there are string held to the stop of his hip bones. I was thrilled when I read an interview with one of Styles’s favored designers, Harris Reed, who said some clothes were specifically flared so Styles could “dance and do his pelvic thrusting, which he loves to do.” The creature is a perfect crush.

There’s a photo opportunity to stand in Styles’s place: a dark-green screen that will become the Tim Walker–photographed Fine Line album cover (floating hand included). People try to imitate Styles’s stance, but it’s surprisingly tough. I think most people don’t put their hips forward enough. No one quite achieves the lightness of the hand on his waist. And the casual point is rendered as finger gun. Styles is a master craftsman of the fluid choreography.

Can you forgive me for waiting until now to tell you that Stevie Nicks descended onto the stage like an archangel? They Landslid together. (Brief history: Harry Styles paid official tribute to Nicks at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Ceremony by saying, “She’s always there for you. She knows what you need: advice, a little wisdom, a blouse, a shawl”; Nicks mistakenly referred to Styles’s former band as “’N Sync.”) Nicks — dusky voice even duskier, in high beige boots — sways in front of a mic stand with a thousand sparkling scarves on it. Styles approaches his half of the duet with clarity and practice and he does a worshipful dance at her. This whole place is a devotional practice. I remember that I’m on mushrooms and feel religious about it. When they sing, “I’ve been afraid of changing because I’ve built my life around you,” I think about Styles and the fans and their adoring fealty.

So the night’s heating up. Glitter drops from the ceiling (metaphorically “snow” as Styles is singing “Wonderful Christmas Time”). This is nice. Styles says, “The album is yours; I am yours,” so I think it’s a Christmas present. I should write a thank-you note.

The Fine Line’s tour comes with a take-home message: “Treat People With Kindness,” which is incidentally the name of a bombastic choral-influenced song on Fine Line. It’s inscribed on shirts and on handwritten signs, helpfully summarized as “TPWK,” which is incidentally the sound of someone being punched in the stomach.

With three minutes left of the night, Styles launches into “Kiwi,” a song from his first solo album that’s famous for making big floors shake. Before the song breaks, I see a pack of girls in sneakers and skirts and jumpsuits carefully clear a wide circle in the pit and then hurtle into it. Will they be able to thrash with kindness and consideration? Of course, they’ve been studying Fine Line and how to walk it. And when Styles asks them, “Will you dance with me like you’ve never danced before?” I’ve never seen such obedience.

#full article for people who've reached their new york mag limit for the month #fine line live at the forum

33 notes · View notes

hangeladavis · 5 years

Text

A Gift For You On My 30th Birthday

IT’S MY 30TH BIRTHDAY!!!!!!

This is an accurate portrayal of how I felt this morning when I woke up! 30!!!! WOOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!! I have lots of feels so I made a playlist. Naturally. So here are 30 songs (+1 for good luck) that I love and a little bit about them.

Knockin on Heaven’s Door by Bob Dylan - My mom says that this is the first song that came on the radio when we left the hospital. Imagining that it’s the first song I heard is nice.

I Love Your Smile by Shanice - When I was a baby child, this was my song! Every night when my dad got home from work and walked into our apartment in Queens I would run to him and ask him to play my song and I would sing it. HARD! Mind you I was like 2 or 3 but it didn’t matter.

Fly Like An Eagle by Seal - Can we talk about the Space Jam soundtrack!? It was vibe to my 6 or 7 year old self and it still goes! I feel like this album was the first time I really heard music. And felt it.

I Wanna Be Down by Brandy - Ok so my dad got those Columbia House cds for 1c or whatever and the first one he gave me was Brandy’s self titled album. You couldn’t tell me nothing!!! Hairbrush karaoke on a million!

Bills, Bills, Bills by Destiny’s Child - When “Writings on the Wall” came out, I really tried to convince my friends to do a backyard performance with choreography and everything. They said no but it was then at 9 that I knew I wanted to be an artist, a director specifically.

We Can’t Be Friends by Deborah Cox - Another in the Columbia House cd collection, I played this album out and knew every word. I played it last summer after not listening to it for at least 15 years and still knew every word and every riff.

My All by Mariah Carey - “I’d give my all/ To have/ Just one more night with you” I had no real context for what I was singing but I used to sing this song so hard! I miss classic Mariah.

Kick Your Game by TLC - That Crazy, Sexy, Cool album was so classic and it was hard to pick one song but this was my jam!

I’ll Be There by The Jackson 5 - Now that I am older I question if I really want someone to be there with that much fervor after a breakup but when baby MJ sings “just look over your shoulders honey, oooh!” I feel it in my soul!

Dirty Diana by Michael Jackson - This song sends me. From the very beginning, to the beat drop. And when she grabs the phone from him and tells his baby “He’s not coming back/because he’s sleeping with me!” thats a moment. No one wants to be on the receiving end of that call but Diana gets what she wants.

That’s The Way Love Goes - JANET! Queen of the Whisper Sing! Duchess of Tight Choreo! I was way too young to be singing this song but I blame my dad. It’s a sexy jam and I don’t regret it.

Are You That Somebody by Aaliyah - When I was 10, some friends and I danced to this song at our elementary school. My mom choreographed it, we got matching outfits and we performed it. Another group of girls (who were admittedly more popular) danced to “Maria, Maria” and they wore matching cowboy hats. Naturally, there was a showdown on the playground over who was better. Naturally.

Just a Friend 2002 by Mario - Westbury Middle School! It was the best of times and the worst of times. Mainly the worst of times cuz middle school is hellish and there is nothing you could do to make me want to relive those years. But one of the sweet moments was getting a mixed cd from this boy that had a crush on me and this was the first song. Swoon It worked. We dated for a while. It was cute.

My Life, My Love, My All by Kirk Franklin - This is the first song I ever choreographed and it changed my life. I was 10 years old. I showed my mother the choreo and she said teach me. It was in that moment that she validated my artistry. That’s why can’t nobody tell me nothing. I have been doing this for 20 years!

Healing by Richard Smallwood - My mother choreographed this piece for the church dance ministry, Choresis, at Memorial Presbyterian Church in Roosevelt, NY. It was one of their most popular pieces and it gave my mother the outlet she needed to dive headfirst into her artistry. I learned how to lead, facilitate and hold healing arts-centered space from my mother and the women she danced with. Their labor made me possible.

Air Force Ones by Nelly - Back to Westbury Middle School, this song is to honor the Air Force 1s wearing preteen I was. Ooh girl…

Ready For Love by India.Arie - When this song came out I thought I knew what it meant and sang it as such. Girl. Girl Girl Girl Girl Girl Girl… 15+ years later and the only thing I know is that I don’t know very much at all. Also this song is very hetero and I am indeed very queer. lol

I’ll Write A Song For You by Earth, Wind & Fire - Family road trips were not complete without this song. We still sing this song like it’s our job. I knew we were getting older when my brother Jordan couldn't hit the high notes.

As by Stevie Wonder - This song. Whew. When I was 10, my mother and I were asked to dance to this song at the funeral of a baby that died. We did and afterwards I was tore up. I kept thinking about my baby brother, Aaron, who has just been born and how I would feel if he died. I didn’t listen to this song for years. Until I really listened to the words and thought about a love that transcends space and time. This song inspired me to write a musical based on Stevie Wonder’s music. And it is my favorite song by my favorite singer.

Breathe from In The Heights Musical - Fast forward, my senior year of college my parents gave me tickets for In The Heights for Christmas. My best friend Lana and I sat in the second to last row in this Broadway house and when this song started I wept. I mean completely lost it. Because she was singing my story. I was flunking out of college my senior year and hadn’t told my parents. I had been a top student in high school and graduated #5 in my class. But I didn’t have words to name my anxiety, depression and fear that I had no idea what to do with my life after school. “And what will my parent say?/Can I go in there and say/"I know that I'm letting you down” This song still makes me cry.

I’m Here from The Color Purple Musical - I’ll let the song speak for itself. “I believe I have inside of me /Everything that I need to live a bountiful life/And all the love alive in me/I'll stand as tall as the tallest tree/And I'm thankful for every day that I'm given/Both the easy and hard ones I'm livin'/But most of all, I'm thankful for/Lovin' who I really am

Back That Azz Up - Ha! This is my favorite transition. This song is for my undergrad club days at A&T and the Blu&White fam.

Boogie Oogie Oogie by A Taste of Honey - But I don’t actually club for real because I am a grandma that missed my era. I could dance to disco all night actually.

Seasons of Love from RENT Musical - What can I say? I’m a theatre kid. This is for A&T’s theatre department that taught me so much and made me so much of who and how I am as an artist. And Rest in Peace to the mother of our theatre department, Frankie Day.

Screens by Zoocrü featuring Al Strong - In 2016, I met a woman named Margaret A. Brunson who changed my life. (She has that effect on everyone) The first time we hung out she took me to an Kickstarter kickoff party for a band named Zoocrü. I had never heard of them before but as soon as they started playing I was like Who are these boys? I offered my administrative assistance for their campaign and it turned into more than I ever imagined. That offer is what pushed me into consulting and it’s been a joy to work with artists and creatives. I am grateful that our paths crossed.

Sunday Candy by Donnie Trumpet - My grandmother, my Nanny, Evelyne Marie Laisure Marshall passed away on September 29, 2017. Her living made me possible and her passing changed my life. I talk about grandmas so much because I dont know who I would be without her love. I miss her so much but I find her everywhere; in my red fingernail polish, in my card shuffling, in my baking, in my political analysis, in my care. And yes, in the candy dish in my living room.

F.U.B.U. by Solange - Last year I created a show called “Buy My Soul And Call It Art”. I had no idea what I was doing but my Nanny had passed and my cousin Michael had passed and the Universe was telling me to “do it scared”. This song was featured in the piece because I never wanted anyone to forget who this is for, who this is centering. “All my niggas in the whole wide world…”

I Want You by Erykah Badu - The second show in the trilogy is “Buy My Body And Call It A Ticket” and that show almost killed me. I had to go somewhere deep inside myself and that place is dark and scary and I wasn’t sure that I was gonna make it out. But I did. And what brought me back was this. “I want you.” I want my body. I want my life. I want my love. I want myself.

I Need You To Survive by Hezekiah Walker - Show number 3 (which will be rebooted) is “Buy My Art And Call It Holy”. Though I don’t consider myself a Christian, I cannot separate myself from my Christian upbringing and this is one of my favorite songs. When I sing it I am singing it out to my people. I am singing to you. “I need you/ You need me/We’re all apart of one body”

Never Would Have Made It by Marvin Sapp - Yall there have been times when I wasnt sure if I was gonna make it to 30. Seriously. Depression and anxiety is real. Sometimes it zaps the desire to be right out of me. But I am here. And I am so grateful. Here’s to another day, another week, month, year, decade!

Crazy, Classic, Life by Janelle Monae - Did ya’ll think there wouldnt be some Janelle Monae on here!?! This is my theme song! Let’s ride this thing til the wheels fall off!

4 notes · View notes

nth-generation-kpop · 6 years

Text

When You Love Someone

Word Count: ~1900 Pairing: Changlix Requested by: @beeaaniee Summary: Soft movie date (any pairing)

Changbin knocked on the beat-to-hell metal door of Felix’s dorm, considering how much the building resembled a prison as he waited. The strongest visual of course was the chipping paint that looked like it came directly out of Orange is the New Black; but close runners up included the excessive amount of keys or access cards needed to get anywhere (bathrooms, elevators, stairways, study rooms) and the unnecessarily extensive sign in sheets visitors were required to fill out before the very clearly annoyed RA on duty would let you out of the lobby.

Still, it was fun to look at some of the things other people wrote in the “Reason for Visiting” section-- booty call, alien invasion, breaking up with my girlfriend. Tonight Changbin had written “movie date, if you must know,” his laptop squeezed in his backpack next to a box of M&Ms, a bag of microwave popcorn, and a change of clothes. Any other movie night he would have gone home after, but Felix’s roommate Jisung was out of town for the weekend. Changbin liked Jisung but in a dorm the size of a broom closet he always felt like he was running into somebody or just generally in the way. Once in a while Felix would want him to stay over, but he usually convinced his boyfriend to come home with him instead.

“MY TURN TO PICK SUCKER.” Changbin grimaced dramatically as the door opened, unable to keep a smile off his face.

“Please tell me we’re not watching--”

“The Proposal again? You bet we are! We haven’t watched it in months,” Felix said, grinning. Changbin leaned in for a quick kiss before stepping aside so Felix could close the door.

“Babe, we watched it last month, remember? The week after, you and Jisung did the dance at the semester kickoff student mixer and almost got us kicked out.”

Felix giggled to himself. “Hmm nope I don’t recall that, but if it had happened I’m sure it would have been hilarious. And very sexy.”

Changbin just rolled his eyes, opening his backpack and throwing the unpopped popcorn at Felix.

He caught it easily, frowning at the plastic as he tried to tear it open. “Are you staying over?”

Changbin realized he hadn’t been invited, he just assumed he’d be spending the night. “Is that okay?”

“Of course! I figured you would. How was your show last night? A Thirsty Thursday success?”

“Yeah, it was good. It’s still early in the semester so people aren’t spending their whole weekends cramming for exams. Pretty good turnout.”

That may have been… a bit of an understatement. SPEARB’s nights at the club were ranked second most popular all summer and while Changbin expected it to be a fluke, for his popularity to drop off when students flooded back to campus, that wasn’t the case. 5 weeks later he was still solidly in second place. Nearly all the others in the top 10 ranking the club manager kept backstage were actual DJ’s and producers, and he was the only underclassman. He was still half convinced it was dumb luck and people weren’t actually coming to see him-- he’d tell Felix eventually.

“That’s great! Can I come to your next show?”

“I can sneak you in backstage but you’re too young, they won’t let you in.” Felix pouted. “They let you in and you’re not 21.”

“I’m the exception.” The microwave beeped and Changbin pulled his laptop out while Felix searched for a bowl. “You better keep your gross Junior Mints on your side of the popcorn this time.”

“Excuse you? Junior mints are the peak popcorn snack” Felix argued.

“M&Ms are the peak popcorn snack, Junior mints get melted chocolate all over everything, it’s gross,”

“The M&Ms melt too!”

“Yeah, but the coating keeps the chocolate inside, not all over your popcorn.” Changbin winked at Felix. They had some form of this argument every time and Felix still hadn’t come up with a rebuttal to that point.

Felix glared, climbing onto his bed next to Changbin. “Let’s agree to disagree.”

Changbin hummed, leaning over to kiss Felix’s cheek. “Let’s.”

Having seen this movie a seemingly infinite number of times, Changbin opted to let his mind wander while munching on popcorn. It was a good movie, Felix’s favorite by far, but while his boyfriend never got tired of it he couldn’t quite say the same. Still, Changbin chose to indulge him because it made him happy. Lounging against Changbin’s side, Felix’s legs stretched out to the left so he was angled comfortably with his head on Changbin’s shoulder. All Changbin had to do was lean slightly to the left to kiss the top of his head. One of his arms was wrapped loosely around Felix’s waist, hand splayed open on his stomach. The bowl of popcorn sat in Felix’s lap, the right side peppered with M&Ms so Changbin could reach them. As much as they joked about the ‘my half of the bowl/your half of the bowl’ thing, they occasionally stole each others’ candy.

Sometime after the characters got off the plane in Alaska, Changbin was officially spaced out. He watched Felix instead of the movie for a while, the way his eyes lit up at his favorite parts and his cheeks bunched up when he smiled. He counted the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of Felix’s nose-- as cheesy as it sounds, he did it often. He moved his left hand to thread his fingers together with Felix’s, rubbing his thumb over the side of Felix’s palm. And he thought about how incredibly lucky he was to have this boy, this absolute dork who danced to Get Low with his roommate in the middle of a crowded room, who was a professional at wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, who had such a bright personality in contrast to his reserved one.

They met a semester ago, during Felix’s first ever week of classes at the University. They actually met through Jisung, though the boy could hardly claim matchmaker rights as he was entirely oblivious to them liking each other. Changbin invited Jisung to a party with Chan and the others, and Jisung brought Felix along to meet people. In no time, Woojin was mentioning that he and Felix had gotten close really fast-- he claimed to know the moment he saw them together that they were good for each other. It’s like you were in love at first sight. Changbin wasn’t so sure at first. Felix was just so bright and kind-- Changbin didn’t often attract bright and kind. His shyness and stoic personality made him seem a lot more severe than he was in reality. It wasn’t until someone pointed out that he smiled a lot more around Felix that he thought maybe it could work out, maybe Felix made him bright too.

Felix on the other hand was so terrible at flirting that he eventually just gave up with the pretenses. Seemingly overnight he went from being reserved and a little nervous around Changbin to being incredibly... hands on. Felix would light up when Changbin came into the room, pull him in for a hug, purposefully sit next to him in order to spend the whole time with an arm around his shoulder or a hand on his leg. It was a type of attention and affection given so freely that Changbin didn’t know what to do with it besides reciprocate as best he could.

Then one night he was walking back from the library when he spotted a familiar-looking bright orange duffle bag next to a familiar-looking figure on bench outside the dance building. On the off chance that it was his friend, he crossed the street. He found Felix doubled over, head in his hands, and it wasn’t until he was close enough for Felix to look up that he saw the street light reflect off Felix’s wet cheeks-- he was crying. Changbin sat on the bench next to him and, at a loss for how to comfort the boy, simply pulled him close and let him sob. He ran his fingers through Felix’s hair as the boy’s shoulders shook, rubbing his back until he felt Felix’s grip on his own shirt loosen and his breathing even out.

It’s so hard, Felix said. I’m not good enough, I’m so far behind everybody else. Everything went wrong today, just everything. Fine arts programs were competitive at this university, Changbin knew that stress first hand. The professors took a sink or swim mentality to them-- students were thrown into high level classes upon admission, they were given the same assignments regardless of year and expected to practice tirelessly. He recalled his first semester, when mean comments from upperclassmen and stiff criticism on his projects had him feeling so low that he didn’t know what to do. Chan pulled him out of that hole, gave him this same talk-- well, a similar one. Now, he fed Felix some gentle encouragement and walked him home. At the door, Changbin pulled him into another hug and spoke softly into his ear-- You’re so much stronger than you think you are, you’re so much more talented than you can see. I believe in you. This semester is a test, if you get through it you pass, and I know you can do it. I’m here for you. Something in his chest felt tight, almost painful as Felix walked into his building and disappeared around a corner. He wanted to take the pain away, he wanted life to be fair for Felix-- if anybody deserved better it was that sweet, bright boy. That feeling continued each time Felix texted him for encouragement or support, and Changbin hoped desperately that he was helping to make things better, even just a little.

Soon after, Felix received his first positive feedback on an evaluation. He’d been working even harder, putting in longer hours, and cultivating confidence in himself through sheer willpower. Changbin was waiting for him outside after his evaluation and Felix ran directly into his arms. As far as first kisses go, theirs was pretty good.

When he noticed the bowl was empty Changbin set it aside and Felix shifted closer, pulling Changbin’s arms tighter around him and letting his head loll to the side. Changbin smiled, kissing his temple-- yes, he loved this boy.

It wasn’t until Changbin was halfway through planning out a set for his next time performing at the club that Felix finally noticed how disinterested in the movie he was.

“On a scale from one to ten, how bored are you?” Changbin smiled sheepishly.

“I’m with you, I’m not bored.” Felix rolled his eyes and Changbin smirked.

“We can watch something else? The Conjuring?”

“Baby, you hate horror movies,” Changbin said, squeezing Felix’s hand.

“Mmm, I don’t mind watching them with you, plus they’re your favorite.”

Changbin hummed. “Let’s finish this, my favorite part is coming up. Then we can watch something else.”

“Right, the breakfast in bed scene.” Felix tilted his head back to look up at Changbin, grinning.

“Shut up, it’s cute.”

“You’re cute.”

#stray kids #stray kids au #short fic #so this is a peripheral story that's an offshoot of the main theme #and... i havent written in forever so like forgive me if its shit #yeah uh hope you enjoy #and I hope it was what you had in mind @beeaaniee #mine

24 notes · View notes

rantingfangirl · 7 years

Text

Cross Life Chapter Six

Summary: Moving across the pond was supposed to signify new beginnings for the Kirkland family. Arthur’s parents seemed to take that a bit too literally for his liking.

Chapter Index

This was moved from my old account

Noise flooded through the hallway as the bell rang, Arthur's teacher yelling something about plans for the next day. Arthur ignored him, pushing through the waves of students crowding the doorway.

Today was the kickoff of The Lukas Initiative, as Vlad had officially named it, where they were supposed to deliver their first letter to Mathias, Or, rather, Lukas was supposed to.

At lunch, Lukas handed them a list of stories, each one accompanied by a short summary. The three went over the list, Lukas going into detail for some of his favorites. They eventually chose one, a saga about a man named Frithiof, who was sent into exile for defending the one he loved from her brothers. It was a sweet story, or so Lukas had said, and they decided that they were going to use it for their first letter. It was easy enough to change some things to fit their current situation.

He walked as briskly as he could without running, shoving his through the Sea of Fools to their meeting spot. While it was close enough to Mathias' locker that they would have a decent amount of time, it was quite a ways from Arthur's final class, which made it an inconvenience.

Lukas and Vlad were standing in front of a trophy case when he arrived, Vlad impatiently tapping his foot against the white tile. He gave them a sheepish smile, muttering an apology for his lateness.

"No problem. We needta hurry." Vlad motioned for them to follow, picking up the pace when they actually did.

Mathias' locker was located down a hallway and to the left, unfortunately in the crowded main hallway. Though he now knew it didn't make a lick of sense, Arthur at first thought the lockers lining the halls were for decoration. There was no wonder he thought that way his first few days, however. The school was rather large, and, as he had assumed, it would take too long to constantly go to lockers. As a result, everyone carried their backpacks with them.

And though he could say it to himself, Arthur refused to admit to others that he was wrong. Especially Vlad and Lukas.

As Vlad had explained, lockers were used for extra things, such as winter coats and sports gear. Some students chose to store emergency supplies in theirs, one of those students being Lukas. Apparently, he hoarded his college-ruled paper as a firedrake did with its jewels.

They stopped at a corner, leaning against each other in an attempt to see Mathias' locker. Whichever one it was, it was unsurprisingly like all the others, blue, with a gray number label. But to Lukas, from his wide eyes and gaped mouth, it was the beginning to an end, one that he would have to face, blind to its outcome. Arthur snorted. How dramatic.

"Ok." Vlad clapped his hands together, looking back and forth between Arthur and Lukas. We've got two minutes at the most until Mathias comes to get his stuff for soccer. We could, of course, wait until he leaves, but then Mathias wouldn't-"

Arthur cut him off. As much as he didn't want to, he had to say it. "We can't wait until he leaves. I've got Madrigal practice in a little more than five minutes."

He could see Lukas' face fall from the corner of his eye. Earlier, he had offered to leave the two if an extension was needed, only for Vlad to shake his head. "The three of us do it together or we don't do it at all," he claimed.

It was when Lukas nodded that Arthur resigned himself to it. It wasn't that he didn't want the plan to go through, he was the one who wrote it! Arthur just had no idea what he was supposed to do when it came to the execution. Sure, he knew he was to write the letters, but when it came to the actual delivery of said letters? Arthur had no part. No role.

He checked his watch. The simple metal band gleamed under the harsh lights. His mother had bought it for him as a "present", but it knew better. It was most likely yet another test to see if he would actually wear it, to check his "morals".

"If we're going to do it today, we need to do it now."

He and Vlad turned to Lukas, who was holding the dusty rose envelope. His grip tightened around it, face scrunched up with fear and worry.

Vlad put his hand on Lukas' shoulder, giving him a supportive grin. "You can do it, Luke! Don'tcha worry, when ya get back, Arthur and I'll be here for emotional support." He patted his shoulder, once- twice- three times before letting go, shoving him along.

Lukas averted his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He raised the envelope, reading the name carefully and painstakingly written in cursive.

Arthur leaned against the wall, softly tapping his foot. He didn't have time for second guessing, for Lukas to suddenly start regretting everything. Arthur didn't understand why he didn't just swallow it all and get on with it. It was something he surely would've done.

He finally snapped when Lukas gave him a look that screamed for help, wide eyes, sucked in lips, and everything else that came with it. Arthur rolled his eyes, tsking as he snatched the letter from Lukas' hand. It was smooth as he rubbed his thumb back and forth, over the rose engraved in the flap, the paper swooshing as he did so. Arthur pursed his lips. "What's his locker number?"

Vlad scratched the back of his neck. "Uh... pretty sure it's 1019."

"Thanks." He hoped that Vlad was right. If he wasn't, they would have a disaster on their hands.

He turned the corner, stalking over to Mathias' locker. And just as quickly as it began, with a small push into the slats, the deed was done.

As Arthur walked back, he could see a familiar figure from the corner of his eye. He turned to Alfred, giving him a small smile and wave before turning his attention to Vlad and Lukas. He stared at Lukas, who was blushing and hiding his mouth behind his hand. Arthur's voice, along with his expression, was deadpan as he spoke. "It's done."

The blush darkened. "Thank you."

"I will not do this again on Friday."

"I know."

Vlad smiled, giving a soft chuckle. "So~. That was a good start. We'll do better on Friday."

Arthur nodded. Lukas would do better on Friday, even if he had to force him to do it.

The choir room buzzed with activity and excitement. Mr. Vargas pointed around the room, ordering stacks of paper onto wooden tables and gaggles of students against concrete walls. It was loud, loud enough to give Arthur a throbbing headache.

"Quiet." Mr. Vargas' voice boomed through the classroom, and, amazingly enough, it quickly fell silent. Everyone except for a select few seemed to perk up. Arthur scoffed at the sight of these fools with their eyes so wide and attentive.

With everyone in the room still and listening, Arthur just barely doing the latter, Mr. Vargas looked down at his clipboard, tapping his glittering pen against the bottom. "Please keep quiet as I start putting everyone in alphabetical order."

He started at the very first row, then on. After saying each name, he waited until they came up to call the next. It was a slow process, laid back, but Arthur supposed that that was just Mr. Vargas' style.

He tapped his fingers against the wall as he waited for his name to be called. According to Mr. Vargas, it would be easier to pass out necessary files if they all sat this way. Arthur knew it was a lie, because, if it was actually true, he would put his regular classes in the same order. They would have to rearrange into parts when starting the music, anyways. This whole thing was ridiculous. Unnecessary.

"Alfred F. Jones, ma boy, you're up, and Arthur Kirkland next to Alfred."

Arthur rolled his eyes, groaning. Of course, he had to sit next to Alfred. Of course, the universe would be this cruel. Pushing himself away from his comfortable spot, he strolled to his newly assigned seat, plopping down with a huff.

Alfred slumped down next to him, giving Arthur a nasty glare. He replied with a haughty smirk.

Mr. Vargas watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow, along with a few other students, before clearing his throat. "Ok... next person!"

Pulling his backpack up from the side, Arthur slid it under his chair. he leaned against Alfred as he did so, who tried his best to shy away. Arthur clicked his tongue. Interesting. He made a quick, forced apology before sitting back in his chair.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Alfred staring at him, but ignored him, instead choosing to examine a particularly painful hangnail. Whatever he wanted, it wasn't important and would just waste his time. And though he wasn't doing anything significant or important at the moment, he would still count a potential conversation a sacrifice of precious moments.

Mr. Vargas chucked the clipboard and pen on top of the piano, clapping his hands as he paced back and forth at the front of the room. he stopped, giving everyone a lazy, lethargic grin. "Welcome to this year's Madrigal Choir, everyone." When the whoops, hollers, and applause finally faded, he continued. "With just a single sweep around the room, I see some old faces, new faces, and, of course, some newly graduated wenches." Multiple chuckles and glances towards a few people in the room. "So let's give another cheer for a good, productive year!"

The class started another round of noise, Arthur giving a few soft claps, if only to go along. He winced as Alfred gave an earsplitting yell. He gave Alfred a disgusted look as the noise died down, but was irked when he was ignored.

When Alfred slumped back down in his chair, Arthur couldn't help it, his thoughts about wasted time be damned. "Thank you for viciously slaughtering my ear. It was much appreciated."

He didn't say anything in return, which only succeeded in making Arthur even more annoyed.

It wasn't until Mr. Vargas started on this year's goals and plans that Alfred chose to hop down from his stallion and speak to him, He leaned towards Arthur, whispering, his voice firm with accusation. "What's in it?"

Arthur leaned back, crossing his arms and legs. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

A suspicious look. "I saw ya. Y'know I saw ya slippin' that envelope into Mathias' locker. What was in it?"

Arthur tsked, turning his attention back to Mr. Vargas. If he were to tell Alfred about Lukas, about his not-so-subtle crush, he didn't know what the idiot would do with that information. What would happen to Lukas. What this Mathias would do if- no, when- he found out.

Only paying half attention to what he was saying, Arthur made his voice sound firm, final. "It's none of your business."

He ignored Alfred's protests, tuning in fully on Mr. Vargas. Even with his position up front and Arthur's row towards the back, his voice was loud. He walked towards a table, picking up one of the stacks of paper. "Ok." He licked his thumb, tabbing through the papers multiple at a time. "What I'm passing out to everyone is a packet that'll give y'all some more information about the choir. Costs, costumes, commitments, etc."

As he went from row to row, passing out his packets, Alfred took the opportunity to grate on Arthur's nerves yet again. "Whaddaya mean, 'it's not my business'?"

Huffing, Arthur turned to Alfred. Why did he have to be so persistent? Couldn't he just accept the fact that Arthur wasn't going to give him what he wanted? It was amusing at first, yes, but now, it was just plain annoying. "None of your business. Meaning, you have no role in this. None whatsoever. You don't need to know anything because it does not affect you."

"But this-"

"Ok, boys!" Mr. Vargas stopped in front of them, grabbing two packets from the very top of his stack, which was now in disarray. "One for Alfred, and, one for Arthur." Just as Arthur lifted his hand to take the packet, Mr. Vargas pulled it away. Alfred snickered. "Oh! I've already given you one."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. When had he- oh, that was right. Last Friday. He smiled, nodding. "Yes, you have."

Mr. Vargas bopped his head side to side, beginning to walk away, before stopping once more. He chucked the packet towards Arthur, who caught it with a quick burst of reflex, speaking as he walked away. "I've got extras, anyways."

"Thank you, sir." He gave him a sweet smile, running his finger back and forth over the staple in the corner of the first page. He let the smile fall as soon as Mr. Vargas was several chairs down.

Having watched the entire exchange, Alfred snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back. "So you're one of those types," he murmured.

He figured that Alfred didn't want him to hear that, considering how quiet his words were, but Arthur decided to comment anyway. "I'm one of those types?"

He nodded. "Yeah." His voice was stiff, tense, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else than talking to Arthur. Arthur rolled his eyes. The fool was the one who started the conversation, and now he was getting defensive.

Putting his arm on the back of the chair, Arthur adjusted his position, sitting on his right leg and turning to Alfred. Arthur made a fist and rested his chin on it. "And tell me, what type is that?"

Alfred flipped the page in his packet, just as Mr. Vargas had said to do, Arthur doing the same. Slower, but, nevertheless the same. Alfred didn't say anything, just reading the page along with the rest of the group, and Arthur began to think he wouldn't talk at all.

Huffing, Alfred looked at Arthur, raising an eyebrow. "Ya honestly don't know?"

With a honeyed smile, Arthur waved his hand. "Enlighten me."

Alfred tsked. "You're one of those types that're friendly to people who'll give ya somethin' ya want, but the second- the very second- they stop being useful, they're suddenly a pile of dog shit you stepped in."

Arthur scoffed. As much as the people in this school insisted the opposite, Alfred was an asshole. An arrogant, infuriating asshole.

He had to give him props for being so bold, however. Swiping the invisible dirt off his packet, Arthur snorted. "You've no idea, Golden Boy."

Alfred stiffened, sending Arthur a worried look. Arthur wasn't going to comment on it, considering that there could've been some private baggage lugged on with it, even if it did make him a tad bit curious.

"Now, turn the page." Arthur followed Mr. Vargas' instructions, scanning through the newly uncovered paper.

It covered costs, including costumes, club fees, and sheet music. He winced at the grand total, which was a low triple digit number, but high enough that it would take a few days to convince his parents. It would be a good idea to start this evening, even if he cringed at the thought of bringing that conversation up.

At the grumbling and gasps of the room, Mr. Vargas waved the paper around. "Calm down, calm down. I know uniforms cost a lot, but if you can use yours from last year instead of buying a new one, that's great. In fact, I recommend it. For those of you who can't afford to get your own customized costume, I have some used ones from over the years." Mr. Vargas gave everyone a reassuring smile before looking back down at the packet. "Now, turn your attention to 'club fees'."

Arthur drummed his fingers on his thigh, over and over and over again. He understood that this was necessary and that they were probably going to do the same- or at least something similar- thing the next week, but he couldn't help but want to start already. To get all of this over with and behind him.

Arthur groaned, hanging his head and rolling his eyes when Alfred started to speak again. "So tell me, what're ya tryin' to do with Mathias?"

It was nothing he needed to know about. Arthur was tempted to tell him yet again that it was none of his business, that he should just accept that fact that he would never know. But- and damn his insatiable appetite for knowledge and gossip- he was curious.

Smacking his packet onto his lap, Arthur turned to Alfred, eyes narrowed and head cocked to the side. "Why do you even want to know?"

He already knew the answer. That Mathias was his friend, and he worried about him and would try his best to protect him. Even if it meant interrogating and dealing with scum like Arthur.

The look of disgust on Alfred's face was familiar, one that various people have been sending his way for years. He sneered, and Arthur thought it looked unnatural on his face. "Why do I even wanna know? I wanna know 'cause I don't want one of my best friends to be caught in whatever your rotten fingers have been conjurin' up. It would be just like ya to make him fall in love with ya- or at least with a friend of yours that doesn't look like complete horse shit- and then rip his heart out once he's good n' vulnerable. Hell, I bet you would laugh."

Despite it being the purpose of the words, Arthur felt no pain, no sting from them. He took a deep breath, letting it all soak in. Alfred's tone, the hatred on his face as he spoke, he went over it all. He clenched his fist, his fingernails digging into the meat of his palm. It was odd that he was as calm as he was, considering his normal conflict resolution was yelling, accented with a few punches to the face.

When Arthur spoke, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Is that what you think of me?" He gritted his teeth, tightening his fists.

Alfred snorted. "Do I think of ya as someone who'll gladly ruin someone's life for your own twisted amusement? For sure."

His hands were shaking, his fingers denting crescent moon shapes into his palms. Arthur reached out and grabbed what little fabric Alfred's t-shirt collar had, pulling him forward and snarling. At the surprised look on Alfred's face, Arthur almost smiled but smacked the temptation down in favor to bellow in his face. "If you think- if you even think- for one measly second that I'm going to allow you to-"

"Boys? Alfred, Arthur?'

Arthur let go of Alfred and pushed him away, snapping his attention to Mr. Vargas. He was smiling, tapping his foot, perfectly calm even with the thought of what might've broken out in his classroom had he not stopped it early. The majority of the room was silent, eyes wide and mouths gaped as they stared. A few turned to another, whispering and giggling and gossiping. Arthur inwardly groaned, imaging the pesky rumors that would surely spark up after this incident, spreading to everyone what he did.

And he knew, even with his short time at this school, in this country, that that is what would happen. Every single person would know that Arthur Kirkland threatened the school's favorite golden boy, Alfred F. Jones. Never mind that they wouldn't know what actually happened, what Alfred said, or the circumstances behind it. No, he knew he would be the villain in this one. He was prepared for it. Expected it.

"Sorry, sir. We just had a bit of a... disagreement." He got quieter as he spoke, covering his mouth with his hand.

Mr. Vargas was skeptical. "Are ya sure? It was lookin' as if Arthur was two seconds from punchin' your face in. If you're gonna have a lovers spat, be sure to do it outside of choir."

Color leeched out of Alfred's face as Mr. Vargas wagged his eyebrows, smiling smugly. The class erupted in giggles and chatter, some shouting out to Mr. Vargas to congratulate him on his quick and witty thinking.

At his words, Arthur figured that either Mr. Vargas had no clue of Alfred and Kiku's relationship, or that man had the world's most twisted sense of humor. Arthur smirked. If he was going take an opportunity, Arthur would as well.

"Oh, my apologies, sir. I can assure you, we'll make sure to take it elsewhere next time."

Alfred's head whipped towards Arthur, expression one of pure horror and surprise. He smirked, leaning back in his chair.

Mr. Vargas batted his eyes before breaking into a full chortle. When he finished, he wiped his eyes with his knuckle. "Ah... that's great. I like you, Arthur. This'll be a great year."

Taking in all the envious glances of his clubmates, the fidgeting and harsh breathing of Alfred, and the overall chaos that was to come, Arthur closed his eyes, hung his head, and sighed.

Two weeks in, and he already had no idea what he was doing.

If Arthur thought the Kirkland dinners were pure Hell, then the mandatory family time afterward was whatever was under. The hour of sitting in the living room, begrudgingly doing the planned activity and suffering the whole way through was established after Arthur's temper tantrum, as it had been dubbed. Which one, he didn't know and didn't care. His mother had named its purpose "family bonding", though Arthur knew it was just so she could show that she was still in control.

Arthur was scribbling drafts down for the next letter, crumbling and tossing them behind him when he found it to be subpar. They had settled on simply comparing Mathias to Magni, God of Strength- or so Lukas had claimed, but that hadn't made anything easier. At least with the story, he could switch out the characters with Mathias and Lukas and weave some flowery words to go with it. But now...

Arthur groaned, carding his fingers through his hair. He was stuck.

As he chucked yet another inked draft over his shoulder, his mother- of course, it had to be her- clicked her tongue. She turned her magazine flat on the arm of the couch, narrowing her eyes. "You are going to be picking those up after you've finished, yes?"

From the occasional glances upwards from his father and Peter, he knew they were listening. Paying attention. It didn't matter.

Not even bothering to stop writing, or even to look up once, he spoke. "I dunno. Maybe I'll get them, maybe I won't." He didn't need to see the look on his mother's face to know that it was there. Arthur weighed the pros and cons of starting yet another argument, but the cons dropped down. He needed her happy.

Which reminded him...

"Excuse me one moment." He stood up from his spot on the floor, arching his back and stretching. Quickly, Arthur ran up the stairs and grabbed his backpack, lugging it back down to the living room. He dropped it with a thump, not caring at all about the contents inside.

His mother watched him as he unzipped the middle pocket, moving several folders around until he found it, and pulled out the packet from earlier. He tossed it to her, the packet twirling before it hit her stomach. Peter snickered but was silenced by a look from their father.

"What's this?" She looked up and down before lifting the page and doing the same to the back. His father looked over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. He grunted, turning back to his book.

Sitting back down and crisscrossing his legs, Arthur propped his chin on his fist. "It's an information packet for the Madrigal choir at school."

A nod. "So you decided to join that. Good."

"Indeed."

he sat there, watching as she tabbed through the packet. When her eyes widened and she stilled, he stood to stand behind her. "What? What's wrong?"

She turned towards him, waving the packet in his face. "Do you see this?"

"No, I can't because you're waving it around like a madwoman." He snatched the packet, glancing down to see what she was flipping out about. There was digits and-

Oh. That's what she was going on about. He handed it back to her, returning to the floor. "That's not too bad."

The packet hit the couch cushion with a crack. Her face was growing red, her jaw clenching. She was angry, and though Arthur originally didn't want to get into it, he was already in the middle. He winced as she yelled. "You want me to spend four hundred dollars for a customized uniform that you'll only wear for a part of one year?"

Peter whistled, mocking a bomb falling from the sky, and, at Arthur's glare, stuck his tongue out and went back to his homework. His father stayed silent, the only indication that he heard what they were saying being a raised brow.

Arthur crossed his arms, cocking his head to the side. "You don't know that, mum. I could do a Madrigal choir in college. I could suddenly become interested in reenactments of the Renaissance period, and when that happens, dearest mother, I'll need my four-hundred dollar customized costume." He smiled, figuring he would seem more agreeable that way.

But, of course, she wouldn't cooperate. She looked at him as if he had gone crazy, with her brow lowered and lips propped up in a sneer. "You want me to do something for you when you've done nothing of what your father and I have asked you to do."

Arthur threw his hands up in the air, shaking his head. "What have you asked me to do in the past month?" By then, his father had closed his book and set it on the end table, leaning back and watching. Peter was still doing his homework but was smiling and bopping his foot, a telltale sign that he actually wasn't paying attention to it.

"A month ago, your father and I told you to become a respectable person. I have not seen any improvement."

The conversation was starting to grow strangely familiar as if he had heard something similar almost every single night. It began to grow old, being yelled at about the same thing daily, and Arthur was sick of it.

He tsked. "You constantly say that, but you've yet to tell me what you think a 'respectable person' is like. It's ridiculous, and, quite honestly, pathetic. You tell me to do something, but don't say anything else. It's just vague words, said over and over again."

And there it was. Arthur getting defensive and angry over something so minor. It was something that was becoming more frequent, at least once a day now, and though he tried to control it, to hold it back, it never worked. Counting to ten, he knew, would not do anything.

Drumming her fingers against the arm of the couch, an infamous Kirkland scowl spread across her face. She was quiet for a couple of minutes, and when she finally spoke, she whispered, growing louder as she went on. "Are you seriously asking me how to be decent? How to not act like a little shit and behave properly instead of yelling and screaming at anyone who doesn't do what you want them to?"

He wasn't going to get into this with her, not with Peter there. Taking a deep breath, running his fingers through the plush, white carpet, Arthur pushed himself up to stand.

His father leaned forward in his chair, propping his elbows on his knees, looking as if he were preparing to break up a fight. It only succeeded in making Arthur angrier, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, a warmth spreading across his cheeks.

He turned to his mother, put one foot back and the other in line with his shoulders, and bowed with a swivel of a hand and extra flamboyance. When he looked up, the shock on his mother's face was enough to make him smile. "I'll be needing a decision by next Wednesday, Your Majesty." Then he walked away, grabbing his stuff on his way out, towards the stairs, without paying any attention to Peter or his parents or anything.

When he reached his bedroom, he fell against his bed, groaning. It felt as if Arthur was in a circle, going round and round and round, with no planned stop in sight.

#Aph UsUk #UsUk #Aph America #Aph England #RantingFangirl #The Fanfiction Life of RantingFangirl

9 notes · View notes

junker-town · 6 years

Text

Watching the National Championship at a Georgia bar is what heartbreak looks like

At a bar in Manhattan, a study in how quickly elation can turn to despair.

MANHATTAN — Joel Williams has waited 24 years, his whole life, for tonight. It’s 7:30, half an hour before Georgia plays Alabama in the National College Football Championship. He stands in front of one of the millions of TVs on the second floor of American Whiskey, the midtown bar that serves as the home away from home for University of Georgia fans. Decked out in Georgia gear, he reaches up to give a wooden ceiling beam violent and unreciprocated high fives.

“This is either gonna be the best or worst day of my life,” Williams says. “This is the only thing I care about. If they lose, I will squirrel dive off this balcony.”

Williams is from Tennessee and went to the University of Tennessee. But his father and grandfather went to Georgia, and the young man has never wavered in his fandom. He’s here with his roommate, a guy he keeps calling Moose, who played football at Holy Cross in Worcester, MA. Moose is all-in on the Dawgs now — he’s wearing a Georgia jersey that Matches Williams’, and a Georgia visor, too. Living with or loving a Georgia die-hard seems to result in fandom by osmosis: Most of the faithful in here have brought along roommates, significant others, or business partners that they have enveloped in their passion like hungry amoebas.

“We’ve been through decades of bullshit,” says Amanda Mull, a writer in New York City who grew up in Atlanta and went to UGA. She’s on the alumni board and watches every game here.

“It’s been forty years,” she continues. “It’s so long that we’re just happy to have you along for the ride.”

Among the consumed (most of whom are from the Northeast) is Kevin Hooshangi, who owns American Whiskey. He’s currently manning the DJ booth behind one of the bars on the first floor, which starting to feel like a sardine can, but it doesn’t yet smell as bad and it’s much more exciting. Hoosanghi grew up playing football on Long Island. He went to NYU — which is not exactly known for its athletic prowess — so when one of his buddies from home ended up at Georgia, he and his high school friends hopped on the bandwagon.

“I fell in love with the history,” Hooshangi says, adjusting his red blazer with a bulldog printed on the inner lining. “I related to it on a football level; all the running backs and the pro-style offense. I love the SEC, some of the traditions. I just thought they were an easy group to cheer for.”

Hooshangi owned a bar called the Village Pourhouse, and, in 2006, started dreaming of opening a bar devoted to Georgia with the Pourhouse’s Georgia-born-and-bred bar manager Robbie York. It just so happened that the UGA alumni board was looking for a new bar to host game days at in 2012, when Hooshangi and York were planning to open American Whiskey. They made a deal, and have been so successful that they’re thinking of opening bars in Georgia, too — one in Athens and one in Atlanta. York is at the game in Atlanta tonight.

Charlotte Wilder

Kevin Hooshangi, owner of American Whiskey, the biggest Georgia bar in New York City.

Jonas Vargas walks by. He’s wearing a small Georgia jersey and throwing himself at people’s legs. The seven-month-old bulldog is the shortest, youngest, and most expensive fan in here — he hails from the breeder that supplies Yale with its mascots. Jonas cost Joey Vargas, his owner and the beverage director for American Whiskey, an arm and a leg. He’s been worth it.

Hooshangi puts on Eminem’s “Lose Yourself.” The place erupts in indeterminable screaming as the TVs show Jake Fromm, Georgia’s 19-year-old freshman quarterback, striding through the tunnel (“our sweet baby boy!” someone yells).

Everyone in here knows that their 13-1 Georgia Bulldogs can beat Nick Saban’s football Death Star, the team that has won four championships in the last eight years. It’s hard to tell whether there are more boos and “fuck you!”s for Saban or Donald Trump, who is on the field for the national anthem and doing a terrible job of appearing to know the words.

At kickoff, this bar sounds as loud as an an aircraft carrier in full swing. It’s hot, and humid, and smells like college: spilled beer, sweat, and hope. The mix of screams and the sound of the broadcast and the thumping bass is intoxicating (as is the beer and whiskey, which people are doing a really good job of drinking). The hugs and high fives are endless, physical manifestations of what it looks like to care so much about something that doesn’t matter at all and is also the most important thing in the world.

Georgia is playing a hell of a game. The Bulldogs are up 20 to 10 going into the fourth quarter. Hooshangi is in his element behind the bar, sweating profusely through his jacket as he juggles three phones and an iPad to work the sound system. He’s surrounded by his regulars, who are all confident that UGA’s got this, despite Georgia’s history of blowing big leads in football games. They have faith.

Charlotte Wilder

I check on Williams, who’s cheering, staring at the TV, and seems to have forgotten how to blink. I ask how he’s doing, and he says he’s good, he believes. But then Fromm gets sacked and he turns to me.

“Get out of here,” Williams says. “You can’t stand here. You’re bad luck.”

I oblige, and move across the room. Alabama ties the game up. Silence settles over the bar save for the announcer’s voices booming through the speakers. Then Georgia gets what appears to be a huge interception and everyone goes nuts again.

But it’s overturned. A “fuck that shit” chant gets going. People are so drunk that they’re swaying back and forth even when they try to stand still. Makeup is running down cheeks, sweat is pouring through shirts. Fans are screaming at the TV through Bama’s final drive, but then the Tide get within field goal range, and the place gets quiet again.

Alabama’s kicker misses. They’re still in it. Hope springs. Heads hit the ceiling. Bodies fly. Geysers of beer shoot into the air. Everyone is jumping up and down, crushing each other, as the beer drips from the ceiling and Georgia marches down the field in overtime. President Rodrigo once again makes a kick. All UGA has to do is stop Alabama and the Dawgs will have won the national title for the first time since 1980.

But they don’t. They don’t stop them. Alabama’s freshman backup quarterback Tua Tagovailoa makes a perfect throw to DeVonta Smith, who scores a touchdown, and just like that, the game is over.

Georgia loses.

The bar goes silent again. No one is talking, but everyone is looking at each other, shaking their heads. Some embrace. A man faces the wall and leans against it. One woman puts her head in her hands and starts crying. I look around and realize that many others are, too, some softly, some with huge, heaving sobs that shake their shoulders.

Williams has stopped pounding the ceiling beam. As soon as the game ends he leaves Moose and his other friends and walks straight to the bar to close out. He stands there, hands over his mouth, as he waits for the bill. He signs it, then makes eye contact as he walks by me. I start to open my mouth but he just shakes his head and walks down the stairs and out of the bar. His eyes look red.

The place empties out fast. It’s 12:30 in the morning, and the few fans who stick around look dazed, as though they’re not sure how to get themselves out of here — both this bar and the pit of despair they’ve fallen into. One woman starts trash talking Alabama. Her friends just sush her.

“I’m okay with it,” Mull says. “Honestly. We had that incredible win at the Rose Bowl. We weren’t going to get two games like that in a row.”

Hooshangi is still behind the bar, alone now. He seems tired, but not angry. He puts on “The Devil Went Down to Georgia,” to drown out the sounds of Alabama’s celebration, but cuts the song off right before Charlie Daniels can sing, “If you lose, the Devil gets your soul.”

He looks at the TV, where confetti is getting caught up in Saban’s hair. The coach hoists the trophy with his fifth championship team in nine years.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wanted to give you the Cinderella ending.”

0 notes

junker-town · 7 years

Text

How to be a bandwagon Falcons fan, from actual Falcons fans

Hold tight, there’s a lot to know.

Hello. You’re probably here because your team was one of the 30 unfortunate franchises that didn’t make the Super Bowl (been there before) or you just hate the Patriots so much that you need to take on the other franchise in this Super Bowl.

It just so happens that team is the Atlanta Falcons this season.

So here you are, trying to look like a legitimate Atlanta Falcons fan for whatever reason that may be. Fear not, by the time you finish reading this — no matter where you are from or what team you typically rep — you will come across as a real-ass Atlanta Falcons fan.

Players you need to know

Introducing the entire team would be way too long and unnecessary, so here’s some extremely basic info about the players you’ll hear from the most on Sunday.

There’s no better place to start than quarterback Matt Ryan, aka “Matty Ice.” There’s a vocal contingent of fans who have just about despised him up until this season, but he’s put it all together and gotten help from the rest of the offense. Now, Ryan appears to have built the strongest case to win the NFL MVP award.

His best target is Julio Jones. If you find yourself on Twitter during the game and Jones happens to make a big play, simply tweet “JULIOOOOOOOOOOOOO” and you’ll fit right in.

JULIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

— Harry Lyles Jr. (@harrylylesjr) January 22, 2017

Fans have also adopted the same with Mohamed Sanu, by tweeting “SANUUUUUUUUUUU” give or take some o’s and u’s in each, of course.

In the backfield, Devonta Freeman and Tevin Coleman are responsible for making opposing defenses put their hands on their hips or knees in exhaustion, desperately trying to get every last breath of air that they can.

Also: DEVONTAAAAAAAAAAA!

Defensively, know Vic Beasley, the NFL’s regular season leader in sacks. And don’t forget the vet, Dwight Freeney, and young defensive backs Keanu Neal and Robert Alford.

This team also loves its ping pong, and SB Nation’s own Jeanna Thomas is your insider for all things there.

Matt Ryan just used his hand as a ping pong paddle. Good awareness, savvy veteran move

— Jeanna (@jeannathomas) December 2, 2016

He’s not a player, but you should also know about head coach Dan Quinn. The Falcons have gone through plenty of coaches in the past, but Quinn is a proven winner in the past with the Seahawks, and has brought that same feeling to Atlanta.

Know the Falcons’ struggle

The Falcons haven’t had a lot of nice things in the past. They have the third-worst winning percentage of all 32 NFL franchises in history, with an all-time record of 341-437-6. Only the Arizona Cardinals and Tampa Bay Buccaneers are worse. Within that losing record are plenty of single moments that had — and still have — fans shaking their heads in disbelief.

A “BRIEF” RUNDOWN:

Dave Hampton becoming the first 1,000-yard rusher in team history, then losing it on the next play

Losing Michael Vick after he went to prison for dogfighting

Watching Bobby Petrino leave — for Arkansas — with the quickness

Jim Mora said he'd take the University of Washington head coaching job over the Falcons job "even if they were in the playoffs”

Scoring 2 points in a playoff game against the Giants

Blowing a 17-point lead in the 2012 NFC Championship to the 49ers

Losing on a pick-2 to the Chiefs

Eugene Robinson getting arrested the night before Super Bowl XXXIII after trying to solicit a prostitute who was actually an undercover cop

The Tomahawk Chop (a Braves rallying cheer) broke out in a home game in 1991, which seemed cool... until they lost.

Trading away a young Brett Favre, even though he wasn’t all that great in Atlanta. It was still Brett Favre.

Wade Traynham whiffed on the opening kickoff in the team’s second game in 1966

The 15 years between those big playoff games vs. Dallas and Dan Reeves getting hired, the Falcons were 79-147-1, a .350 winning percentage

When Deion Sanders returned to the Georgia Dome after playing five seasons with the team and stared down the entire sideline while running back a pick-six

The “Gritz Blitz” defense. We invented a pressure and named it after FOOD

Picking Aundray Bruce No. 1 overall in 1988. He played 34 games for the Falcons.

The 2012 draft class

Noisegate (we don’t give a shit)

Jamal Anderson’s ACLs

Other items to note

#RISEUP. The Falcons’ mantra was adopted in 2010, and while it initially wasn’t received well when the Falcons weren’t exactly doing too much winning. Now, we’ve pretty much just accepted it for what it is at this point.

This “Rise Up” video is wonderfully soulful, and something that we can all agree is good:

youtube

Samuel L. Jackson doesn’t play games when the Falcons are on, either:

O MUTHAPHUKKYN K!! Finally, some Grown Man Football! Rise Da Fuck Up!!!!

— Samuel L. Jackson (@SamuelLJackson) September 20, 2015

The 1991 Back in Black Falcons, where the team went back to their black uniforms for their 25th anniversary.

The Falcons ran an option offense for three years, with the No. 1 rushing offense, and no one noticed. They said Mike Shanahan invented the option a decade later.

Until 1998, our greatest head coach was a crazy person who awarded himself trophies and gave tickets to invisible Elvis. (Hey, Jerry Glanville)

The Falcons' first owner, Rankin Smith, once got drunk and grounded his yacht, "Pocket Change,” on a reef in the Bahamas

They’ve had a handful of notable players in franchise history

Steve Bartkowski: Bartkowski, who played for 10 years with the Falcons, is the only quarterback in the team’s ring of honor.

William Andrews: Andrews was one of the best running backs in the NFL during his time with the Falcons from 1979-83. He suffered a knee injury that kept him out for two seasons, before coming back as a tight end in 1986 for one season.

Jeff Van Note: Van Note played center, and was a five-time Pro Bowler in Atlanta, where he spent his entire career from 1969-86.

Tommy Nobis: The first player ever drafted by the Falcons in 1966. He was also the first Falcons player to be voted to the Pro Bowl in his rookie season. He is Mr. Falcon.

Deion Sanders: Primetime! He spent the first five seasons of his career with the Falcons, while also playing for the Atlanta Braves. He even played in the 1992 World Series.

Jessie Tuggle: He’s one of the greatest players in franchise history. “The Hammer” was a fierce linebacker that was a fan favorite for over a decade.

Claude Humphrey: Humphrey was a first-round pick by the Falcons in 1968. Another early Falcons legend, he finished his career as the all-time sack leader in franchise history. He’s also a Pro Football Hall of Famer.

Others to know:

Terence Mathis, Bob Whitfield, Bob Christian, T.J. Duckett, Warrick Dunn, Ray Buchanan, Jamal Anderson, Chris Chandler, Keith Brooking, Tony Gonzalez, Alge Crumpler

Rivals of the Atlanta Falcons

1. Saints

2. Saints

3. Bobby Petrino’s team

4. Saints

5. Niners

6. Saints

7. Matty B Raps

8. Bobby Petrino

9. DeAngelo Hall

10. Joe Horn

11. Drew Brees

Musical interests can be used to weed out fakes

Listen, if you haven’t paid attention to anything before this, you need to be on top of this if you’re really trying to sell your “fandom.”

The city of Atlanta does not play when it comes to our music. In particular, the hip-hop scene is something that we hold near and dear to our hearts. I won’t list everything because we’d be here all day. Instead, here’s a brief (and incomplete) list.

Outkast: This is the perfect starting point for anybody trying to fake the funk. Outkast is one part of the Atlanta hip-hop scene that nobody can argue against. Andre 3000 and Big Boi combined for one of the greatest duos hip-hop has ever seen.

Jeezy: Jeezy probably doesn’t get as much love as he deserves. He’s got so many classics like Let’s Get It: Thug Motivation 101 and The Recession that we won’t list them all. But know Jeezy the Snowman.

Ludacris: Luda is a graduate of Georgia State (where tuition is handled by the dean of students office), and along with Jermaine Dupri, made arguably the Atlanta anthem: “Welcome to Atlanta” which should absolutely play inside any airplane that touches down at Hartsfield-Jackson. But that’s another conversation.

T.I.: He’s got a discography that’s almost as vast as his vocabulary. Also, Michael Vick was in the “Rubberband Man” video. Rise up.

Gucci Mane: You can’t say enough good things about Gucci. Just grab a glass of lemonade and kick back and listen to The State vs. Radric Davis.

Crime Mob: Just know and respect “Knuck if you Buck” and pretend like JuJu on that Beat never happened.

Shawty Lo: The unofficial mayor of Atlanta (R.I.P)

Future: Being proficient in his newer material will suffice. You won’t be on the bandwagon too long, but you should be listening to Future if you aren’t anyway.

Migos: They’re arguably the hottest on this list with their new album Culture that came out featuring “Bad and Boujee.” On their song “T-shirt” from Culture the beat is from Dem Franchize Boyz’s “White Tee” just slowed down. Freakin’ geniuses.

Rae Sremmurd: That mannequin challenge that flooded your timeline for a month? That was them. But they make more dope music than just “Black Beatles.” Their name is also “ear drummers” backwards.

Miscellaneous tidbits about Atlanta

The Varsity actually isn’t that great, and we leave it to tourists

We love Waffle House, and you better not slander it

There’s OTP (outside of the perimeter) Atlantans, and ITP (inside the Perimeter) Atlantans

Regardless, anybody in the suburbs 45 mins to an hour from downtown will tell you they’re from Atlanta

If Georgia didn’t have Atlanta, it would be Mississippi

Not all Atlantans drive trucks: some have Dodge Chargers, while others drive Tahoes

Sweet tea

Chick-fil-a is now as common as McDonald’s are everywhere else and we live by it

Almost everybody in and around Atlanta has an ATV, including former Braves great Chipper Jones, who used his to rescue Freddie Freeman during a rare snowstorm

That’s a fairly brief and sufficient rundown of what you’ll need if you’re trying to prove your “Falcons fandom” at your Patriots-fan cousin that you hate’s Super Bowl party or whatever the case may be.

Enjoy the ride.

0 notes