#me: i will color this. // larry being the same color as his uniform: ;) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

soap-lady · 5 months

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Being productive? Not when there's fanfic to write

@angelqueen13art @idreamtofmanderleyagain @tenebrare

Well, here you go. It's a little rough but I hope you guys like it.

Hot Dad Shopping

“I don’t understand,” Elliot said as he allowed Kirsty and Tiffany to pull him closer to the assemblage of department stores known as a “Mall”. My wardrobe is perfectly adequate. I don’t need much and your father’s clothes are in good condition-”

“We need a new wardrobe for Tiffany anyway,” Kirsty reminded him as she nodded at her new little sister. “Sure, it’s a private school and she’ll have to wear a uniform but she’ll need clothes for after school and weekends. Cute stuff.”

The blonde girl could get away with wearing the few pieces they’d managed to scrounge for her during the summer but with school about to start she’d need better clothes. It was a posh school and Kirsty didn’t want her made fun of by her classmates.

“It’ll be fun!” Tiffany was looking forward to some cute new clothes for herself, especially those she could pick out on her own. She was equally looking forward to seeing how Elliot would look in new clothes.

“I love my dad,” Kirsty couldn’t stop herself from referring to him in the present tense. “But he had little to no sense of style. He tends to wear the same clothes he bought ten years ago unless I or…his wife bought him something.” Her smile turned a little awkward. “They’re old fashioned and don’t fit you quite right.”

Elliot was taller and leaner than Larry Cotton and so the dead man’s clothes were ill-fitting. Still he hated to complain or spend money on something he already had. “Really, Kirsty. I can see buying Tiffany school clothing but it’s perfectly all right for me to wear your father’s clothing-”

“It really isn’t,” she interrupted with a polite but troubled smile and turned away from him, still leading the charge to an upscale department store that started with an “N”.

Elliot understood. To wear Larry’s clothing must be a constant reminder to his daughter that the man wasn’t here to wear them himself. Plus, to Kirsty’s mind it must be as if he were wearing the man’s skin and she didn’t need a reminder of that. He mumbled “sorry” and Tiffany changed the subject. “So, who are we shopping for first? Me or Elliot?”

He was grateful to her. “Ladies first, naturally. I’m sure I won’t need much anyway.”

Both young women looked at him and gave him a “aw, he’s cute when he’s naive” look and continued into the “Juniors” section.

Tiffany oohed over some dresses but Kirsty brought her over to a circular display of trousers. “Dresses are great and we’ll get to them but it’s good to start with some basics.” Clothes shopping was one of the few things her former stepmother had bothered to teach her and the woman even relaxed a bit the few times they’d gone out together. “You want some separates that you can build into a lot of different outfits. Start with pants, jeans and skirts if you like them and add blouses, tees and sweaters, maybe a jacket or two. Then we can move on to shoes and accessories and um,” she bit her lip, knowing Elliot was listening. “New undergarments. We’ll get you measured for a proper fit.”

“I’ll excuse myself during that part of the trip, if neither of you ladies mind,” he was sure under clothing had changed since his day, Cenobites never bothered to wear any, and he’d rather not watch his underaged ward pick them out. He found himself wondering what men wore these days.

Tiffany nodded and together she and Kirsty picked out a few trousers in neutral shades and a few others in bright colors. Elliot found himself being used as a living clothing rack as they moved on to blouses and other tops and located a sales representative to lead them to a dressing room. To her credit, the woman didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow at the strange little family but unlocked a door for Tiffany. She hung an “in use” sign above the door and gave them all a professional smile (lingering a bit on Elliot) and gave them some privacy.

The next hour was spent approving or rejecting certain outfits. Elliot found it strange to see a young girl in trousers but Kirsty teased him about “wearing the same thing for nearly a century” and he gave up. He was glad to see that their faux arguments made Tiffany giggle and he loved hearing it. The poor child had had little joy in the past year or so and he was glad to see her enjoy herself. Even if it was at his expense.

“Just you wait until it’s your turn,” he told Kirsty. “I will give you the exact amount of grief you’ve given me.”

“Bring it on, Captain”, she taunted and Tiffany laughed again.

The salesperson occasionally brought in suggestions, like a sleeveless dress and a turtleneck to be worn underneath it. She also brought a jumpsuit and a coordinating cardigan, a few knee length pleated skirts, and a belted pea coat. She also brought in some leggings and a big puffy jacket with a hood. After selecting nearly everything Tiffany tried on and liked they moved on to shoes. She would need some flats and loafers for school, sneakers for PE, and some low-heeled dress shoes. Then came belts and purses.

The last item Tiffany would need is the aforementioned undergarments and Elliot wandered over to the men’s department to select his own.

*****

A young man wearing a nametag that read “Arthur” nearly pounced on him as soon as he’d crossed over. “Hello, sir? Are you shopping for yourself or someone else today?”

“Myself,” Elliot was feeling a little flustered at the man’s overly friendly behavior. He hadn’t been to a tailor’s in decades and those were usually private discrete appointments either at home or at the shop, not as part of a crowd. He lowered his voice and said, “I’m looking for…undergarments.”

The man’s eyes lit up and he looked Elliot over. “So! What kind? Boxers? Briefs? Maybe some boxer briefs?” The young man’s grin turned sly. “Bikinis?”

“Er…boxers I think,” Elliot decided. “Perhaps some boxer briefs as well, please.”

The salesperson looked slightly disappointed but still smiled. “Of course, sir. Just step into the dressing room and I’ll measure you for size.”

“Yes, thank you,” Elliot smiled politely and followed the younger man.

After some careful (and exact) measuring, especially in his inseam, the salesperson determined that Elliot was a “medium” and brought him several different styles that would “flatter that lean, swimmer’s body you have”. He also brought over some undershirts and socks. Elliot paid for everything with the credit card Kirsty had given him. She told him cash was impractical and carrying around large bills was ill-advised.

The salesperson rang up all his purchases and slipped his business card into one of the bags in case Elliot ever needed some style consulting. He’d just taken his bags when Kirsty and Tiffany came over with a few rolling suitcases.

“This place doesn’t have silly things like shopping carts so we bought something to take everything home in.” She handed him a large case that nearly came up to his hip. “We got one for you too.”

The salesperson gave Tiffany a polite smile, his eyes roaming over Kirsty just as they had over Elliot. “Aw, family shopping day?”

“In a way,” Kirsty answered before Elliot could think of something. She pointed between Tiffany and Elliot. “They’re cousins. I’m just their friend turned landlord.”

“Ah,” the other man nodded in understanding. “I should have guessed they were related. They have the same beautiful blue eyes.”

“Blue eyes do run in my family,” Elliot agreed. It wasn’t a lie, just misdirection.

“And now my dear platonic friend Elliot,” Kirsty told the salesperson with a wink, “needs a new wardrobe. Any suggestions?”

She had clearly made the man’s Christmas. “Tons!” She couldn’t tell if the man was more excited for his possible commission, or the fact that Elliot was currently single. “Why don’t you go back to the dressing room, sir? The ladies and I will bring you some pieces you’re sure to love!”

“C’mon, cousin,” Tiffany smiled at him. “Let us pick out some outfits for you. It’ll be fun!”

He grumbled under his breath about torture but complied.

His three personal shoppers threw clothing over the top of the dressing room door at him; trousers in every color they could find, denim trousers called “jeans”, lightweight khaki pants called chinos, turtlenecks, jumpers, button downs in every color, an olive jacket with large buttons down the front, a navy jacket with a zip up the front and a leather black jacket with a faux fur collar that reminded him of the kind of jackets pilots used to wear.

The young man also fitted him with three different suits; one gray, one black, and another in navy. They then moved on to shoes; casual shoes, trainers, and dress shoes. He also allowed Kirsty to talk him into buying a watch. She’d bought all of them mobile phones so the watch was just for effect and he liked it all the same. The salesperson also recommended belts and ties, even a wallet or two..

Somehow the clothes he’d had on when he came in disappeared so he exited the dressing room in a navy button down with the first two buttons undone and a pair of khaki chinos. He also decided to match the outfit with some casual loafers. He adjusted the cuffs of the shirt sleeves, feeling a bit out of his element. “So, how do I look?”

“Hot!” Tiffany blurted out before she could stop herself. “You look like a hot dad.”

Kirsty nodded. “A really young, hot dad. Like, unbelievably young to have a teenager type of dad.”

The salesperson agreed. “Oh yes, it’s totally you. And very on-trend. Think of John Legend or Ryan Reynolds. They both have the Hot Dad look down pat.” He sighed. “You’ll turn heads and break hearts. Trust me.”

Elliot thought he was much too old and too experienced to be able to blush but the idea of drawing attention to himself as plain old Elliot Spencer, the man he hadn’t been in decades was a bit of an adjustment. A flattering one.

The salesperson wrapped up his purchases and accepted payment. His smile was very eager and not altogether professional. “Anything else I can help you with today, Mister…” he glanced at the name on the card. “…Spencer?”

He thought they’d all had quite enough fun at his expense. “For myself, no,” he clapped an all too friendly hand on Kirsty’s shoulder. “But my dear Miss Cotton has yet to have bought anything for herself, sans the luggage of course. Can you direct us to some lovely clothing for her?”

Kirsty glared at him but he pretended not to see. Her altruism was commendable but he wouldn’t allow her to neglect herself. Nor would he miss the opportunity to tease her as well.

The young man sighed. “Women’s clothing isn’t my area and my coworkers can be a little…territorial.” He seemed disappointed he couldn’t pick out clothes for Kirsty as well. Then he brightened. “Amy is working today and she’s a sweetheart. I trained her myself so you know she’s good. Follow me.”

*****

They made their way over to the women’s department and their salesperson introduced them to a young redhead, the aforementioned Amy. After he’d walked back to his own department she gave Kirsty a look of dismay. “Oh, sweetie. Who hurt you?”

“Lost most of my clothes in a house fire,” she told the saleswoman bluntly. Elliot blinked at her response but Tiffany just nodded in agreement. He mentally shrugged. It was better and easier than the truth.

The saleswoman looked horrified. “I’m so sorry! Well, I’m glad you’re alright. Let’s put together a replacement wardrobe. What would you like to start with?”

Kirsty shot Elliot a mocking glance. If he thought she’d take his teasing without a fight he clearly didn’t know her. “Lingerie.”

His eyebrows rose as he briefly imagined her…in things…they’d passed rows of women’s underclothing, skimpier than he remembered and he told himself he was being judgemental. “Yes, well. In the meantime Tiffany and I will pick out some outer clothing for you to try, if that’s all right.”

“Oh, great idea. That’ll save time.” Amy answered for Kirsty and took out her measuring tape. Let’s just go in the dressing room and I’ll get your size.”

Tiffany and Elliot went to the sales floor to pick clothes for Kirsty. He initially grabbed a paisley blouse as a joke but Tiffany grabbed it out of his hands and put it back on the rack. “She didn’t pick anything ugly for you. Don’t pick ugly shit for her,” she admonished and he felt ashamed for being petty.

Once she saw his understanding she gave him a grin and a conspiratorial wink. “Let’s pick pretty things but let’s pick a lot.” *****

And a lot they did pick out. First a camel colored trench coat for the upcoming chillier weather, then some button up blouses in colors they knew Kirsty liked. Tiffany found some pretty patterned skirts and maxi skirts she thought would look nice with solid tops and Elliot added them to their pile. Next were a few cardigans and turtlenecks that could be layered, plus some tailored trousers. Tiffany threw in a blazer and some denim jeans and a jacket or two. Neither of them knew what size shoe Kirsty wore but they did find some socks, belts and bags they thought she’d like.

Amy popped out of the dressing room, took their selections, and added a casual dress and some t-shirts and camisoles as well. Elliot also thought she’d look nice in a boatneck shirt with horizontal stripes, like some of the French girls he’d met in the past. Last came some sweaters and they decided Kirsty could pick her own shoes.

Kirsty finally came out of the dressing room wearing something Tiffany and Elliot had selected for her; a plain t-shirt with wide-legged trousers and an aviator jacket similar to the one she picked out for Elliot. Her clothes were also mysteriously gone. She looked at both of them. “Well?”

“It suits you,” Elliot managed after a few tries.

Tiffany did a few slow circles around Kirsty and rubbed her face. “Not Hot Dad style but I think the Cool Big Sis look is perfect for you.”

Everyone agreed and after Kirsty had picked out some sneakers, loafers, and dress heels for herself Amy had rung her up and they put all her purchases in the rolling suitcases. Kirsty sighed and looked at her friends.

“Shopping’s done. Who wants lunch and ice cream?”

Tiffany raised hers and Elliot’s hands while Kirsty told Elliot all about the joys of Haagen-Dazs.

#Pinsty #kirsty cotton #hellraiser #domestic fluff #Tiffany is their daughter/little sister #Captain Elliot Spencer is human catnip

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dc-fics-and-pics · 5 years

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Could you write a Conner Kent (from the Young Justice cartoon) x Reader oneshot, where Reader meets Conner at school and helps him out during his first few weeks there? And they grow closer to eachother?

I’m am so sorry this took way to long

Warning:None

Word count:1703 (sorry it’s so short)

When the second bell rang you where all the way in the parking lot behind your high school. Happy Harbor high was built like a prison and you had to run from the parking lot and through the gates to get to the front of the buildings. Each day you pulled up to school at exactly 7:55 leaving you five minutes to dash across campus.

You first-period teacher was used to you bursting in right as the bell rings. Sometimes if you were really late you brought her coffee and prayed she didn't mark you tardy.

Today was one of those days.

Larry the guard outside the gate who always stands out there ten minutes after the bell to let you in greets you with a smile. Large black coffee no cream two sugars.

You handed him his coffee and raced through the gate as he locked it behind you. The quad was barren and empty. Most kids were already in class since it started at 8:00 and it is 8:15.

Fifteen minutes late not your worst but definitely not good. When you got to the large doors of your indoor school. The usually crowded halls where ghostly empty. Your class was just down the hall past the front office. The attendance ladies sat in front of the clear doors facing the hallway. Anyone who dares to pass by after class has begun will earn a tardy slip followed by two hours of detention.

SO you stand peaking your head at the door to see if the two demons look away. They seem to be talking to another kid, that poor soal. When you think they aren't going to look up for a while you do your best tiptoe past the door.

You are almost out of sight about to get off scot-free when your victories thoughts are so rudely interrupted, "Miss Y/L/N."

Mrs. Cox had poked her head out of the door looking you like you are a mouse who had stumbled into the lion's den, "Yes?"

"Come in dear." Her smirk turned into a sickeningly sweet smile. One that you had only seen painted on her face in front of the principal. Nevertheless, you followed the hungry lion into the den. The office lights where a flickering hospital blue. You followed her right up to her tall desk next to the boy she had been talking to earlier, "Mr. Kent this is Y/N she will be the one showing you around school this week."

You had never signed up to be a campus guide, "Wait wha-?

"Don't you remember Y/N? to work off all those detentions you have for being tardy."

Just because you weren't late to first period doesn't mean you weren't a little late for some of the others. It looks like Mrs. Cox is using that against you now. "Yes of course."

Mrs. Cox smiled and handed the boy a map of the school along with his class schedule. It was during this you finally got a good look at the boy. He was tall with short black hair and bright blue eyes. He was quite muscular for boys your age, he would probably be good on the football team.

"Ready?" you asked him once he had gathered all of his stuff. He didn't respond, instead, he just grabbed his bag and started walking towards the door.

You sigh realizing how much of a pain this is going to be. You look at his schedule and see that his first-class is not far away from yours so you take him there first and tell him you will meet him outside his room after class to show him his next one.

~~~~

When you got over to his classroom he stood leaning against the door. "Alright, dude what's your next class?"

"Conner."

"What?"

"My name is Connor, not Dude."

You laugh for a second and nodd, "Okay Conner where is your next class?"

Luckily he had the same class as you. You both had art, which was your favorite class, so you wouldn't be late.

When you both got to your class you sat together in the back. Today you knew you would be painting which was one of your favorites. After your teacher gave the class isles and a canvas you were allowed to paint something in nature. You mixed your paints getting started ready to paint a beautiful forest scene. As you began you felt yourself drifting off into a zone. All of your attention was on the artwork in front of you. As you reached next to you to grab water to clean your brush you accidentally knocked over the palet of paint, it landed upsidedown on Conners jeans.

Immediately you sprung up pulling it off and seeing the mixture of colors on his clothes. "I am so sorry," so mumble trying to gather your stuff.

Conner just sighs, "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" you ask upset that you spilled paint all over him on his first day.

Conner takes his paintbrush and dips it in red as you stre at him confused he takes the paintbrush with the dollup of red and brushes it across your nose, "Even," he states with a flat face.

You are confused at his lack of emotion. You decide to grab some blue from the bottle next to you and swipe it across Conners unsuspecting cheek. He looks back at you with an eyebrow raised as you grin at him evilly. He takes a thicker brush now, dipping it in some green and drags it across your arm. You gawk at him and grab your own thick brushing swirling it purple and swipe it across his mouth. He laughs for the first time and grabs a handful of pink paint and smushes it around on your arms. You gasp earning some shushes from the students around you. With your left hand, you grab orange and yellow with your right, you grab Conners head and rub the paint up his cheeks to his hair. Connor dunks his hands in green and blue and flicks the color so it splatters across your shirt. You grab your own colors and do the same back. Connor is about to do it again when your teacher interrupts, "Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Kent! go to the principal's office.

You and Connor both look at each other shocked but still trying to contain your giggles. You each stand from your seats and walk towards the door. Your classmates watch you both as you walk in silence. When you finally step from the awkwardly quiet room you burst out laughing. You can see Conner smile next to you, "Sorry," you say again.

"It's okay," he shrugs.

When you both make your way into the principal's office the rude office ladies make you stand and wait not wanting to get any paint on their seats. It turns out the principal was out that day so you both got off. You both had to spend the rest of the day with paint on your clothes. You were able to wash the paint off your arms and face but splatters still remained on your shirt, and conner still had the stain on his jeans. You took Conner to the rest of his classes that day. After the incident in art you both talked a lot more. He seemed to open up after. That and you started to enjoy you ring the new guy around campus. When the school day was over you both said your goodbyes and you went back home.

~~~~

The bell rings through your ears. This time however, you are already seated in your class. This morning you had woken up extra early in order to get to school on time to take Conner to his class. Your teacher was surprised to see you all in before the bell for the first time ever. Your teacher was still a bit flustered well the bell rang for class to end and you exited. After you left you found Conner standing outside his classroom and took him to class. You both chatted and laughed as you walked around the halls. Thankfully you didn't have art today so you wouldn't have to go back in that awkward class.

The lunch bell rings and you drag yourself out of your boring math class. You are mindlessly walking down the hall when a familiar boy runs up beside you. You smile looking over at Conner glad to have made a new friend at this school. You turn out to the quart-yard to find a relaxing spot in the grass to sit and eat your lunch. When you finally find your spot under a tree in the shade Conner sits beside you pulling out his food as you do the same. You both sit in a comfortable silence eating peacefully. Lunch is partially through when a girl around your age with light skin and red hair runs in front of you both. She doesn’t pay you much attention as she turns to Connor. You had never seen the girl b4fore and wondered how she new the new student but you guessed by her cheerleading uniform it was for school spirit. “Hey Conner want to come eat lunch with me?” She asked smiling ant the boy beside you.

You sat quietly observing the conversation between the two, ‘No thank you Megan,” Conner replied curtly making the girl you now know as Megan frown.

“Okay,” the girl shrugs,”see you after school then,”

After she walks away you turn back to Conner,”Who was that?” You ask him.

Conner looks at you seemingly piecing together his response in his mind, “She’s a friend from this after school club.”

You hum not quite believing him, “what club?’

Connor tilts his head at you filling his eyes, “can’t tell you.”

You sighed dramatically, “will you ever tell me?”

“Maybe some day.”

And he did. You where surprised to say the least. Even years after this conversation when you finally found out his secret you where first speechless. However there is one thing you did say,

“Coolest club ever!”

#request #conner kent #young justice #conner kent x reader #superboy x reader #dc comics #x reader

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joygaytrash · 5 years

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Love Guidance - Chapter Two

Word Count: 1421

Notes: Oh heck it’s been a hot second since I posted the first chapter. School been kicking at me lately and I just got over a stomach bug. If y’all got any questions, feel free to ask.

September 1st, 2017 The car ride back home from the Chinese restaurant was Remy’s favorite thing. It was quiet and everyone was content; Damian was focused on driving and Thomas was on phone with his earbuds in, listening to his music. “Hey Dammy, I’m gonna need to borrow your car tonight,” Remy said, looking over at Damian. “For?” Damian asked, raising his eyebrow. “Work. My boss asked me to cover for Sarah’s usual shift tonight since she’s apparently sick again,” He responded, “And before you even say anything, I will not get drunk this time and have Logan drive me home.” “Alright. You can use my car tonight and if you do get wasted tonight, I won’t let you use my car anymore,” Damian stated, pulling into the driveway. “Deal,” Remy agreed, shooting Damian a quick finger gun. Damian rolled his eyes as he turned off the car, taking his keys out of the ignition. Remy was the first out of the car, walking to the trunk. “Dammy, pop the trunk!” He yelled. “Calm your tits, Remy. I’m getting there!” Damian yelled back, getting out of the car, Thomas being the last one out. Remy gave a fake whine as a reply, fake pouting as well. Damian rolled his eyes once more as he pressed the trunk button on his car key. The trunk lid opened a bit and Remy pulled it open all the way, grabbing two of the four bags of school supplies. Thomas came up and grabbed the other two bags. Damian closed the trunk lid and walked up to the front door, Thomas and Remy following behind him, talking, “So, you gotta go in tonight?” Thomas asked. “Yeah, but I’m covering for Sarah so I’ll still be here to help you put your backpack together and I’ll be back home before you wake up,” Remy replied, ruffling Thomas’ hair a bit, making him laugh. Damian smiled softly at the conversation and unlocked the door, swinging it open. He stepped off to the side a bit so that Remy and Thomas could go in first since they were carrying the supplies from the store. He gently drummed his fingers against the open door as the two walked in the house, Damian going in last and closing the door behind them. They set the bags on the coffee table that sat in the middle of the living room. “Okay, bud. Go grab your backpack so we can get this done and over with,” Remy said, kicking his shoes off by the door. Thomas nodded and ran off into the hall, his footsteps echoing through it. Remy chuckled softly, flopping down onto the couch. Damian sat next to him, sighing. “Why the hell is being an adult hard?” Damian asked, looking over at Remy. “Because once we turn 18, they throw a bunch of shit at us, gurl,” Remy replied. Damian laughed slightly, agreeing with him with a small nod. Thomas’ footsteps returned as he entered the living room, his backpack in hand. He took a seat on the couch next to Remy and placed his backpack on the floor in front of him. Remy slightly sat up on the couch, digging the school supply list out of his jacket pocket. “Okay, we got 2 one inch binders,” Remy said, watching Thomas pull two binders out of the bags, both of them white. “Check,” Thomas replied, putting them into his backpack. Remy nodded, grabbing the pen on the coffee table and crossed the binders off the list. “Next on the list,” Remy began to say as he scanned over the list once more, “The 6 different colored folders.” Thomas pulled out a red folder, a yellow folder, a green folder, a blue folder, a purple folder, and a black folder, showing them all to Remy. “Check,” He said again, placing them in his backpack neatly. Remy again nodded and crossed the folders off the list. This went on for about another 15 minutes(it would have be only 10 if Remy hadn’t tried to beat Damian with the T.V. remote for five minutes while Thomas tried to hold Remy back after Damian made a snarky comment) and when they were done, it was almost 7pm. “Finally! I was starting to think we would never get it done!” Remy exclaimed, obviously joking as he leaned against Damian. “We might have gone faster if you hadn’t tried to beat me with the remote,” Damian said, pushing Remy off of him. Remy let out a fake whine before chuckling, standing up off the couch and heading into the kitchen. “Maybe you shouldn’t have made a snarky comment,” Remy called over his shoulder, grabbing a coffee cup out of the drying rack and put it in the coffee machine before starting it up. Thomas had gotten off the couch and went into the kitchen, standing next to Remy as he rests his elbows on the counter. “Dad, that’s your third cup of coffee and I’m pretty sure that’s not healthy,” Thomas said, looking up at Remy. Remy sighed softly and looked down at Thomas, ruffling his hair a bit. “I know it isn’t healthy but sometimes, that happens when you’re an adult,” Remy responded, taking the now done cup of coffee from the machine. Thomas only nodded, a small smile on his face as he fixed his hair a bit. Remy chuckled softly, grabbing the creamer from the fridge and poured some of it into his coffee. Damian listened to the conversation while he scrolled through his phone. Remy wasn’t wrong about one thing though; Being an adult can be fairly unhealthy when it comes to large amount of stress(which Remy was basically under 7 days a week, 24 hours a day). He continued to scroll through his phone as he kept listening to Remy’s and Thomas’ conversation. By the time 9:30 rolled around, Remy was all showered up and was in his club uniform, gathering the last of his things. Remy had also finished his fourth cup of coffee(it was a Friday night, he was gonna need all the energy he could get). “Alrighty, I’m headin’ out. I’ll be back before at least 3 am,” Remy said, snatching Damian’s car keys from the kitchen counter. “Works for me,” Damian replied, flipping through the TV channels. “Same,” Thomas added. Remy smiled and placed a quick kiss on Thomas’ forehead and mumbles a fast “I love you” before rushing out the front door and to Damian’s car. He got in and started it up, putting the car in reverse and pulled out of the driveway then began to head to the club downtown. ***

“Are you sure you two will be alright? Because I can always call a rain check,” Emile suggested, looking at the two kids that sat in the living room. “Yes, Pops. Patton and I will be fine. I got this covered,” Elliott said, looking up at their dad. “Yeah and besides, you deserve to go out and have fun!” Patton added, a big smile on his freckled face. Emile laughed as he slipped his wallet in his back pocket and his keys in his sweater pocket. “Well, I shouldn’t be out long tonight. The latest I should back by is midnight,” Emile stated. As soon as finished his sentence, a loud car horn could be heard from outside. “That must be them. I should probably get out there before they get impatient,” Emile said, planting kisses on both Elliott’s and Patton’s foreheads before heading out the door, walking over to the currently parked gray car that sat on the side of the road. The passenger window rolled down to reveal the one and only Roman with his cocky grin. “There’s our favorite funky little therapist-or should I say guidance counselor?” Roman joked, making Emile laugh as he opened the back door and got in, shutting it right after. “Are Dot and Larry not joining us tonight?” Emile asked as he buckled up, remembering the plan they all had agreed on last week(which was they were all going to the club in one car). “They are still joining us like we had plan, they just decided to take their own car and meet us there so we can get a table quicker,” Logan answered, pulling away from Emile’s house. Emile nodded, the quick silence of the car ride replaced with the music of the radio(and Roman’s singing) as they made their way to the club.

#single dads au #love guidance #remy x picani #logince #sanders sides remy #sanders sides deceit #sanders sides emile picani #sanders sides dr picani #ct elliott #sanders sides patton #sanders sides roman #ct dot #ct larry #sanders sides logan #sanders sides #cartoon therapy #thomas sanders #joywrites #joygaytrash

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sugardaddycentral · 6 years

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born to die pt. 2

Connor Murphy x Reader

Born To Die

Part 2

Summary: Connor and (Y/N)'s relationship start to take a different turn as they get to know the real version of each other.

Song Inspiration: Born To Die / Lana Del Rey

Word Count:

Connor was in absolutely no shape to drive. After we got food, I let him have one of the joints I stashed in the glove compartment. And then after that, it went against my conscience to let him drive himself home.

Connor lived in a huge ass house at the end of a cul de sac. The sheer size of it left me in awe. I swear, I could fit my bedroom in their closets. "Holy shit," I muttered under my breath. A short haired, redheaded woman who I assumed was Connor's mom was out on the front lawn doing pilates. At the same time, a silver Mercedes was pulling into the driveway. Mrs. Murphy dropped everything she was doing and jogged over to my car. I rolled down the passenger seat window.

"Hi Mrs. Murphy, I'm (Y/N). Just dropping Connor off," I introduced myself.

"Oh, thank you! I'm Cynthia." She grinned painfully widely. She extended her hand through the window to shake mine. "Connor, what happened to your car?" she asked.

"He's high," a masculine voice stated. The man who I assumed was Connor's dad emerged from the Mercedes. He set down his brief case and went to shake my hand as well. "Thank you for bringing Connor back. I'm sorry if he was any trouble," said Mr. Murphy, his face painted with disgust at the sight of his son. Connor rolled his eyes and hid his anger behind a passive-aggressive smile. He slammed the car door open, not giving a shit that his dad was standing directly in front. He muttered a goodbye under his breath and stormed into the house.

"He can be like that," Cynthia nervously chuckled. "How do you know Connor, (Y/N)?"

I couldn't help but focus on Connor slamming his house door. His mom seemed sweet. His dad on the other hand was a piece of work. Judging by Mr. Murphy's formal attire and brief case, and not to mention the large house, this man made some good money.

"Oh uh, we met in support group."

"Oh!" Cynthia started, her face portraying a million emotions at once. She went from shock to excitement and then confusion, which she tried to hide with a cheesy and toothy grin. "That's wonderful! I didn't know Connor goes to support group. Did you know, Larry?" she asked turning to her husband. The same disgusted look washed over Larry Murphy’s face again, but with a hint of confusion as well.

“No, I didn’t."

"Oh, well I'm so happy that Connor is making friends! How about you join us for dinner tonight, (Y/N)? I'd love to hear more about how you and Connor became friends," suggested Cynthia.

I knew that dinner with the Murphy's would be a whole new level of discomfort. But like an idiot, I said yes anyways. I reached over to my night stand and grabbed my phone to text Connor.

To: Connor M.

just a heads up, your parents invited me over for dinner tonight

Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I awaited a response.

From: Connor M.

y the fuck would u say yes?

To: Connor M.

because i'm an idiot

His response took a lot longer than usual. I double checked my phone.

From: Connor M.

...

u said it, not me

I grinned widely, then glanced up to check the time.

To: Connor M.

see u in a bit, loser

From: Connor M.

wear something nice

I pulled up to the Murphy house at around 7. Not a single light was out in the entire house. I parked the car by the curb.

My hands trembled as I went to ring the doorbell. The whole idea of sitting down with the Murphy's for dinner made my skin crawl. I decided to heed Connor's advice and wear something somewhat nice. The only thing that wasn't lying on my bedroom floor or in the hamper was a black cocktail dress that still had the tag on. I didn't expect that I would need it until now. To accompany my look, I did a natural makeup look and put on a pair of faux diamond earrings. Fake it till you make it, right?

My hand froze as I reached out to ring the bell. Just ring the fucking doorbell, I told myself. Each time my finger inched closer, I felt my heart being dragged down to the pit of my stomach. What if I just told Connor that I was feeling sick and just left. Or what if I say that my car wouldn't start? Or what if-

Before I knew it, my finger was on the button and the doorbell sound echoed in my mind. Muffled voices shouted at each other back and forth and a pair of rushing footsteps reached the door. A young girl, probably a year younger than me, opened the door. She was really pretty, I admit. She sported a vibrant floral sundress, a polar opposite from what I wore. She wore her long hair pulled back in a braid, which gave her an innocent presence.

"Hi, uh, I'm (Y/N). I'm Connor's friend," I awkwardly introduced myself and extended my hand. The girl showed the same courtesy.

"Connor doesn't have any friends," she quipped. "Zoe. Come on in. Mom's just finishing up the lasagna and Dad's in the living room."

The inside of the Murphy home was slightly different than I expected. Judging by the extravagant exterior and the white picket fence, you wouldn't have any doubts about how this family was kept together. As Zoe led me through the long hallways to the family room, I examined all of the framed pictures on the walls. There were countless pictures of 8 year old Connor in a Little League uniform. There were also a few of little Connor and little Zoe together in one of those professionally photographed scenes, the ones only people with good money could afford. The family portraits made the family look like royalty. The pictures came to a sudden halt. There weren't any more pictures that passed Connor's fourth grade year, and Zoe's third.

The shift in atmosphere pulled me out of the rabbit hole of theories in my mind.

"She's here," Zoe said to her mother. Cynthia Murphy directed her attention from her cooking to me. Her royal blue dress and beige shawl made her stand out from the monochromatic color scheme of the kitchen.

"You look wonderful, (Y/N)!" Cynthia exclaimed as she pulled me in for a hug. "Connor's just upstairs. Why don't you go see him?" she suggested, which made my cheeks heat up and flush. She pointed over to the main staircase that led to Connor's room.

I dragged my hand against the railing as I made my way up. There were three doors at the top of the staircase. One was a plain white door that had colorful foam stickers that spelled out "Zoe." The colors looked aged and faded. The other was a pair of double oak doors, which had to the Larry and Cynthia's room. The last was a black door with a gilded handle. That had to be Connor's room. Coming from behind the door was "Yesterday" by The Beatles playing on a speaker.

The door had been left open wide enough for me to shimmy my body through. I wanted to knock, but that was before I noticed that Connor wasn't wearing a shirt and his hair was tied up in a messy bun. His topless torso caught me by surprise. My eyes maintained focused on his toned chest. But more importantly, my eyes drifted over to his exposed arms. Scars, both faded and recent, littered up the inner parts of his arms. My jaw slacked and I let out a silent gasp.

I tapped my knuckles gently against the door and backed away from the opening before Connor could look over. I heard him quickly reach for a dress shirt to at least cover up his arms. The door swung backwards as he opened it.

"Hey," he said, weirdly sounding out of breath. His eyes raked over my entire outfit.

"Hey." My cheeks were embarrassingly red and hot as I couldn't get the image of him topless out of my head. I gave him a quick spin to show off my outfit. "Nice enough for you?" He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, good enough I guess,” he smirked.

PT 1

MASTERLIST

#connor murphy #connor murphy imagine #dear evan hansen #dear evan hansen imagine #ben platt #mike faist #sugardaddycentral

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hrrytomlinson · 7 years

Note

Yo do you have like a rly basic rec list of staple Larry fics? I'm rly new to the fandom and I'm trying to work my way through (the longer the better)

Basic Must Reads for Newbies!

Disclaimer: these are the fics i read when i first started reading fic in 2015. since then, i’ve read 445 fics (excluding the 2 i’m reading right now - and yes, i really do keep track of every fic i’ve ever read - and yes, I really did count them) and these are the fics I recommend you read when starting out. please note that there are hundreds of other fics I would recommend you read, but this list is for specifically what I consider classic, super popular fics within the fandom!

Escapade 146k

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He’s rich. He’s handsome. He’s reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

The Dead of July 117k

Being an Avenger means continuing to be Captain America and smiling and being honorable for the public and Harry does his best. But it doesn’t give him time to figure out who he is supposed to be once he takes off his uniform and puts the shield to the side. Just being Harry had always involved Louis, and Harry fears he doesn’t know how to exist without him.

or: Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

And Then a Bit 158k

“We’d like to give the fans what they want.” Magee states, placing his hand on the table in front of him and leaning forward. “We want to give them Larry Stylinson.”

Or, take a parallel universe where Louis and Harry were never together, mix in a two year hiatus and an impending comeback, pour in a dash of lost fans, two tablespoons of strong friendship and a Modest! employee with a good idea. Add a squeeze of pretending to be a couple, lots of kisses and a tattoo or two. Stir. Serve: the mother of all publicity stunts.

(aka Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.)

Jump Before We Fall 113k

Louis and Zayn’s lives revolve around running a hotel by the sea, Harry is a student who wants a life far from home for just a little while, Niall doesn’t know where life leads him and Liam thinks he has already found all purposes in his life.

Red Brick Heart 98k

Harry has only had his room for thirty-two minutes when it stops being his.

Uni AU. Harry had turned up at the halls of residence expecting fun, new friends, and maybe a life experience or two. What he doesn’t expect is a surprise roommate who’s loud and dramatic and obsessed with tea and is maybe, actually, all he’s ever wanted.

Wild And Unruly 123k

Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

Love Is A Rebellious Bird 134k

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who “has made Mozart cool again” according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don’t hum Bolero.

Young & Beautiful 227k

Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

Gods & Monsters 201k

The instructions were simple: seduce and destroy Harry Styles. Not once did they discuss the option of Louis actually falling in love. So, naturally, that’s exactly what he did.

Butterfly Gun (.epub) 100k

Harry has never been much of a fighter, but—as always—where Louis Tomlinson is concerned, a lot of things stop being true.

1940’s AU. Even after six years apart, they can’t forget their shared wartime childhood.

Fading 202k

Louis knows about beauty; the combination of qualities that pleases the aesthetic senses. He creates that combination every day in the garments he designs while studying fashion at uni. The cut of the design, the color of the fabric, the intricacy of the stitching; it all comes together to create something beautiful. When the science student with the long legs and dimpled smile agrees to model for him, Louis decides he’s found beauty personified. Harry just thinks Louis needs someone to show him how beautiful he is.

Wear It Like A Crown 141k

AU. As part of a team of fixers hired to handle a gay scandal in Buckingham Palace, Louis expects Prince Harry to be a lot of things—most notably a royally spoilt brat. Never mind that the very same Prince Harry used to star in quite a number of Louis’ teenage fantasies.

Pull Me Under 140k

AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career, it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis’ favourite teammate, Liam as Louis’ agent, and Zayn as Liam’s boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

Feel the Chemicals Burn in My Bloodstream 123k

“Alright, alright. No need to bite,” Harry says, holding his hands above his head in a general gesture of surrender.

Louis quirks an eyebrow and his foot nudges Harry’s as he moves to sit straight. “If that’s what you think biting is, you’ve got another thing coming, Styles.”

Harry blinks at him before he feels his face flush and inside the marrows of his bones there’s pulses of heat, pulses of fire spreading through him. “Is that a threat, your Highness?”

“That’s a promise,” Louis answers just as the car halts to a stop. “One I intend to keep.”

Harry is a journalist with a lot of secrets and Louis is the future king of the United Kingdom; they live together for 60 days.

Empty Skies 134k

For three years, Harry has been running from his past. Now, he is moving to London and pledges to fulfil his only dream – making it big in the music industry. Not everyone has a place, though, and the competition is tough. As is his past catching up on him.

Louis is part of the biggest boy band of the world, and getting there had meant a lot of hard work, as well as sacrificing parts of his heart and soul. He’s still happy. Maybe not as happy as he could be, but who is he to complain?

Featuring Perrie as Harry’s adorable flatmate, Niall as his manager, and Liam and Zayn as Louis’ bandmates.

Unbelievers 136k

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Relief Next To Me 333k

AU. What happens when a baker and a graphic designer meet via a very specific Craigslist post? Fate, friendship, food, and maybe more.

Bloodline 177k

Louis doesn’t know how to feel when his best friend, Liam, finds out about a brother that he never knew, who was placed for adoption before he was born and is bursting into his life at twenty-four years old.

Louis is very wary of the man who might replace him. He has always thought of Liam as his own brother.

What if Liam doesn’t need him anymore? What if there’s no room for Louis? After all, blood runs thicker than water.

Louis doesn’t like Liam’s new brother and he doesn’t even know him. That’s irrelevant, though.

He doesn’t like him. He doesn’t trust him. He doesn’t want him hanging around. He doesn’t want anything to do with him.

That is, until he meets him.

BONUS: These Inconvenient Fireworks (.pdf)

find more fic recs here

these are the fics i first read when starting out (for the most part) - there are SO many other great and iconic fics that aren’t on this list, but those are meant for other masterposts x

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fleamarketloveletters · 5 years

Text

February 8, 1942.

Dear Sweetheart,

Good morning good looking, how are you this nice warm bright sunny day? It is as beautiful as it can be here, sitting on my cot with the sun beaming in thru our barracks door. I’m wondering if its as pleasant up there. I suppose you are wearing your “snuggies” and “Doctor Dayton” pajamas, you know those one piece red flannel type. Here, here, what did I write!!? Oh well, I always believe in saying what I’m thinking but sometimes you can’t.

We have the morn. Off for church or errands to the PX (Post Exchange). It’s our first breathing spell since we’ve been here. We’re all razzing a bunch of newly arrived recruits who are being given there first taste of cursing and drilling by there Corporal the D.I. (Drill Instructor). No kidding the Corp and everybody down here can’t open there mouth to a “boot” unless its the longest line of cursing you ever heard.

Remember me telling you that I would meet my friend from around the corner, Charles Sangley. Well you don’t see anybody you know at all because theres over 20,000 marines all over this large, island and each of us as long as we’re in “boot camp” can’t go any place except where designated. But yesterday marching to the mess hall I see + hear this marine all ducked out in dress outfit yell, “Hey Clarke” and run like _ _ _ _ _ _ over to me when I’m still in ranks. Who was it but Langley! I never felt so thrilled since I’ve been here. You don’t know what a homelike feeling came over me when I saw him. I could not let a smile or turn my head in ranks but I guess he got my flittery in my eyes to wait for me out side of mess. He did. Boy we did everything but kiss each other, we rolled and hit each other all over the deck. You see, most everybody leaves at the end of 30 days training for an other station and I thought that Charlie had left. But he is stationed with the Ballour Barrage Station here. I don’t feel so awfully lonesome now. It certainly was a boost.

We have a new D.I. as an assistant and he is tougher than tough. Here is an example. Yesterday we had to clean our mess kits and have them laid out on our cots just in the right uniform position, each fork and canteen facing just so and so many inches between each. So he came in and we immediately snapped to attention. Well that son of a so and so looked at each one and gave 10 out of 13 a kick with his foot and they went all over the deck. I was one of the 3 that must have had everything just 100%. But here is whats funny. All us fellows are very humorous in this but, and when I saw a little guy’s by the name of Le Mouse mess kit all over I couldn’t hold in the big laughter I was holding in any longer so I went “hawruffpled.” The miserable crab turned around and asked “Who did it?”. Well my face was red as a beet and I thought I wasn’t grinning but he yelled “What’s so blanky funny about this?” Well I was so scared when he yelled at me. I couldn’t have laughed at the funniest joke out. I said very seriously “Nothing Sir.” I thought I would get K.P. or the brig, but he saw I was bigger than he was. Haw-haw!!

It doesn’t pay to try to keep anything in one piece down here. During the skirmishes yesterday I fell down on the deck so blame hard I smashed my wrist watch all to the devil. Later during the same attack in creeping my bracelet bent in two halves and my bayonet broke off its belt holder just when the hand to hand fighting was to take place. Ah yes! For the life of a marine!! Sometimes I wonder!!

I hope to have some pictures for you soon as I just gave them to Charlie. They will be screams, I know if they come out.

Has anybody asked you out on a date yet kid? I’m wondering. I can’t tell anything about you yet having not received any mail yet.I might just as well be in jail. If I was in jail I would at least get mail. I like to know what they mean when the U.S.O. says the letters from home keep the morale of the boys up. I know most of us feel as tho we’ve been exiled. The ones that get mail only get one letter, and that came 3 days ago. Its tragic.

Do I miss those beautiful nights we spent together on dates and the long chats we would have parked outside your lovely home. Wouldn’t the time fly when we would sit there? Your soft face and hair against mine, oh! Yes those beautiful shaped lips and their touch. I can’t wait to feel them again someday your little wise and cute innocent sayings such as; -- “Was I ever cold or scared.” That form fitting bay colored dress -- the most beautiful eyes in the world and the most easy going disposition. Every millionth of a second I ever was with you certainly was the best time in my life. I’ll do everything while I’m here darling, so that it will be for you and I in the future. I’ll work and take orders like a slave so that I’ll get ahead for you. I hope you believe me. It comes from the deepest roots of my heart. This sounds rather funny to you coming from a tough marine. I guess but nobody in this world can change a fellows love for his little girl.

I sent only a postcard yesterday because I was sick in bed still from the fever and a sore throat, but I feel excellent today.

As I wrote in the corner of the card, we leave for “destination unknown” March 3/42. We go to the range the 15th next week and return the 28th. I don’t lnow if they will tell me about my aviation test before the rest of the platoon goes or not. If I passed I most likely won’t be sent to “destination unknown” but to some flying station. I hope I have passed. Ever since I joined they keep you in suspense in everything.

Right now the boys have mostly finished their letters and have started a tin alley band with the pails, mess kits, and rifle slings. They slap the rifle slings like they were bass fiddles. What a bunch of nit wits I’m as bad also. They can’t understand how I can write so much. Most of them write only 3 pages at the most.

Do you see Eleanor and Larry at all? Tell me how everybody is and what they are doing.

Pvt. Vlosky and myself are the only engaged marines in our platoon. He comes from New Haven and is a swell fellow. We both lay awake night long after everybody is asleep and bring up pleasant memories about our sweethearts. We talk by the hour about you. We were singing, from “Taps Hill Reveille”. Boy those words certainly mean a lot to us fellows. We get kidded a lot but they just don’t understand what true love is. The rest have girls but that’s all none serious tho. And that makes a big difference.

Is the “Big Boy” as full as it used to be in the mornings? Is Bill in the army? How’s “lacey britches” Connors? And “Fast Stuff” Wells?

What do you think? Just this instant the mail came!! My first. We all went nuts. I received the one you sent Feb. 6, two days ago. Boy I’m a changed man! I’ve already it 5 times already. Its swell. Please forget my remarks in previous letters about not sending mail. Oh boy I’ve changed to the happiest marine here. Write often darling!! I will. Hope you have gotten all mine. I will eventually get yours too. What date did you get my first letter. I wrote one or two every night since I’ve been here. Did you get the pillow?

O.K. Henry! I’l ltake care of his little wagon! I can sleep in peace tonight after the letter.

Mac also sent one. He’s a pip! I guess from now on it will be regular.

I love you. I love you and miss you. Will write answer to your letter I received today, tonight.

So long my darling, Love,

Jack

P.S. Temp about 72 no snow

The fellows say now that they hope “I’ll shut up now” seeing I got mail. Ha ha.a

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lithiumflowerbri · 7 years

Text

Another intense dream

So I had another intense dream last night.

It all started with an amazing bike ride with good friends through a city, I was fully out and dressed up. We rode for a good 3 hours having fun, making stops in the city and just enjoying ourselves. There were a total of 5 of us, and we were riding through the woods, city areas, neighborhoods, and just in general having fun as a bunch of girls can.I was wearing a really pretty dress and a nice hat for the ride, I cant remember colors, but I know that the neck was a V-Neck that was cut really low. It was absolute heaven.

We then stopped for lunch at this little run down hole in the wall chinese restaraunt/Diner/2 floors of amazing food. This is were I hit my first problem. All of us girls walked in to get seated on the second floor and I started looking around to see if I recognized anyone. As we went to the second floor I noticed that there were some coworkers there and I flipped. There was one in particular that I could not handle. “Larry” was there. I said to the other girls, “I have to go to the bathroom. I cant handle this” So I ducked out to the women’s restroom with this really odd door. This door was of standard size, but it had a 8 by 10 by 8 cutout where the door knob should be. I wasnt thinking about it at the time, so I opened this door and went to go to the bathroom. Now on the inside of this door there were four of the sliding pin locks and I locked every one of them and proceeded to do my business with these traditional japanese toiletsts that were level with the ground, somehow becoming undressed in the process. Then Larry started trying to come in and I am seriously losing my mind right now, I want to cry, I am freaking out, trying to make sure this guy doesnt see my face, and doing everything possible to make sure this guy does not know me. Then my friends came to check on me and make sure I was okay. Here I am, curled up in a semi naked ball in the corner freaking out and trying to find a way out of the situation and they came to check. Freya, Peaches, the wonderfully tall and amazing Kat was there, My sister Aromanticist, all came to check. The first thing I thought was “They are thinking that someone that raped, or abused me is here” They said, “Give us 5 minutes.” and they left. Next thing I know this little old lady and her husband are standing in front of the door as the Pride Parade of the century just shows up and gets to partying. My friends come back and the little old lady and her comparably grumpy “Vietnam Vet” husband come in to the bathroom bringing this huge nail and makeup station, clothing racks, and shoes out of nowhere.This little old lady says to me “Nobody is going to hurt you if I can do anything about it.” She grabs my arms and sets me down in a chair and just starts going to town. Her husband is sitting nearby at all times keeping a watchful eye on us, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. She hands me a little mirror and says “Look at you beautiful.” I look like a cross of myself and Andrea Peijic. I about broke down crying right then and there. This cute little dumpy old lady and her grumpy and cranky Vietnam Vet husband called every single LBGQT person they know and let them know that someone was in trouble. Her Husband pulled out the stops and she literally pulled every single bit of makeup, nail polish, clothing, and shoes out that she had and put me back together. I hugged both of them as tight as I could and told them to never leave my dreams. And then I told my friends and sister the same thing, “Never Leave my dreams.” For once in my life, I have never had these people in my dreams say “We wont leave.” This whole event made me truly happy, I was in heaven. Then after I had said my goodbyes to everyone there and left, I showed back up to military duty. Somehow in between the diner and the base my clothes changed from the realy pretty dress to ACUs (Active Combat Uniform) and I was to show up at the primary briefing for orders. So I do, mind you my hair is still done up, my abstract art nails are still done, and beneath the surface of the ACU I am still wearing the really cute pair of black and white lace underwear. So we get about our business as soldiers, I am still every bit of me in ACU’s, nails done, holding an M-16 A2 rifle, throwing and dodging grenades, firing downrange, and then as I am posted up behind a hedgegrow and these two soldiers, a big huge guy being carried by this really little guy get knocked over on thier faces by the explosion. They literally just bounced off the ground and I ran over to try to pull them behind the hedgegrow. “Are you guys okay?” and they both just gave me this dumbfounded and dazed look. And then, I woke up. I seriously wanted to cry that none of this was real to anyone else. To those of you who were there, thank you and I am sorry you ended up in my dreams and saving my butt. I promise it was not intentional. For me it was very real, and very very extreme in terms of emotions. I could smell the General Tso’s Chicken in the buffet 30 feet away was the type of 5 sense dreams I have.

#Dreams #girlslikeus #trans woman #transwomen #trans girl #sundaydreams #friends #nightmare

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trippinglynet · 5 years

Text

Chris Radcliffe

Chris is a resident of Portland Oregon. From around 1990 to 2000 he lived in San Francisco, and began his time there working at the same company as John Law, who introduced him to Burning Man. He first attended the Ft. Mason gathering, and assisted John Law with the logistics. He would attend Burning Man several years. From SF he moved to New Orleans before eventually settling in Portland Oregon in 2006. He is also the former owner of the Alice Coltrane Memorial Coliseum (a former Hare Krisna center and before than a hang out spot frequented by Steve Jobs). He sold the building in August, 2018.

Chris is a colorful character, and a part of Burning Man history. Here are a few perspectives on Chris:

P. Segal

Among the many colorful personalities that have passed through my life, the affectionate award for No, 1 Shit Disturber has to go to the force of nature known as The Chris Radcliffe. Radcliffe might appear at an event as Chris or Christine, altered or not, but always with a cheerful vengeance.

My first recollection of him was at a Cacophony event, The Charles Bukowski Support Group, organized in “protest” of The Marcel Proust Support Group. It’s unlikely we’d met before, because he’s not the sort you forget; he has been described as a man who sucks all the air out of a room.

One of Radcliffe’s favorite games was starting some totally false rumor about someone and waiting to see how long it took to get back to him. The record was 8 days. He was once driving a cherry picker around town, one of those trucks that elevates sign installers high above street level, and he decided to knock on the outside of Larry Harvey’s Alamo Square apartment windows to bum a cigarette.

In spite of his difficult aspects, he’s a great friend. For years, he made sure I got to Burning Man and back, and later with all the stuff for the café (in the years when it still fit in a single large vehicle). He made mischief there, or was suspected when any happened, and the only reason he wasn’t booted on principle from the desert completely was that he was my friend and transport. He stopped coming of his own volition when suddenly there were too many rules.

The picture of the trash can documents one of the many bizarre adventures Radcliffe talked me into. No one has ever talked me into so much weird shit. That’s a stencil of Proust’s face on a Baker Street trash bin near 1907.

This adventure began when we heard that the writer and philosopher, Alain de Botton, had just published his book, How Proust Can Change Your Life, and was coming to Berkeley for a book signing. I was incensed that someone wrote this book before me. But I admired de Botton for thinking of it first, and it was certainly good, in its way.

Radcliffe showed up at 1907 the night before the Berkeley reading with a stencil he had cut of Proust, from a painting by Dean Gustafson, and said we should leave a trail of Proust images from 1907 to the bookstore where de Botton would appear. There was no other eccentric thing happening that night, so we loaded up some spray paint and a carload of friends in the late night hours, the only time for such things.

We sprayed Proust on freeway overpasses and construction sites, utility poles and dumpsters. Wherever we saw a non-intrusive blank spot along the route, we improved it. And what was the point of that, you ask? Well. It was different. It was an experience. Perhaps one person would see it and decide the time had come to finally read Proust. Radcliffe talked me into it.

The following night, the Marcel Proust Support Group showed up in force at the Berkeley reading. We listened, clapped respectfully, and after it was over, I said hello. The author hadn’t seen our stencils, but he noticed us, and told Lingua Franca Magazine, a few months later, that we were a scary looking bunch of people.

Proust obviously didn’t change de Botton’s life all that much, or he would have found us no scarier than some Proustian characters paid to rough up masochists. I leave it you to decide: does this man, The Chris Radcliffe, look scary to you?

2006 interview by Mateo (note, some may find this interview challenging): Four days from now Christina will become Chris. He's not about to have an operation, rather he's in the middle of a nine-day cycle that won't end until Christina sleeps. When Chris wakes, a day and a half later, the cycle will have begun again. Chris Radcliffe lays back in the chair, motionless but looking like he might just slip off the front. From under a heavy gaze he watches the smoke pour upwards from his hung-open mouth. The teeth of his lower jaw make a steaming grill, while his eyes sparkle darkly in their pink fleshy pools. Just as the gray curl of smoke hits the ceiling, Radcliffe's body snaps forward to deliver the words just formed in his mind, "If I got a parking space in Manhattan, I'd stand in it till I could buy a fuckin' car," he says. I try to find the thread of logic that runs between my question and the Manhattan parking space, but Radcliffe is moving on. "It's not how quickly you can run in high heels, it's how quickly you can turn and stand when it's really going to count." He says these words with a sly look, like he's just handed me the thread I was looking for. He speaks alternately with the elegance and poise of a distinguished lady, or the beer-soaked swagger of an armed iconoclast. Chris Radcliffe is both people busting out of one body, and he loves the dualism. He told me, "Life's great adventure begins just beyond where you're comfortable." We spoke about his adventure from the beginning. Chris Radcliffe spent the Cuban missile crisis underground; he experienced his first boyhood fears in a neighbor's backyard bomb-shelter. But it was just after Khrushchev left Cuba that Chris' real war began. It was on the day that he was sent out to a Catholic military school. "Dad parked me there so he could get a new wife," said Radcliffe. Because his arm was broken on the first day of school, they offered him free tuition to avoid a lawsuit. However, the school soon began efforts to replace Chris with a paying customer. "They put me on disciplinary routine one week after the arm healed. From that point on I didn't get to talk to another kid; I got to eat, march, go to class, and sleep," Radcliffe said with a bitter sadness. "The isolation was so extreme; the distance between them and me might as well have been the size of the Russian fuckin' steppes. After 2-years I wasn't functioning as a human being."

At 10-years old he came home to a new step-mom and two new sisters. Everyone was gone most of the time, and before long Chris was secretly wearing his step-mom's outfits. On one of these occasions he ventured out to stroll in the gardens behind his house. His afternoon reverie was shot through the heart when he saw the stranger. From across the fence the neighbor had seen him, and was laughing his ass off. The young Radcliffe was mortified for 3-weeks, until eventually he realized that the neighbor wasn't about to betray the secret. Soon, summer vacation was in play and Chris said yes to his secret fantasy. The two young daughters of the laughing neighbor asked Chris to play dress-up. "I walked in and they changed me, put make-up on me, changed my hair, I remember looking in the vanity mirror, seeing this different person for the first time; I had 5 or 10-seconds of that shock of recognition," said Radcliffe. He was again interrupted by the stranger; the door opened and the girls' father came in. He complimented his daughters for their beauty; they said "thank you Daddy" and left the room. The neighbor, who had been having sex with both of his daughters, cut a deal with girls. Their job was to get Chris into their room, and into their clothes, in exchange for "time off". "He was gentle but he had me" said Radcliffe. Chris cried and the girls comforted him. They got him to admit that he must have already been interested, which is probably true because Chris returned to play dress-up for about another year. "I was his mistress. I swear to you it was the only human contact I had, and I wanted it so bad I didn't care. I became what ever person he wanted me to be. I don't regret it to this day" said Radcliffe. Chris would come home from school each day; he would go to the neighbor's house to dress-up with the girls, then he would sleep with their father. "When he was done with me I'd be sitting on the front lawn; watching my parents come home; watching his wife come home. I was totally invisible," he said. At the time, Chris was aware of the surreal nature of what was happening to him, but it would be many years before he realized that other queens existed. Radcliffe joined the Navy and was stationed in Millington Tennessee where he attended aviation school. On weekends he rode down to Nashville for a vicarious education in "drag school." He dated different queens, he learned about what they called "the life," and he saw how cruel gay men were to queens in the '70s. "Those bastards in their crew-cuts, their Izod shirts, and tight jeans; they were wearing that uniform of conformity that is so much more of a straight jacket. (They) would piss all over you if you were a queen. You couldn't go into their discos; they'd snatch the wigs right off your head. We were an inconvenient public image for them," he said, with the spittle of contempt balancing on his lower lip, and his boot now pounding the floor. "I'm on top of the food chain," he barked randomly. He moved the spittle from his lip to the sleeve of his leather jacket and lit another cigarette. His face betrays the hard pursuit of good times, and the dangers that are part of this quest show in scars and the busted teeth of his loose smile. After the Navy, Chris moved to Hollywood; he enrolled in UCLA Film School and went into full time drag. "All these queens that I had slept with the previous year were furious; you cannot be our lover and then our competition," he said slowly with a smile, wringing the last drops of pleasure from each word. Chris Radcliffe has a beautiful and dirty smile. Countless lascivious words have passed through his lips, and it would seem that they were all sweet to the taste. Soon he found a quack doctor for a hormone prescription. "The nurse would shoot me up with straight Estrogen and Primarin; pickling my hormonal balance. I remember the first time that I felt that cone under my nipple; it started to swell and develop. Quickly I had tits and I was trying to kill myself on a quarterly basis," said Radcliffe. In those days there was no counter-therapy, and most queens had never heard of an endocrinologist. "We all were on a thread. The mortality rate for my people was 85% before 34 (years old)... that's pre-AIDS; simply the most dangerous way to spend your time," he said of the queen's life. Radcliffe knew there was a great deal of personal power to be gained from these experiences. "I don't believe in a fate or destiny, I believe because I fight the heart of each battle, that my will is the key to victory. I have such willpower that I have to keep it in Ohio where the warehouse space is cheaper," he said. The idea of will-power seems incongruous with a life of drug use and sexual abandon. But what is important for Chris is the will to explore all that life has to offer him, and the courage to truthfully express all he finds. "I want a primary experience of existence. A secondary, processed experience of existence means that you are in a crowd. If you are in a crowd, beware the wolves that do feed on flocks. What I know is that the wolves seldom make a kill, coming across the iconoclastic ram, nyuck nyuck nyuck, Mo, Larry, the cheese is getting away," he said, with a combination of absurdity and gravity in his voice. He collects himself from his sloppy sprawl to affect a new look. He sits up properly and crosses his legs with grace. One hand he rests on the top of his wineglass, the other hand he places seductively on his hip. He drops a subtle wink and turns his head so I can't see him laugh at himself. Chris spent five cruel years of drinking, drugs, and rejection in Hollywood. As a drag queen under the fluorescent light of society's glare, Radcliffe became the subject of ridicule and violence; he had to develop an ability to stop the pain from touching him. He transcended the pain through prostitution. In part, this was because he got paid for being in drag, but also because he found that most of his customers, "simply wanted to go down on me. They wanted a phallus, but they didn't want any of the maleness associated with it." It was a validation of his sexuality from the "straight" world. "I experienced that thing I guess Catholics call redemption. I became the best prostitute in LA. By my nature I thrived in that environment. I prospered," he said.

When the sun rose on Chris Radcliffe's 29th birthday, he was alone, and had been up all night. Chris realized that as a cocaine junky and prostitute, he would not see the dawn of his 30th year. A doctor at the Veteran's Administration Hospital interviewed Chris before admitting him to the drug detox program. There was a problem. "He said there was a virus that apparently I hadn't heard of. He explained the mechanism of death from AIDS; told me that I was in so many high risk groups, the chances were overwhelming that I was already infected," said Radcliffe. The detox program was very expensive and the VA would not make the investment. "The guy closed my file, looked me in the eye and said, 'If I were you, I wouldn't quit partying,' He told me I was already dead," Chris said with wide and serious eyes. Everything changed for Chris on that day. He began to rehabilitate himself while waiting the 30-days for his blood test. He quit prostituting, and he quit partying, at least for a while. He had been to too many funerals, and he now wanted stability. For 30-days Radcliffe held life in one hand, and death in the other. At the VA Hospital once again, Radcliffe found himself frozen in time. The office clerk stood with his back to Chris for several eternal moments as he looked through the test results. He finally slapped the folder shut, turned around and said "Negative!" Chris chose to skip the detox program anyway. Shortly after this fearful month Chris met Susan, an Irish-Catholic accountant from Brooklyn, and during their long conversation that evening, she never mentioned the fact that Chris was a man in drag. He was wearing a beautiful $400 vintage dress, a fur coat, and a pair of pumps. "She was the first person that I had ever encountered like that and I was intrigued," Chris told me. They quickly fell in love and moved in together, and although their relationship provided a measure of stability, within 2-years both of their lives were destroyed. She had a secret alcohol problem and now they were both addicted to cocaine. After seeing how badly she had fared in his life, he made a deal with her. They separated for a year; she went to her parents' while he took a job as a waiter in Big Sur. Chris began to cry when he told me about the Christmas that they spent with her family. He said that, "previously, Christmas and family had a very negative connotation to me." He watched her and her family exchange presents. "I experienced family for the first time in my life. Her Mother and Father (were) all proud, God I wanted that," said Radcliffe as he wiped tears and snot from his face. While in Big Sur Chris received an important letter from Susan; "she told me all the reasons why she valued me," said Radcliffe. He went out that day with a winch and a 4-foot chain saw. "I went up in the woods and I harvested a giant slab of redwood: 12-feet long, 3-feet wide, and 4-inches thick. I used the come-along to winch it out of the forest, and drag it into my van. I sold it and I bought an engagement ring and a wedding ring. I went up and begged her to be my wife," he said. At the wedding, Chris had the DJ play Cole Porter songs. They were married for 10-years. Like so many enchanting ladies, Radcliffe is mysterious and evasive, but just as soon as I reach the limit of frustration and curiosity, he parades his secrets before me with a haughty swagger. His dusty black boots lay down a quick tempo as he speaks, but his lips move at about half that pace. Radcliffe's voice sounds like two basements full of wet smoky gravel. During his years of marriage, Radcliffe developed a very personal relationship with sex, drugs, and drag. "I never screwed around on Susan, except in the mirror," he said. "I'd get a bag of speed as the weekend rolled along, and I'd go into my office, shoot up my bag, feel that warm rush into transition. I'd get dressed, and share my company with a mirror for days at a time. I had the ability to become all the women that I ever desired. I don't have sex for an evening; I have sex for days at a time," Radcliffe said.

Chris met John Law and assisted with the Ft. Howard Installation of the Man. Brian Doherty describes this in This Is Burning Man:

The barge floated between two docks that jutted parallel to it and perpendicular to the shore. For a good video opportunity, they let the barge, with the Man standing in glory, drift back down between the two docks . Cacophonists stationed out on the docks were supposed to tug back on the ropes, keeping the barge berthed so it could return after it floated away from shore a bit. "The barge started moving down the dock, and I started noticing people on the docks who were supposed to be watching our ropes wandering off to get beer," Radcliffe remembers. "We ended up with only two people holding the rope on one side , three on the other. And we're picking up speed." "I shouted up to John, 'What do we do now? Go to Tahiti?' Cause we're about to launch this enormous barge into the bay without any hope of getting it back. I grabbed a couple of hammers and I began pounding a cadence on the deck of the barge to get peoples' attention. By the time people ran back to the dock to grab the ropes, we had about ten feet of hawser line left."

With the Dot Com boom in San Francisco forcing Radcliffe into exile, he set out for New Orleans to prepare an escape route and sanctuary for those who would join him. Most of his friends went to Oakland, but instead he was visited by Hurricane Katrina. Radcliffe built four houses with a gun in his tool-belt, and all of them survived the hurricane. After Katrina, he defended his property from looters seated on a motorcycle in the front yard. He was wearing a dress and clutching an AK47, a pleasure most people will never know. The looting and weapons were not uncomfortable for Chris, however what does cause deep anxiety for him is the global warming that he believes is related to Hurricane Katrina.

"The Russians were supposed to kill me, straight men were supposed to kill me, AIDS was supposed to kill me, drugs were supposed to kill me. Send your cohorts; it's never been a problem for me in the past. But the weather is more than I can I deal with. I cannot contend with the Gaia," said Radcliffe. "We've gone a step too far. Disasters will start to multiply one upon the next; chaos will take its hand. Buy me ten psychiatrists who will call me crazy and I'll fall into their arms. I take no pleasure in thinking I'm right about this," he said. Lately Chris has been living from the sales of his New Orleans properties. "I'm buying $50 nylon stockings now-days. I don't plan to begrudge myself an indulgence here or there," said Radcliffe. He spends his time hunting for new adventures, attempting to build more myths for himself and his friends. "I think it's the most gracious thing I can do," he said. Chris Radcliffe's life has been, from the beginning, a battle to live with total honesty and without mediation from a stunted public opinion. "The hardest, meanest lesson I ever had to cope with was censure," he said. His memory is stocked like a fishing pond by a lifetime of fearless self-exploration. All of his hard won victories are tools in this campaign against fear and censure. "I would be sad to learn that I'll never take a bigger bump at a higher speed. I love my life, but I DON'T recommend it," he said, showing no sign of slowing down.

#Chris Radcliffe

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junker-town · 7 years

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The '90s were the NBA's most memorable jersey phase, for better or worse

The 90s were a wild, glorious time for NBA jerseys

It’s NBA Jersey Week at SB Nation and there is no way we can talk about the history of basketball jerseys and skip over the ‘90s. The ‘90s are when NBA teams started get weird and traded in their traditional jersey looks for colorful, almost cartoonish, and sometimes downright ugly jerseys.

From Penny and Shaq in the pinstripes to Gary Payton and Shawn Kemp in a very forest green, I rounded up some of the best and worst of these jerseys. Then I got together when SB Nation’s finest, Zito Madu, Harry Lyles Jr, and Michael Sykes, and we gave our thoughts. Happy Jersey Week to you and yours.

Toronto Raptors: 1995-1999

Whitney: These were the jerseys the Raptors debuted when the franchise started in 1995. They literally debuted themselves to the world with a huge dinosaur on the chest, who is also dribbling a basketball, and has raptor shoes. Yet somehow, people still go nuts over these ... including myself.

Sykes: Those are the Air Dino 6’s, btw. I’m partially kidding, but I do feel like those sneakers should have a name. That’s what appeals to me most about the jersey. The color scheme is cool and it’s one of my favorite throwbacks, but the Raptor on the jersey is absolutely my favorite mascot of all-time. It’s so ridiculous yet so amazing at the same time. Honestly? It might be the best thing Canada has ever given us.

Zito: I remember these being in NBA Jam, and because everything that was in NBA Jam is inarguably great (not really, but I need a way to defend these), so are these jerseys. It doesn’t matter that it makes no sense that a Raptor is dribbling a basketball, while not evening wearing the jersey of the team but rather, wearing a white one with the letter “R” on it. With his feet claws poking out of the shoes. We don’t talk about that. Just like we don’t talk about other perplexing things like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or Street Sharks. The jerseys are great because they were in NBA Jam and because Vince Carter could still dunk without having to ice for hours afterwards.

Harry: These jerseys bring back some of my earliest NBA memories, so whether or not they’re objectively good or bad, I like them. I always thought the color scheme the Raptors had was dope, but this really does work to me. One thing we don’t talk about often enough: the Raptor is palming the ball. But we’ll pretend like that’s not happening here.

Whitney: Dinosaurs play by a little different rules than everyone else.

Milwaukee Bucks: 1995-1999

Whitney: These were the Bucks’ road jerseys for four seasons. The team also missed the playoffs in three of those seasons. It may have been the the era of Ray Allen and Glenn Robinson but they aren’t exactly the glory days. I don’t hate these. I would probably support a Giannis-led Bucks team in them.

Harry: These are one of those things in life that’s kind of awkward and bad, which makes it somehow good? If the Bucks were to pull these out a couple of times a year, I wouldn’t mind it.

Zito: That Buck on the jersey looks like it should have appeared in Shadow’s vision in American Gods. Looks like an old god that visits you in times of distress to remind you that there are great things to come in your future. I believe that the Buck foretold of the coming of Giannis Antetokounmpo, so I will allow it.

Sykes: The only thing appealing about this jersey is the fact that it’s old. First of all, the deer just feels out of place here — it looks like the Bucks just found a stock photo of a deer and photoshopped it to the side of the jersey. Second, purple and green? Nah, fam. That’s hella 90’s, and fashion in the 90’s is way overrated. I’m a snob, yes. But that’s just ugly. Get it out of my sight.

Whitney: Sykes, ya know, I think that buck is actually stock 90s clipart now that you mention it.

Vancouver Grizzlies: 1995-2000

Whitney: These are so wild that they’re probably my favorite. Another jersey that was debuted with an expansion team, the Vancouver Grizzlies. I mean, the shorts had a huge grizzly bear on them. Of all the 90’s jerseys for sale today, think this is the one I would buy. The Vancouver Grizzlies were never that good on the court but these jerseys were.

Harry: I’m with Whitney on these. All of the small design aspects on these are awesome. The Grizzly claw holding the basketball on the top of the shorts is one of my favorite alternate NBA logos, and I’m glad the current Grizzlies team still utilizes that. But if we’re talking overall color scheme and design, give me these.

Zito: These look like something you find in a fake African clothing store in the gentrified neighborhoods of Brooklyn, but I like it.

Sykes: Zito, for the win. There’s nothing more I can follow up here with. These are dope.

Orlando Magic: 1989-1998

Whitney: In an era of expansion teams, it also gave us these Orlando Magic uniforms. They continued wearing them all the way until 1998 after debuting in 1989. They had three pinstripe jerseys total — white, black, and blue. It was so simple yet so good. I had a blue Penny jersey and a pair of his shoes during this time, so I’m biased about how great these are. This picture is perfect too with the NBA on NBC logo in the background. I’ll stop gushing now.

Zito: When I think of the Orlando Magic, which I try not to do often, I see them in these jerseys. They’re so simple and wonderful. I loved the star at the end of the shorts. I can’t really make any jokes about these, they’re nice.

Harry: These are also a favorite of mine. If I had the powers to make it happen, I’d make it so the Magic had to wear these today. The pinstripes, the number, the black, white, and blue just meshes together perfectly. I was also a fan of Penny Hardaway growing up so I’m a little biased, but there’s no denying these were perfect back then, and would work just as well now.

Sykes: Alright, I’ll be that guy. These jerseys stink. Way too many stripes for my taste. I do enjoy the color scheme of black, white and blue, but I just could’ve gone without the white stripes throughout the uniform. It ruins what is otherwise a brilliant design. Simple is good, and these stripes are just extra. Still, shoutout to Penny for the foamposites though — a D.C. fashion staple. So what if we’re wack?

Detroit Pistons: 1995-2001

Whitney: The teal era has it has been referred to. It brings back a lot of Grant Hill memories but that may be the only good thing about them. They definitely fit the cartoon theme running through the league at that time but they took it too far.

Harry: These remind me of how great Grant Hill could have been without injuries. Otherwise, yeah, don’t really dig these.

Zito: Grant Hill deserved better.

Whitney: We finally agree on something.

Sykes: Y’all tripping. These are clean. First off, the fact that Grant Hill wore these is always a plus to me. Plus, the Pistons are using an actual demon horse for this, which is totally badass. Automatic points for me. I love the teal here, and it doesn’t really match with the flame orange and black, but it reminds me of an old school Camaro color or something.

Phoenix Suns: 1992-2000

Whitney: The sunburst jerseys. Another jersey that fans wish was the current look. The Suns wore the Dan Majerle, Kevin Johnson, Charles Barkley. Jason Kidd even wore this jersey. The purple is good but I’m a bigger fan of the black alternate. They scream 90s NBA nostalgia to me.

Zito: I know there’s a lot of nostalgia around these jerseys, but no. These aren’t good. Is the basketball a comet? Can’t be, it has to be a sun. Then why are there tails of a comet? I can’t ignore this in the same way that I can ignore a Raptor dribbling a basketball. A man must have his limits.

Whitney: They’re not that bad, Zito.

Harry: The nostalgia certainly is real when I see these jerseys. They might not make sense like Zito mentions but damn it, they remind me of my early NBA fandom and watching Charles Barkley play basketball.

Sykes: I am a man with no limits. These are fire. No one will tell me otherwise.

Seattle Supersonics: 1995-2002

Whitney: The Sonics went darker with their color scheme and by dark I mean an intense forest green. They also added their own cartoon flair with the big Sonics font across the front. It proved to work for nostalgia and hipsters, I guess, as these Sonics went to the 1996 NBA Finals. But these are bad.

Zito: Seattle had a basketball team?

Whitney: That’s a little rude.

Harry: I try to pretend like these never happened but they did. Every franchise typically has one or two bad uniforms in their past so I won’t drag these as much as I might want to. Those teams did leave lasting memories, though.

Sykes: The nostalgia play is definitely a big factor with these, but I’m definitely good with passing on them. That being said, I’d still gladly wear an OG Gary Payton ‘96 Sonics jersey with pride. Shoutout to The Glove.

Charlotte Hornets Pinstripes: 1988-2001

Whitney: When the Hornets joined the NBA in 1988, they came out with these, wearing them all the way into 2001. A true jersey that spanned the entire 90s era. For me, this color scheme screams 90s. It also helps this was the Muggsy Bogues, Alonzo Mourning, Larry Johnson era which is historic on its own.

Zito: It’s like they looked at what Orlando did and thought, “yes, the pinstripes are cool, how do we ruin it? Ah yes, make it look like mold.”

Harry: When I think of NBA basketball in the 90s this is one of the first jerseys that comes to mind, along with those Hornet teams. I’ve always been a fan of these, and while the stripes aren’t as clean or traditional, it fit. In fact, I’m kinda feenin’ to get a Larry Johnson throwback now.

Sykes: I’m good on these. They look like something they’d pass out for a rec league scrimmage. I really hate the different colors of the pinstripes, too. It’s really like they combined the Magic jerseys with the Bucks jerseys and decided it was a great idea.

Indiana Pacers 1990-1997

Whitney: The Flo Jos! These jerseys weren’t exactly popular when they came out. Many didn’t understand why the Pacers had Florence Griffith Joyner design them. But today, they’re definitely one of the most popular throwbacks out there. The Pacers should just switch to these full time.

Zito: It might just be a sign of our tendency to look at things from the past through rose-tinted glasses that people want these back. Because people shouldn’t want these back.

Harry: I think these are another great example of jerseys that are fine to break out once or twice a year. Let’s leave it at that.

Sykes: Big facts.

Whitney: Didn’t expect y’all to trash the FloJos like that. Questioning why I even asked you three to join me in this now.

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nofomoartworld · 7 years

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Hyperallergic: Artistic Responses to the Systemic Inequalities in US Education

Race and Revolution: Still Separate – Still Unequal, installation view (photo courtesy of Smack Mellon)

When I saw the previous iteration of Race and Revolution last summer on Governor’s Island, I thought it contained exceptionally strong work, but the layout prevented the pieces from talking to each other coherently. The conversation faltered, though the conceit was provocative: historical documents that pertain to the treatment of indigenous people sourced from the time of the American Revolution. That exhibition was Katie Fuller’s first as a curator, and organizing it must have been an instructive experience, because the follow-up — Race and Revolution: Still Separate, Still Unequal, currently mounted at Smack Mellon — is much more cohesive and persuasive.

Fuller co-curated this show within a similar framework, and she had an experienced and knowledgeable partner in independent curator and critic Larry Ossieh-Mensah. As she did last year, Fuller asked the artists to respond to particular textual prompts (which are tacked up on walls and pillars in the gallery) regarding education, particularly how it relates to historical struggles for social equity and justice. This topic flows from the strengths Fuller developed in her 11 years as a high school English teacher, during which she sought to impress upon her student the historical dimension of literary works. The show features strong responses that range from exasperation to strident advocacy to cold, hard irony, though the best for me were the pieces that were poignant without being sentimental, and the one piece that let me observe the lives of secondary school students.

jc lenochan, “Unfinished Business: ‘What You Think Matters Too.’ (Part Ⅲ)” (2017), 9 x 7 feet, chalkboard with book tiles (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

The installation by jc lenochan, “Unfinished Business: ‘What You Think Matters Too.’ (Part Ⅲ)” (2017) evokes one of the exhibition’s latent themes: how the ability to read both empowers and damns us at the same time. The work consists of a chalkboard wall on which the artist has written questions to solicit handwritten responses: “What was your race moment?” and “What was your class moment?” On the floor beneath the wall, lenochan has lain out several old books, the kind you might find at a library sale. I was much less interested in the element comprised of the public’s answers, which feels like its been done a great deal in the last few years. (I had the same response to Mona Kamal’s vox populi piece, “I was an Adjunct,” 2017, also in the show, which listed anonymized stories of horrendous treatment as an instructor-for-hire). However, the titles of the books read like a sly and crafty deconstruction of the status quo of our social status hierarchy: The American American Encyclopedia; The Greatest: My Own Story; Colors and Crafts; White Art; Lost Empires; How Things Work Today; Art of the Times. This seems like a way of saying that being able to read (that is, to decode, interpret, and make connections among both textual and visual signs) makes me aware of the ways that race and class structure our relations, but reading doesn’t allow me to change the script. I can only recognize what it’s doing and turn away.

jc lenochan, “Melanin Chronicles: “Everything My Kids Need to Know by Grade 4” (2016–present), objects with shopping cart, 26 x 50 x 30 in. (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Another brilliant piece is lenochan’s “Melanin Chronicles: ‘Everything My Kids Need to Know by Grade 4,’” (2016–present), which consists of an overturned shopping cart that has disgorged its items onto the floor: old leather boxing gloves and head guard, books by Ta-Nehisi Coates and historian Howard Zinn, Premium crackers in a tin, a megaphone, alphabet blocks, an old Ivory Soap package. I wondered at first about the use of the shopping cart — whether it had a consumerist angle — and then thought of how the homeless and indigent in New York City and other cities tend to keep their things in shopping carts, which function as makeshift lockers and suitcases. Thus I grokked that the owner of the cart has no home but still wants to preserve these critical items to hand down to his child: tools to fight, both physically and ideologically, and other items necessary for bare-bones survival.

Shervone Neckles,”Primary I” (2004), mixed media with found miniature school desk and 1940s Dick and Jane Book, 14 x 10 x 12 in., from the Tales of Red Rag Rosie series (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

I was also profoundly affected by two pieces by Shervone Neckles. First is “Blackboard” (2004), a black board with narrative scenes represented by cut-out paper figures in which white characters brutalize darker figures by hanging them, drowning them, dragging them by the hair, selling them, and hunting them. But on the other side of the board is an image of a lone black girl reaching up with a piece of chalk to write on the now blank space — prepared to manifest her own story and promise. There is something heartbreaking about being poised in the moment of expressing all that potential — perhaps because I don’t know whether she’ll ever achieve it. Her other work, “Primary I” (2004), is a small black puppet, a combination of a jigaboo figure and a faceless S&M character, with a horn extending out from the back of its head. The figure is small, perhaps the size of a two-year-old, with an open book in front of it. It’s a caricature that nevertheless feels like an accurate representation of how some see black children through racist and fetishistic lenses.

L. Kasimu Harris, four images from the War on the Benighted series (all 2015), digital photography, each 30 x 45 in. (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

The only artist in the show who gave me insight in the world young students occupy, rather than commenting on that world or its consequences, is L. Kasimu Harris. The photographs from his War on the Benighted series show groups of teenagers in private school uniforms studying or watching each other, caught at fleeting moments when it feels like something momentous might happen. The work captures that time when the students are on the verge of becoming who they will be for the majority of their lives. There is something otherworldy about these images, which can’t help but feel alien to me because I am so far removed from that time and place.

Race and Revolution: Still Separate – Still Unequal, installation view (photo courtesy of Smack Mellon gallery)

The show does not mean for me to arrive at a conclusion about how race and class relate to education; rather it gives glimpses of the internal monologues provoked by individuals’ reactions to that mix. Formal education is losing its potency, and this show demonstrates how and why, as the transformational potential of education wanes, the issue will only become more fraught. We might have a social and political revolution when enough of us realize that becoming educated enough to perceive the institutional impediments to social progress isn’t sufficient. Being empowered to remove these impediments is another objective entirely.

Uraline Septembre Hager, “Like Feeding a Dog His Own Tail” (2014), 7.5 x 5.5 x 6 feet (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Race and Revolution: Still Separate, Still Unequal continues at Smack Mellon (92 Plymouth Street, Dumbo) through August 6.

The post Artistic Responses to the Systemic Inequalities in US Education appeared first on Hyperallergic.

from Hyperallergic http://ift.tt/2vbkNZu via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Hyperallergic

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tbehartoo · 7 years

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Summer Days pt.6

Characters: Levy McGarden x Lisanna Strauss (Levanna)- Characters from Fairy Tail by Hiro Mashima

Rating: General? Teen? I don’t know, where do you stand on fluff?

Summary: Modern AU vignettes where Lisanna and Levy spend a summer together for @filiadcorblog

on AO3

*Down on the Boardwalk- Being “tourists” for the day

Levy checked Lisanna’s handiwork. “I think the baseball cap would be better than the fedora.”

“Well okay, but the fedora really screams ‘tourist’ to me,” Lisanna said as she switched the hats.

“How do I look?” Levy asked before turning to check herself in the mirror.

“You look like the perfect example of every stereotype of a seaside tourist I’ve ever seen,” Lisanna assured her.

They were dressed in tank tops with Hawaiian print shirts over top, khaki Bermuda shorts, white ankle socks, and sandals. They topped off their look with silvered sunglasses and hats. Their visit to the Blue Pegasus Thrift Shop had yielded most of their outfits, the challenge had been to spend less than five dollars and Lisanna had enough change left over to buy the hideous orange handbag that now hung across her body.

“Let me grab my camera and then we can go,” Levy said as Lisanna continued to fidget with the purse strap.

They arrived early at the boardwalk taking ridiculous amounts of pictures as if they had never heard of the ocean or, presumably, seen storefronts before in their entire existence. Levy had reserved wristbands that allowed them unlimited access to the all the rides along the boardwalk, so they made sure to grab them right away.

They were first in line for the rollercoaster which Lisanna had begged to ride, and since she enjoyed it so much they rode it three more times. Levy insisted that Lisanna try the twirling dragon ride claiming that was infamous as the ride that will make you vomit. They took a moment to enjoy the ferris wheel and let their stomachs settle, while getting a magnificent view of the ocean. They decided to try their luck on a few of the carnival games in the arcade. Lisanna won the steeplechase game while Levy won skeeball. They racked up what seemed to be quite a few tickets, but when they turned them in found that they could get a couple of yo-yos or a tiny, stuffed cat on a keychain. They chose the blue cat. Levy told Lisanna that she should keep it as a memento of their trip to the beach. They took one last turn on the roller coaster before taking a ride on the swirling chain swings. Lisanna declared that she needed to stop turning in circles and get some lunch.

They shared an order of fish and chips with a side of fried calamari at the Mermaid Heel, a restaurant that gave women in difficult circumstances marketable skills and protection until they were able to make it on their own. Lisanna had wanted to get cookies at Makarov’s Marvelous Macaroon, but Levy begged off saying she really didn’t want to go in on her one day off this week. She promised her a better place for a sweet treat further along the promenade.

“Time for some shopping!” Levy declared when lunch was over.

She lead Lisanna into a nearby antique store and they window shopped the beautiful objects it contained, making guesses on the age of certain pieces, and questioning if something was original, restored, or faked. Lisanna insisted on having her picture taken with the dancing mascot for the Red Lizard that was out on the sidewalk to drum up attention for his store. Levy made sure to dive into the Orochi’s Fin, a surf gear shop, to check out several pieces of equipment. She asked Lisanna to model a couple of different windbreakers and some quick drying tops while she took photos. Lisanna demanded that Levy model a wetsuit next to a longboard in front of the window for her to take a picture muttering words like ‘juxtaposition of objects’ and ‘mimetic images’ as she framed the scene. A couple of doors down was the Dwarf Gear Shop and both women cooed over the tiny wetsuits and surfboards made for children. Then they had a competition to come up with the cutest beach outfit for a toddler from the items in the store. Lisanna loved the outfit that Levy put together and bought it for her niece declaring, “Evergreen will be the best dressed kid at the pool.”

“I’m craving something sweet,” Lisanna said as they walked the uneven boards. “I think I’m going to need some sugar soon,” she said not too subtly.

“Can you wait a few more minutes?” Levy asked. “We’re nearly there.”

“Where?”

“Lamia Scale Sweets,” Levy replied. “It has the best chocolate and peanut butter fudge on the boardwalk.”

“Do they have saltwater taffy?” Lisanna said as she recalled something. “I always get Elfman taffy when we go to the beach, and I’ve been missing him a little.”

“Oh they have tons of taffy flavors, many that can’t be found anywhere else,” Levy assured her. “They also have specialty candies from around the world as well as retro candies from back in the day.” She began to chuckle darkly. “They even have a corner with what they label revenge sweets. Atomic level cinnamon bears, lollipops with scorpions inside, chocolate covered ants, and truffles covered in roasted grasshoppers.”

“Oooh, sounds perfect,” Lisanna said, a mischievous smile on her face. “That will teach him to be a responsible adult and stay home to ‘work’ instead of coming to play with me.”

“Well if you need help with that, today’s your lucky day,” Levy said. “My little sister works there and there’s no one better at looking entirely sweet and innocent while internally being full of guile and deceit.”

“There’s a story behind that last statement,” Lisanna said, looking at Levy questioningly.

“I’m still not over it,” Levy said with a huff, “Let’s just say that Wendy has been the family’s reigning April Fool’s prankster for the last four years and it doesn’t look like she’s losing her crown anytime soon.”

Lisanna laughed. “I think she and Mira would get along like a house on fire,” she thought for a moment then said, “but the house would not survive.”

Levy began to snicker. “I can see the headline now ‘Fiore in Flames Thanks to Dastardly Duo’ as the world smolders around them.”

Both women were still giggling together when they walked into the candy shop.

“Levy!” the cry came clearly across the store.

Levy waved at the teenager behind the counter. She was dressed in the uniform of the store: A white shirt with frills down the front, large red bow at the neck, a black skirt that was just at knee length, and the no-skid black shoes that seemed to be standard issue in any food service establishment.

“How’s your day been going?” Levy asked.

The girl shrugged then said, “It was busy earlier, but it’s kind of slacked off now.”

“Does that mean you’d be able to help us out with choosing some particular goodies for Lisanna to send home?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said as she brightened up and came out from behind the counter. “Did you grab a basket at the front?”

“No, we didn’t,” Lisanna replied, “I’ll go get one.” She hurried to the stack of baskets.

“So?” Wendy asked. “How’s your date going?”

“It’s not a date Wendy,” Levy said quickly, “It’s just two people hanging out at the boardwalk.”

“Who paid for the ride bracelets?” Wendy demanded.

“I did.”

“And the arcade games?”

“I guess that was mostly me,” Levy admitted.

“Uh-huh,” she said with a leer. “Who paid for lunch?”

“We split the check,” Levy replied reluctantly, “but only because we shared the food.”

They watched as Lisanna stopped at a display of rainbow lollipops. Trying to decide between the various sizes available before choosing several of each.

“And just how often did you accidentally reach for the same french fry?” There was a wolfish grin on her face.

Levy blushed. “Maybe more than could be considered statistically probable,” she admitted.

“Ha!” Wendy crowed triumphantly as Lisanna rejoined them. “So, what kind of sweets are you in the market for?”

“Well I always get my brother taffy when we come to the beach, but he had to stay home and work, so I want a present that says something like ‘Thinking of you, you big lovable jar head, but don’t think I’ve forgiven you just yet for your betrayal.’ Do you have anything like that?”

Wendy chortled, “Oh I’ve got you covered. Just follow me.”

She lead them over to a corner to a barrel filled with taffy, the sign above it asked, “Do You DARE?”

Wendy began, “You are no doubt familiar with a certain book about a young man who is dramatically told that he’s a wizard.” She looked at Lisanna, “His name rhymes with Larry Gott-Her.” Wendy easily slipped into the oft repeated spiel. “There is a certain confection in the books that has an unknown taste until eaten.”

“You mean Bert-” Lisanna began, but Wendy held up a hand to stop her.

“We do NOT say that name in this shop as we are not affiliated with the author, nor the confectioners that have been licenced to sell the less magical version to the common consumer, thank you.” She gestured to the candy behind her. “This barrel contains a mix of look alike taffies, but I assure you they do not taste alike. So now, intrepid explorer, a challenge lies before you. Glory and cavities await, but...DO YOU DARE?” She stopped her presentation with a flourish in the barrel’s direction while Levy and Lisanna gave polite golf claps.

Lisanna looked at the candies, “Is there any way to know what's what?”

“Not really,” Wendy answered. “We can give you a list of the flavors we use, but that's about the best we can do. There's new batches made every hour and the flavors and colors are randomly selected so the reds you get today that turns out to be grape or lime flavor, are not going to match the reds tomorrow that might be grass or chili pepper.“

“That sounds ingeniously devious,” Lisanna said.

Wendy smiled, “Thank you. I got a big bonus for coming up with the idea.”

“I told you she's not to be trusted where pranking is involved,” Levy said.

“On the contrary, she's just the woman for the job,” Lisanna argued. “I told her the situation and she had the exact solution I needed. How much do you think I should get?“

“Probably two or three of each color, they try to make sure there's two different flavors per color, if not more,” Wendy informed her.

Levy helped her sift through the candy while Lisanna recounted their day. “Oooh, show her the pictures while I look around at what else they have here,” she said as she eyed the consumer warning on the Habanero Hot Cinnamon Bears.

Wendy waved them out of the store twenty minutes later grumbling under her breath, “Not a date? Whatever.”

They made it to the far end of the boardwalk just as the sun reached the horizon and decided to head back to the car. Levy suggested that the sky ride would get them back quicker and let them sit for a bit. Lisanna looked through her bag from Lamia Scale for something unique for them both to try. Levy had sampled most of the candies, sometimes unwittingly, but finally Lisanna found one.

“It’s a new candy meant to seem retro,” Lisanna said as she opened the package.

“What’s it called?”

Lisanna blushed before saying, “Love Potion No.9.”

“Oh?” Levy laughed. “I’ve never tried that one before.”

“Well here’s your chance,” Lisanna said holding the box toward her. “But,” she waggled her eyebrows, “Do you dare?”

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#ft femslash #fairy tail #levy x lisanna #Summer Exchange Gift

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mlbpowerrankings · 7 years

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#1 - Detroit Tigers

City: Detroit: The coolest fucking place on earth. Seriously, let me give you a little bit of a rundown. This is the place that created the middle class in America, the place that voted for George W. Bush and Donald Trump the least of any major city in America. Home to Motown Records, Judge Larry D. Williams of Tyvek, the Heidelberg Project, the Penobscot Building, Diego Rivera’s Detroit Industry, Coleman A. Young, the League of Revolutionary Black Workers, square deep dish pizza, Vernors Ginger Ale and Faygo Rock and Rye, the Buck Dinner, Nemo's and the Hadituptoheres. Anthony Bordain said it best: “It’s where nearly everything American and great came from.”

Cool Historical Figures: Ty Cobb, Hughie Jennings, Harry Heilmann, Charlie Gehringer, Hank Greenberg, Schoolboy Rowe, Hal Newhouser, Al Kaline, Norm Cash, Ernie Harwell, Bill Freehan, Mickey Lolich, Gates Brown, Willie Horton, Ron LeFlore, Mark Fidrych, Alan Trammell, Lou Whitaker, Kirk Gibson, Bobby Higginson, Deivi Cruz, Miguel Cabrera, Víctor Martínez, José Iglesias, Daniel Norris & Michael Fulmer.

Lame Historical Figures: Walter Briggs (but Ty Cobb, Denny McClain, Bobby Higginson and Justin Verlander were all pretty close).

Stadium: Above Average. The best thing about Comerica Park is the gigantic outfield. It makes for lots of triples (the most exciting play in baseball) and can lead to some spectacular plays in center field. The view of the city’s pretty great too, especially the Robert Wyland mural on the north side of Broderick Tower. The fact that you can watch part of a game for free from the sidewalk in the outfield is pretty solid too. The lack of bleacher culture is a real bummer though, as the Tigers’ old home was home to such wild behavior in the bleachers that ticket holders to that section were literally fenced in and could not leave the bleachers until after the 7th inning.

Uniform: The Best. With one exception in the year 1960, the Tigers have not changed their home jersey in any meaningful way sine the early 1930′s. And why would they? It’s simple, sleek and classy as hell. It’s like the Yankees’ uniform without the stupid pin-stripes. And today’s road jerseys are equally classy, using the orange trim without overpowering the navy blue. The Tigers have only made one uniform mistake in the modern era, a poor cap and piping scheme in the mid-1990′s that was rectified after only four years. And I love that the Old English D on the jersey is not the same as the one on the cap. Best of all, no alternate jerseys.

Broadcasters: Mixed Bag. Dan Dickerson is a real great mix of game calling and philosophizing about the game, and the conversation between he and Jim Price is easy most of the time, unless the Tigers’ season is shot, in which case Jim Price becomes unbearable. I mean, he’s sort of unbearable to begin with, but you put up with him to get Dickerson. Once the team’s losing, the personal stories and inside jokes get ramped up and you just want to tell him it’s time to retire.

Ownership: Poor. Sorry to shit on Mike Ilitch right after he dies, but the dude was a slum-lord. And the club has had a long history of jerks in ownership. Before Ilitch, the Tigers were owned by Tom Monaghan, who used his money to build a town in Florida where he tried to ban the sale of contraceptives. Frank Navin spent money to tear down the existing stadium and built a new one on the same lot, naming it after himself, despite not wanting to pay players worth a damn. And the worst of the bunch, Walter Briggs who paid his automobile manufacturing employees a fraction of what Ford paid and whose company was a frequent target of UAW action. He kept the team all white until late into the 1950′s, which not only is despicable, but of course made the team totally non-competitive, averaging 24 games out of first in the 1950′s.

Intangibles: Slightly below average. Points deducted for being the last team to have an African American player on its roster. Points deducted for For Love of The Game. Especially since they cast Vin Scully as the broadcaster instead of Tiger’s legend Ernie Harwell. Then they had the audacity to cast Steve Lyons as Vin Scully’s color man... ugh. Points awarded for Bobby Higginson’s 1996 Score card and also for that drunk guy I saw climb onto the roof of the old Tiger Stadium in 1999. Hope he didn’t get hurt.

#detroit tigers #tigers #detroittigers

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buddyrabrahams · 7 years

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Expert NCAA Tournament bracket picks: Grey’s 2017 March Madness selections

Predicting the NCAA Tournament is a total crapshoot. It’s a series of educated guesses, and one bad one can ruin the entire thing. But isn’t that the fun of it? All the research and study and statistical analysis in the world, and you can still lose to someone who picks based on uniform colors and cool nicknames – which I have, several times. (Hi, mom!)

I sat down to do this without having any idea who I was going to pick as my champion, because I think it just works better that way. Would it be Villanova, the defending champs and No. 1 overall tournament seed? What about one-loss Gonzaga, who have played at an elite level all year but not necessarily against the best competition? Ultimately, a lot was determined by matchups and potential stumbling blocks. I was ultimately a bit surprised by how chalky my bracket turned out to be given the lack of standout elite teams in the college ranks this year.

I ultimately went with Sean Miller’s Arizona Wildcats, and I have to admit I wasn’t expecting to do so when I started my bracket. I was swayed by their elite athleticism, strong perimeter defense, and a matchup nightmare in forward Lauri Markkanen. They have a difficult path to the title, but I think they’ll be able to navigate it with enough in the tank to reach the Final Four and then cut down the nets.

Will this bracket blow up in my face by the end of the first weekend? Well, yeah, probably. I could honestly see this tournament spawning a ton of upsets, both early and late, that I’m simply not feeling bold enough to predict. But that’s the joy of it. So without further ado, from the guy whose champion was knocked out of the tournament on day two last year – thanks, Sparty – here are my expert picks for the entire 2017 NCAA Tournament.

You can see my full 2017 NCAA Tournament brackets below, with analysis of each region after the screenshots (click to enlarge each bracket half)

Midwest Region

There are several teams I like in this region, but a few of them got a really bad draw. Michigan in particular stands out. In my mind, they’re underseeded, and are saddled with a brutal second-round match-up against Louisville that might be too much for them. Had then been a 6, they easily could have pushed their way into the Sweet Sixteen or Elite Eight somewhere. I like Rhode Island to wreak some havoc in this region as well. Oregon will suffer from the loss of Chris Boucher to a season-ending ACL injury, and this Rhode Island team — which had very high expectations before the season started — is turning into a healthy, well-oiled machine at the right time.

Otherwise, this region is pretty chalky to me. I don’t have all the faith in the world in Kansas, but Josh Jackson and Frank Mason are the most talented combo in this region. Michigan State could theoretically pose a challenge if they get that far, but they haven’t really played to their potential at any point this season. Caleb Swanigan and Purdue would be tough, as would Rick Pinito’s Louisville, but Kansas has the most talent in the region, and I’m sticking to that.

West Region

To Gonzaga or not to Gonzaga? That is the question, as it is seemingly every year. The Bulldogs are always talented, but it’s hard to tell just how talented they are, as they don’t really get the opportunity to test themselves against elite opposition in the West Coast Conference. Behind the frontcourt-backcourt combo of Przemek Karnowski and Nigel Williams-Goss, they are absolutely good enough to reach the Final Four, but I’ve grown to be a fan of Sean Miller’s Arizona squad. Allonzo Trier and Kadeem Allen are really good — Trier in particular is a standout at both ends, and Lauri Markkanen is a match-up nightmare who rebounds and shoots over 40 percent from beyond the arc. I’ve got them winning the region — and the title — though a word for St. Mary’s, who could have made a lot of noise in this tournament with a more forgiving match-up.

I’m also a fan of Notre Dame, and a potential game against West Virginia would be a lot of fun. Bob Huggins’ famous “Press Virginia” will try to get Notre Dame to turn the ball over, but the Irish are very good at avoiding just that. Princeton will be a dark horse upset pick, but I like the Irish, who have been playing well lately, to make it to the Sweet Sixteen before falling to the Zags.

East Region

This is where I’m predicting a bit of chaos. UNC-Wilmington is a really strong mid-major facing off against a Virginia squad that I feel is vulnerable to an upset. Florida also looks like a possible upset victim, as they’ve struggled since starting center John Egbunu tore his ACL in February, ending his season prematurely. They’re up against a strong mid-major in East Tennessee State, and I could see that section getting a bit crazy quickly. UNC-Wilmington is my pick for a Sweet Sixteen berth – though they’re vulnerable to a strong frontcourt, they have guards that can play with anyone.

I’m also a huge fan of Tim Jankovich’s small-balling SMU team, which enters the tournament having won 30 games behind an elite defense, strong rebounding, and an efficient offense that can shoot the three. I like them to upend Baylor and shock a Duke team that, while playing extremely well right now, has demonstrated a repeated tendency to disappear and underwhelm at certain points of the season. There’s always one big upset a couple rounds in where a 1 or a 2 seed goes down, and I’m feeling this one.

Ultimately, though, I think this region belongs to Villanova. They’re tournament-tested and have consistently been one of the best teams in the game all year long, and Josh Hart will lead his team to a second straight Final Four.

South Region

First thing’s first: I feel really badly for Wichita State, the eighth best team in America if you like the KenPom methodology, being sentenced to a tough first-round game against Archie Miller’s Dayton and then a possible date with John Calipari’s Kentucky Wildcats in the second round. They could have gone far in another regional.

As it is, though, may we be so lucky to witness the possible Kentucky vs. UCLA game, because it may end up being the game of the tournament. It would match up two teams who love to run and score, and I can’t imagine there being a more entertaining matchup anywhere else in the bracket. Calipari is a better coach than Steve Alford, but Lonzo Ball will be the best player on the floor, and I like the Bruins to advance there. As a sidenote, Kentucky, UCLA, and North Carolina in the same regional? That’s some elite company.

It is ultimately North Carolina’s region to lose in my mind. Their frontcourt is capable of bludgeoning lesser opponents, and the likes of Butler and UCLA won’t be able to stack up – though UNC/UCLA would be an incredible spectacle. In my mind, though, it’s going to be another Final Four for Roy Williams’s crew, as well as another appearance in the title game.

from Larry Brown Sports http://ift.tt/2nwe2cV

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