#performing without a net when they had a kid to take care of

[hood-ex]

Do you ever think about how Dick's only ever had crazy, daredevil parents.

[wosowrites]

For Her Safety (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: swearing

prompt: in which you get tackled horrifically during a dirty game by an irish player and jessie is furious.

a/n: by the way I LOVE Katie so much she just does these things for the sake of the story.

Bev had given you all a talk days before the Ireland game. It went something along the lines of "Katie McCabe plays dirty. She's brilliant, she's tough, she's dangerous, she will do anything to win, including taking your ankles out." The gaffer warned you all to be careful but not back down, to fight but not let her have any reason to hold a grudge against you. But mostly she emphasized that you had no control over the irishwoman, and that the only thing to do was hold her off.

When the Irish scored in the fourth minute you knew you had time, you knew you had the skill, but you also had a new found sense of worry. That goal was lucky. You cant mark someone taking a corner. She scored a good goal by accident, but a good goal nonetheless. And then it was Julias turn. It was Canadas turn to get lucky.

Right before half, Julia crossed the ball in from the left side and into the far right corner. An Irish defender tried to deflect it, but it went into her own net. You screamed your lungs out, running to Julia and hugging her and Jordyn closely. The Canadians formed a mob of joy before the half time whistle blew, but you all knew that you couldn't perform like the first half in the second.

And you didn't.

The real Canada came into the light in the second half, you were pressuring the Irish box, making passes, tackles, smart plays and taking shots, but the next goal came in the 53' minute. You were desperate to get on the score sheet as the striker, and when you saw a cross coming into the left corner just out of your reach and just a little too low, you knew what you had to do.

Throwing yourself in the direction of the ball head first, you made contact and sent the ball slamming into the back of the net along with yourself. You slid into the Irish net and quickly got up, running towards the only person you wanted to celebrate this goal with. Jessie Fleming. Her arms were outstretched as your body connected with hers in a hug at the top of the box. You wrapped your arms around her waist and laughed as Sophie, Jordyn, Sincy, and the entire of your team crashed into the hug as well. But the only person who mattered to you in that moment was Jess. Jess, your beautiful, perfect girlfriend and her shining, proud brown eyes.

The first foul on you came only minutes later, you were running down the wing, having switched momentarily with Jordyn. You got to the left edge of the box when Katie started marking you, jockeying and holding you off until support came. You moved up to her slowly, keeping the ball controlled and then faked going left before taking a small touch to the right past the irishwoman. But before you could get the ball again, Katie's leg stuck out and wiped your feet from under you. You barely had any time to react, already having been low due to the position you were in to change sides quickly, the fall made it that your head smashed into the turf without your arms to support them. You sat up quickly, your arms wide and the slight feeling of blood going down your face from your nose. You didnt care though, choosing instead to stand up and demand that the referee give Katie a yellow... which she didn't.

"You're kidding me, right?" another voice said. Jessie had closed in on you, Katie and the referee. "She stuck her foot out and made her fall on her face shes getting a card," Jessie said, her eyes cold and fixated upon McCabe. "You're not the referee, Fleming," the woman said. "Jessie just leave it," you said softly, putting your hand on her stomach to try and get her to back away. She probably would have if Katie hadn't sassed her.

"Yeah, you're not the ref," she taunted. This made the midfielder have other ideas. She pushed forwards and into Katie so that their faces were barely apart from each other. "Say that again, huh? I swear I see you touch her one more time and you'll be off this pitch in a stretcher," Jessie threatened.

Somehow, throughout the commotion between both teams, no medics had come for your nose. A big clump of players had formed, the green behind Katie, pulling their captain away and the white trying to put themselves between the two captains. Due to the big group of people and the loudness, the referee ended up not hearing anything that was being said, so a free kick was awarded and that was that.

However your nose was still bleeding like crazy and your jersey was soiled. Your head felt light and Jessies head snapped towards you as she saw you sit down on the grass again. The Canadian waved over medics and kneeled next to you, pushing back your baby hairs swiftly. "You're hot when you're mad," you winked at her. "You're hot when your nose is bleeding," she winked. "Dont lie," you rolled your eyes at her. "I'm not," she said almost hungrily. It made your heart skip a beat.

But then the medics were there with some towels and ushered you off the field just for the time it took to change your jersey and stop the bleeding. And then you were back on, but Katie was still angry.

The second foul on you came due to a slide tackle you had done to her. You had honestly tried to get the ball but ended up clipping her ankles. Not enough to injure her but enough to piss her off.

You were quick to stand up yourself, apologize and offer her your hand but she refused it, jumping up on her own and pushing you to the ground with a loud cuss word. You sat there, slightly stunned with your hands up in submission, but what made you stand back up was Jessie rushing towards you both, followed by a worried looking Vanessa Gilles and Quinny. You were quick to place yourself between Jessie and Katie. You grabbed onto Jessies waist with one arm and turned to Denise O'Sullivan. "Get her away from us O'Sullivan, she's not big but she stings," you yelled at the woman, referring to Jessie. Denise led her captain away and you watched as you got booked.

Before Jessie could argue with the ref, you gave her a stern look and took the yellow card. The game ended 2-1 which you were thankful for, but somehow McCabe still had it in her to argue.

As you shook hands with the opponent, Katie was closing the line and so were you. She stopped you by putting her hand on your stomach and pushing you in the slightest. "You play just as dirty as me you're just better at hiding it," she whispered in your ear. You rolled your eyes at her before moving away. "Whatever, I'm gonna go talk to my girlfriend now because I still have one," you scowled, knowing immediately you should not have said that. You walked away from her and towards Jessie who was looking more calm and concerned now instead of angry and on edge. "What did she say?" your girlfriend asked. "Nothing, just banter," you answered.

The next time you saw Katie, she was being booked. You had no clue for what because the game had been over for about five minutes now. You exchanged a look with Jessie and burst out laughing, clapping your hands together as the Irish ignored you.

The locker room was happy but full of knowledge that you all collectively needed to perform better versus Australia.

Once you got into the bus it was late and dark outside. Your hair was wet from shower water instead of rain and you cuddled up beside your girlfriend in the bus. "It's cute when you get all protective," you said to her, nuzzling into her shoulder. "It's cute when you put your arms out to stop yourself from almost breaking your nose," Jessie answered, making you let out a short, loud laugh. "Okay Fleming," you rolled your eyes.

Jessie looked down at you and you shifted to look up at her so that she could place a small, sweet kiss on your lips. She closed her eyes and so did you, knowing that you had a couple hours of sleep before taking a plane back to Melbourne.

[blitzwhore]

Circus AU for the WIP ask game

Aaaaah, this is a wip that is currently on stand-by because it's also a multi-chapter fic idea and I can't work on two of those at the same time. My plan is for this one to be my main fic after I wrap up the tattoo shop AU!!! So if everything goes according to my plan, this should be the next big fic I work on ❤️

This is an AU in which, before the fire takes place, while they're all still teenagers, Blitz finds a passed-out Stolas buried in a stack of hay in the horses' stables. They remember each other from when they were kids, but they never met again, and Blitz has no idea how or why Stolas ended up here. All Stolas will tell him is he has nowhere else to go.

My plan for this fic is actually for the main ship to be Fizz/Blitz/Stolas! I'd love for both Fizz and Stolas to love Blitz fiercely, and help Blitz learn how to let himself be loved. It's a journey in which Blitz comes to understand that he doesn't have to choose between just one of the two boys he's fallen in love with, and that he's worthy of both of them, and they all can make each other happy in a way that works for them.

Here's a little snippet:

He couldn’t even remember the last time Cash had complimented him. Every single day, after every act, his dad congratulated all the performers on their work, smiling widely at them, sometimes even hugging them if he felt particularly affectionate. He hugged Barbie and Fizz more than anyone else, endless streams of praise falling from his lips as he took them outside to meet the crowd. He loved showing them off for everyone to see. Like they were jewels he was collecting. Like they were precious. 

But Blitzo couldn’t remember the last time his own dad had congratulated, or smiled at, or much less hugged him.

He loved to tell himself he didn't care—that he didn't need his father's approval. But the tears that streamed down his face even as he thought about it told a different story. 

In the cozy quietness of the stables, Blitzo cried, pressing his face against the mare’s soft flank to muffle his sobs.

He really didn’t want to hold any of this against Fizz or Barbie. He loved them more than anything in this world. It was him that was the problem. Him that made things worse. Him that was a fucking waste of space.

Fuck, he was pathetic.

He was sniffling and carding his fingers through the mare’s soft mane when the spikes at his back shivered and stood. A moment later, he realized why: something had moved in the far corner of the tent, just within his blurry line of sight. 

Straightening, Blitzo quickly wiped away his tears and scanned the area. 

Stacks of hay were haphazardly spread over the area. Blitzo had been insisting on getting some hay nets for some time now, to no avail. Nothing seemed to be amiss, at least not until—

A black leg poked from under a stack and dragged across the ground, its sharp claws twitching.

His heart jumped. Without thinking, he grabbed the nearest object he could find that could serve as a weapon—a rusty old rake with a half-rotten stick—and approached whatever, or whoever, was hiding under the hay. 

“Who’s there?” he asked, holding the rake in front of himself. When no reply came, he poked the foot warily. It retracted back under the hay, leaving behind a single, gray feather. 

Blitzo frowned. With careful movements, he poked the hay with the rake, revealing a long, black leg, covered with light brown trousers—a person. Alarm turning into worry, he dropped the rack and pushed more hay aside, uncovering another leg, a black blouse of some kind, a dark gray, silky cape, a long, feathered neck, a white face—

Stolas.

It was him, wasn’t it? The Goetia prince. Blitzo had only met him once forever ago, but he distinctly remembered the owl having a heart-shaped face with four eyes.

What the fuck?

This needs some editing, and I know this fic won't see the light of day anytime soon, but I'm still really really excited about it! ❤️

[soapver4]

Pity, a Star Wars series

Spinoff Bubble: A long time ago in a slightly more dissimilar galaxy far, far away… a clique of righteous, highly accomplished but long-orphaned Jedi Knights grow increasingly perturbed when they notice glints of doting sorrow in their ailing Jedi Master' eyes as her usually inscrutable facade breaks down. As twisty investigations on a mass murder mystery progress, they suspect that they were memory-wiped child assassins responsible for the killings. The Jedi Master, determined to safeguard the truth, now performs a memory wipe on herself, leaving them with no choice but to roam rough planets in search of their real families and what remains of kidnappers already known to mindwash, torture and train such child assassins.

The expeditions throw up three discoveries, some intriguing and some startling. First, though some of these Jedi bear strong physical resemblances to the assassins' families, the parents are strikingly different from those in the few stubborn remnants of their early memories. Are the Jedi Knights doppelgängers serving as red herrings for some purpose? Second, life at the bottom rungs of the galactic system proves far more violent and degrading than they had imagined. Third, certain kidnappers, wrongly presumed dead, have been resurrecting their operations.

Putting aside their parentage questions for the sake of the galaxy, the Jedi Knights rally enormous resources and forces — including the MedCorps, AgriCorps and EduCorps — to assist the suffering people, thwart the kidnappers' operations and rescue new child assassins and potential murder targets. In fact, the amelioration of ground-level suffering is crucial as it frees up attention and care for would-be kidnappees and tamps down socioeconomic ills that feed those spies-recruiting kidnappers' radical ideologies. Enthusiastic recruits from numerous species, such as humans, Wookiees, Mogwai and Ewoks, rush to join the massive project out of duty, a thirst for adventure or raw financial desperation.

Much unfortunately, in their endeavor to bring about political and economic stability in the various planetary societies, the Jedi Knights end up reproducing the overall socioeconomic order in the galaxy. Project respondents with the best means throughout life have the highest odds of possessing the talent for roles with the best remuneration and opportunities to explore and shape their galaxy. The ordinary ones net ordinary roles. Those who look like they can barely take care of themselves, like paraplegics without Darth Vader's bionics, are redirected to subminimum wage jobs in sheltered workshops, and if they insist that is not enough for the families they are actually breadwinners of, food in scuffles-prone soup kitchens as well.

Things take a bizarre turn when a human Jedi Knight among our orphaned leads bump into a wrinkled Wookiee woman he uncontrollably tears up at the sight of, while a bunch of human kids out of earshot poke fun at the gigantic species' extreme hairiness. To figure out the cause of his outburst, he follows her home, where he discovers the childhood bedroom in his dreams. On the bed lies the woman's only child, a Wookiee she later tells him was diagnosed with a severe intellectual disability prior to a harrowing bout of infection, a visit by a Jedi whose traits match the Jedi Master's, and his present coma. As he stares at the unconscious Wookie, waves of surreal numbness course through his human body.

Over the coming months, the supposedly orphaned Jedi Knights follow the lead to track down more families whose children became comatose after covert visits from the Jedi Master. Since the comas did not occur immediately after the visits and the families did not know each other, barely anybody seriously suspected her. By and by, these Jedi Knights discover her hidden talent of suppressing a child's consciousness and remotely transferring it from one body to another. The comatose bodies are naturally the original bodies, the suppressed consciousness and host bodies are the child assassins', and the transferred consciousness are the comatose bodies'.

But who are the other comatose people, the rest of the Jedi Knights at the heart of this series? They are the very class of galaxy inhabitants they sort into the bottom of the economic pyramid: One has severe cerebral palsy; another suffers from the locked-in syndrome; yet another is an autistic person with difficulties in camouflaging. The last one has had childhood schizophrenia. Even the Jedi with locked-in syndrome had an inquisitive mind and could do some meaningful work in her own body when equipped with the necessary technology. Nevertheless, they know too well that too few foremen in their own operations would have confidence placing bets on grit and stereotype fallibility to yield staggering quotas of goods and services out of their original selves under the forever harsh circumstances of the galaxy.

The celebrated Jedi heroes stand over a dusty manual on consciousness manipulation, juxtaposed with shots of their comatose bodies. Three of them make the hard decision to transfer their consciousness to captured kidnappers' bodies, arrange for rehabilitation of the awakening child assassins and continue their Jedi missions. The remaining pair, finding the notion of breathing and traveling through these depraved masterminds' bodies too revolting, choose to return to their trapping old lives.

[evanvanness]

A few months with an electric car

I'll be honest, it was a bit of an impulse buy, I didn't do a lot of research.

I was curious and I felt like the performance numbers meant that even if I hated it, then it would likely be worth the experiment.

1. Charging your battery off your wall outlet is surprisingly slow. I get less than a kWh charge over 60 minutes, which gets me a few miles depending how fast I punch it in the acceleration. If I had a long commute, I'd probably need to spend the money to upgrade my wall socket to charge faster. My wife wanted me to, but to be honest I just don't drive enough. It hasn't been an issue.

Gratuituous image from Grok:

2. Electric cars do feel like the future for commuting. They're quick, they're quiet, they're cheaper per mile than internal combustion engines.

3. Electric cars are fun. I feel like it's underrated how basically any electric sports car is faster than _any_ gas supercar at any real world driving. Sure if you're on a track or in the middle of Wyoming and can go 120miles per hour, then a gas supercar is superior. But otherwise, electric is just an unfair advantage.

Again let me repeat. Electric is better performance in real world, every day driving. I was a skeptic, but I was wrong. Electric is definitely better. It's not close.

Electric is definitely different from gas though. There's no roar of the engine. You wouldn't take your fussy toddler out in the electric car to get them to go to sleep.

But they absolutely fly off the line. They get your heart pounding as g forces hit you that could never happen in a gas powered car.

4. I'm far from convinced that electric cars are actually net positive for the environment. Again, I bought it because fun.

Miss me with your partisan arguments either way, I don't care.

A good examination of the tradeoffs is interesting and complicated and acknowledges the imprecision.

5. I do find it concerning that it feels like a computer. In general I'd prefer an analog display and not a digital one for any car. A friend has an 8 year old Tesla and he says his display is already lagging.

This bugs me for lots of reasons. Planned obsolence. Intrinsic insecurity because computer. The continuous overreach of surveillance capitalism is made even worse in modern cars. The ability to brick the computer with an involuntary software update.

6. On that note, I wouldn't buy an electric car except maybe from an established car company (since governments will likely bail them out) or Tesla. Just seems like too much probability that the company goes busto.

I do think that part of why I am far from convinced that electric cars will be good for the environment is that I doubt they last very long. Certainly not as long as a well maintained Toyota. How long does the software get supported? What happens when libraries stop being supported? etc etc.

I don't think electric cars will end up being some anti-consumerism thing like many environmental advocates seem to think. In fact, I imagine it will be the opposite, almost more like a phone that you're forced to upgrade every few years.

I like technology and am a tech optimist but I'm also not blind to the fact that the world is tradeoffs.

7. I learned that you aren't supposed to charge the battery past 80% to optimize for battery life. In general apparently the tighter you keep your range around 50%, the better for battery life. Plus slower charging is also better for the battery.

8. I wouldn't go all electric with a family. Our family car is a 4runner, and those are just incredible vehicles, like almost everything Toyota makes.

An electric car feels like a nice complement to that. But it's hard for me to imagine having an electric car as a family car if you have a few kids. Or even without kids, I suppose, road trips are never going to be the same with an electric car. Where you live and how often you take roadtrips and how organized you are about finding chargers may change this calculus.

If it isn't clear, I love my electric car. But in a two car family, I wouldn't have both be electric. For us anyway, but I think probably for you as well (though circumstances obviously vary widely).

But I definitely think one of your two cars will be electric in the future.

Addenda: I knew I forgot something, and I remember it the moment I got in my car today.

Recharge/recuperation/regeneration/whatever your manufacture calls it.

When you take your foot off the pedal, it naturally recharges the battery and slows the car down. It saves your brakes, it's easier on the car, and it saves electricity.

My car lets me turn this mode on or off, and I basically always leave it on because it's just a superior way to drive.

[mywifeleftme]

36: The Exploding Hearts // Guitar Romantic

Guitar Romantic The Exploding Hearts 2003, Dirtnap (Bandcamp)

It’s a very stupid thing to believe in rock ‘n’ roll, but that was my milk. Not that I was raised to think of rock as a thing one could do, per se—it existed like God, manners, and Twix bars as one of life’s generous and unambiguous positives. “Wild Thing.” “Take Me Home Tonight.” “Stay.” When she was young, my mom was radicalized by ‘70s FM radio: her high school friends gave each other nicknames from J. Geils Band songs (Wooba Gooba, Raputa the Beauta etc.) and she protested the music selections at her prom by burning disco records on the lawn outside the school. Burning music is a dumb thing to do, and there are a lot of particularly nasty reasons to hate disco that I’m sure my mom wasn’t consciously aware of, but I have to respect caring enough about a thing that you are moved to stand up for it. As I aged from a child to a teen in a weird loft bedroom with no walls to separate my place from the rest of the house, rock certainly felt important. Whenever I needed to disappear, I could always lay very still in bed with my little discman, headphones on, humming like a tuning fork.

Rock (and feel free to substitute ‘rock’ for ‘music’ or ‘art’ or ‘the sublime’) is that heavensound an error of the brain lets us experience, but also the sweaty fact of making noise. Nights alone in the garage or the bedroom or the studio. Days and nights and days and nights together in a van with other highly defective people sharing the same new-dime dream. Reliving the last show the whole next day, that fifteen minutes of power and light. I never let myself figure out how to participate in music till I was in my 30s, but I got a tiny taste of something like it grinding and touring as a poet. Making it pulls out the part of you that dreams and desires, reveals things it can take the rest of your life to come to terms with.

The Exploding Hearts are famous for two things. One is their debut, Guitar Romantic, a ‘70s pop punk revival record that converts anyone into that sound into an instant believer. I won’t appeal to logic here, but what I’m saying feels true: no matter its quality, any modern album in a bygone style will lack that inarticulable novelty and sense of discovery that pushes an album from good to great. I can’t tell you why an album that sounds 99% like Exile on Main St. doesn’t quite achieve the same effect—I only know that it doesn’t. But Guitar Romantic is the exception to that rule. It couldn’t exist without the Buzzcocks or The Undertones, but it feels just as timeless and candy-eyed and smart-stupefied by love as their best—and is probably a more satisfying front to back non-compilation LP than either of those pioneers ever cut.

The other thing The Exploding Hearts are known for is the van accident that killed three of the four touring members of the band just under four months after the release of Guitar Romantic. I think about the way I’ve felt driving out of the nighttime midwestern wastes and seeing Chicago begin to reveal itself in an orange netting of suburban lights. Of cometing over the George Washington Bridge after a gig blasting good kid, m.A.A.d. city and feeling like I had finally found my way. Of the lifting I would feel every morning at the idea of the road to another show, no matter how badly performed or attended the previous one might’ve been. I have no idea what the conversation was like between the Hearts on their way home from San Francisco, but even if they were weary and miserable, there must have been that knowledge also that they were doing it, that thing which having been done, even for a moment, sustains legends and never-weres and also-rans alike. The Exploding Hearts were the real deal, and they deserved so much more time to do that thing. But not even those who deserve it always get it.

36/365

[volleychumps]

hi i loved your helping karasuno during a game hc’s and i was wondering if you could do one for nekoma ?

Due to popular demand, here it is! I wrote with the ones I was the most comfortable with, so I hope you guys enjoy!!

Calming Down Nekoma in a Match

———————————————————

Kuroo

- “God, all these Nohebi players are pricks.” “Kuroo, they might hear-” “Kenma, look at my face. Do I look like I care?” 

- runs a hand through his already sweaty hair frustratedly as he gulps down water, eyes taking on a menacing edge as the team all simutaneously take a step away from the pissed-off captain

- “Nekomata-sensei…” “Don’t worry. We have luck on our side.” “What do you-?” “Get (Y/N) down here. Now.” 

- gets riled up immensely so much to the point where he begins making mistakes, allowing the toxic words from the other team to get to him until he gets subbed out

- legit the whole team is shook because the captain was no longer playing, messing up the flow that they’re usually able to keep intact 

- leans against the wall with a pissed-off expression as he dares the players of the other team to look his way, blinking when a pair of arms is suddenly on either side of his body

- Yaku has to stop the team from laughing at how funny it looked: your adorable figure was trapping Kuroo against the wall with both arms as he stared down at you. unblinking 

- stiff posture relaxes immediately, pissed-off expression forming into one of amusement and confusion 

- “Came to visit?” the side of his lips quirk up, feeling the tension slip his chest as you look up at him sternly, refusing to let him leave his spot on the wall before your arms suddenly wrap around his torso 

- “What are you so mad for? You’re playing so well.” You pout, looking up at him as your front body presses up against his in a hug. “And you’re the one who told me to come because you were gonna win. Were you wrong in saying that?” 

- looks at you for a second before his hand gently strokes your cheek, feeling his breathing even out before taking a deep breath, determination brimming his eyes as you grin. You had done it. 

- “Nope. I wasn’t wrong at all when saying that.” leans down towards you, feral eyes playful as his lips form a smirk, eyes twinkling in amusement as he pulls you in.

- flips off the staring Nohebi team as he plants his lips on yours for a good fifteen seconds, looking energized as he jogs back on to the court away from your flushed figure 

-bro wtf we get it you have a gf 

- “Kuroo, there are children-” “Lev and Shibuyama can get over it. Let’s win this.” 

- Nekomata sensei lets you sit next to him throughout the rest of the game, and when Nekoma manages to win their third set, Kuroo jogs over to you before quite literally sweeping you off your feet, picking you up bridal style as he peppers kisses all over your cheeks

- “Kuroo, please let me go-!”

- “Never.” His forehead rests against yours.

-“You’re too good to let go, I can’t help myself.” 

Kenma 

-You never thought you’d see the day where Kenma would lose his cool

- It was a match against Fukurodani, and you could tell Kenma was becoming more and more irate as Bokuto’s speed was too much to allow him to think

- Kenma’s sets begin to lack strength, signalling he was lessening the amount of pressure he was using in his arms to set the ball up as he got more and more lost within his mind 

- The Nekoma team blinks when Kenma’s set doesn’t even rise above the net

- Luckily, Fukunaga comes in to set in his place when Kenma gets benched, eyes downcast on the floor as the team legit freaks out

- Yamamoto stop freaking out baby pls

- like what are they supposed to do without the brain of the team? all connection would suddenly become lost without Kenma

-Kuroo is legit looking at Kenma with a we-say-a-fucking-chant-for-you-before-the-game-are-you-kidding-me look before whipping out his phone in the middle of time out

-poor love feels pressured as he sits on the bench, trying to make himself calm as the irritation bubbles in his stomach 

- “Hey uh, Y/N, you’re watching this, right?” “ I can see Kenma looks a tad frustrated.” “You’re his girlfriend! Do something!” “What?” 

- You snap your phone shut before leaving the stands to enter the gym floor, ignoring the stares you were getting from the audience to see that Nekoma had called a time-out, the other team sitting at set point 

- “Kenma, Bokuto has a stupid amount of strength and you know that-” “Kuroo. I don’t care. Don’t lecture me.” 

- silently, you shoo the surrounding members of the team away from Kenma as you take the unoccupied seat next to him, remaining quiet for a few seconds before you hear him sigh lightly 

- “You shouldn’t be down here.” “Yet here I am!” 

- doesn’t react when you take his hand, tracing your finger over the lines on his hands as your thumb runs back and forth soothingly on his skin

- “It’s just a game.” You say finally, nudging him in the side with your shoulder before resting your head on his. “Think about it this way. The faster you win this, the faster you can finally beat me at Smash Bros.” 

- “You’ve won once.” “Doesn’t matter! You still lost!” 

- scoffs a little at your fuming face before feeling the air circulation in his lungs allow him to breathe a little easier, glancing down at your bright grin before he sighs, as if this were the most troublesome thing 

-shut up kenma you know you love them

-“Fine then. Rematch. After this.” 

- “After this. Now will you hurry up and win already?” 

- As he stands, you press your lips to his knuckle quickly, not enough to make him flustered, but enough for him to smile the smallest of smiles at you -

-until it disappears as soon as Kuroo comes to drag him back into the game

- “You’re a miracle worker.” “I do what I can.” “Will you two stop high-fiving each other? I’m still here.” “Kenma, don’t be jealous.” 

- rolls his eyes as he makes his way back into the game, feeling complete serenity flow back trough his mind as the Nekoma team finally takes back the points they had missed

-so when they win, he’s already walking back to your sitting figure on the bench before plopping down in his previous seat, rummaging through his duffel before emerging with a switch

- “You don’t want to celebrate with your screaming team?” You question as he pops off a controller. He blinks before standing up, offering you his hand. 

- “You’re right. Let’s get out of here. Before Kuroo drags us.” 

- You laugh, grasping his hand as he leads you out of the gym. Without turning back to look at you, his grip tightens ever so slightly. 

- “Hey (Y/N)?” “Hm?”

- “Thank you.” 

Yaku

- “Don’t mind, Yakkun!” “Lev, you’re the last person I want to be telling me not to mind.” 

-Yaku you made the baby sad stop being a hoe 

- Irate baby frustratedly wipes the sweat trailing down the bridge of his nose when another ball slams down into the floor before his hand can reach in between it

- grinds his teeth together as the whistle seems to blow in his ears, his nails biting into his clenched fist as Kai flinches from trying to help him off the floor 

- “I’m so off my game today.” “Yaku, you’re doing great-” “Kai, don’t touch me. I mean it.” 

- creates an air that’s almost suffocating as he becomes more and more irritable, effecting his overall performance

- flinches when he gets switched out with Shibuyama, who was trembling as they switched numbers, Yaku pulling it a little more harshly than necessary

- “Hello love!”

- darkened eyes soften at your grinning figure standing by the bench before darkening again, taking a seat without paying much mind to you

- doesn’t even look at you as he pops the cap to his water bottle “So you saw me play. Like that. What are you even doing down here?”

- Unfazed, you stand in front of your libero boyfriend with your hands on your hips, noting the clench of his fists and tightened jaw before reaching your hand out

- seems to relax at your touch when you stroke his cheek gently, smiling softly down at him as his arms slowly snake around your waist, pulling you closer as his breaths begin to steady 

- “I’m sorry.” “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re playing great, love. I’m always proud of how you play, you’re the one who stands out the most on the court! Do you know how proud that makes me?”

- his eyes lose their darkened glare as he stares up at you, his grip on his water bottle loosening as he takes a deep breath, standing as he looks down at you

- “What would I do without you?” “Cry, probably.”

- quirks an eyebrow at your cheeky response before pressing his lips against your forehead, smiling down at you without a trace of his previous anger

- “Let’s go on a date after this.” “But the team dinner...?” “Nope. Just you and me.”

- kisses you on the tip of your nose before ensuring you get to the stands okay, waving at you when he’s put back in the game

- you smile widely when he fist pumps the air, reaching the top of his game as the atmosphere diminishes completely

- “Lev...I’m s...sor...cOUGH” “it’s okay, Yakkun! We won, and you did so well for someone who’s short!”

- Lev you little shit he’s trying

- is about to kick Lev in the shin until you leap into his arms, overjoyed as his hands wrap around your waist to steady you

- “You played so well, love!”

- “It’s all thanks to you, dork.”

- “Kuroo are you crying?” “I...Yakkun just never looks this nice!”

Lev

-“Lev, you could’ve gotten that-“ “I know! My receives still suck, I’m sorry.”

- the whole team blanches at Lev’s irate and borderline depressed self, knowing how low their attack power went if he isn’t at the top of his game

- “Kenma-San, please set to me less.” Literally gets so sad omg baby no

- Kenma being Kenma, shrugs and nods as the whistle blows, signaling the start of the next rally as Lev slowly becomes more and more downhearted

- when his next spike gets into the net, his spike usually being the one thing he has confidence in, he makes eye contact with his coach before he’s promptly benched

- “That one girl Lev never shuts up about...is she here?” “Uh, probably, sensei-“ “Go find her.”

- Within the next few minutes, you’re jogging into the gym after receiving a text from Inuoka, eyes brimmed with concern as you see your boy hunched over on the bench

- “what’s with him?” “I don’t know, his receives were off and I think that eventually effected his spikes...”

- ignoring the questioning stares of the people who noticed you, you give Lev a hug from behind, causing him to jump before relaxing into your touch

- “...(Y/N).”

- “Heyo, cutie.” You flirt, resting your chin on the top of his head as you hug him from his sitting position. “Come here often?”

- chuckles at your cute actions before his shoulders slump over again “Sorry you have to see me suck this bad...I bragged and everything.”

- “sorry, who are you?”

-blinks, thinking you’re still trying to flirt with him before spinning around on the bench to face you with a questioning stare

- “The Lev I know is the ace of the Nekoma team...right now I don’t really know who you are? Are you an imposter?”

- laughs, long arms finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him “Nope. I’m the real thing.”

- “Then go be the ace.” You say, hands cupping his cheeks. “They’re relying on you. And I’m here to support you. Always.”

- looks at you in awe for a moment before furrowing his brows and nodding, feeling soothed as you run your hands through his bright hair

- he pinches your waist, his cat-like grin passing over his face when you yelp, causing you to land in his lap as you blush

-digs his face into your neck as if he was recharging himself as you embarrassedly try to push him off before he sighs deeply and sets you down next to him

-when he stands and glances back, his eyes glint as he smiles at you lovingly

- “Don’t stop watching me.”

- so as you watch from the stands as Lev slams down the winning point, he blows you a kiss with a wink from the winning line-up as you roll your eyes

- “That was kind of cute, I guess.” You cross your arms when he comes to get you from the stands, pulling you into a tight hug as he smiles into your hair.

- “Good. You were watching.”

- “I never stopped.” 

[endlich-allein]

Promo "Liebe Ist Für Alle Da" (2009), Christoph "Doom" Schneider  — Interview by Philip Lageat, 16-11-2009, Nantes (Rock Hard #94)

Rock Hard : With six studio albums in the bag, it must be more and more difficult to establish a setlist. How do you deal with that ?

Christoph "Doom" Schneider : Strangely enough, we take our heads less at this level than in the studio. I am therefore going to surprise you by telling you that this is done as simply and naturally as possible, since we ultimately proceed in a very democratic way : each of us draws up a list of our favorite titles. We then compare the desideratas of each... and the majority wins, provided however that the songs chosen fit well into the show. We did it this time around and it worked really well, since we shared an identical opinion on many songs. Personally, I find that we have found a good balance between old songs and new songs. We play a lot of songs from our last album, Liebe Ist Für Alle Da, which suits me well because I admit that I was fed up with some old titles. I was almost sickened by playing them. So we discarded them, otherwise I think we would have quickly become jaded of the new show. So we had to be careful what we choose, because, given the special effects that we deploy on stage, it is quite difficult for us, after the fact, to make big changes in the setlist. It is that each of us must know precisely what to do, and where it must be, during each song : a misstep, a second of inattention, and you are toasted like a peanut ! (laughs) Anyway, a setlist usually follows you during a whole tour and I'm happy with it which, as I said, seems to me to be a happy medium, a pretty harmonious balance, between old and new songs.

RH : Twenty years ago almost to the day, on November 9, 1989, we witnessed the fall of the Berlin Wall. As an East German, do you remember this historic moment ?

Christoph : Yes, I was in town. In the middle of the night, I heard the radio announcing that people were destroying the Wall. It must be said that, for a few days already, the rumor had swelled that this was going to happen. But I stayed home because quite frankly, I couldn't believe it ! (laughs) It wasn't until a day or two later that I crossed the Wall for the first time to go west. At the risk of disappointing, I was therefore not one of those people we saw on TV riding the Wall and destroying it with a pickax or hammer. I remember I was of course delighted, but the shock was such that it took me a while to adjust to this new life : during the first two or three years, I had the feeling of not being able to be part of nothing and of everything at the same time, to evolve in a space of total freedom. To tell the truth, it was an extraordinary period ! In East Berlin, it was chaos. We squatted in houses where we organized huge parties... (smile) There were no rules and a sweet scent of anarchy hung in the air. Musically, we all continued to play with our respective bands and for a while it didn't go so badly. Until we realized that the situation had changed dramatically and that these bands belonged to a period from now on bygone, were from another age. We felt that the time had come to start a new adventure by creating another group. The foundations of Rammstein were laid... From the start, we defined what our sound should be. Very quickly we figured out that even if we rehearse hard, we would never be able to sound like an American band. That's why we tried to create something unique, which really looks like us.

RH : Do you remember the first concert you saw in the West ?

Christoph : It probably must have been an unknown punk band. But the first big gig I attended was a Red Hot Chili Peppers show at a tiny club. In 1990, it seems to me. They were not as popular then as they are today and did not perform in large venues yet. Before this concert, I had never heard of it. It was a Californian who was squatting at my house who told me that it was a good group and offered to go see it. When I think about it, I wonder what she and I could say to each other, since I couldn't get a word of English ! (laughs) Anyway, we went to this concert and I took a huge slap. Never before have I seen something so exciting ! This is an evening that I will never forget...

RH : Despite multiple internal friction, Rammstein has always kept the same line-up. How do you explain this stability ?

Christoph : Rammstein is only worth the sum of his individualities and their uniqueness. If one of us left, or whoever, we wouldn't be dealing with the same group. Rammstein would no longer be. So, it's true, there were tensions between us during the recording of the last album (see previous interview), but that's how Rammstein works. I believe in these guys... And then we always had a fight every time we set foot in the studio, and that, for any album. It's just that, when we were younger, we were able to find common ground faster because we were less stubborn and had less ego. Maybe we are too stressed out today when we work together, because we know it is going to be a long and painful process. And that, we find it more and more difficult to bear it. But for me that's a good thing, because these tensions are a blessing, in that they sharpen our creativity. Without them we would not achieve exciting results. We only yell at each other over simple taste issues : "I like it, why don't you like it too?". It's just that sometimes we tend to forget about it and take things too personal. At my level, I now tend not to want to impose my point of view if the majority does not think like me. Others, on the contrary, do not get along with age and refuse to give up even the smallest square inch of land (laughs). Hence endless heated discussions. Not to mention that the producer also has an opinion and that we therefore have to juggle the desires of seven people. You should know that for the most of us no longer get along with the producer (Editor's note: the Swede Jacob Hellner who has so far produced all of Rammstein's albums) in terms of choices and tastes. We have not changed, not evolved one iota. We are still able to develop this stupid energy in order to provoke, and I like that because some people expect us to mature with age, that we become more "adult". And here we are shooting a porn clip (Editor's note: allusion to the video for the single "Pussy") ! (laughs) We're still the same kids who, twenty years ago, were overflowing with youthful enthusiasm : "That's going to be a blast. So what are we waiting for ?"

RH : To conclude, do you really sell this box containing Six dildos that we could see on the Net ?

Christoph : (Visibly embarrassed) I have no answer to that question. I think this is more of a joke than a reality... And then who would buy this anyway ? (laughs)

© P.R. Brown (2009)

[taeyohonic]

stolen dances | chap. V

summary: sometimes supporting the person you love is the hardest challenge you’ll ever face.

pairing: jeon jungkook x fem!reader

rating: m

warning: one/two swear words

additional tags: f2l, ceo!jungkook, bestfriend!jungkook, shrink!yoongi, my best friend’s wedding meets 27 dresses (if the boss/secretary couple had happened), angst-y

words: 1500

links: prev. | next

note: lower case letters intended

chapter summary: a muffin never tasted so bittersweet

can you believe it’s been three years? i miss you army

you can’t help the bittersweet memories flooding your mind at jungkook’s tweet. it’s been such a long time since bangtan stood in front of their fans – performing their music to the people who adored them with all their hearts.

you, yourself, were part of this crowd, more times than your bank account wishes to remember. their stage presence was so enticing, so alluring, you could not not fall in love with them.

jungkook shared some pictures in his tweet, old photos of jin and him demolishing a plate of deep-dish pizza in chicago, of jimin and taehyung posing in front of their pop up store in seoul, and one with all four of them bowing to the crowd in tokyo dome.

there is a smile on your face – not because you think about their shared journey, but because your best friend chose photos of events that you attended. sure, you hadn’t known them back then. but it can’t be a coincident that you have similar pictures – granted from another perspective – on your own camera roll. it makes you miss him.

“what’s going on?”, yoongi asks as he slides your coffee across the table. your starbucks is full of people, but namjoon, yoongi’s dear friend, works here. so, there is always a spot cleared for you. you don’t mind the special treatment as you sip your white mocca.

“just thinking”, you mumble, warmed by the caffeine.

“that can’t be good”, he says and sips his iced americano. he looks as tired as you feel. yoongi is recording his second mixtape right now. so, after he finishes his work talking to people about their problems, he starts rewriting, taping, recording, mixing and editing. no wonder he looks like death.

“i have you know that i’m actually thinking 67 percent of the day.”

“that can’t be good as well, ______. please use your brain more often – it might evolve with training.”

you gap at his audacity. “you do know i’m not paying you to talk me down, right?”

yoongi’s eyes smile while his lips are still half asleep. “you’re not paying me right now, _____. we are just friends meeting up for coffee before we have to… be a part of the working class.”

“i still can’t believe i get to see beautiful, brilliant, boisterous butterflies”, you say. your friend answers with an unattractive snort as his hands move into his thick, bleached hair.

“and i can’t believe you’re getting paid to watch bonkers, brackish, boring butterflies.”

you look away as you see his biceps flex. when did get this muscular? it takes a second for you to register his insult. maybe you need another coffee before leaving.

“i do have to care about my class as well, yoongi. it’s not all sunshine and butterflies. it’s also children’s snot and education.” still, you’re not making eye contact. if this was a therapy session, he’d ask for you to look at him, to ask why you’re feeling uncomfortable. but here, you are… just his friend.

“your work is important, _____, i know”, yoongi answers honestly. he knows how much you love these animals and children. and it is a big deal that seoul’s butterfly exhibition opens up just for your excursion. it makes him happy to see you this excited.

“and because i know that, i’ll remind you that you had to leave three minutes ago.” what? your eyes rush to your watch, only to widen in surprise.

“damn it, namjoon”, you mutter. your barista friend did take a long time with your order.

“don’t blame joon, _____. we were the ones who missed the train”, your friend reminds you as you put on your jacket in a rush.

“less correcting me, more helping me, yoongi”, you shush at him and make a motion to your heavy bag right next to his chair. “come on.”

yoongi doesn’t know why he agreed to help you carry all the lunch packs to school, he really doesn’t. nevertheless, he gets up and slings the heavy bag onto his shoulder and grabs his half-finished drink.

“let’s go – teacher of the year.”

**

the exhibition is amazing. you feel true bliss walking around the nature themed rooms, all home to one of the most rare, beautiful creatures. the kids hang on their tour guide’s lips as she tells them interesting facts about butterflies.

your phone is a constant companion – the camera roll now filled with funny pictures for the moms and dads to enjoy at the next parent-teacher conference. there are even a few photos of just you with a pink butterfly resting on your shoulder. jisoo, your coworker, is an amateur instagrammer, so the results of her taking your pictures are… really flattering.

now, the kids enjoy their break before you guys leave to drive back to school.

“really, you amaze me, ___”, your coworker says as she sits next to you on the bench – eyes trained on your students chasing around the butterflies.

“why?”, you ask, your attention monopolized by the two boys in a heated exchange over their shared butterfly net.

“getting the exhibition to open up just for our class? after hours? without additional fees?”

you flinch at her words as your heartbeat quickens. “wha- what? jisoo? i-“, you start to stutter, “i thought… you organized that.”

there is a fruit basket waiting on her desk with a thank you note for all her planning. now jisoo, too, looks uncomfortable.

“i didn’t”, she says.

**

it takes you a long time before you reach out. the whole train ride was spent with a pro and contra list on your ipad. then, while you were making yourself a two-person bowl of ramen, you crafted more than one email, only to delete every attempt. you haven’t talked to jungkook for more than five days. that’s the longest period the two of you ever went without seeing each other.

there is still a tightness in your chest when you think about his insult that night on the terrace. at first, you weren’t sure if jungkook realized that he hurt you – admittedly you aren’t the best with communicating your feelings. but your cold responses to his texts the next day must have been enough of a red flag for him to act.

then came the gifts: a triple chocolate muffin, still warm, delivered to your home before you had to leave on monday.

on tuesday, there was a singed copy of the unreleased album from one of your favorite kpop groups.

the next day, there was a poem collection where he scribbled in some commentary. you nearly teared up at that because this used to be your ritual when you first got to know each other: lending books with marked and commented pages for the other to enjoy.

on thursday he was strangely silent – only a single daisy decorated your briefcase.

but now, on friday, he went out of his way to get your class into this exhibition. you don’t even want to think about what that must have cost him.

there is an uneasiness in your fingertips as you dial his number. for one fleeting moment you want to call your therapist instead. but you can’t… because you may have left your whole “cold-shoulder-to-jungkook”-move out of the last session. and you really can’t take yoongi’s probing right now.

he answers after seven rings, breathlessly happy.

“______”

you smile and it’s not uncomfortable.

“jungkook… you didn’t have to”, you greet him and can’t help the endearment in your voice. he picks up on that and chuckles.

“of course, i didn’t… i wanted to.”

“thank you”, you answer, “it was really the highlight of my week.”

you can hear his cockiness at your words. “better than stray kids’ new album?”

“better than your thoughts on contemporary poems”, you counter teasingly. then, there is a beat of silence.

“______”, jungkook begins, “i… i really didn’t want you to think i’m not … or that i wouldn’t… do anything for you. you mean so much to me… it’s a shame i have to prove it to you… it should be… obvious.”

you suck in air as if your life depends on it. his words warm your heart and his awkwardness makes you smile.

“i get that i wasn’t the best of friends… but i’ll improve – trust me!”, jungkook vows with fire in his voice. “the winter collection has been kicking my ass… my family has been nagging about christmas… and the wedding…”

there is a beat of silence you do not dare to interrupt. this is his moment, not your responsibility.

jungkook collects himself fast and continues. “i know how much you’ve done for this wedding, for me… for us… and i want to be more involved… i’ll be by your side for all of next week’s appointments. ms yang already cleared my schedule.”

jungkook wants… to be by your side when you talk to the dj? the cake decorator? when you finalize the seating chart? dear lord.

“let’s spend some quality time together, ____. just you and me… and the wedding.”

you cannot find the right responds as you gap silently into your phone. after a moment, another voice is heard through the speaker.

“ask her if she liked the muffin i baked her.” his fiancée’s words punch you in the gut without ill-intent.

___

hi guys! I hope you are doing well! i had to take my first covid test this week – it was negative but that’s an experience for itself, right? i hope you are healthy and you enjoyed this chapter. i’d really love to hear your thoughts! next up: junkook and the reader tackling some of the wedding preparation… love, dana

taglist: @livewittykid​  @thequeen-kat​ @kagami-s-void​ @goldenclosethobi​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @jinsalpaca​ @bishuthot​ @laabellaavitaa21​ @baekstans​  @jalexad​

[paladin-of-nerd-fandom65]

Hark the Angels sing; It’s MORE Random Mary Grayson Headcanons!!.....I have apparently lost control of myself but hey these are fun XD 

Some of these are ones that focus on what can possibly fit into proper DCU canon while some are from AUs I have in mind (prominently, ‘What if the Flying Graysons all survived yet their son still became a Robin and eventually Nightwing?’ or ‘What if Mary was resurrected as a Talon for the Court of Owls yet was her personality more or less got brought back to normal?’)  

 I appreciate any to all feedback from replies to likes, but ESPECIALLY Reblogs  and more so, Reblogs with additional headcanons 

Either way, enjoy this nonsense 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU)  Mary is perhaps one of the very few people alongside Batman, Red Arrow, and Lian Harper who can actually eat Green Arrow’s infamous chili recipe. Not even her husband can do it, with the latter having to chug two whole gallons of milk to soothe the burns. 

- One of her favorite hobbies whenever not practicing on trapeze is reciting and acting out Shakespeare plays. Her favorites being Romeo & Juliet, King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and Macbeth. Most of the time, John and her often love playing the final scene in Romeo and Juliet as the titular characters respectfully. Apparently Mary has a hidden natural skill of playing dead so well it looks convincing to anyone who doesn’t know better. 

- (Talon!Mary AU) Upon regaining her memories and most of her personality back, one of the first things Mary asks is naturally of who was it that raised her son while she was gone, especially since this person was apparently the one that taught Dick into honing his acrobatic skills into crime fighting. When learning it was Gotham based billionaire Bruce Wayne, Mary made a briefest of stops to Wayne Manor to confront him about it. On the one hand, as a mother, she was all too commonly concerned and a bit baffled about this acquaintance of her husband and her being the one to do this for Dick without their permission. On the other, had it not been for Bruce as Alfred rightfully points out, Dick’s fate could’ve been far worse given the care system Gotham had him or even the Court of Owls double crossing their deal with her and making Dick a Talon anyways. Also, Bruce explained indeed it was ultimately Dick’s decision to swear an oath to crime fighting and his choice to avenge what happened to John and her, finding the thugs responsible for it. She acknowledges this and rather than have any animosity, Mary thanks Bruce for doing what he can and helping her son becoming the young man he is nowadays, a leader of the Titans, defender of Bludhaven and generally probably her greatest wish, a good person int he end. She declines Bruce’s offer to stay in either Gotham or Bludhaven but does say if a Crisis get too much for him and the Batfamily to handle on their own, she’ll more than willing to lend a hand. Such irony, an owl being a friend with a bat. 

- Being a Catholic, Mary often prays the Rosary prayer every Sunday at night before bed and especially during Holy Week. Dick carries on this tradition when moving into Wayne Manor and even nowadays in either his Bludhaven apartment or his room in Titans Tower since that’s what his Mother taught him. 

- Mary firmly understands the general fear of clowns some people tend to get. She firmly understands of the numerous unfortunate implications that come with the bright make up, goofy antics and general oddness clowns exhibit when being approached by casual folks. But thankfully, she definitely knows plenty of good clowns that are among her closest friends at Haly’s Circus and can say for certain they are the norms, not this Joker and his partner Harley Quinn everyone keeps paying attention to instead. Mary generally dislikes Joker and Harley and for good darn reasons.  

- She designed almost all of the Flying Graysons uniforms for each and every one of their tours and shows. They usually depend on the types of performances they perform for the night on their tour maps, helpfully categorized by John with colored pins on said maps. If the show’s a blue pin (safest of the stunts, safety nets set up), Mary and her family are wearing an all blue outfit with disco-esque collars and bird motifs (New 52 Nightwing origin ones); on red pins (larger crowds,bolder stunts yet safety nets still set) an green sleeveless bodysuit with a giant yellow stylized G on the torso (All Star Batman and Robin and Nightwing [2018-] Annual #2); and finally for Black Pins (Largest of crowds, most bold of stunts, no safety nets, example being Gotham) a green scaly leotard with a red tunic, green pixie boots and a pre show yellow cape. Said tunics having a black and yellow letter on the right side meaning their first names for example ‘M’ for Mary on hers and an ‘R’ for Richard, or as she calls it, ‘Robin’.  

- During tours in Japan, Mary always insists to bring with them before they leave an entire week’s worth of the dish called Katsudon, beef or pork cutlet on top of rice along with other ingredients. It’s basically a buffet dinner in one bowl.  

- In terms of music, Mary likes rock n roll in almost all of its subgenres. What she listens too depends on her mood at the time of the day. For instance when cleaning their trailer on bright sunny day, The Beatles are likely being blasted on her record speakers. Conversely on rainy nights with the trailer to herself and in the mood for something a bit heavier, Black Sabbath and Metallica are what’s pumping out in her headphones, performing air guitar like crazy without noticing John or Dick walking in to see that, much to their amusement. Dick actually bought those same songs his mother plays on his phones when moving to Wayne Manor. Bruce actually liked a lot of the stuff Dick played, in particular Black Sabbath......except for any songs by the Ramones, the Misfits or any hardcore punk rock. Bruce just wasn’t a fan. 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU) Mary and John, after the events of the Circus and settling into a decent apartment in Gotham with Mr Wayne as their landlord, take jobs at a nearby fitness center. In particular, they are trapeze teachers for anyone willing to give the ropes a try. No matter the students they get, both Graysons are given the opportunity to impart their skills and their amazing acrobatic prowess to a new generation beyond their son. It probably helps that since they’re at said fitness center until it’s closing hours, they arrive home at almost the same time their son barely comes back from his Robin patrols. 

- (Flying Graysons Alive AU) Mary ADORES her grandchildren Mar’i and Jake. She is almost THE go-to babysitter for them whenever her son and his wife Kory are away on a very intense Titans and/or Bludhaven mission. Though it must be said, watching over two Tamaranean-Human hybrids proves no easy task since either one or both of the two rascals can accidentally do some damage to the apartment with their starbolts or enhanced strength when not carefully. Perhaps the trickiest period was when Mar’i was barely coming out of her toddler phase but still had their stubborn temper that can ignite said starbolts. Thankfully as Mar’i got older and her baby brother Jake proved on being far more relaxed and chill than his older sister at his age, watching over the two of them became far easier. Whenever, the three interact in small talk, they all speak primarily in lovari Romani Chib. Sometimes when reading them Tamaranean bedtime stories, the kids help with Mary’s Tamaranean since she’s always curious to learn new languages. More often than not, whenever getting a call for Dick to help watch Mar’i and Jake,the first thing she does almost immediately is check their mustard supply given what her grandchildren drink. Overall, Mar’i and Jake are a joy when they visit Mary and John and she can’t be any happier than that. 

[aakristinejoyce]

The Magic Sofa

As a kid, you always thought that magic exists. You witness your parents deal with things you have no power to win, but they did. In your point of view, it was always easy. You feel safe, because if you can wake up from the bed while sleeping in the sofa, they must be pretty good at taking care of you. The Magic Sofa as I called it.

Growing up, the "magic sofa" phenomenon had been instilled in me. It's one of the reasons why I miss being a kid. It's a safety pin, a safety net from the painful worldly responsibilities. However I slept, whenever I drool, whatever circusmtances that leads me sleeping at the sofa, I will always end up in my own bed. Magical for a kid right? But, truth is, you get used to it. When something is done consistently and expectedly, the fun starts to end and the magic begins to fade. The consistent and expected bores you to the edge, that you never truly see what's happening behind the act -

That every good magic act comes with a trick, an illusion, a deception. So when I grew up, I started seeing the trick behind the magic. I started to see things out of the sofa and into the painful gray areas of the real show. So here we are, roll down the carpet.

I grew up with swiping credit cards. Buying something wasn't that hard, you just pick something, and you swipe. Like magic, it's instantly yours, or so I thought. The promissory notes that just vanish after one phone call to the admin, and I'll just take a deep breathe because the humiliating part is done. Everytime a new car was parked in the garage, I was always amaze how and why we had that luxury. Getting everything from the grocery without looking at the price up until now startled me, like damn, these things cost but it doesn't matter to our pockets. The time we leave our house and after a year, we go back renovating it into a bigger one just doesn't make sense to me, but it happened. Truth is, I know it wasn't easy. I know it took practice and it took a lot of hardwork to perfect and achieve those kind of "magic". As someone in the sideline watching, at some point you want to know the journey and secret it takes how to win, or how to play it smoothly. Yet deep inside, as you grow up, you became too keen in watching things unfold. Half asleep, you watch how the magic sofa moves from being a magic trick into a whole pile of sacrifices. The whole act, is to not let you see the pain it takes just to keep performing with grace. The illusion is to smile even if all the responsibility is burying you down. The deception is to make a home out of all the ashes of what ifs, used too's, frustrations and broken dreams.

As much as I want to go back to that kid with the magic sofa, I can't. After me, is also a kid, who is wishing to still keep that magic. And so I am here, being the one at the other side. The one that get up to put her brother into bed. Now I know, my parents, they never have it easy, but they did the best they can. So to all the people out there that was once that kid in the sofa, may we learn to always do the right trick for our magic.

For the sacrifices we made to keep the magic alive, it is also magical how we've come this far.

[awkwardpenguinproductions]

Rebellion

Part 8 of Dragon of the Yuyan

Read on AO3 | Series Masterpost

The prisoner is tiny.

That’s the first thing Zuko notices, when Banli Squad returns triumphant from their mission with a figure wrapped in heavy iron netting like a landed fish. Tiny, and young. Zuko would be damned if the kid was a day older than eleven. The top of their bald, tattooed head barely comes up to the middle of Zuko’s chest.

White hot rage shoots through him as Zheng shoves the Avatar down the corridor ahead of him, radiating smugness like a fucking peacock. He wants to rip that netting off and carry the kid away from here, away from Zhao who acts like the entire Stronghold and everyone in it is his to do whatever the fuck he wants with.

The plan, dum dum, remember the plan, he chants to himself, and holds onto his control with both hands and every ounce of stubbornness in his body.

+

Do you think it’s true? The Avatar’s returned? Zuko had demanded, barely waiting for the Commander’s office door to close behind him. The announcement had been made twenty minutes ago, and Zuko had immediately followed the older man to his office when he’d left the mess hall.

Commander Toshiaki hadn’t replied immediately, but had reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a bottle of rotgut. He’d poured two cups, knocked one back, and pushed the other toward Zuko, who sipped at it warily, grimacing at the taste.

The Commander had dropped into his desk chair and tilted his head back for a moment before beginning to sign. I can’t imagine the Fire Lord making an announcement like that unless there was some truth to it. Either way, it changes things.

No kidding! Zuko had snapped. The Commander shot him a Look, and Zuko had winced and signed a quick Sorry, sir.

The Commander had sighed silently. If anything, all it does is move the timeline up rather a lot. It shouldn’t take the Avatar very long to gather followers and allies, and as the main aggressor in the war, the Fire Lord will be their main focus.

Instead of waiting for Azula to come of age and then to get impatient, we just cut her out of the line completely, Zuko had realized. Instead of the war dragging on for another four years or more, the Avatar can help us end it sooner. Within the year, even!

The Commander had nodded. We need to stay alert for opportunities slip away and rendezvous with the Avatar and their followers. I have a list of Troop members who are willing to defect. When the opportunity presents itself, you will give the signal, and the Yuyan Archers will disappear.

+

Zuko meets the Commander’s eyes, and blinks. The Commander blinks back.

Zuko slips down a service corridor, and races back to the Yuyan dorm. He grabs the bag he’d kept prepared for this exact scenario and his dao, and shimmies up into the ventilation shaft. With his most recent growth spurt, it’s a bit of a snug fit, and Zuko suddenly has to wrestle back the panicked thought of oh Agni what if I get stuck. He pauses, breathes a few deep breaths, and continues on to the bathroom, where he gets his Blue Spirit uniform on as fast as he can. His hair gets tied back into a braid, the length of which is tucked under his tunic and hood. His dao go on his back, every single throwing knife he owns is strapped somewhere on his body, and he carefully burns the clothes he was wearing in the brazier that heats the water for the ofuro. The bag his Blue Spirit materials were in gets folded up as small as Zuko can possibly make it and tucked into the back of his belt. Could be useful later.

He fastens his mask as securely as he possibly can, and Cadet Zuko of the Yuyan Archers disappears. In his place stands the Blue Spirit, ready for war.

By now the Avatar will have been secured in one of the cells at the top of the Central Tower, where the most powerful benders are kept for holding. Zuko ensures that he has left no trace of his presence in the bathroom, and makes his way upstairs as fast as he can, employing every shadow-walking technique he knows to avoid detection.

It’s caution well spent, because the upper detention level is crawling with Stronghold guards. At least a dozen of them. Zhao may be a pompous ass and a creep to rival Koh themself, but he’s not completely stupid. These guys must be new, though, or they came with the Admiral, because they are not nearly as wary of dark corners and high shadowed ceilings as they should be.

It’s quick work knocking the idiots out and looping lengths of chain around their ankles to hang them from the rafters like freshly hunted game. If this were a training exercise, he would’ve just left them where they had fallen, but Zuko can’t afford the possibility that they’d wake up and be able to come after him and the Avatar. Getting out of the Stronghold is going to be hard enough, no need to alert anyone to the breakout any earlier than necessary.

Only one of the cells has a guard at the door, who is reaching for the signaling horn as Zuko peeks around the corner. Zuko grabs a bucket of water kept for the guards to drink on duty in one hand, and throws one of his knives with the other. The horn is knocked out of the guard's hand, and as Zuko rushes him the man shoots a rather paltry plume of flame at him. Zuko doesn't miss a beat as he throws the water into the strike, then whips the bucket into the man's leading foot to break his root.

Thank Agni for Mika's "learn-to-fight-with-any-kind-of-random-shit" lessons, he thinks a bit hysterically as the man goes crashing to the floor. He binds the man with his own handcuffs, borrowing a second set that had fallen from another guard's belt to bind his ankles, and ties a length of cloth he finds in the last guard's pocket into a gag.

He takes a minute to retrieve his throwing knife and to breathe, and he can very distantly hear Zhao's ridiculous speech echoing up from the main courtyard.

+

Zhao had arrived about two weeks after the Winter Solstice, just in time for the Fire Nation Armed Forces' rumor mill to have built up a full head of steam. He had swept into the Stronghold like he'd owned the place, towering over Colonel Shinu in a ridiculous attempt to intimidate the much shorter man, but he had still been a Commander at the time and the Colonel had quickly put him in his place. The complete 180° turn the man's personality had taken at that point had completely creeped Zuko out, had reminded him uncomfortably of Azula, and he'd done his absolute best not to be caught alone with him.

A few days after Zhao's arrival, Commander Toshiaki had indicated that he'd wanted a meeting, and Zuko had met him in his office.

Zhao has been trying to convince Colonel Shinu to allow him to use the Archers in his hunt for the Avatar, the Commander had signed as soon as the door was closed behind Zuko. The tension in the older man's body had been obvious, his signs rigidly composed.

There's no way the Colonel will go for that, Zuko had replied, trying to decipher the Commander's body language. Disapproval, maybe? Or anger? Either were rarely seen from the stern but kind officer, and therefore hard to recognize.

He may no longer have a choice. The Commander's jaw clenched. Anger, then, and Zuko had felt proud of himself that he'd felt no unease at all around the Commander as he'd struggled to hold his temper. A messenger hawk arrived last night. Zhao has been promoted to Admiral by the Fire Lord.

Fuck, Zuko had stated into the whirling chaos of his mind. With that wonderful piece of news, it was only a matter of time before the Avatar was captured.

My Prince, I also have reason to believe that your safety could be compromised should Zhao discover your identity, the Commander continued. He has been overheard making… comments… about your performance in the Agni Kai against the Fire Lord, as well as voicing theories as to your current location and opinions of how you should be treated when returned to royal custody. A small, distant part of Zuko had mused that if the Commander had been a bender, he would’ve seared the top of his desk black in his rage.

I believe, Prince Zuko, that it would be prudent of you to consider vacating the Stronghold sooner rather than later. The Commander had looked  like every sign he’d made had been physically painful, which had eased the pain in Zuko’s own heart of being ousted from his home again. This time was not for someone else’s gain or convenience, but for Zuko’s own safety. And it wasn’t going to be forever, like his abandonment. No matter what ended up happening, Zuko knew he would see his Troop, his family, again. Kai would hunt him down, to say nothing of the rest of Chihese Squad and the Commander himself.

I understand, Commander, Zuko had replied, smiling at his commanding officer. Depending on how quickly the Avatar is apprehended, the Blue Spirit should be able to escort them away without too much effort.

+

Famous last words, Zuko growls silently to himself as he picks the lock on the cell. It’s a new model, something Zhao had installed in the last couple of weeks as he prepared to imprison the Avatar, and Zuko hasn’t had enough opportunity to practice picking it between avoiding Zhao and smuggling supplies and his belongings out of the Stronghold with his squad under the guise of “wilderness training”.

It takes forty-seven seconds more than Zuko really cares to admit, but he does finally get the cell door open, and he slips inside and shuts the door behind him.

The Avatar is chained hand and foot in the center of the cavernous cell, arms held out and fastened to the two huge torches that provide the only light in the room. Their odd yellow, orange, and brown clothes are tattered and splashed with mud, and their skin is ghostly pale. Their stormy gray eyes are huge in their face as they stare at Zuko.

Zuko draws his dao, and rushes forward in a form meant to build momentum. The Avatar screams and cringes back, squeezing their eyes shut. Zuko’s blades slice cleanly through the chains holding their arms, and it takes the Avatar a moment to realize that they aren’t hurt and to stop screaming and open their eyes. They stare in bafflement at the manacles on their wrists, which Zuko also slices off. He finishes with the cuffs on their feet, and strides back to the cell door.

“Who are you? What’s going on?” The Avatar’s voice calls out, high with prepubescence and stress. “Are you here to rescue me?”

Duh, Zuko thinks, opening the door and making sure the coast is clear before turning back and making a vague come on gesture.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Avatar mumbles, warily following him. Their footsteps are barely audible against the steel-clad floors, and Zuko has to listen extra hard to make sure they’re still with him.

“My frogs!” The Avatar gasps, and Zuko has just enough time to think what? before those nearly silent footsteps go pattering off in another direction. He clenches his teeth behind the mask and follows, catching up as the Avatar is kneeling on the floor trying to catch a bunch of half-frozen wood frogs. He grabs the kid by the collar of their weird tunic and hauls them away, and cringes when the little idiot hollers for the entire Stronghold to hear, “But my friends need to suck on those frogs!”

Zuko switches his grip on this absolute moron of an Avatar from their collar to the front of their tunic, (gently) pushes them against the closest wall, and flicks them between the eyes hard with his free hand. Then he puts his finger against the grinning mouth of his mask for quiet.

The Avatar has the grace to be chagrined, at least. “I’m sorry,” they whisper. “It’s just— I got captured ‘cause I was gathering those frogs ‘cause my friends are sick and the crazy old lady on the top of the mountain said that they needed to suck on the frozen frogs to get better and I’m really worried about them— my friends, not the frogs— but I know I gotta be quiet so we can get out of here, right?”

Great Agni and all the stars, how is this kid the spirits-damned Avatar? Zuko bites back a sigh, nods sharply, and makes a note that the Avatar has ill companions that need treatment. The Avatar nods back, eyes huge in their pale face.

Zuko leads the way to the main sewer line, which the pair of them follow out of the Central Tower and to the back courtyard. A quick peek through the bars above their heads reveals that the coast is clear, and Zuko points upward to indicate to the Avatar that they need to pull themselves up through the bars. The Avatar follows without a word, and they break for the rope that hangs from the top of the Stronghold’s innermost wall, left there by one of the Archers on Commander Toshiaki’s orders.

They’re halfway up the rope when the alarm sounds. Zuko can hear Zhao shouting that “the Avatar has escaped!”, and some bootlicker responds with “There! On the wall!”. Zuko has five seconds to curse his fucking luck before the rope in his hands goes slack and they start to fall.

The Avatar does something, and with a roar of wind Zuko feels himself slowing down in midair, and they both land gently on their feet. Zuko draws his dao and points with one to the gates starting to close. As one he and the Avatar start running for the gates as Zhao shouts "Close all the gates immediately!" like the gatemen don't know how to do their freaking jobs.

"Stay close to me!" The Avatar tells him, and all Zuko can do is nod and try to keep up as the Avatar zooms towards the gate, faster than a normal human can run. Zuko's no slouch, racing against Jiyoti will ensure that, but after airbending a line of guards out of the way, the Avatar seems to forget that Zuko can't run as fast, because they book it for the gate and leave Zuko in the dust.

He gets cornered, surrounded by guards with spears, and it takes everything he has to keep from bending, because if even the slightest spark slips from his blades he’s done for. Abruptly the guards disappear, blown away by the Avatar’s airbending, and Zuko has a moment to wonder why they don’t bend any of the other elements before the Avatar swings a broken spear like a trebuchet and Zuko goes flying.

He lands on top of the innermost wall and immediately tucks into a roll to bleed off the momentum. He hears the clomping steps of the guards approaching and snaps to his feet, swords out and held at the ready, and then something slams into his upper back and a steel band wraps around his chest under his arms, and with a jerk he’s flying again.

They land with a crash on the intermediate wall, and Zuko’s blades clatter away. He doesn’t have time to grab them, though, because the Avatar’s been cornered by a guard at least twice their size. Their makeshift staff has been knocked away, and Zuko doesn’t think before he grabs the guard around the middle and throws him off the wall.

They reach the other side of the wall just as more guards come up the bamboo emergency ladders. The Avatar blows the first two ladders clear with their airbending, and Zuko just finishes clearing the third and barely has time to sheath his blades before the Avatar is handing him one of the ladders with a hurried "hold this!". They have the second ladder in their arms, and they jump onto the parapet of the wall and step onto the third ladder, pushing it away from the wall.

"Jump on my back!" The absolutely wolf-bat fucking crazy Avatar calls at him, and Zuko can do nothing but obey. His momentum and weight are what tip the ladder over fully away from the wall, and the Avatar maneuvers the ladder in his arms so that the pair of them stilt-walk across the no-man's land between the intermediate and outer walls. However, some really intelligent person decides to set fire to the last ladder. Zuko and the Avatar are forced to jump for the outer wall, but Zuko can't keep his grip, and they tumble to the ground just in front of the outer gate.

Dazedly shaking his head, Zuko struggles to his feet and draws his blades as the guards converge upon them. Four firebending guards (I trained with you! a tiny part of Zuko sobs upon seeing them, I sparred with you and you laughed when I beat you!) blast at them in unison, and Zuko is ready to deflect the flames with his blades when the Avatar spins them around and defends them with airbending.

"HOLD YOUR FIRE!"

The flames die away as Admiral Zhao himself strides forward, hands clasped behind his back as calm as can be. "The Avatar must be captured alive," he orders, scowling, but there's a triumphant light in his cold bronze eyes that Zuko immediately hates. Then his words hit, and Zuko immediately knows what to do.

Sorry, kid, just trying to get us out of here alive, he apologizes silently to the Avatar, as he crosses his blades under their chin, razor-sharp edges each a hairsbreadth from the delicate pale skin of their neck. The Avatar makes a strangled "ulp!" sound, and Zuko presses himself against their back and stares Zhao in the eye.

A vein throbs in the man's temple as he grits his teeth in frustration. "Open the gate," he grits out, after a moment of attempting to glare Zuko into submission. Compared to Mika without her morning black tea, the guy's a rank amateur.

"Admiral, what are you doing?" Colonel Shinu hisses from his position at Zhao's shoulder.

"Let them out," Zhao snaps. "NOW."

The gate creaks open behind them, and Zuko carefully walks backward, keeping his blades rock steady at the Avatar's neck. He doesn't take a single eye off of Zhao.

They're in the middle of the last crossroads before the forest when something zings through the air and everything abruptly goes dark.

+

Zuko had reported to the medbay at Dr. Atsuko's order, and the Chief Medical Officer of the Stronghold had ushered him into her office at the back of the ward.

"Zhao's just sent out Banli Squad to retrieve the Avatar," she'd said brusquely. "Are you ready? Do you have all of the supplies you need, all of the things you're going to take?"

I'm as ready as I'll ever be, Zuko had replied. The Commander gave the signal for everyone who's leaving to be ready to disappear after Banli gets back. I'll be meeting up with Kai at noon the day after the Avatar and I escape to get my bow and quiver from him, since I can't exactly carry them with me as the Blue Spirit. Are you leaving too?

Dr. Atsuko had nodded. "It's time," she'd said, and for once the steel had melted from her expression and she'd actually looked sad. "I've done all I can here, but it's time to go where I can do some real good."

Where will you go? Zuko had asked.

"Here and there," Dr. Atsuko had shrugged. "I've got options. A doctor, especially one with my skills, is always in demand. Before you take off, though, I've got something to teach you," and she'd handed him a Pai Sho tile, the Lotus.

Five hours later, Zuko had been leaving the mess hall after dinner when Banli Squad had paraded the Avatar through the Stronghold.

+

Zuko wakes up to early morning light filtering through tall trees, a full range of vision due to his mask being gone, and the Avatar sitting curled up in a little ball on top of a huge tree root. He also wakes up to a splitting headache, and bites back a groan that's half pain and half frustration. He doesn't have time for this, the Avatar's a fucking kid, and probably doesn't know any bending besides their native element, and Zuko somehow has to get them ready to… what, overthrow the Fire Lord? Get Zuko's throne back for him?

His temple throbs, and Zuko can't quite bite back the hiss that he makes as he sits up, rubbing his forehead.

"Oh, you're awake!" The Avatar exclaims, voice piercing in the stillness of the surrounding forest. Zuko winces, and thankfully the Avatar seems to notice, because their voice drops several levels of volume until they're almost but not quite whispering. "I never got to thank you last night for getting me out of there. That Zhao guy was kinda creepy. What's your name? I'm Aang."

My name's Zuko, Zuko signs, slow and sluggish with pain and the stiffness that comes with not cooling down properly after excessive exercise. What're your preferred pronouns? I don't want to assume anything.

The Avatar is watching him with huge gray eyes, and Zuko knows without them even opening their mouth that they have no idea what he just said.

Oh damn me to Koh's lair, he thinks, heart sinking. Not only does the spirits-damned Avatar not know any of the other elements, they don't know hand-language. Honestly, Zuko doesn't know why he'd assumed that they would, the Yuyan guard their language with the same ferocity that they hunt their quarries.

"Is that… talking? With your hands?" The Avatar asks, eyebrows sliding up the blue arrow tattoo to the sky. Their voice is hushed and full of wonder. "Can you teach me that?"

Ah, a yes or no question. Zuko nods, then gingerly gets up, glancing around for his mask and picking it up where it lies next to the bed of green leaves that he'd been resting on. His blades are there too, and Zuko huffs slightly in relief as he slings them across his back. He looks at the mask, noting the large scratch in the lacquer on the left side of the forehead. That must've been some shot, he reflects, and kind of wishes he'd been able to see it.

"Uh, so I gotta get some frozen wood frogs for my friends, 'cause they're really sick," the Avatar, Aang, says awkwardly. "You want to come along? Do you have anywhere else to go? Katara could probably give you something for your head, if it's hurting you."

Zuko tugs his braid out of his shirt, cracks his neck, and gestures for Aang to lead the way.

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[coll2mitts]

#77 Grease (1978)

Slick your hair back and grab your team jacket, we’re hand-jiving our way through Grease, a movie about bunch of hot, self-motivated ladies with their whole futures ahead of them settling for a bunch of schmucks.

Grease is a strange experience to relive as an adult, because it was (as I suspect with a lot of people) ever-present in my childhood, and I didn’t understand the great majority of references then.  This movie was intended as an 8th birthday present from my mother; I came home from school one day and the VHS was sitting on our kitchen countertop unwrapped.  I didn’t recognize it, so when I asked my mom what it was, she feigned confusion for about 10 seconds before she gave up and said, “I bought it for your birthday, I guess you get it early now.”  She promised me I’d like it when I popped it into the VHS player, and she wasn’t wrong.  I hadn’t watched this movie in over a decade and I still could recite the majority of the dialogue.

While this movie is a toned down significantly from the stage show, it is still fairly raunchy in parts.  What is kind of hilarious to me is Grease’s gradual shift in categorization over time as a “kids musical”.  In 5th grade, my sister played Sandy in her elementary school’s production of it.  I asked if she remembered any of the lines they changed to keep things “appropriate” (the Kidz Bopification, if you will) and she responded, “No, I just thought it was weird I had to go out and buy a sexy outfit.”  Conversely, my 5th grade play was about the history of America and I dressed up like Martha Washington.  I’ll never forget the 50 Nifty United States from 13 original colonies... SHOUT ‘em, SCOUT ‘em, TELL all about 'em, ONE BY ONE till we’ve given a day to every state in the U-S-A.  AL-A-bama, Alaska, Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, CON-NE-TI-CUT...

Anyway, do I think it’s weird that a movie about a bunch of horny teenagers has become Baby’s First Adult Musical?  Sorta.  Not really.  I mean, the dudes act like children for the majority of this, so I’m not surprised, at least.  It had, for sure, turned me off from wanting to date high school dudes when I was in high school.  The high school girls, however... we’ll get there.

It’s the first day of school, and the oldest high school seniors I’ve ever seen are poised to take on their last year at Rydell High.  The “T” Birds and their very uncool matching jackets are reunited after a summer apart and their super-senior leader Kenickie, played by the late Jeff Conaway, regales the tale of lugging boxes to earn money for a sweet ride, which you could feasibly do back in the 1950s.  Danny, played by John Travolta, spent his summer getting action at the beach, which he eloquently describes as “flippin’”.  

Frenchy and her new neighbor Sandy rendezvous with the Pink Ladies, who have very cool matching jackets and the unabashed confidence to go with them.  Stockard Channing, who plays Rizzo, is turned off by Sandy’s pure, seemingly holier-than-thou persona, and is dismayed when Sandy starts to describe her sickly sweet summer romance.  Her interest is only piqued when Sandy mentions her hunky date was notorious playboy and Rizzo’s ex, Danny Zuko.  

Sidenote: When I was a child, I thought Sonny asked if her “jugs were bigger than her nets”.  I asked my mother what “nets” were, since I surmised that jugs meant breasts, and she didn’t know, which I thought was weird.  It wasn’t until THIS MOMENT that I realized he was asking if her jugs were bigger than Annette’s.  Who the fuck is Annette?  Like the Mickey Mouseketeer Annette?!  Rizzo sings about her later and I’m just like.. this revelation has lead to more questions than answers.

Rizzo hatches a plan to call Danny out on his shit and reunite Sandy with Danny at the school pep rally, as they know her boyfriend is an asshat.  He predictably reacts maturely; Not wanting to admit his previous story of getting fresh with some cute Australian girl down in the sand was somewhat hyperbolic, he plays it off like he doesn’t give a shit about her, reducing Sandy to tears.  Frenchy comforts Sandy like the supportive queen that she is and invites her to join the Pink Ladies at a sleepover.

Honestly, a Pink Ladies sleepover looks lit as fuck.  As a kid (and now, tbh) I was Jan, I wanted to be Marty, I wanted to fuck Rizzo, and I wanted Frenchy as my best friend.  I would totally be down to drink champagne, eat Twinkies and mutilate our body parts with needles.  Sandy is a bit of a late bloomer and reacts to these series of events by puking.  Rizzo decides to be a bit of a slag and make fun of Sandy for being an inexperienced virgin before shimming down a drainpipe to get laid by some jerk with a shitty car and a 6-year-old condom.

Sandy, whose night has done nothing to alleviate her heartbreak, sings a song about being in love with a coward.  Part of the deal Oliva Newton-John signed to be cast in this movie specified she have her own solo number, so “Hopelessly Devoted” was written and filmed after the rest of the movie had been completed.  This feel pretty obvious, since it gives off a very strong 1970s pop Best Original Song vibe.  When I was a kid, I used this song as a break to use the bathroom or grab a snack, but as an adult I find myself humming it every so often.

Speaking of contract-obligated solos, we’re treated to a Travolta-led “Greased Lightning”, which I always thought was weird, cause like, who is going to sing a song about their friend getting tit in their sweet car?  Jeff Conaway played Danny on Broadway, he deserved better...  Also, I’m CONVINCED this song got the Pop-Up Video treatment, but couldn’t find it online anywhere.  Otherwise, how the hell else would the fact that they thought John Travolta putting the saran wrap on his crotch was too racy live rent free in my head for like 20 years?

After encountering Sandy on a date with a jock, Danny decides he’s going to join a sports team to prove to her he can be a motivated team player.  Instead, he just physically assaults several members of his school, but it’s fine because he’s wearing a uniform when he does it.  This is enough to impress Sandy, as she accepts Danny’s invitation to the school dance.

The other gang members are going through their own drama, as Rizzo is sick of giving it up to Kenickie without receiving a modicum of respect.  

“A hickey from Kenickie is like a Hallmark card.  When you care enough to send the very best.”

Danny regresses and continues to act like a shithead to Sandy in front of her friends.

“I don’t like tea.” “You don’t have to drink tea!” “Well, I don’t like parents.”

Jan and Putzie begin an innocent and adorable romance, which proves it’s possible to start off a relationship with mutual respect, even if your friends make fun of you for it.

“I also think there’s more to you than just fat.” “...Thanks.”

I love this scene, there’s so many good lines.

Frenchy, who had dropped out of Rydell to pursue a career in cosmetology, is also in crisis as her stint in beauty school went very poorly.  After hours, she somehow hallucinates Frankie Avalon advising her to get her high school degree.

As a child, I was so proud of myself when I realized all these women played other roles in the movie, as if facial recognition was an important skill.

The day of the big dance finally arrives, as National Bandstand comes to Rydell High with roofie-wielding predator and television host Vince Fontaine.  Rizzo arrives with the leader of the rival gang, while Kenickie has his best girl, Cha Cha, as his date, because they are both very well-adjusted teenagers that know how to work through conflict by communicating and not using desperate attempts to make each other jealous.  Danny and Sandy are cutting up a rug until Sonny attempts to physically assault Sandy, and Danny just lets it happen because another one of his exes, Cha Cha, starts to dance with him while Sandy is rebuffing Sonny’s advances.  Cha Cha and Danny subsequently win the contest.  Honestly, this is so fucked up, I would have dropped Danny after this lapse of good judgement.

But no, Sandy still allows him to take her on a date to the drive-in, and it’s not until he elbows her in the boob and then tries to cop a feel in front of everybody that she finally blows him off.  Then he has the absolute gall to act emo about it because he’s afraid people will think he’s a loser.  Jesus Christ.

Kenickie is also hurting, as he discovers that Rizzo is pregnant and she doesn’t want anything to do with him, regardless of what being an unwed mother will do to her reputation.  He decides to process these emotions by racing Greased Lighting for pink slips, as he likes to live his life a quarter mile at a time.  Unfortunately, Danny steals Kenickie’s thunder (road) yet again, as he’s forced to take his place in the race because of a car door-related closed head injury.  Sandy is impressed by Danny’s driving skillz and decides to sex herself up for an unreliable and emotionally manipulative teenager.  Danny has a similar inclination and decides to put on a nice sweater to win Sandy back, which is something, I guess.  They declare they’re the one each other needs, oh yes indeed.

The school year ends, and all the boys end up paired with the girls.  Rizzo finds out she’s not pregnant and reunites with Kenickie?!  Marty ends up with Sonny even though he’s a handsy creep.  Danny and Sandy are just an mess with incompatible expectations of each other.  But at least Jan and Putzie and Frenchy and Doodie are fairly inoffensive.  The end.

This movie is great, even all these years later.  The entire cast is fantastic, even those with smaller bit parts.  I was *living* for the school staff, Principal McGee and Coach Calhoun especially.  Grease also jump started my lifelong love for Stockard Channing.  She’s great in The West Wing, but her part as Sister Husband in Where the Heart Is may be my favorite performance of hers.  I’ve watched that movie so many times I can’t even call it a guilty pleasure, I love it so much.

Olivia Newton-John wasn’t even sure she wanted to be in this movie and requested a screen test so she could see if she was good at acting.  John Travolta was enamored with her and helped convince Olivia she was perfect for the part, and he wasn’t wrong.  She gives such a strong performance as Sandy; I bought her transformation from clean-cut cinnamon roll to sexpot completely.  John Travolta was also unbelievably charming as Danny, and I found myself giggling at his line deliveries constantly.

The songs are also unbelievably catchy (albeit somewhat annoying after you’ve heard them 700 times).  Barry Gibb, my favorite Pras-adjacent composer, wrote the theme for the movie and it just bops so hard.  As a well-documented detractor of Doo Wop music, there’s not a whole lot else here for me, but that’s not going to blind me to the excellence of this soundtrack.  There is a reason this movie is revered as much as it is.  10/10, fun for the whole family, as long as the kids don’t understand the references.

[littlegiantposts]

pilot (~revised~)

Kageyama x f!reader

may contain spoilers!

description: In which Y/n is a new addition to Karasuno’s Girl’s Volleyball Club

warning: I’m sure there are some curse words in there.

A/N: yeah so there is another version of this on my blog, but that was really like a test run/rough draft, so here is the revised one that I like better and I added more scenes. ALSO, just ask if you wanna be added to like a taglist. I already stated this in the previous pilot post i will state it again to make sure. 

This started off as just as a nice story to play in my head, but I really wanted to see if I could write it down. First things first, I am raised in California. Thus, I am quite incompetent in knowledge about Japan schooling. All my knowledge is really from me googling stuff and ofc, watching haikyuu. With that said, if I made a mistake on the take of Japan schooling, I do not mean to cause any offense. This is solely for entertainment purposes. With that said, I do not own the characters of haikyuu. However, there are some characters I made up with my own imagination. In addition, this is an “x reader” sort of story but I will be defining some of her characteristics so I am sorry if it hinders you from imagining its you. Finally, I am not that good at writing stories lol but im trying. I hope you enjoy.

I hate introductions. Y/n thought to herself as she sat back down in her seat after standing in front of the class, stating her name and her previous school. Her gaze shifted towards the window. The sun was out and shining and she had the perfect view of the gymnasium. Oh how she just wanted to get up from her uncomfy chair and leave the boring lecture and head towards the gym. 

It was the first day of school for Y/n at Karasuno High. It’s not like she started in the middle of the semester, no, she was just about a month late into the school year. With her work ethic, she didn’t feel any pressure in order to catch up with everyone else. She knew she would get it done.

It’s not really her fault she came a bit late into the school year either. Her dad’s job required a small move, not that she was complaining. She didn’t really feel tied down at her old high school because: she wasn’t there for that long and she didn’t really make any friends, despite joining a sport. 

It’s not that she didn’t want to make friends. It seems that her track record, or the lack thereof, from junior high with meeting new people has left an imprint on her.

Y/n looks down at the worksheet that was passed out in the beginning of class. The assignment was already completed due to Y/n’s eagerness to finish any homework that would take away time from her main passion.

Some people would say she was obsessed. Some would say dedicated. She simply sees volleyball as an opportunity. The class bell rings, signaling for lunch. Before she realizes it, she is walking towards the gym, in which she would meet the girl’s volleyball captain. As she is switching shoes, she can hear screaming from inside. 

“-What did I tell you about touching my onigiri! You are going to pay for that!” “I really didn’t mean it this time, I promise! I didn’t know it was yours!” The voices were muffled, yet she was still able to hear the sincerity in both of the voices. Y/n was about to open the gymnasium’s door when the door swung open by a tall pink-haired girl. She was being chased by another tall girl with long blonde hair, but she was a bit shorter than the pink one. Before Y/n could process stepping aside because it seemed the pink-haired girl had no inclination in stopping, she was tumbled to the ground by the girl who she can only guess took an onigiri without permission. As well, the blonde clumsily tripped and fell on top of the two.

“You idiots! Will you stop it! We already told you, we got a guest coming today and we want to make a good first impression!” A stern voice called out inside the gym.

“Um, Moa-san, I think our wishes are already soiled.” Another voice chimed in from the gym.

“Wha- You dumbasses! Hey, are you okay?” A girl with dirty blonde hair came out from the entrance and offered a hand towards Y/n as the two perpetrators started to get up with apologies towards Y/n. 

“Yeah, I am good.” Despite just being tackled to the ground, Y/n remains as neutral as ever. 

“Aren’t you going to ask if we are okay?” The energetic, pink haired spoke.

“As if I care when you collide into our guest! You really need to be more cautious, Etsuko!” She barked. “I am Aihara Moa. Pleasure to meet you. You’re the first year that turned that application past the deadline, right?” she states more calmly than her previous statement. 

“Pleasure is all mine. And, yes. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Y/n states with quite the unfazed face. 

Does this kid crack a smile once in a while? Moa asked in her mind. She seems quite different than the other first years we have. Her thoughts continue.

“I am Oba Yuma and this is Morita Etsuko.” Yuma, who had the pretty, long blonde hair, spoke with a warm smile.

“Why did you introduce me?! I wanted to have a cool introduction!” Etsuko huffed with a small pout. 

“Well, it’s not like you can recover your so-called ‘cool introduction’ from that full-body collision.” Yuma smoothly replied. Etsuko’s eyes widened and cheeks heated up as she couldn’t come up with a sly comeback to her logic. 

“You guys are just lucky that Rinko isn’t here to scold you.” Moa warned the 2 first years. With the mention of the scary third year that wasn’t even the captain, yet she reigned supreme in the disciplinary department, they shivered at the thought of the punishment. 

As Y/n stepped further into the big, bright court, she spotted that she could only assume was the captain as she looked so appalled at what happened. 

“Hello, you must be Michimiya Yui.” Y/n knew she had to say something to pull the worried captain from her thoughts. 

“Hi! Yes, that’s me! I am so sorry for those two. I would say they aren’t always like that, but I don’t want to lie to a potential teammate.” Yui spoke with an uneasy smile.

Yuma and Etsuko’s interests peaked when they heard “a potential teammate” come out of their captains' mouths. They were the only first years on the team, so the thought of another person in the same boat as them made them excited and wanted to join the conversation. The two first years gave each other a look and started to walk towards Yui, and hopefully their new friend. However, before they could even be in ear-shot, the pair got pulled away by Sasaki Chizuru, another third year.

“Oh, no. Don’t think you will be bombarding her with questions right off the bat.” She bluntly states.

“Oh, c’mon Sasaki, aren’t you curious about her? Like how did she get into volleyball? Or even, is she a beginner? Or maybe she is an absolute monster who dominates the court!” Etsuko proclaimed as her mind went too fast for her mouth to follow.

“As of right now, it’s not our business. All we can do, and are allowed to do”, emphasizing the word ‘allowed’, “is to watch from the sidelines and quietly eat our lunches.” Chizuru instructed the first years and pointed at the far corner of the gym. 

Despite her own words, Chizuru couldn’t help but glance at Y/n and wonder the same things that the first year questioned. At face value, Y/n was quite the enigma. The 2 first years gave a pout, but headed towards their desired location.

“So, you came from Niiyama Girls' High? That’s a really good school for volleyball. What made you come to Karasuno?” Yui asked.

“It was the most ideal school in terms of my dad’s work location.” Y/n states plainly. She didn’t technically lie. It was an ideal school in terms to the proximity to her new apartment, but that was not the only reason. She saw videos of their interhigh-prelims last year and to be quite frank, Y/n was not entirely impressed with the state of their team. However, she knew that this meant there was room to grow for them. She knew very well that she could have gone to Shiratorizawa and joined their girls’ volleyball. Objectively, with her skill set, Shiratorizawa made sense. Nonetheless, Y/n didn’t know what compelled her to pick this one. She convinced herself it was because she is a sucker for rooting the underdog. 

Does this kid show any emotion? Yui thought in her mind. It’s like nothing affects her. 

“How long have you been playing volleyball?” Yui curiously asked.

“Since the 2nd grade.” Y/n quickly states. As much as she wasn’t showing it, she was just itching to show what she can do. The court was right there in front of her, after all.

“That’s impressive, alright, well if you’re comfortable with it, I’d love to see some serves and sets from you. After school, we can hold a three on three since we all aren’t really in the right clothes to play.” 

“Sounds good.” To say Y/n was excited would be an understatement. As she removed her cream sweater, she could feel a set of eyes burning a hole on her back. She turned around to put her sweater down and realized that she was wrong. It wasn’t one pair of eyes, it was all of them, curious to see how good she really is. She could feel her heart pounding at the thought of holding everyone’s attention. She knew if she let her mind continue, the nerves would get to her and hinder her performance. She took deep breaths and started to quietly humm a song that was previously playing on her phone from her morning ride to school. 

Yui passed a volleyball to her and ran to the other side of the net, and yelled, “Let’s see what ya got!”

Y/n carried herself behind the serve line, taking one deep breath to keep her hands from shaking. With that exhale, she opened her eyes and focused her sights on Yui. The captain wouldn’t admit it, but she could already feel herself sweating under the first year’s gaze.  

She looks so intimidating. I’m not even on the court, yet I’m scared. Yuma viewed Y/n’s determined look. For Y/n, it was as if everything crumbled away and the only thing remained was the court. She starts her run up.

A jump serve?! Yuma, Etsuko, and Chizuru incredulously thought simultaneously with eyes basically bugging out of their head. They watch in amazement as she jumps with severe height and reeled her arm back. After that, all that could be sensed was a loud snap and then the ball smacked the ground next to the wide-eyed captain. The impact from the ball gave a small breeze through Yui’s short hair. The deafening silence that followed her serve filled the room in an instant. Those watching from the sidelines had to pick up their jaws from the floor.

“She’s a first year?! Are you sure?!” Etsuko broke the silence with her curiosity getting the best of her. 

“Boke Etsuko! That was already clarified, don’t make her repeat herself!” Yuma scolded. While Yui read your capabilities on your application form, it was nothing like actually being on the receiving end in real time. 

“That’s quite a serve she got in her arsenal.” A voice startled the three high school students, sitting on the sidelines. Etsuko and Yuma were the most startled, but Chizuru was quite used to her fellow classmate popping in every now and then.

“Seriously, Sudou. We have to put a bell on you or something because I don’t think my heart can take any of your surprise entrances.” Sudou Rinko only slyly chuckles at Etsuko remark. She looks over at Y/n and Yui on the court.

“Did you guys see the precision on that serve?” Rinko posed to the other three sitting on the ground, munching on their lunch.

“Well, not really, but it landed, like, near Michimiya, right?” Etsuko tries to come up with the answer that Rinko was looking for. 

“It landed right next to her left foot. I think that pipsqueak is able to aim her serve.”

“What?! That’s insane.”

“Yeah, insane, but not impossible.”

“With her, maybe we can win more games!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Etsuko, a team is only good if everyone is giving their all.” Yuma reminds. “After all, there’s not only one person on the court, there’s six.”

“I heard she came from Niiyama Girls' High.” Sudou stated as she reverted her gaze back to her fellow teammates. They stared at her after she gave more information on the stranger in their gym. 

“Why would she come to Karasuno then?” Yuma asked honestly. She knew that her team had strengths, but she also knew that other teams had strengths that overpowered them.

“How could you diss your own school like that?” Etsuko was almost angry at how her teammate was treating their school. She always was the one to take pride in everything she does. 

“No, that’s a valid question. It makes sense that a player with her caliber would be well-suited in a powerhouse school.” Rinko supported Yuma in her question. All four look ahead and see that Y/n is beginning to set for Yui.

“Her precision and accuracy are so on point, it almost makes me sick.” Yuma commented on how your form for setting only held the necessities. Y/n stepped with purpose, and it showed as she passed a nice set for Yui, allowing her to have optimal choices in where she can place her spike.

The bell rang, ending lunch. Etsuko couldn’t wait for practice. She wanted to play against Y/n on the three on three. As for Yuma, she always wanted to learn how to set, but with her grand height, most people would assume she would be great as a spiker. Everyone started to pack their belongings up, heading to their respected classes. Y/n started to head towards class 1-5. Etsuko and Yuma caught up with Y/n, standing on the sides of her.

“Do you guys need something?” Y/n poses the question bluntly, yet she was quite startled. Y/n never expected to have people purposefully come up to her.

“Yeah, where did you learn to serve like that? It’s crazy!” Etsuko praises.

“Don’t you remember what Sasaki said? Don’t crowd her with questions, dumbass!” Yuma scolded, which Etsuko already had an irritated look on her face.

“It’s only one question! It’s not like she’s going to fall apart by it, and I just wanna know because I want be strong as well!” Etsuko’s vain on her forehead looked like it was having a field day.

“Yeah, like that would ever happen.” Yuma remarks.

“What did you just say?! I’m going to make you eat your words!” 

“Ooo Frenchie has me shaking in my boots” Yuma taunts with the famous pink haired character from Grease. Etsuko started to jump at Yuma. Because Y/n was between them, she raised an arm.

“Please do not fight, you may cause a ruckus.” Y/n chimed in. The first years returned to their previous spots. Etsuko huffed a little and crossed her arms and slightly turned her head away.

“So, what class are you in? I am in class 1-4. I don’t think I have seen you in the hallways.” Yuma tries to maneuver the conversation to something other than volleyball. Y/n was honestly confused. It’s been awhile when someone her age, someone in her grade asked her a genuine question about herself. She almost felt it was some sort of joke.

“Um, I have class 1-5. And that’s because today’s my first day. Transferred a bit late.” Y/n had pauses in between her words, still not used to people going out of their way to talk to her.

“Woah! You must be pretty smart! That’s a college-prep class, right?” Yuma genuinely comments with a warm smile. Y/n nods, complements on stuff other than volleyball made Y/n short-circuit. The trio walks inside the main school building, the air condition changing the atmosphere. Y/n didn’t notice, but she received some stares from other students as the three walk through hallways. While Y/n remained oblivious, Yuma and Etsuko realized immediately and looked at each other with perplexed looks, not because of the stares that were directed towards you, but the fact that you seemed unfazed by it. 

“Woah, who is that? She’s really pretty.” a student spoke to their friend.

“She’s new I’m pretty sure.” another commented.

“I heard she has a famous dad. She’s like loaded.”

“I wonder if she’s taken”

“I heard she came from California.”

“Someone told me she’s snooty.”

“Her looks certainly make up for it”

“Why is she hanging out with those weird volleyball girls?”

Etsuko physically jolted at that last comment, anyone can physically see the irritation on her face. She turned her head towards the voice of the last comment, wanting to immediately put them in their place. On the other hand, Y/n was too much in her head at the moment.

Shoot, I haven’t asked them a question. Well, that’s what I should do, right? That’s what friends do? Wait, we aren’t even friends, I just met them. They probably think I’m weird. Oh great, now I haven’t said anything for the past 3 minutes. They probably think I don’t like them. Y/n felt that this was weird foreign territory. 

“So, what’s your favorite subject?” Y/n broke the silence, just wanting to say anything to make sure that her two future teammates knew that she was still invested in this conversation.

Are you serious, Y/n?! No one wants to talk about school, that’s so lame! They probably think you’re a smart ass. Uhg. You’re terrible at this. Y/n wanted to groan and bow her head in shame, but all she could do is hold her head high and follow through with her question.

“I like math, and you won’t get an actual subject out of Etsuko, she will probably say something stupid like lunch.” Yuma answered.

“Hey! Why do you keep answering for me?! I am fully capable of answering!” Etsuko barked at her snarky teammate.

“Yeah, your English grade can clearly vouch for you.” Yuma sarcastically stated. Etsuko looked like all the blood from her face left, looking quite pale due to her not so great English grade. Y/n didn’t realize it, but a small smile was on her face as she saw the two interact.

“Well, this is my stop, And, Etsuko, your stop was awhile ago.” Yuma stated as she didn’t really know if she should just send a wave your way or a handshake because Y/n seemed so formal. She settled with a pat on the back. Etsuko copied Yuma, but her pat was a bit more forceful and it really just turned into a smack. Y/n didn’t say anything, but noted that Etsuko has one hell of an arm on her. 

“I already knew that! I wanted to talk to our new friend!” Etsuko looked like she was going to cross her arms and stomp her foot like a small child throwing a tantrum. Y/n stopped her walking when she heard the word “friend” come out of Etsuko’s mouth. Y/n turned to look at Etsuko and Yuma with a surprised look. Etsuko and Yuma instinctively thought they misspoke and perhaps angered you.

“We’re friends?” Y/n held a pause between the two words. Her incredulous face kept switching eye contact between the 2 first years in front of her. “You don’t even know if I will be your teammate yet.” Y/n stated. Etsuko bursted out in laughter and it caused Y/n’s face to turn beet red, embarrassed. Yuma’s face looked like she wanted to backhand Etsuko, but before she could, Etsuko spoke “You don’t have to be our teammate for us to be friends! There isn’t criteria the last time I checked to be friends. Besides, you’re really cool!”

Yuma retracted her arm, despite Etsuko being a dumbass, she somehow always knew what to say in awkward situations. Y/n felt something that spread through her chest. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling. Etsuko and Yuma bid there goodbye’s to Y/n, leaving her to get to her class. The feeling in her chest was not new, it’s just a feeling that she has not felt in a long time.

Y/n sat down in her seat and pulled out her notebook. Everyone started to take their seats. Right before the teacher reached to close the door, a short girl with a small blue hair tie in her short blonde hair just managed to slip through the door. She was out of breath and sweaty, muttering an apology and quickly sat at her desk, which was coincidentally on Y/n’s left side. The teacher began lecturing, instructing to open a page in their textbook.

The end of the school day approached rather quickly. Because of her most recent interaction with Etsuko and Yuma, she couldn’t wait for the three on three. Specifically, who would she be playing against. While thinking of possible offense moves to coordinate, Y/n grabs her volleyball bag from her locker and makes her way to the girl’s gym. The door was already open and she peaked through to make sure there was no way she will be tackled again. She makes eye contact with a girl with short black hair, which she vaguely remembers as Sudou Rinko. 

“Hello! I’m sorry I am a bit early, I just wanted to get a head start in warming up because I do take awhile for those.” Y/n quickly explains with a hint of timidness.

“That’s alright! I already setted up the net so you’re welcome to warm up in here or outside, whichever you prefer.” Sudou stated, making sure she didn’t seem to overbearing as others perceive her to be. 

“Okay, thank you. I do prefer outside.” As much as Y/n’s face held a deadpan look, she was nervous in front of the third year. She didn’t know if she could just head out or bow. Unfortunately, she went with the latter. Sudou cheeks turned red. She didn’t really expect that, I mean in her eyes, she’s just a third year. But, your formality was appreciated.

“Heh, no need to be so formal. I’ve seen what you can do even without warming up, and we would be lucky to have you on our team.” Sudou reassured.

Now it was Y/n’s turn to turn slightly red. She’s new to accepting genuine compliments. So, all she did was a weird salute with a firm nod of her head, and headed out.

That kid has an interesting way of interacting with people. Sudou thought to herself. Hopefully, she’ll be able to open up more. Sudou busied herself by warming up as well.

In the meantime, Y/n found a spot near the side of the gym where there were no trees and the sun just perfectly drenched the scenery with natural light. It was as if the sun placed a golden film over everything and settled on a calm atmosphere. Here, Y/n began stretching. 

After awhile, Y/n was tossing a volleyball up in the air, getting comfortable with how the ball fit perfectly in her hands as she set it in the air. After a couple of sets, she got into the rhythm of bumping, setting, and spiking against a wall. While she was focused on the ball, out of her peripheral vision, she notices someone. After a spike, rather than bumping it, she catches it.

“If you are going to stare any longer, I expect a name out of you.” Y/n stated with a calm yet stern tone while still staring at the wall in front of her. 

“I-I’m sorry. You just seem so focused.” The stranger spoke.

Y/n closes her eyes, when she opens them, she turns to look at the stranger. He’s tall, way taller than her. He’s got a beard and his hair is pulled into a tight bun. If Y/n didn’t know any better, she would have assumed he was a teacher, but he was wearing a school uniform after all. With her eyes set on him, it was as if the guy visibly shook in fear and eyes widened.

“Well, you have to be, in an actual game of course.” Y/n responded.

“You play?” The mysterious guy asks. He does have a calming voice for someone who looks like the opposite.

“In order for me to answer, you should give me your name. I’ve been taught to not talk to strangers.” 

“Oh r-right. I’m Azumane Asahi.”

There was a beat of silence as Y/n kept staring at him, deciding how she should approach this conversation. In Asahi’s eyes, he thought she was judging him and he started to wonder why didn’t he just mind his own business. 

“Yes, I play.” Y/n answered his previous question. Asahi perked up at her answer like a little puppy. 

“You seem like you’re really dedicated.” Asahi offered his observation to her. Y/n chuckles. Asahi’s eyes widened once more at the sudden reaction out of the girl.

“I’m guessing you play as well.” Asahi was dumbfounded at your observation. He was scared at how you were able to pick that up quickly.

“H-how did you-”

“Someone who is able to easily recognize the dedication in one person, also finds that same dedication within themselves” 

Damn, this girl is wise. Asahi thought.

“However, volleyball was just a guess.” Y/n continued. “And I was lucky enough to be right.”

“Well, I don’t know about that.”

Y/n looked at him again. Y/n wasn’t one to let someone divulge into their personal life. Mainly because no one really came up to her for advice since she was quite the nonchalant person. However, if today is any indication, it seems her social interaction skills has been given a second shot. Y/n analyzed Asahi’s troubled face.

“Are you having an internal battle?”

How unfortunate that you phrased it that way, Y/n. Jeez. You can be so formal sometimes. Y/n scolded herself.

“Yeah, of some sorts.” Asahi responded with a puzzling look at the ground.

“About volleyball?” Y/n specified.

“Uh, yeah.” he reluctantly responded.

“What’s up?” Y/n knew that was more informal and she mentally high-fived herself for talking like a normal teenager.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah”

“Have you ever not wanted to do something because you failed at it?”

A beat of silence.

“No.” Y/n said confidently. However, she knew what he was trying to ask, so she added, “But, I’ve felt frustrated at it before.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Well, tell me, can you be frustrated at something yet you want keep trying it?”

Asahi didn’t respond, just thinking of what she said.

“The answer is yes, by the way. Volleyball is a sport where you are constantly improving yourself, just like any other sport really.” Y/n started to blabber on. “Volleyball provides that uncomfortable tension of not being enough. For some people, it discourages them completely, leaving them to quit or be stagnant. But, there are rare cases where the person is strongly encouraged by it. Those are the people who really do succeed.”

Asahi was deep in thought as he processed your words. As Y/n looks at Asahi, he looks like he’s going to hurt himself if he thinks any harder. 

“Here, stand over there. Let me set for you.” Y/n commanded. Asahi Looks up, “h-how did you know I spike?” At this point, he thought you were some sort of psychic.

Y/n shrugs, “Only an ace would have that mindset and label a simple mistake as a “failure”. You feel like you’re whole team depends on you, right?” Asahi nods with shame. “Well, I think you need to understand that the other 5 people on your side have their own jobs as well. Sure, they know that you are capable of grabbing a point, but that’s because they are supporting you in the process.”

Asahi is quite overwhelmed at all the truth you are speaking, but it makes sense to him. Asahi obeys and walks where you pointed to.

“Now, run up like you are going to spike. You’re job is to knock,” Y/n grabs an apple from her lunch box, “this off of this trashcan.” Y/n places the apple on the the tin can and positions it in the way where a blocker would be in terms of where Asahi is standing. “Imagine this,” she draws a line in the dirt with her foot, “is the net. And, I don’t doubt that you are able to hit over the net.”

“O-oh I don’t know, you see, I haven’t really-”

“Just do it.” Y/n cuts him off with a sigh. Asahi gulps and catches the ball from Y/n. 

He takes a deep breathe in. And a deep breathe out. He tosses the ball to you. Of course, Y/n perfectly sets the ball for him.

She notices after those deep breathes, it seems Asahi is a completely different person. He looks more focused and confident. His eyes are concentrated on the ball. 

After the set, Y/n quickly looks over at the tin trashcan. And lo and behold, her apple is now on the dirt floor. Y/n smiles fondly. Asahi carries the most precious smile on his face. 

“Now, how did that feel?” Y/n questions him.

“Makes me want to do another.” Asahi was staring at his hand as if the key to life was written on his hand. He then looked over at Y/n with a glint of inspiration in his eyes.

“The boys volleyball team should still be practicing, right? I still have to start my own practice.” Y/n shares a soft smile, which she hasn’t done in awhile. Asahi reverts back to a nervous state. Y/n’s guessing there is some awkward tension between that relationship.

“Just go to them. It never hurts to just try, right?” Y/n tries her best to be encouraging, but not too pushy.

“I-I don’t know I left them so suddenly-”

“Just go! Or else.” Y/n knew she shouldn’t use fear as a tactic to push him, but to be quite frank, it’s useful in these rare occasions. Asahi fervently nods, he didn’t want to hear what came after ‘what else’ so he quickly grabs his bag and starts his jog to the boy’s gym.

“Oh wait! What’s your name?” Asahi was already a bit far, so she had to yell, “Y/n! Good luck!” She cups her mouth as if that will totally help her voice travel to him. “Well, thank you, Y/n!”

Y/n picks up her things and heads towards the gym, where she has her own journey to embark on.

Taglist: @riceballsandanime

[cheiyunn]

AAside Main Story [2章] Part 2 & 3

[2]

FELIX: Hm, those kids are pretty amazing! I believe their name was Fujin Rizing right, Tomoru?

LIGHT: Yes. Because of the sudden lineup change, I had thought they would be more nervous but, they seemed pretty excited

HARU: It's like youth at full spin, It's pretty good!

ZACK: Ahaha.. We’re not that young after all..

D: We’re all, around 30 after all

LIGHT: H-hey, we’re going next so don’t say something so depressing!

HARU: But its the truth after all, the only ones still technically in their 20s are you and Jun right?

LIGHT: Yes but..

FELIX: Well on the stage, age doesn’t matter. All that does matter is how brilliant your performance is

D: Agreed

ZACK: Felix-san says really nice stuff.. Ah

LIGHT: What’s wrong, Jun?

ZACK: My shoelace just suddenly broke..

HARU: Aren’t you lucky that it was before we started

ZACK: No, Koharu-san.. This must be omen.. It's most likely that the guitar strings will snap or the amp will explode..

ZACK: Or Tomoru gets a sudden call from the company..

LIGHT: S-stop that! Don’t say such ominous stuff like that

D: Well the thing from Tomoru’s company could actually happen… you’ve never told them about the band right?

LIGHT: Not from you as well Daimon-san, please stop! … well it's true that I haven’t told them

FELIX: Everyone, now is the time to forget about your normal jobs. Our live is about to begin after all

FELIX: From here on out, it's Fantome Iris’ stage. A world of vampires

D: ...That's right

ZACK: YAHOO! ALRIGHT LETS GIVE THE AUDIENCE A PIECE OF OUR H*** LIVE! !

HARU: Oh, it seems that Zack’s switch as been flipped

Moderator: Fantome Iris, you’re up!

LIGHT: Well then, shall we start “My lord”

FELIX: Ah, let us go

--

FELIX: Now, my dear subjects! Tonight as well, we shall take you!

FELIX: Under my call, the Silver lilies shall bloom and go beyond this crimson night!

--

Tomoru: Good work everyone! Um, sorry! I have to return back to the company after this..

Koharu: The meeting up later will be done with me and Daimon. Be careful and go!

Daimon: Tomoru, the eyeshadow isn’t fully removed yet

Tomoru: Thank you so much!.. Huh? Where’s Jun?

Koharu: Over there, slouching

Jun: Sorry, Tomoru…

Jun: I fell on the live, the guitar strings snapping, and the overworked Tomoru being called to go to work are all the work of my bad luck… all because my shoelace broke!

Tomoru: Just how strong were those shoelaces! If that's the case, just wear shoes without them!

Felix: That's right Jun, it's nothing to be extremely bothered about. It's just that Tomoru likes to work a lot after all

Tomoru: There was a sudden change in specifics, so it can’t be helped. I can’t just discard work halfway through after all..

Koharu: Really, you’re so damn serious huh, Tomoru..

Daimon: What about the live happening in 2 days? If you can’t, I won’t recommend forcing yourself to go watch

Tomoru: No, I’ll watch! Since we've come to Tokyo after all, I can juggle both the band and work after all!

Tomoru: We’ll win this Fes and prove it!

Felix: Un~, that's a good will. Do your best, Tomoru

Tomoru: Then pardon me, I’ll be going first!

[3]

Rio: How are the net votes so far?

Banri: Fujin Rizing is moving forward. They used to be only popular in their hometown but maybe it's because yesterday’s live left such an impact

Banri: On the other hand, Fantome Iris is a little more sluggish. It seems that some people are more resistant to the world-buildup

Wataru: What about εpsilonΦ? Although they ditched it

Banri: Well here and there I guess? I wonder if stronger fans are pushing them forward

Yuuto: What about us? And Gyroaxia

Banri: Gyro is amazing… maybe because they’re more well known so there’s a lot of posts expecting them to be No.1

Banri: Well for us, we’re kinda at the bottom

Yuuto: At the bottom huh, well that's fine! Lets flip those expectations at today’s live!

Yuuto: Right? Ren

Ren: …

Yuuto: Heyyy Ren?

Banri: Ah.. he’s definitely not listening to this

Wataru: He’s been like this since yesterday huh. He’s been watching the Starting Live video like crazy

Rio: Just like when he’s watching Tokusatsu, isn’t he focusing?

Yuuto: Ren, soon it’ll be time to go to the live venue

Ren: …

Banri: Don’t you want to see Gyro’s stage in person? After all, you said that alot yesterday

Ren: ..!! I’ll go!

Rio: It seems he’s realized

Wataru: Okay, so we’ll also get ready

--

Reiji: Shu, where are you going?

Shu: What? The Starting live

Reiji: I thought you had said that you had no interest in the other bands’ performance

Shu: I could care less about the lives. I just want to see how the toys we’ll soon be playing with, act

Reiji: I see…

--

Wataru: Doesn’t it seem like, there are more audience members compared to yesterday?

Banri: They’re most likely Gyroaxia fans. As I expected, they’re pretty popular in Tokyo as well huh

Yuuto: We can’t lose to them huh..

Ren: Nayuta-kun and the others are really cool…

???: Oh? Aren’t you that onii-san from last time?

Ren: You’re εpsilonΦ’s… Ujigawa Shu-kun…

Shu: Wa, you remembered me, I’m so glad. To the Argonavis onii-sans as well, hello

Banri: Hello there… today you’re doing a solo investigation?

Shu: Well yeah.. But can you not treat me so much like a kid?

Banri: Ah.. sorry sorry!

Shu: But alternatively, to have all the members on an investigation. Gyroaxia must really interest you huh~?

Shu: Then I guess I’ll also have a look as well~

Ren: ...hey Shu-kun. Can I ask you one thing?

Shu: What is it~?

Ren: Yesterday.. Why did you ditch the live?

Shu: hmm~.. Because it was worthless, I guess

Ren: ...eh?

Shu: Stuff like that doesn’t matter~! See, Gyroaxia’s live is about to start~!

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: I love your blog it’s definitely one of the most smartest and cultured ones around. Since you are a super chilled out military vet (flying combat helicopters, how cool is that?!) and also a very thoughtful and devout Christian (I think you talked about being an Anglican) I know this is a cheeky question but I’ll ask it anyway. Would you rather live in a military dictatorship or a theocratic dictatorship?

Now this is an interesting question you play at 2am and the wine is dangerously low.

I have to correct you on a couple of things. Yes, it was ‘cool’ to fly combat helicopters especially in a battlefield setting but it was just a job, like any other. And it’s never about the pilot it’s about the rest of the team behind you, especially your ground crew who make sure you go up and come back in one piece. As for being super chilled you clearly have never seen how sweaty one gets flying in high stress situations. Oh and the stink! A skunk wouldn’t last 5 minutes in my cockpit.

As for my Christian beliefs, I’ll settle for being a believing one. My faith, such as it is, is about living - and failing - by grace day by day than being fervently devout. Faith is a struggle to not rely upon one’s own strength but on divine mercy and grace.

Anyway....

Would I rather live in a military dictatorship or a theocratic dictatorship?

History has shown there's not a lot of difference between the two...

No, wait. On second thoughts maybe I would rather live in a military dictatorship as the lesser evil.

As an ex-officer in her HM armed forces, I know things will be run pretty efficiently with no dilly-dallying. So there’s that.

I suppose even if one does say it’s preferable to live under military rule rather than a theocratic one there is still the question of what kind of military rule? Every nation that has been under military rule came to power and sustained their hold under different dynamics. And of course it also depends on how mature civil society and the rule of law as well as the democratic culture really was in the first place. A lot is tied up with the brutal nature of the personality of the regime leader too. There are simply too many variables.

So one is forced to generalise. So l can’t get too serious in answering this question.

Rather than focus on the negative side let’s look on the bright side.

Just off the top of my head I can think of these reasons why I would choose to ‘live’ under military rule than a theocratic one. There are in no real order:

Beds will be made properly subject to inspection.

Families will be run like military units with the man at the head of the table.

Family meals will be taken at set times.

Public civility will make a return (e.g. no public spitting, drunken, or loutish behaviour).

Freedom of speech will more likely be censored than abolished (better than nothing I suppose)

Elections would be rigged rather than banned (but who really votes anyway these days?)


They will most likely make the trains run on time (unless you’re British or Italian).

Military leaders often enjoy genuine popularity - albeit after eliminating plausible rivals - that is based on “performance legitimacy,” a perceived competence at securing prosperity and defending the nation against external or internal threats. The new autocrats of today are more surgical: they aim only to convince citizens of their competence to govern.

Maintaining power, for military dictators and their court, is less a matter of terrorising and persecuting victims than of manipulating beliefs about the world. But of course they can do both if backed into a corner to survive.

State propaganda aims not to re-engineer human souls but to boost the military regime leader’s ratings.

The military tend to stay out of personal lives. They have a political police but not necessarily a moral police.

Economic growth is more likely to be stable than under a theocratic state.

Military dictatorships are more likely to build vast bureaucracies to run the state - more jobs for everyone

The military put on great events. Their parades are more colourful and spectacular.

Having a sense of humour is more likely to get you imprisoned than executed for telling an anti-regime joke. It’s no joke to say that people develop a more refinery subversive sense of humour when oppressed. Take for example a famous comedian in Myanmar, Zarganar, for whom comedy is a shield and a weapon. During the time of the military dictatorship (1962-2010) he would make jokes like, “The American says, 'We have a one-legged guy who climbed Mount Everest.' The Brit says, 'We recently had a guy with no arms who swam the Atlantic Ocean. But the Burmese guy says, 'That's nothing! We had a leader who ruled for 18 years without a brain!" It was for jokes like this that Zarganar received a prison sentence in 2008 - for up to 59 years.

Military dictatorships don’t last long. They are more unstable. They tend to fall from the weight of their own contradictions.

One of the problems of living in a theocracy is how absolutist it would be in looking at life in terms of clear cut black and white according to those who rule over you. I strongly suspect in a theocratic state the morality secret police will be all over you looking for any social or moral infraction. In a Christian Theocracy, you'll never be Christian enough - the same would be for states that were Islamic, Judaic or Hindu etc. There's always going to be some pious asshole there with another version of Christianity that is more Christian than you and you're going to lose the freedom to make your own choices.

Under theocracies, unlike other authoritarian regimes, the rulers are the moral authorities that legitimises and fuels their political legitimacy to govern. It assumes its own moral correctness married to its political destiny to rule over others. As C.S Lewis memorably puts it, “Theocracy is the worst of all governments. If we must have a tyrant, a robber baron is far better than an inquisitor. The baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity at some point be sated; and since he dimly knows he is doing wrong he may possibly repent. But the inquisitor who mistakes his own cruelty and lust of power and fear for the voice of Heaven will torment us infinitely because he torments us with the approval of his own conscience and his better impulses appear to him as temptations.”

Finally, I’ll go with the military dictatorship with the hope that there might be some way of bringing the system down with a bit of logic and rationality. Hell knows that wouldn't be possible in a theocratic system!

I agree with Margaret Atwood when she said, “If you disagree with your government, that's political. If you disagree with your government that is approaching theocracy, then you're evil.” There’s more wriggle room with fighting against a military dictatorship because it’s usually against an asshole tyrant - or a ruling oligarchy of a military junta - and not a pernicious idea soaked in theological bullshit or an entire ideology divinely santificated by God himself.

A more interesting question is not to ask is why many people are so readily drawn to be ruled under a military rule or a theocratic one and especially a benevolent dictatorship (like Lee Kwan Yew in Singapore or Paul Kagame in Rwanda) but why increasingly more people in the Western world look to authoritarian figures to rule and shape their lives?

Why do Silicon Valley titans like Peter Thiel and others like him think fondly of ditching democracy in the name of some utopian hyper-capitalist vision of ‘freedom’?

I hear murmurs of the same talk when I interact with corporate colleagues and high net worth individuals I hear it around dinner tables about how democracy is bad for business and profit. Often it’s accompanied by praise for China's ability to "get things done." I just roll my eyes and smile politely. 

I think - outside of the legitimate concern of the decay of civil discourse, the corruption of politicians, and corrosiveness of crony capitalism - it’s because democratic politics is hard. Damn hard.

Moreover democratic politics does not have a "right" answer. There never is.

In our Western societies it is the playing field (or market place?) where our values compete. Surely, you say, there is a right way to get the job done: to fill in the potholes, build the roads, keep our streets safe, get our kids to learn reading and math. Ah, but look how quickly those issues get contentious.

Whose potholes should get filled first? Do we try to keep our streets safe through community policing or long prison sentences? Should teachers be given merit pay, are small classrooms better, or should we lengthen the school day? These issues engender deep political fights, all - even in the few debates where research provides clear, technocratic answers. That is because the area of politics is an area for values disputes, not technical solutions.

One person's "right" is not another's because people prioritise different values: equity versus excellence, efficiency versus voice and participation, security versus social justice, short-term versus long-term gains.

Democratic politics allows many ideas of "right" to flourish. It is less efficient than dictatorship. It also makes fewer tremendous mistakes.

The longing for a leader who knows what is in her people's best interests, who rules with care and guides the nation on a wise path, was Plato's idea of a philosopher-king. It's a tempting picture, but it's asking the wrong question.

In political history, philosophers moved from a preference for such benevolent dictators to the ugly realities of democracy when they switched the question from "who could best rule?" to "what system prevents the worst rule?"

But clearly democracy is buckling under pressure in our torrid times. Populism - the logical end consequence of a purer democracy - is chipping away at the edifice of democratic norms and conventions. Increasingly inward looking nativism and nationalism fuel passions beyond the control of reason.

Perhaps it is time we went back to the tried and tested example of a monarchy, a constitutional one that is. 

A revitalised monarchy in Britain needs a Head of State that can provide a personal identity to an impersonal State, and a collective sense of itself. A Head of State who does not owe his or her position to either patronage or a vote can more properly represent all the people. Consider that a President who has been elected, often by a minority of a minority of the electorate, cannot adequately speak for the people who did not vote for him or her. It is even worse if the President has been appointed, because then he owes his position to a small clique.So, the accident of birth is the best means of appointing a Head of State. Someone who has no party political axe to grind, or special favours to repay to a vested interest. Someone whose allegiance is to the people. Not just allegiance to the people who voted for him or his political party, but allegiance to all the people of the country equally. Far from being "incompatible" with democracy, a Monarchy can thereby enhance the government of the land.

The Monarch is a national icon. An icon which cannot be replaced adequately by any other politician or personality. This is because the British Monarchy embodies British history and identity in all its aspects, both good and bad.

When you see the Queen you not only see history since 1952, when she took the throne, but you see a person who provides a living sense of historical continuity with the past. Someone who embodies in her person a history which extends back through time, back through the Victorian era, back into the Stuart era and beyond. You see the national history of all parts of our islands, together, going right back in time.

As Edmund Burke, Roger Scruton and Michael Oakeshott would say, the monarchy is a living continuity between the past, the present and the future.

With its traditions, its history, its ceremonial, and with its standing and respect throughout the world, the British Monarchy represents a unique national treasure, without which the United Kingdom would be sorely impoverished.

If you value national distinctiveness, you should be a Monarchist.

If you are anti-globalist you should be a Monarchist because Monarchies represent the different national traditions and distinctions among the nations.

The desire to secure, strengthen and promote your own distinct national icons, whether your Monarch, or your own unique national identity, should be your concern, whether you live here in St Andrews, or whether you live in St Petersburg, or whether you live in St Paulo.

As the global financial system rushes us all towards a world intended to eradicate all local and national distinctions, the Monarchy stands out as different, distinct and valuable. Constitutionally, practically, spiritually and symbolically the Monarchy is a national treasure, the continued erosion of which would change the character of Britain, and not in a good way!

I’m speaking as a High Tory now, sorry.  And so of course I only see it working for the United Kingdom....and the Commonwealth (slip that discreetly in there for you India, Australia, Canada, and Africa).

Still, if you want egalitarianism then look at Norway and the Netherlands - both highly "egalitarian" societies, and both monarchies.

Everyone else will just have to jolly well do without or ask us politely to come back (I’m looking at you my dear American colonial cousins, all will be forgiven).

The best of all worlds? Time will tell.

At your service, Ma’am....

Thanks for your question.