#alumni pep game

[band-room-quotes]

Mod Euphonium: Have you had Tiki Masala before?

Stage Manager: Ummm no

Mod Euphonium: *whispers* try this

Mod Euphonium: *slowly slides tiki masala to Stage Manager*

Bass Clarinet: I feel like I just watched a drug deal

[pawnshopbleus]

Happy Birthday, Miss. President

Professor!Abby Anderson x Fem!Student!Reader

Contains - smut, teacher and student relationship, Reader is 22 and Abby is 32, this isn’t beta read so…

Summary - When an alumni meeting and your birthday fall on the same day, Professor Abby Anderson finds a way to make up for it.

Author's note - I don’t know how college works because I’m a senior in high school. Let’s just pretend that Harvard has class presidents. Let’s also pretend this is in character for Abby.

When you ran for senior class president you knew that there would be certain commitments that you could not break. You promised the entire student body that you would take their concerns into account. You wanted Harvard to become an inclusive school where everyone was welcomed. You weren’t expecting to win considering that you were running against Dina Williams, head cheerleader and every man's dream girl. When you won, you were pleasantly surprised and couldn’t wait to get to work. That was until you found out what it meant to actually be the class president.

You needed to approve new clubs, promote pep rallies, set up the student section for football games, host spirit week, hold outreach meetings, and attend all the club meetings. To say that your life would be busy would be an understatement.

That was three months ago. Now, it is a cold October day. The trees rustled along the windows of lecture room two hundred and eleven. Some heads were settled on the desk in front of them while others quickly scribbled down notes. Professor Anderson, the chemistry professor, and your advisor glided through each slide about molecular structure. You watched as students dropped their pencils and pens to give their poor little hands a break from writing. You enjoyed the show from the comfort of your teacher's assistant's desk.

The clock struck five pm, indicating the end of class. Students rejoiced as they packed up their things and left the lecture room, leaving only you and Professor Anderson in the classroom.

You watched with attentive eyes as she walked over to her desk in the front of the room. It was dimly lit and cold over there, casting an angelic glow over her. Professor Anderson was wearing the forest green button-up blouse that you liked so much. It was made out of cotton meaning that sometimes it gets too hot. When she overheats in her clothes she likes to unbutton the top three buttons of her blouse. If one tries hard enough they can get a small glimpse of the bra she's wearing. You feel like a perv for knowing, but the professor isn’t so innocent either. Sometimes you catch her licking her lips as she stares at you, completely forgetting that she’s in a room with hundreds of other people.

As a chemistry major, you need to take many advanced chemistry classes. Since the first day of class, you found yourself staring at Professor Anderson as she taught. She would often lean on her desk in front of the class while her arms were crossed in front of her. She was the type of woman that you fantasized about. Tall, strong, and smart.

At first, it started out as a simple attraction towards her, then it turned into a crush, and now you were completely infatuated with her. You felt like you struck gold when she was appointed to be your advisor.

You get up from your chair and walk over to Professor Anderson’s desk. She looks up at you through her half-moon glasses. Her blonde hair framed her face perfectly. She prefers to wear her hair in a braid, but on rare occasions, she will wear it down, just the way you like it.

“Come pull up a chair. We have some things to go over,” Professor Anderson said as she pulled out her calendar.

You dragged a chair from the corner and placed it next to her. Now that you were just inches away from her, you could smell the keynotes of her perfume. Black cherry, tonka bean, and almond. You inhaled the scent through your nose and exhaled. She smelled good enough to eat.

Professor Anderson flipped her hair from one shoulder to the other, giving you a good view of her neck. God, how you wished you were a vampire right now so you could sink your teeth into her perfect neck. You wanted to consume her, mind, body, and soul. Maybe that was a little violent, but it was true.

You were sitting so close to her that if you extended your pinky just a little bit you would be touching her.

“So, what is it you wanted to go over?” you squeaked. You hate how pathetic you sound every time you speak with her. Oh, how you wished you could exhibit the confidence some lesbians had in television and movies.

At least your birthday is coming soon. It was next Friday, the perfect day for it to fall on. After two hours of classes, you would return to your shoebox of an apartment and watch a stupid rom-com while you drank boxed wine. Now that sounded like the perfect way to spend your twenty-second birthday.

“You have a very busy week ahead of you. On Monday you have a GSA meeting to go to, the Tuesday there is an event you need to set up for, Wednesday there’s a peer counseling session you need to over see, on Thursday there’s a short film screening that you need to make an appearance at, and on Friday there’s an alumni meeting that you need to attend.” Professor Anderson took a deep breath in to catch her breath after talking for so long.

Your eyes widened with horror. No, you couldn’t spend your birthday in a stupid meeting. “Professor, I don’t think I can make it to the meeting on Friday. It’s my birthday.”

“Friday is your only mandatory day. I’m sorry but you have to go.” Professor Anderson put her hand on your upper thigh and squeezed it. She must have realized what she had done because she quickly took her hand off our thigh and cleared her throat.

You let out a small sigh of frustration and played with the sleeve of the top you were wearing. You weren’t going to complain. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to seem ungrateful in front of your professor.

“I’ll be there, Professor,” you assured her.

“Do me a favor. When it’s just the two of us, call me Abby.”

Abby, short for Abigail. A name of Hebrew origin deeply intertwined with a figure of great beauty and intellect.

“That’s a beautiful name,” you gave her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t really reach your eyes. You were still a little disappointed about not having your birthday off, but this is what you get for running for class president.

You dismissed yourself and began the trek from your college campus to your apartment. Leaves were falling and trees that still had their coverings began to change color. The wind rustled and shook the naked branches of trees. The sun was setting, and the streetlights were about to turn on.

You hugged yourself tight as you walked against the wind. You kept licking your lips as you walked, silently cursing yourself for not bringing Vaseline with you.

You reached into your bag to search for the keys to your apartment. You unlocked the door and dropped your things on the floor. You replaced your day clothes with your pajamas and got into bed, but you couldn’t fall asleep. You stayed up all night thinking about a certain blonde-haired professor that looked like a dream.

— — — — — —

The alumni meeting was in full swing. Men and Women in their forties and fifties mixing and mingling with each other. The room smelled of expensive perfume and cologne, no doubt it was from the amount of money most of the alumni went on to make. Most of them are very successful doctors, engineers, scientists, CEOs, tech pioneers, and entertainment executives. The rest of them peaked in college and have thousands of dollars in debt.

You stood at the back of the auditorium smiling once in a while at alumni who caught your eye. So far, you haven’t done anything. The most you did was direct a lost man who needed to use the restroom. When you told him that the restrooms were in the other hall he mumbled something under his breath. It went along the lines of things sure have changed since I went here. You didn’t have it in your heart to tell him that the restrooms have always been down that hall.

You silently cursed Abby for making you attend this meeting. You could have been at home celebrating your birthday, but instead, you had to stand in the back of a stuffy room with people way older than you.

The latest Abby could have done was attend the meeting. Could you even call this a meeting?

A man who looked like he was in his late sixties stepped on the stage in the front of the room. He tapped the mic three times and spoke into it. His voice was raspy, “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. On behalf of the entire Harvard community, I welcome you back to your alma mater.” Everyone in the room began to clap. The sound was overwhelming. The man on stage began speaking again. “Now, I would like to welcome one of our best professors to the stage. She is a Harvard graduate herself and now teaches chemistry in the Department Of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, Professor Abigail Anderson.”

Abby stepped out in a black jumpsuit and red Louboutins. Her hair fell down in beautiful waves and grazed her open back. She looked like a dream up on that stage.

“Thank you all for coming tonight,” her eyes began to scan the crowd and once they fell upon yours she smiled and began speaking again, “I am here tonight to reward all of you for your kind and generous donations. All of you will be rewarded with your own monument in the botanical gardens.” The alumni began to clap and cheer.

Is this why you needed to be here? To watch some rich people pay their way to the top?

You pushed your way through the sea of older people and made your way outside. Autumn in Massachusetts was fairly cold, but winter was colder and harsher. You hugged yourself in hopes that your own body heat would warm you up as you began walking in the direction of your apartment. This was your first time as class president leaving a function early. There was no reason for you to be there.

“Where are you going?” Abby asked from the doorway of the auditorium.

You huffed, causing you to see your breath in the cold air, “I’m going home.”

Abby ran up after you, “As senior class president it is your duty to be here. As your advisor, I will not tolerate your attitude.”

You stopped walking, “There’s no reason for me to be there. Either this is a ploy for the room to look packed or you really hate me. There are other ways I would like to spend my twenty-second birthday and being in a room with Harvard alumni is not one of them.”

“Listen to me,” she said your name in a tone that can only be described as stern. You could have melted from how much your skin heated up, but you kept your composure. “I understand that it’s your birthday, but I need you to go back there and mingle with people for a little bit.”

You inhaled the cold autumn air through your nose and exhaled. “Fine,” you said flatly.

“Good,” Abby’s cherry red lips stretched into a smile at your agreement. “By the way, I have a surprise for you in my classroom. You’ll have to wait till later to open it though.” Abby winked before returning to the auditorium.

You followed her back into the auditorium. Not because you wanted to, but because you had to. You returned to your place in the back of the room. You took a sip of the water that was on the refreshment table in the front of the room. You wanted to stay sober enough for whatever Abby had in the classroom.

— — — — — —

The auditorium was mostly empty. The alumni have returned to their accommodations for the night. The only people that were left were you, Abby, and the janitorial staff.

Abby beckoned you to follow her with her hand. The two of you walked side by side to her classroom. You were at a respectable distance so as to not cause suspicion, but you wished you could be closer to her. You wanted to feel her skin on yours.

The two of you reached her classroom a few minutes later. It was cold in her classroom, if not colder than outside.

Abby lit two vanilla-scented candles instead of turning on the lights. The flames bounced off the walls of the classroom causing it to cast an angelic glow over the both of you.

Abby walked over to her desk and grabbed a small box from her drawer. “Happy birthday,” she said as she handed you the box.

Inside was a silver necklace with your first initial. “Oh, Abby. I don’t know what to say. It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Your words were all over the place and all of a sudden you felt bad for the way you treated her earlier.

“It’s no problem. Here, let me help you put it on,” she volunteered. She held the necklace in between her fingers and slid it around your neck. The cold metal kissed your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You looked at Abby over your shoulder and gave her a soft smile. When your eyes met her, that's when you realized that her eyes were focused on your lips. “Abby?” you whispered. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for permission. You gave her a soft nod and she kissed you. Years worth of pent-up emotions came down to this. Her kissing you in the spur of the moment.

You immediately returned the kiss, your lips meeting hers with the same amount of fervor. Your hands tangled into the long strands of her hair. Abby tasted just like cherries, sweet and a little tart. Now that you’ve had a taste of her you wouldn’t be able to get it out of your mind.

Abby broke the kiss, giving you a few moments to catch your breath. You were high with desire for your professor. “Do you want this?” she asked. Abby wanted to make sure that you were one hundred percent on board with this before you went any further.

You nodded your head and Abby asked. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you breathed. You were surprised at your ability to form words at the present moment.

Once she had your verbal consent she attacked your lips once more. This time she allowed her hands to glide up and down your body. Her hands explored every inch and curve of your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Remnants of her red lipstick painted your skin along the way.

You were getting bored of the teasing so you guided her hands under the top you were wearing, giving her permission to take it off. The rest of your clothes are soon to follow. Now, you’re left with nothing on but your necklace as Abby guides you to lie down on her desk. It’s cold and hard, but that’s the least of your worries when you have a naked Abby Anderson hovering on top of you.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do this properly, but I couldn’t wait,” Abby whispers into your skin as she leaves trails of wet kisses on your skin.

Abby’s trail eventually leads to where you need her the most. Your sex is exposed to the cold air of her classroom. Her hands latch onto the fat of your thighs as she trails kisses on the inside of your thighs. It was one of the most erotic sights you’ve ever seen. Abby was down there, her hair grazing her naked skin, the glow of the candles making her look like a goddess.

Abby licks up and down your slit, getting you nice and wet for her fingers. Your thighs twitched, not being used to the feeling of getting eaten out, but Abby kept them apart with her hands. She continued massaging your clit with her tongue. She was using methodical strokes. Up and down and side to side were her favorites.

She inserted one finger in first, getting you used to her size. Her fingers were thick so it took a few thrusts for you to finally feel ready for another. Her fingers slid in and out of your slick hole as she continued sucking your clit.

You were close. You could feel your orgasm pooling in your lower stomach. “Abby,” you breathed, “I’m close.”

“I know, baby. I can feel it.”

And without further warning you came, your juices painting her face Abby helped you through your orgasm, stroking your clit a few times for good measure.

It took both of you a few moments to collect your breath. Abby then got a towel that she had in her desk and cleaned you up. She proceeds to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.

Abby let out a laugh of delight, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“Really?” Your forehead scrunched up in confusion, “Why?”

Abby then proceeded to compliment you more times than you can count. You bit your lip, trying to hide the smile that was growing on your face. This was the best birthday celebration a girl could ask for.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Let's pretend that was good!

[not-made-of-actual-rye]

I'm not done (if you saw my last post). This time, though, I'm not talking about the sick old men who are my band directors. Let's go a little bit younger.

There's this guy I know. His fake name (because his real name makes me feel sick to my stomach) is Aaron. I've never talked about him on social media before, mostly because he's on every other platform of social media I have other than Tumblr (I'd praise god if I weren't atheist)

Aaron always scared me. Immediate red flag, right? 🚩 Well, I met him exactly 10 days after I officially started dating my boyfriend. It's probably a good time to mention (unfortunately) that Aaron is my boyfriend's oldest brother.

If you've seen the other post, you'll know I am in my school's band (this took place before all the shit that made me hate the band directors, mind you, and I still loved band with my entire heart and soul at this point). Unfortunately, my boyfriend comes from a very musical family, and every single one of them is/was an instrumentalist.

On this unfortunate day of December 15th, 2023, our band directors decided it was a wonderful idea to have an alumni game, where all former graduates of our school are allowed back to play again in a pep band game. I'd never met Aaron until this point, and I admitted to my boyfriend that I didn't want to meet him. Again, gut feeling that he was bad news.

That night, he asked his brother to point me out. Me being scared of him (he was also right behind me in the stands) I avoided him as best I could, but being in his general proximity gave me a massive headache that didn't go away for the rest of the night. He was also a very loud player (egotistical bitch) and was bothering other members of my section too

After the pre-game performance, I ended up finding him looking lost in the back hallway that typically only the band members used. Just being kind, I explained to him that most people were out socializing in the Commons, and it would be better for him to wait out there rather than alone in the hallway.

I was unfortunately naive when this occurred, and I didn't realize his intentions when he began using this time with us alone to interrogate me, including questions about where I lived and what my parents did for work. I didn't clock this as creepy behavior until much, much too late, because I assumed he was just being friendly. Even so, when I did manage to escape his questioning, I hid with a group of friends and avoided him as best I could.

As far as I knew, nothing else happened for a couple months (there was actually a lot happening at this time that I'll cover later) until my boyfriend invited me and one of my best friends at the time to a college pep band game that his father led. I had a lot of fun there, and I loved every minute of it (except when my boyfriend neglected to give me literally any important information about this event I'd never gone to despite me begging him to give me details)

At this game and at this college, there's a long-standing tradition where attractive college women will dress in bathing suits and cover up with trenchcoats, only to reveal their bodies whenever the opposing team attempted to score a free throw

Aaron made a comment about my makeup (I like to do more graphic looks including rhinestones around my eyes), saying, and I quote "At least you're drawing attention to your eyes, and not..." and he trailed off but he made it abundantly clear he was referring to the ladies in swimsuits. Especially when he followed his statement up with, "Of course, you're aware of the tradition, right?" He began explaining it to me while I stood there in silence.

For a while, I thought his comment had been funny. It became an inside joke between me and my boyfriend, because, again, I had been naive and not realized it was not only weird but also extremely creepy to be making comments about a 15-year old showing off her body like the adult college students were. (Reminder that he was 25 at the time, and knew my age)

This all occurred on January 20th, 2024. 3 months later (almost exactly) on April 21st, I was visiting my boyfriend's house for the second time. It was going really well, until I forced my boyfriend to show me his phone. I knew he'd been hiding things from me because he would panic every time I got his phone, even if I didn't have any desire to open it. This had been going on for at least 2 months, possibly longer.

For whatever reason, he finally allowed me to see. I looked through his texts when I found they were about me. They were between both of his older brothers. These messages varied between talking about my deepest insecurities (something I'd trusted my boyfriend and only my boyfriend with, not even my closest friends), as well as them berating me for being crazy, psycho, and a red flag. All these insults came directly from Aaron himself, mind you.

I laid on my boyfriend's bed, scrolling through and reading everything they'd ever said about me. He laid behind me, watching. He said mostly nothing, only ever asking if I was okay, to which I couldn't answer by how betrayed and shocked I felt about this whole ordeal.

The texts about me had started back in November, when my boyfriend and I had started talking and falling for each other. He'd gone to his older brothers asking for advice, and they'd given it excitedly, because they'd been wanting him to get a girlfriend for a while before he'd met me. Aaron specifically had been more obsessed with our relationships, even going as far as to make comments about how I better be pretty (his words were "she better not be mid" he then clarified "not attractive")

I cried silently while I read the story of how my boyfriend had told them almost everything I never wanted anyone to know, and even though I knew he'd been hiding something, I never would have assumed it'd be that. I screenshotted the messages (some, not all... I wanted some to remain hidden from anyone who asked to see the messages, because I knew that time would come) and sent them to myself. I sat in his room in silence for a couple minutes just to process everything, ignoring everything he'd try to say to me, and texted his little sister, one of my best friends, if I could hang out in her room for a while because I didn't want to look at him.

I showed her everything, because I figured if I didn't, someone else would, and even though she was younger than I am, she agreed with me that it was messed up and tried her best to comfort me. I stayed with her for longer than I anticipated until I was ready to face my boyfriend again. I went in his room and laid on the bed with him in silence, crying. I said I wasn't sure if I could still love him after that, and even though it hurt seeing his reaction as I broke his heart, he'd broken mine too.

I went home, hiding the truth from my mother when she asked how everything went. I texted my boyfriend and we argued about everything. I officially ended it that night, because I refused to stay with someone who never wanted to be with me forever in the first place.

It was a messy breakup, one that isn't really important to the story aside from knowing about the existence of the text messages and some of the content they contained. Long story very very short, my boyfriend and I got back together after we had a lot of long discussions about the texts.

Essentially, I realized that, aside from my boyfriend telling them things he never should have, he was mostly just asking for advice and answering their questions when the time arose. In the grand scheme of things, it was Aaron (and perhaps the other brother like... once) who was making the nasty comments about me, including not only the creepy comment about my attractiveness, but also sexual things (note that my boyfriend and I never had sex and he knew this).

As if that wasn't enough, the time before my boyfriend and I got back together (we remained friends after the breakup even though we both knew we still had feelings for each other) I learned more about Aaron. A lot of this was from my ex-boyfriend, but some was from his social media (what is with millennials and thinking they should post their every thought online?)

I learned a lot of things about my new enemy Aaron. Some of them included:

His wife, whom he'd married 3 days before my boyfriend and I started officially started dating, was only 3 or 4 years older than me, at the age of 19.

His wife was also homeschooled, never went to college, and had limited social interaction outside of her many siblings and her parents. She met Aaron at either 17 or 18. Aaron, 24-soon-to-be-25, started dating his now-wife as soon as she would've graduated high school at the age of 18.

Aaron has a birth defect (no name was given but I have used this wonderful resource named Google and am making an educated guess in saying it is hypogonadism) which, and I am very sorry to have to type this but it is important, makes it very hard for him to produce sperm.

After only 2 months of marriage, Aaron got his 19-year-old wife pregnant (and I can pinpoint the exact day it was conceived because he told his 16-year old brother, aka my boyfriend, all about it)

Maybe it's just me, but having testosterone issues to the point where you require you're essentially unable to ejaculate (infertility, a common symptom of hypogonadism) and then suddenly being able to make a kid after 2 months as soon as you fuck a teenager? Interesting...

That's all I have to say for now. My hatred for this "man" runs deep, and it will probably be like that for years, but I don't care. I want nothing to do with him

[huxloween]

We’ve Got Spirit (Bonfire)

Abrams High School’s homecoming kickoff week started with a bonfire, which seemed to fit with the 1950s theme of the whole extravaganza. A lot of alumni were thrilled by it, and showed up in droves to attend the rally and game. This also meant that the school’s football team, cheerleaders, and marching band were going to wear suitable uniforms for the event.

Kylo Ren, the Star quarterback, looked really good in his vintage letterman sweater- meanwhile Armitage Hux, his boyfriend, felt a bit ridiculous wearing the uniform the band director gave him.

“I look like the village idiot,” Hux muttered, clipping his alto sax to the neck strap. Kylo, on the other hand, looked stunning. “White is not my color.”

“Don’t say that, Hux, you look handsome in that hat,” Kylo joked. Hux rolled his eyes and flipped him off- but with a playful smirk. “Besides, it wouldn’t be a pep rally without making out under the bleachers and going to the drive-in,” he added, making Hux laugh. The band director said something indistinct and the drums began to play as Hux stole a quick kiss from Kylo.

“Earth to Hux!” a voice called out, and was then revealed to belong to Charlotte Phasma, the captain of the cheer squad and one of the team’s best stuntwomen. “Kiss later, bonfire now!” She and the other cheerleaders bounded out onto the field, whooping and turning cartwheels. Hux got in line and began to play his saxophone with the rest of the band. Finally, the football team came running out in a blaze of glory, making the stands roar with excitement. The bonfire crackled in the giant fire pit that the school had built specifically for the big event, blazing away with spirit.

The rally was fairly exciting, even if it was a bit long. It started off with Principal Calrissian saying a few words, before Kylo was going to speak about how, win or lose, Abrams High’s team would continue a legacy of football. The cheerleaders did a routine that combined modern cheer with routines from the 50s, and the marching band performed a show called “Fabulous 50s,” and Hux got to play a killer solo in one of the sections! Finally, the evening wound down and the fans left the stadium. Pretty soon, only two people were still in the stadium- the quarterback and the band geek. Kylo and Hux just sat out on the quiet field, looking at the stars and basking in the warmth of the bonfire’s glow.

[irickfashions]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Northern Kentucky University T-shirt, Official Stacked Black Size L T-Shirt.

[chiefcolorbasement]

high school football live

high school football live broadcasts are more than just sporting events; they are a culmination of tradition, community pride, and the raw energy of youth athletics. In towns and cities across the United States, Friday nights are often reserved for one thing: high school football under the stadium lights. These broadcasts have become a beloved cultural phenomenon, bringing together students, families, and entire communities in a shared celebration of talent, teamwork, and hometown spirit.

One of the most compelling aspects of high school football live broadcasts is the sense of anticipation that builds throughout the week. Starting from Monday, when players begin their preparations, to Thursday's pep rallies, there's a palpable excitement in the air. The games themselves, usually held on Friday nights, are the culmination of these preparations, and they are broadcasted live for the entire community to witness.

Local radio stations and television channels often partner with high schools to bring these games to life. Colorful commentary, sideline interviews, and expert analysis create an immersive experience for viewers, making them feel like they are right there on the sidelines. For those who cannot attend the games in person, these broadcasts are a lifeline, connecting them to the heart of their community's sports culture.

high school football live broadcasts also provide a platform for young athletes to showcase their talent. For many of these players, high school football is a stepping stone to college scholarships and even professional careers. The live broadcasts offer scouts and college recruiters the opportunity to evaluate potential talent, helping young athletes fulfill their dreams.

Beyond the players, high school football broadcasts highlight the dedication of coaches, the support of families, and the enthusiasm of fans. The camaraderie and unity fostered by these broadcasts extend far beyond the field, creating bonds that strengthen the fabric of the community.

The impact of high school football live broadcasts goes beyond the game itself. They foster a sense of belonging and pride within the community, bringing people together to share in the triumphs and challenges of their local team. Whether it's the exhilaration of a game-winning touchdown or the lessons learned from a hard-fought loss, these broadcasts capture the essence of high school sports, where character development and sportsmanship are as important as the final score.

In conclusion, high school football live broadcasts are more than just sports events; they are a testament to the power of community, the dedication of young athletes, and the shared excitement of fans. These broadcasts serve as a bridge between generations, connecting alumni with current students and instilling a sense of pride that lasts a lifetime. High school football live is not just a game; it's a tradition, a celebration, and a source of inspiration for all who are fortunate enough to experience it.

[90363462]

Photo Essay: Howard University's 2022 Homecoming Reminds Us Why It Is Nicknamed 'The Mecca'

Homecoming season continues to go off with a bang as many prestigious HBCUs show off their school pride. Howard University recently hosted its current students and alumni for a sensational weekend. Known for being the birthplace of several stellar Divine Nine organizations and the standard of excellence through its dynamic roster of talented alumni, Howard University is nothing to play with. 

A "home of excellence in truth and service," Howard University has established an admirable legacy of ingenuity and connection to Black culture. Keeping this same exact energy, the institution brought nothing but impeccable vibes to their homecoming celebration. From panels, day parties, concerts and tailgates, the fun at "The Meccaverse"-themed weekend never stopped for the dedicated alumni. Friends reconnected after time away due the pandemic and caught up with their fellow Bison without skipping a beat. Tentpole events that kicked off during Howard's homecoming included its Homecoming football game and Bison Pep Rally, Fashion Show, Greek Life Step Show, Homecoming Day of Service, Lavender Reception, and Yard Fest Concert. 

Although it's debatable about which HBCU truly reps and owns the title of "The Real HU," what's not up for question is that Howard University is one of the greatest HBCUs around. Photographer Nyki Elle took exclusive footage of Howard University's 2022 homecoming festivities on behalf of EBONY. Get a glimpse of just how dope Howard is through the curated visual gallery below. 

WACO Theater Center 2022 Wearable Art Gala Recap

[junkiegreys]

Uk basketball roster 2010

Uk basketball roster 2010 manual#

Uk basketball roster 2010 manual#

Champions Kids Club Lightning Policy Live Stats Mascot- The Fighting Hawk NoDak Nation Photo Albums Pride of North Marching and Pep Bands Social Media Hub Spirit Squads Stay at Home Activities Tailgating Information UND Sports Mobile App Policy & Procedures Manual Athletics Academic Services Athletics Communications Compliance Information Directory Employment/Internships Facilities Flight Plan Hyslop Sports Center Pool Intercollegiate Athletics Committee News & Notes from the AD Report A Concern SAAC Schubert Athletics Study Center Sports Medicine Strength and Conditioning Student-Athlete Development Tryout Information UND Alumni Association & Foundation Visitor's Guide Women's Athletics Leadership Council Missouri Valley Football Conference National Collegiate Hockey Conference The Summit League UND Insider Twitter YouTube Through These Doors Sit Down and Cheer The Bill Chaves Podcast Streaming UND Insider NCHC. It does not store any personal data.Basketball Basketball: Facebook Basketball: Twitter Basketball: Instagram Basketball: Schedule Basketball: Roster Basketball: News Cross Country Cross Country: Facebook Cross Country: Twitter Cross Country: Schedule Cross Country: Roster Cross Country: News Football Football: Facebook Football: Twitter Football: Instagram Football: Schedule Football: Roster Football: News Golf Golf: Facebook Golf: Twitter Golf: Schedule Golf: Roster Golf: News Hockey Hockey: Facebook Hockey: Twitter Hockey: Instagram Hockey: Schedule Hockey: Roster Hockey: News Tennis Tennis: Facebook Tennis: Twitter Tennis: Instagram Tennis: Schedule Tennis: Roster Tennis: News Track & Field - Indoor Track & Field - Indoor: Facebook Track & Field - Indoor: Twitter Track & Field - Indoor: Schedule Track & Field - Indoor: Roster Track & Field - Indoor: News Track & Field - Outdoor Track & Field - Outdoor: Facebook Track & Field - Outdoor: Twitter Track & Field - Outdoor: Schedule Track & Field - Outdoor: Roster Track & Field - Outdoor: News Basketball Basketball: Facebook Basketball: Twitter Basketball: Instagram Basketball: Schedule Basketball: Roster Basketball: News Cross Country Cross Country: Facebook Cross Country: Twitter Cross Country: Schedule Cross Country: Roster Cross Country: News Golf Golf: Facebook Golf: Twitter Golf: Instagram Golf: Schedule Golf: Roster Golf: News Soccer Soccer: Facebook Soccer: Twitter Soccer: Instagram Soccer: Schedule Soccer: Roster Soccer: News Softball Softball: Facebook Softball: Twitter Softball: Instagram Softball: Schedule Softball: Roster Softball: News Tennis Tennis: Facebook Tennis: Twitter Tennis: Instagram Tennis: Schedule Tennis: Roster Tennis: News Track & Field - Indoor Track & Field - Indoor: Facebook Track & Field - Indoor: Twitter Track & Field - Indoor: Schedule Track & Field - Indoor: Roster Track & Field - Indoor: News Track & Field - Outdoor Track & Field - Outdoor: Schedule Track & Field - Outdoor: Roster Track & Field - Outdoor: News Volleyball Volleyball: Facebook Volleyball: Twitter Volleyball: Instagram Volleyball: Schedule Volleyball: Roster Volleyball: News Auctions Calendar Camps Donations/Student-Athlete Appearances Downloadable Schedules Game Programs Gameday Mobile App Hall of Fame Jr. The cookie is set by the GDPR Cookie Consent plugin and is used to store whether or not user has consented to the use of cookies. The cookie is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Performance". This cookie is set by GDPR Cookie Consent plugin. The cookie is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Other. The cookies is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Necessary". The Ohio State alumni team known as Carmen’s Crew hasn’t tipped off yet, but it’ll all get going in Columbus in the Covelli Center this Friday vs. This cookie is set by GDPR Cookie Consent plugin. The winner-take-all hoops competition known as The Basketball Tournament (TBT) is already underway. The cookie is set by GDPR cookie consent to record the user consent for the cookies in the category "Functional". 49.5 of minutes played and 54.2 of scoring return from 2010-11 roster. The cookie is used to store the user consent for the cookies in the category "Analytics". 2011-12 Kentucky Wildcats Roster and Stats. Staff Member Position Start Season Previous Job John Calipari: Head Coach: 2009-2010: Head. 2020-2021 Kentucky Wildcats Front Office. These cookies ensure basic functionalities and security features of the website, anonymously. 2020-2021 Kentucky Wildcats Roster Player Class Pos. Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly.

[disregardcanon]

@luimnigh​ i’m about to give you the whole homecoming rundown right here

okay so homecoming as an american tradition is a little over a hundred years old. the first homecomings took place in universities in universities in the midwest between 1909 and 1911 and by the 1920s the tradition had spread throughout most of the country! the idea is that it's a series of events centered around a home game for a sports team.

it started out as centering around a home game for american football, but a lot of schools have a homecoming for both american football in the fall and basketball in the winter, normally late january or sometime in february. i think that i’ve read they sometimes do them for other sports like hockey in other parts of the country? can’t swear to that one though.

the focus is on bringing the community together around the high school or college, especially bringing back alumni. there are normally events that take place during the week like a “spirit week” where kids at all affiliated schools (not just the high school but feeding middle and elementary schools) dress in a certain, fun way at school to get hyped, and there are sometimes events like a pep rally and parade before and a dance afterwards!

right before the game there’s generally something called “crowning” where the student body has voted for a homecoming king and queen and they get the crown and dress all fancy. most times, these come from the senior class that is about to graduate. in my area at least, each class elects a male and female representative to stand there being pretty at crowning as they wait to see who’s going to be the homecoming king and queen. 

for our fall homecoming in my hometown it’s a pretty big deal. there are events throughout the week leading up to it, a parade where a local business provides golf carts for each of the student pairs to drive down main street, and most student organizations have a float. a lot of times alumni classes having their reunions will base the events around homecoming.

the homecoming king and queen from last year come back to crown them during the ceremony. then after the game there used to be a dance. it WAS really big when my parents were young and very formal, but by the time i was in high school it was informal and scarcely attended. then they finally stopped doing the dance altogether.

but it’s still a big deal, ya know? big local holiday celebration. the more i look at homecoming from an anthropological perspective the more i’m actually interested in it

[blankdblank]

The White Dove Pt 3 - Enrollment

*.*.*

“Physical Education…” you muttered as you strolled alone in black jeans your wedges, to keep up the practice, a lace blouse topped by a vest to keep it from appearing too revealing for school since it hung off the shoulder. Absently your free fingers rose to run through the end of the curls that hung over one of your shoulders underneath your bolero to help hide your eyes or hair if nerves shot through the roof. Brushed back behind your ear that like its twin had a series of connected piercings with earrings your hive had made, though the one showing was the ear with its odd scarred and flat tip where the elegant bend of the ridge of your ear broke. The jewelry helped to disguise the scar already too many people had asked about for your liking since moving here. Nothing terrible. Still, the hours of time spent in their arms after was what you didn’t want to remember and suffer through each time you had to share.

Dean Morita was making his rounds browsing through the parents who spoke to the teachers milling about in their classrooms to answer questions while you took your own path. You needed something that would be simple, not too hard to keep your agility or strength in check. Track didn’t seem fair and neither did sports teams. “Color Guard,” you read off a booth set up inside the gymnasium of alternative PE options.

The coach already was speaking to a few less than interested parents and you simply eased up to their group ignoring the sideways look of the girls in front of them wondering where you had come from and from what sort of family with the fashionable brands on what you were wearing. “Color Guard has a vast history and would be a great way to hone teamwork, agility. We do pep rallies and also team up with the marching band at certain home and away games. We even got chosen to be part of the Macy’s Day Parade last year.”

A scoff from one of the parents commenting on how much time would distract from other activities had their children led away to the booth they wanted their child at before they were stopped and before the coach could deflate you asked, “Is it expensive?”

With a curious grin seeing you were alone and at the accent you had shook their head, “No, we supply most of the gear, costumes do come with a fee, but we get a good deal from the suppliers, former alumni.” They looked around for any parents looking for you and asked, “Your parents talking to other booths or teachers?”

“This is Pluto Pear,” Dean Morita said grinning at the option you had chosen hinting for him a certain eclectic flair for your personality that could bubble out in this club, “Recipient of our Role Model Scholarship for her schooling.”

And you added, “I’m legally emancipated. I need a physical credit and almost everything seems expensive.”

Dean Morita said, “Underneath your Scholarship everything would be covered, and this would look good on your college applications, especially if we make the parade again this year.”

“Do you have any dance training?” The coach asked in Morita’s step away to answer a question from another parent with a promise to return soon.

“I was, um, part of a Bolshoi Ballet Youth Program when I was in Russia. They had an arrangement with the family who looked after me there.”

“Bolshoi Ballet-,” the coach said in more of an awed sigh than anything.

“Teaches grace, poise and discipline. I found some free classes here, actually is tonight, doubt it’s the same though.”

The coach let out a chuckle, “Well you certainly can’t touch the credibility of the Bolshoi Ballet.” They said and you flinched out an agreeing grin to not say what you felt at that moment. “I do believe you would do well under our watch then, this team counts as your physical and art credits since it helps to have a free class for our students to rest on pep rally days or game days. And of course when we travel the classes you miss will be excused and they will grant you schedules for when you can take exams slotted on days away. It’s a great way to see the city and state. Forgive me, but you don’t sound Russian.”

“No, I was born in Stockholm.”

They nodded with another grin, “That’s it, you and one of our Physics teachers here will get along famously then.”

“Dean Morita mentioned him, on my way after this, the Science Wing was crowded.”

“Yes, parents tend to flock there first. Do you have the rest of your course list mapped out?”

“Well since I don’t need the art class with this I can take that programming class that wouldn’t have fit otherwise.”

“A techie then, should be fun to see where you land at in your senior year. Fun to watch the students explore their avenues while they have the freedom to.” Another set of parents came over, clearly excited and alumni so they said, “I hope you enjoy the rest of the enrollment fair,”

“You too,” you uttered in a step away to clear some room urging Morita back to your side.

“Where to next?”

“Science Wing,” you answered and he nodded.

“I know a back way, less crowded.”

Straight for the Norwegian teacher, room and the man himself inside he led you with a creeping grin at the disinterested man with a heavy accent who staved off a futile argument from a set of apparently well off big pharma funded rich parents of a teen who didn’t seem to care one way or the other to learn anything science related Morita led you. “We just want to make certain our Archibald is receiving your utmost attention. He will have a great deal to take over when he is older and we retire. An entire empire to keep running.”

That seemed to spark a nerve with the supposed Archibald who scowled and turned away to the teacher’s reply of, “I always grant more attention or aid to those who require or seek it out. Young Archibald’s path in this school will be guided by his own motivation, we will not drag him kicking and screaming to achieve your goals for him.” An argument bubbling out from the teen and parents had them excuse themselves to go and find a private room to shout it out and break his dreams a bit more to fit their own while the teacher turned to look to you at Morita’s side. Lifting a quick brow to your flinch of a wave in closing the distance.

“Max, this is,”

“Pluto Pear,” he said with his mouth agape when your familiar face clicked in his mind and his hands outstretched causing one of yours to be folded inside of his. “Magnus and Sigyn dottir. Your face was everywhere on the news about your parents and that fire. Your parents single handedly revolutionized their field, my family still keeps ears out for word of your case. You are attending here?”

You nodded at the excited man, “Just moved here in the spring, legally emancipated. I’m on the scholarship to come here.”

“You would be a sophomore correct?” You nodded and he said, “Good, freshmen are not able to take my class however I teach sophomores through seniors in a few courses. I will certainly spare you a seat in my classes.”

“Thank you. I’m not exactly sure where my focus is going, I do sort of have a knack for engineering but I do want to get in the groundwork for what my parents began as well.”

“Absolutely, and we will do all we can to help you in that goal. I am so amply pleased that the US has granted you asylum here. No matter your sufferings to arrive here. We will do all we can to ensure you get the education you deserve.” Before you could speak he released your hand and said, “There are projects from the previous semester on display if you cared to take a look?”

You nodded and stepped away to browse the labeled displays set up a fund the room amongst the parents and other interested students while he moved closer to Morita asking lowly, “Did she say where she has been?”

“Um, said she was assigned to a family in Russia.” Morita responded.

That had the teacher’s brows furrowed, “Russia has a terrible children’s service, and miles away. Sweden would never assign her there.”

“That is all she said, I have made a call for a family friend to look into how she just vanished. All they said was keep an eye out.”

The teacher scoffed, “Do more than that. She will be our top student I bet you that.” He shook his head, “Jumpy little thing, must have been unbearable eight years alone who knows where when someone tries to erase you.” The comment making it all the more obvious how you moved to not allow anyone to do much as brush against you in the most subtle of ways possible including a faked rolled ankle to excuse a step aside into a counter to allow a broader parent to pass you by and not shift your paperwork you had hold of that was now pressed to your chest as if to keep them from looking at anything you had.

“She’s terrified,” Morita whispered to himself and cemented his goal to do as Fury said and to keep as diligent a focus on his new foreign transfer student.

The teacher however sent off a message to his mother saying, “My mother is in a committee with one of the women from her hometown, I’ll let them know she’s safe now.”

 .

“Morita,” Mariah Hill thought to herself recognizing the Dean as she stood beside her cousin’s son Ricky, who was wandering the halls as his mother pestered one of the teachers as to if the rules had been changed and her son could be in their class without being a junior or above a 4.0. Beside the Dean was a teen girl alone with a stack of papers and booklets for all the information for the classes she apparently was enrolling in. Unique enough her features didn’t seem to match any of the adults nearby and when they entered the coding room she stole a glance at Ricky who felt her eyes on him making him say, “You’re being weird.”

She flashed him a grin and said, “We should check the coding class. You like computers.”

“You can just say you want to go, I’ve already taken coding last semester I’m signing up for Engineering 2 this year.”

“I am not being weird, plus they might have that program you made with the walrus,”

“Manatee,” he corrected her.

“Manatee, you made last year that makes that sound when you win the maze game inside of it.”

That somehow had him grin and say, “Teacher did say it was the best one.” And gladly went to both indulge his odd aunt who was pretending to not be up to something as he got to see if he could boast that his program was up on display as the upper classmen last year did to him when he took other classes with him and other freshmen.

“Normally I only take students who’s parents are accepting of long hours. Coding can be quite strenuous on students and I do send home packets quite frequently as well as projects they will have to have possession of a laptop they are able to bring to class or rent one from the school.”

‘The problem is not the problem; the problem is your attitude about the problem. Do you understand?’

Across the board in binary code the quote was written, on the table beside it sat a legal pad that you lifted to rest atop the stack of papers on your arm. With the pen clipped to one of the packets you wrote out your own response in binary code making Morita smirk in notice of the response he couldn’t understand. The page was removed to set the pad back down while you heard more of the warnings for how serious the course was as well as how lofty his demands for grading came. Nerves had the student a bit shaky on enrolling same as the parents. Like others the special shadow behind you drew focus your way and his aid accepted hold of your note he got to translating with a giddy smirk in finding someone who responded in the same language. ‘The code is more what you'd call 'guidelines' than actual rules.’ Your response had him chuckle to himself and share with the teacher when he got a chance later on.

“Do you have a laptop you can bring to class?” He asked when the parents he was speaking to moved on.

“Yes,”

“Is it a mac system? We have had trouble with those before when it comes to drafting programs or other forms of media.”

“No, I built and coded it over the summer,” you said making his mouth fall open. “No troubles with creating media at all.”

“How do you get on battery life?” He asked curiously.

“About four days,” you said parting his lips, “But it’s not a regular battery and I have a charger, well I took one of those stationary pedal things for under desks and hooked that with a solar energy panel. Plus it’s not actually a battery, so if it were to fall apart then it would be safer for the environment than a block of lithium.”

“Please bring that in when you sign up for my class. Most teachers prefer written notes to typed but some would allow you to type up notes for their class as well to have reason to haul a laptop across town other than for just one class.” He accented with a chuckle that had you force out a grin.

“I’ll probably still take written notes or my mind tends to wander.”

The growing number of parents had him flinch a grin to them and then say, “If your parents have any questions you just send them my way.” His head turned when another teen stole his attention beginning a rapid fire of questions on what would be covered.

Mariah from the display that replayed Ricky’s program looked up to see you be shown a few of the other displayed programs on the monitors with printed packets of the code in front of each. When you reached Ricky’s side his face lit up showing off his program accented by his flips through the packet. A stolen second glance up at her had him add to his description, “This is my aunt, she works in an aircraft garage. Sort of like a museum for the newer jets the military is testing before approval.”

“Well,” you managed to say after a moment of silence to the woman whose face you couldn’t place, “that sounds, the term easy money?”

She smirked saying, “I also get to test the jets and keep the systems on an even keel between test sessions. Fairly simple, though I add some flourish and the guys can’t seen to figure out my system.”

Her eyes swept over your face as you asked, “Did you buy a candle three days ago,” her mouth opened as you said, “Caramel apple pie.”

“How-,”

“I got it, from the back, your face, found it.”

That had her chuckle in relief for the explanation and hope that meant you didn’t perceive her as a threat if you were the teen she was to be keeping an eye on. “I did, thank you. Then my cousin stole it so I will have to buy some more soon.”

“They’re dropping the butterscotch line for a new lime one, Thursday, secret sale type thing.”

“Ah,” she said flashing you a grin, “Not a big fan of butterscotch but I know a few who are. Thank you.” She said and you nodded letting Ricky delve more into the class on his own mini tour.

“What other classes are you stopping in?” Ricky asked and each teacher you named he had a description of them that had even Morita impressed to have a candid talk on his staff members from an actual student. Though when he paused to ask in a look around he asked, “Your parents arguing over student entrance guidelines on classes too? Mom did this last year too but they didn’t budge, doubt they will this time.”

“I’m emancipated,” you answered and he all but bounced on his feet.

“So cool! Do you have like your own house and all that?!”

“Apartment.”

“My mom wouldn’t even let me get a job over the summer had me on a computer programming camp roster before class ended last semester.”

“I have four jobs, and I have to pay taxes in March.” You said dimming the shine of his dream.

“Taxes, bummer, thought there was an age wall on that. So do you like lose all your money with taxes? I know my dad’s blood pressure gets super high when tax season rolls around and there’s this box of receipts he’s micro organized we’re not supposed to touch. Like ever.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. But I have ledgers so far on my expenses and one of the buildings nearby is a tax office, been trying to read up on tax law to understand it all but seems more like chasing a moose with a butterfly net and skittles.” You said making Mariah smirk then look to her cousin who called them away in Morita’s chuckling nod to the pair of them as they passed him with soft goodbyes and see you soons from them.

To catch up in your language courses you chose both Latin and Russian to at least have a mix of easy classes in languages you were already fluent in speaking and reading both of them. Part of the equivalency exam was a comprehensive booklet on each language offered in most schools that allowed you to qualify for Russian 2 to go with your Latin course that didn’t have a second year to take. A single string of Russian to the teacher who in the second year’s course would speak only Russian had a brow tick up at your response to his question written on the board.

“You sound like a fish in water.” He said in English with an appreciative smirk on his face glad to possibly have another person from his home country to speak to.

“Spent the last eight years in Russia. Language was one of the first things to be pushed on. Was taken there from Stockholm.”

“Where did you live? I set up house in St Petersburg but I grew up in a tiny town near the mountains.”

“Near the Bolshoi Ballet Academy actually.” You said lighting up his face, “Was part of the youth program, the um, one with the huge fountain in the front filled with octopi. Off the street by the square full of those flowering trees they had for a memorial park.”

He let out a soft gasp, “I know that house, lived down the road. Used to see plenty of children come and go in that house. Family fostered them. Always girls, always dancers. I see they still are.” He leaned in and said, “My friends and I snuck on the lot one time and we heard the worst ghoulish screams. Whole town says that house is cursed.”

“Sure seemed like it,” you said in a playful tone that worried Morita all the more for the clear forced grin on your face compared to others he’d seen at the latest clue he could pass on the Fury on where you had been. Every one of the teachers you had met with afterwards solidified your schedule you had planned on and with a handshake and well wishes to the first day of school you parted ways with the Dean to head back home again to wait out the letter of a hard copy of your new schedule you’d turned in your course selection page in the proper box before you had left.

While you were at your place changing into a pair of knee length sweats and a razor back sleeveless top to follow the looser dress code of your free ballet class that did accept the occasional teen with their older attendees holding onto their favored dance style they couldn’t make it big in for injury or otherwise. Nervous didn’t come close and smoothing your hands together when you’d removed your socks and converse to start choose a spot for stretching alone on the floor the leader of the class approached you with a chuckle and a pat on the arm telling you, “Relax. There is no judgment here. We dance from the soul for the sake of speaking this language with our bodies. Go where your inner self compels you.”

Right now your inner self was compelling you to follow the same routine you had followed at the youth program. Right to your usual spot on the bar to begin the required stretches to be done without hesitation, rest or reluctance to be anything but impossibly effortless. So a couple feet to your left when a woman with a wrapped knee was seen to be in your spot your hand rose to lay atop the wooden bar to inhale and ready your feet as the lanky man strolled away to assist another new face into the space.

Rather laid back and based more on expression of the soul this comparatively ridiculous class, by the end of the lesson, with a brief choreographed section followed by an improved section those willing took turns for the others. At the end of it all when you had hold of your socks and shoes you took a glance at the mirror and was shocked to see yourself smiling. Not a full toothy grin but a look of peace and joy you hadn’t seen except in memories of pictures from your early childhood. Weeks ballet had been working itself into your dreams. And for all the rules and strict regimen there you were free, something that when you realized it hurt you all the more as you’d wound your two freedoms together. A step in the right direction as with a promise to come back in two weeks for the next session you were off with socks and shoes added to take the late train home again to change and pick up a night shift at the market.

It was nice.

Being around adults who didn’t wish you harm. Having fellow pupils you weren’t required to kill if they failed where you surpassed them. The gentle pats and people seated near to you not afraid to brush an arm against yours. Ever frightening human contact for your badly scarred self that had you internally screaming at the sudden loss of the thing you didn’t know you had been hungering for. Never had you gone an hour without some form of touch, of hearts or flesh, with your parents. So warm and overflowing with love. Now an empty void screaming like mad for what you had lost and would never have again.

Tonight was nice. As you hoped the next class in two weeks would be.

 *.*.*

Jyllania Vladiskarskova, the name associated with Pluto Pear’s face from missing posters and newspapers from Russia. Just vanished with illegally adopted sister vanished and parents dead by suicide after rumor had been swirling for years about a supposed haunted property frequented by other couples and numerous young girls, all vanished, all dancers, all missing from the same Bolshoi Youth Program. Child ring clues if he ever saw one and all Fury could find from the fellow class of girls who had taken part in the same class of girls showed a sudden plummet of attendance the next month more girls snatched up the chance at the illustrious program. So many talented girls just gone.

“Someone cleaned house,” he muttered to himself smoothing hands over his face closing the browser for the emailed links from another friend who was instructed to be subtle to not be caught. Bolshoi’s vigil for all the girls was the last thing he had seen and the faces of the girls missing were put into a database for lost children to see if any identities could be located.

Words of kindness of the silenced purple eyed child in their midst had countless people in town who had come across her hurting still at the loss of such a possible beauty they wished to see grace the Bolshoi stage one day. So much hope dashed just like Stockholm where Pluto had been taken from. Only questions and no hint of who was behind this or what to do next but keep an eye on Pierce and the teen to see how he could help mend something in all of this unflinching turmoil.

All he could do was call Morita back to say they’d mopped up behind them on the way out. Pluto was the last one standing and they have to be vigilant. Either these monsters cut her loose or try again. Just wait and watch was what he hated about this job. Knowing only the vaguest of what could befall the teen if this mysterious entity did come after her again. And how many more people would be left to mourn her again at a third candle lit vigil when he couldn’t save her.

The one assassin he wished could help from prior questioning had shared chemical agents were used to alter memory to shield where training or aliases were housed or transported to or from used by Hydra. Though Pluto clearly was not in the same boat as she knew enough to the terrified of Pierce. He just needed to find a single clue and hopefully he could get a grip on this situation from there. Just one clue.

 …

“Ooh,” you were heard by the worker in the second hand shop luring them to the jewelry case. Two rings had your attention and the man was glad to help you to try on the ones that nobody seemed to be interested in since he started there. A black metal ring with a scuffed round moonstone held by four prongs that shifted a bit on your right ring finger as the closest fit on any of your finger. Then a second resin ring with gold flakes and forget-me-nots in a simple round band shape fit perfectly to keep the other in place.

He added the two rings to a lock box he would bring to the register he would return to saying, “I’ll keep hold of these and ring them up when you are done browsing.”

“Thank you,” you said and turned to look over the store in his turn away to not leave the register unattended. Though not ten feet later he chuckled to himself at your next soft, “Ooh.” You were a commonly occurring face for the middle aged man who was growing into the silver age of his on stage acting career bridging him more towards teaching acting one day in the hopefully distant future. Occasionally since your first stop it was amusing to see you creep over to ask his thoughts on the piece for you to wear, either for settings or on manner of appropriateness for your age. In search of your own style he could relate as he’d run away to New York from a farm town as a teen himself so unlike his usual co owner of this place he shared shifts with he was friendly and as helpful as he could be to another budding kind soul in search of itself.

Off the side wall in search of a bag to use for school to not go and use your goldfish bag you had left Russia with you found a leather satchel with fringe down the edges. Stained a bit by age or mess from the prior use of the former owner the severely marked down bag from the original price the designer that could buy a penthouse hotel suite for a week to a measly $25. Sturdy stitching seen on the outside and inside to your diligent inspection with a flop of the top flap backwards to match the sound strap connection loops of solid silver. The only flaw on it was that it didn’t have more pockets inside aside from a single unfastening pocket that could hold possibly a pack of tic tacs and not much else, but with some fabric and slices of cardboard from show boxes you could build an organizing addition to the bag that would be perfect for school.

Over your shoulder you slung that and moved on to stop at a white wallet covered in animated black cats in style similar to an illustrated copy of Edgar Allan Poe’s works you opened and inspected and tucked underneath your elbow. Coats and shawls came next and to fit style of your new clothes you wanted to find a new coat to replace your cargo jacket you had escaped with. Double breasted coats drew your attention from a cat eared fake fur one even marked down you couldn’t dream of spending that much. A nice navy colored one was the one that fit that when you took off you slung over the top of your new bag. Embroidered and painted shawls had you choose a dragon embroidered black one with shimmering silver thread you added on top of the coat to look at their collection of vests. You couldn’t seem to get enough of vests as they could always add more pockets to your daily life. Two were found and on the way to the register you paused to lift up a simple polka doted sundress that had a sash around the waist and a folded back collar.

Across his lips the man smiled at the dress you held up for his approval and he said, “Very nice. Staple piece that can layer well.”

“There’s a bit in the dress code for school about shoulders, it reaches the top of the shoulder joint,” you said looking at the dress again.

“That dress is very tasteful, nearly to the knee, very safe.”

You nodded and said, “I’m on a Role Model Scholarship, I don’t want to get in trouble and risk that.” Only making him smile wider as you laid your other choices on the counter.

“So far your choices are very sensible unless you are secretly shopping at some hoochie mama den I don’t know about,” he said making you grin in return. When he rang up the rings he handed those over smiling still at your ease of the rings on your right ring finger and pulled out a folded bit of bills you counted out for the amount you had worked up in your head. “I love this wallet and bag for you.”

“The bag just needs more pockets, but I can make an insert for that to use it for school.”

“Good, bags are so hit and miss these days. Either all flair and no utility or all utility and zero appeal.” Nicely he folded your new things adding them to a bag with the store logo on it. He wished you well as more customers came in that he wanted to pay attention to the larger group of young women who often came in and left without buying anything that had him wondering on the subject of sticky fingers. Fully you understood and made your way out to head home and make the insert with fabric and bits of shoe boxes you stitched to the lining already inside of it then took the now price tag free items with more of your things in need of washing to be ready for school.

Shopping wasn’t going to be a weekly thing, but before school kicked in you did want to have a bit of choice on what to wear for that and work to extend trips to the Laundromat to hopefully just once a week if possible. Half of each check was saved instantly with half of what was left to buy groceries, leaving the rest for laundry, money for transportation or lunches out and shopping. On top of the nest egg of cash you brought here what you saved made sure you always had rent and utility money to coast by until summer after you had to drop two of your jobs. While not the best thing to spend a bit extra now you had to admit the fashion help of the owner did help to boost your new self image you were building. Still you had to find out who you wanted to be and knew that time in school would be difficult on that growth process but you would still try to keep up the progress as you faced the nerve wracking first day on the horizon.

Pt 4

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Loki - @pastelhexmaniac

[band-room-quotes]

Flute: OH MY GOSH YOU CAME TO VISIT! HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?!

Mod Euphonium: SOUP

[shaylaraquel-blog]

Is Cheerleading A Sport?

Ever wonder who thought of the idea to have girls cheering with pom poms in front of fans at a football game? Would you be surprised that it was accidentally founded by a man in 1898. Since early 1900’s  women have dominated cheerleading and have since incorporated the 4 elements that make up cheerleading; Dance, Stunting, Tumbling and Jumps.

Despite all of the hard work it takes to be a cheerleader there is still a large controversy on if cheerleading is a sport. So what makes a sport a sport? And can something that was not intended on being a sport develop into one? My answer is absolutely. Have you noticed that there are some “Sports” at the Olympics that you have never seen or heard of before? That doesn’t mean they are not a sport. Some may argue that there is not a Cheerleading event at the Olympics therefore it is not a “real” sport, well there are so  many other sports such as Football, lacrosse or the “American Sport” baseball who are not included in the Olympic games. Does this mean that they should not be considered sports but rather “ Activities”. Maybe it's the bias stereotype that cheerleading holds that it cannot be taken serious enough to be considered, maybe not making it an official sport is protecting the sport itself or maybe it doesn't meet the qualifications for it to be considered a sport, but if so what are the qualifications to have a sport considered an “official” sport? 

So what is a sport? Well according to The oxford dictionary it defines the word “Sport” as “an activity involving physical exertion and skill in which an individual or team competes against another or others for entertainment”  Let's break this down, “an activity involving physical excretion”, cheerleading is very active between the four  major elements it contains. Dancing: which is movement of the entire body and uses a lot of cardio. Tumbling: being able to through your body into the air over your head and being able to land back onto your feet. Stunting: which is using your body to hold and keep another cheerleader in the air and catching them on the way down. “ Skill in which an individual or team competes” Cheerleading does involve skill and not everyone has the skills to be a cheerleader. This is why competitions started, to judge the skill level of a cheerleading team. These skills can be tested on both a school- sponsored and all star competition level as they have different rules for each. “Others for entertainment” Cheerleading started to encourage the crowd whose team was down or apart of a losing streak. As all things evolve, it became known as purposely for entertainment on the sidelines and performing during timeouts and half-time breaks. I mean part of going to watch basketball or football games is the entertainment such as the “ Laker Girls” or “ Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders”  you get to enjoy their presence and you can always count on the cheerleaders being there to be the entertainment on the sidelines regardless of how the game is actually going. Most half time performances involve cheerleaders or a collaboration with the cheerleaders and another form of entertainment. So according to the oxford dictionary’s guidelines, cheerleading is considered a sport. 

With all sports there is a risk of injury and cheerleading is not different. The American Medical Association thinks, “in the name of safety that cheerleading should be considered a sport”. Cheerleading is the only physical sport that its surface changes. Cheerleading can be done on a mat (Competition) on a hard surface such as cement ( Parade), hardwood (basketball) or track flooring (Football) and risk of injury changes depending on the surface.Part of cheerleading is stunting which has cheerleaders hold other cheerleaders above their head and even sometimes on one foot, there is definitely a high risk for injury with gravity not being on our side. Did you know that Cheerleading accounts for 65% of all direct catastrophic injuries to girl athletes at a high school level and almost 71% at the college level according to a report from the American Academy of pediatrics in 2012. Those numbers alone should draw concern to how dangerous cheerleading is and it needs to be taken more seriously. So with an activity that is potentially so dangerous why has this not been considered a sport yet? 

Unfortunately since it is not considered a sport, schools nor colleges support or claim to be liable for the safety of cheerleaders who are cheering for their own school. Did you know that there is no insurance provided to cheerleaders by the NCAA at a college level. All collegiate cheerleaders are required to have private insurance or if the school is wealthy enough the private “Club” will have insurance that is ran by their own organization or boosters. Cheerleaders are at risk of the same injuries that could happen to a football, soccer or basketball athlete that is covered by the NCAA, but they do not consider cheerleading a sport due to its “supportive, noncompetitive role in galvanizing fans to support other athletes” (A direct quote from the NCAA) while that is true, the job of a college cheerleader is to cheer on and support other athletes as well as encourage fans and student body, but in the second statement given by the NCAA is false and college cheerleaders also compete against other college cheerleaders in the college championships and therefore should be recognized as a sport.

  Could cheerleading not being recognized as a sport have something to do with the fact that it would be one of the only sports with men and women on the same team and not divided by their sex? The only other sports are pairs ice skating, pairs tennis, and luge. But unlike those sports cheerleading does not have to have an equal male to female ratio for a team to compete against another team. Maybe it's because cheerleaders are 97% women? If we look at this at a sexist standpoint, it could be because this sport is made up of mostly women.If it was recognized as a real sport more men would be inclined to join and the percentage would change. May come as a shock to some but  Cheerleading was invented by a man named John Campbell in 1898. John was very enthusiastic at a college game and on the spot made up the first ever “Cheer”.  After that cheerleading became huge first within the college community but it then grew to high school and youth levels. How exciting as that is, it was not until 1923 that they even allowed women to be cheerleaders, and women have been fighting for equality in this sport ever since. Some may argue that gymnastics is also mostly women which is also true, but 21% of gymnasts are males unlike in cheerleading where there are only 3%. So maybe cheerleading needs more men to have it be considered a sport. But if that's the case its setting women equality back 100 years.

  Some people think that cheerleading is not a sport because they think they don't have rules and regulations like traditional sports do. Cheerleading may not have a referee to enforce rules but cheerleading does have rules just like any other sport. There are time limits, legal moves, and you can be disqualified the same way you would be for a red or yellow card.  Cheerleading in fact has its own safety association called American Association of Cheerleading Coaches and Administrators ( AACCA)  as well as NFHS. They decide what stunts, tumbling and moves are legal from year to year. Movies such as a the “Bring It On” saga dramatize the rules that real cheerleaders have to follow, so all of the 3 men high stunts, belly rings and crop top uniforms are not allowed in traditional school level cheerleading.  Bring it on also makes it seem like a club and not a sport because it doesn’t show a coach but just like any other sport, cheerleaders have to have a coach. There is a try out process, practices, summer boot camps, dress uniforms, and uphold academic and honor codes. There are other rules such as; all routines can be no longer than 2 minutes and 30 seconds, there are specific stunts that they cannot do on certain surfaces ( football track vs basketball hardwood) they can stunt and tumble while the ball is in play at football games but not while in play at basketball games and those are just a few of the rules that cheerleaders have to abide by, just like any other sport.

Some people in the cheerleading community are happy that cheerleading is not officially considered a sport. Most high schools have a limit on the amount of hours a team can practice or gather together each week, since cheerleading is not considered they do not have a limit. Besides taking time to learn dances, cheers, stunts and tumbling cheerleaders have to set aside time to make posters for their school and school athletics. They prepare and plan school events such as pep rallies, homecoming, alumni and end of the year dinners. Did you know that cheerleaders do not just cheer for football and basketball but also volleyball and wrestling which makes cheerleading a year round sport. If it was considered an official sport and had the limited 12 hour a week practice/gather time limit on it, cheerleaders would not be able to do half of the things that they do for their school and their schools athletics. 

I believe that cheerleading is a sport because it requires an amazing amount of athleticism. From practices to competitions, cheerleaders face the same physical, mental and emotional obstacles that all other athletes in recognized sports face. It may not be in the Olympics or recognized by the NCAA but cheerleading is a competitive sport that will continue to evolve until the world recognizes it as what it is, a SPORT

[melmac78]

Homecoming...

This is my first homecoming week in the new town.

Not sure if an event like this is celebrated overseas in high schools/colleges, but if not homecoming here is usually in the fall during a football game. Alumni and current students and faculty come back home for this event.

If it is, please accept my apologies as I live learning new things but am always learning (not to be confused with @starman-john-tracy “always listening” 😊)

There are some similarities and differences.

They both have a parade.

The new place does a carnival and pep rally after the parade.

New place let’s us see who is crowned homecoming king.

This is first one I’ve been to with fireworks.

Most do not do bonfires anymore, partially due to the Texas A&M bonfire tragedy in 1999, but most of recent year due to lack of interest or needing a fire battalion there to put it out if needed, aka too weather temperate.

Even then first one in my life with the fireworks.

The carnival had great food: the culinary class made these great fruit filled pies.

Their flavors might get my international friends though due to oddity:

• chili chocolate

• jalepeno pear

• pumpkin

• pineapple tajin

(I have a batch of four now for tomorrow but I’ve tried the chocolate and pumpkin. They’re good).

Didn’t play the games, I’m too old for the bouncy house, and the light sticks were cool but the light pattern gave me a mild sensory overload. (I’m usually OK unless at Disney, where those light carts have me nightmares.)

If any of these bits sparks a story, go ahead.

I’ve already pictured a couple of the Tracy guys - and ones you’d not expect - eating the pies and/or jumping in the bouncy house).

[vancouvertrueborns]

On December 27, 2018, South Vancouver lost a loyal friend, with the passing of historian Ken MacLeod, author of The Story of South Vancouver and John Oliver High School. The 74-year-old retired teacher lived his final years in Courtenay, but his heart remained in the Sunset neighbourhood of his childhood.

He attended MacKenzie Elementary and was an enthusiastic Boy Scout. As a student at John Oliver Secondary (J.O.), he joined every club and team that would have him, and founded the Mountain Dew Boys contingent of the Pep Club. He caught the acting bug in the school’s drama productions. He played football and broke his nose in a game of cricket.

His six years at J.O. (yes, they used to do grade 7 there) coincided with the adolescent pinnacle of the post-war baby boom, when John Oliver was the largest high school in Canada. The school frequently dominated in sports, music and scholastics, and Ken was sad to leave the frenetic place when he graduated in 1962.

He got his BA in education at University of British Columbia, and later an MA from the University of Victoria. Ken taught high school in Chase, Salmon Arm, Langley and Abbotsford. He coached over 60 teams, with an emphasis on his beloved sport of basketball.

In 1973, journalist Barry Broadfoot published Ten Lost Years, based on interviews with Canadians about the Great Depression. The oral history book fascinated Ken and he launched himself into the past. He traced his family roots back to 14th century Scottish king Robert the Bruce. He grabbed a tape recorder and began interviewing West Coast fisherman for a book that, although not completed, has resulted in a treasure trove of memories being donated to the Cumberland Museum and Archives. He immersed himself in Canadian armed forces history and was the military subject adviser to the Encyclopedia of British Columbia (Harbour Publishing, 2000). He guided 29 military and veterans tours to Europe, revisiting the Canadian battlefields, cemeteries, and commemorative sites. When he retired to Courtenay, he produced 19 musical shows, including an annual Remembrance Day review to honour veterans. Ken was a true ally of the  Canadian soldier and one of the first citizens to receive a Veterans Affairs Canada Commendation. He was also awarded the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee Medal and made an honorary Seaforth Highlander.

But of all the forays that Ken made back in time, his biggest push was reserved for his old stomping grounds of South Vancouver. In 1999, Ken formed the John Oliver Historical Society with the intention of quickly writing a small book about the school. The historian soon discovered that J.O.’s background was vast and rich, and so intermeshed with the surrounding community that he felt forced to combine the two topics into a massive 800-page tome entitled The Story of South Vancouver and John Oliver High School. The project was a 12-year labour of love. The author filled a room in his home with interview tapes, photos and memorabilia. He travelled all over B.C. to collect memories. A story about kids pole vaulting over creeks on the South Slope led to the story of sprinter Barbara Howard (J.O. senior matric, 1940) becoming the first black female athlete to represent Canada internationally. She competed at the 1938 British Empire and Commonwealth Games in Sydney, Australia. That recollection led to memories of the Horticultural Hall, a barn-like structure that served as J.O.’s only gym up until the construction of a proper one in 1940. The rustic hall with its pot-bellied stove, continued as a back-up gym into the 1950s, and Ken chased down the holders of those memories, too.

The research snowballed. It is a miracle that Ken was able to publish the book in time to watch J.O. grad of ‘47 and billionaire Jimmy Pattison play his trumpet accompanied by Vancouver Mayor Gregor Robinson on tuba at the school’s centennial celebration in 2012.

Ken’s book is the only comprehensive history of South Vancouver on the shelves at the Vancouver Public Library. It is a fine legacy for an outstanding individual.

Even as Ken battled with lung cancer, he continued to arrange for his work to carry forward. An easy-to-search PDF of his book will soon appear on J.O.’s website. Other J.O. grads will continue his popular alumni e-letters. And Ken’s sister, Edie Kernighan (Grad of ’67) will work with her fellow classmates Alicia Hagerman and Nancy Nagel to help maintain the school’s archive. Their goal is to find a space to display John Oliver and South Van’s history. One possible venue is the school’s Unit Two Annex, an attractive 1926 Class-B heritage structure known as The Barn.

The rural reference is apt, because as Ken explains in his book, Vancouverites used to refer to the South Van crowd as “stump jumpers,” but the jabs stopped abruptly when the “farmers” living way out on Cemetery Road (Fraser Street) built John Oliver, which quickly became an educational powerhouse.

A service for Ken will be held at Courtenay Fellowship Baptist Church on January 12th at 1:00 pm.

In memory of Ken and his legacy to John Oliver Secondary School and South Vancouver, please consider a donation to John Oliver PAC 530 E 41st Ave, Vancouver, BC V5W 1P3 to support a scholarship and the JO Archives.

[UPDATE: Ken’s book The Story of South Vancouver and John Oliver High School is available as a free PDF download from the VSB Archives & Heritage website. Thank you to Derek Grant and his fellow volunteers who have done such a great job preserving the Vancouver school district’s history.]

[tfcrp]

THE FOXHOLE COURT: SEPTEMBER 10-SEPTEMBER 16

ONLINE:

“The Palmetto State Foxes’ first home game of the season will be a grudge match: last season, in the Foxes’ surprising ascent to the upper ranks of the Southeastern District, they ran over the Belmonte Terrapins, pushing them outside of Championships contention for the first time in several seasons. Also during last season, games between the Foxes and the Terrapins were a family affair, with siblings from the budding Brookhart dynasty on both sides of the half-court line. This time, however, Fox Jensen Brookhart will not be on the court to face off against siblings Jackson and Jane Brookhart—the promising dealer isn’t playing this year at all.”

“While it’s much too early in the season to say who will be a Championships contender and who won’t, the Terrapins will no doubt want to send an early message: that, this year, they’re not losing to the Foxes again. And, judging by both of their performances in their first games of the season, the Terrapins look like they might be right: they soundly beat the Georgia Southern University Eagles in the Eagles’ first Class I game in history, while the Foxes took a 6-2 beating from the Breckenridge Jackals. Will the Foxes be able to turn their season around, or will they dig themselves deeper into a 0-2 hole? We’ll find out on Friday night.”

- COLLEGE EXY ONLINE, “TERRAPINS AT FOXES: PREVIEW”

“Clean your rooms and hide your contraband, because The Parents are coming to town. Forget Christmas—this is the most wonderful time of year, when families overrun Palmetto’s brunch spots, and your fellow students try and pretend that they don’t drink too much and go to class too little while wasting their parents’ precious money away. We know this gossip’s going to be good, so keep your eyes and ears peeled—and don’t let us down.”

“But, before we get carried away, it seems like someone decided to leave a message for the PSU Football squad—and a mess to be scrubbed off before mommy and daddy arrive. We’d give you three guesses, but really, we think you only need one. We knew this rivalry wasn’t going to quiet down anytime soon, but we’ll just say this: it’s about time. Question is: can anyone prove it?”

- FOXWATCH, YOUR SOURCE FOR GOSSIP AT PALMETTO STATE UNIVERSITY

ON CAMPUS:

The Foxes’ first game of the season left little to celebrate. And so, to boost everyone’s morale, the Vixens decide that before the game—and before the arrival of whoever’s parents might be showing up for parents weekend—is the best time to hold a party, opening the doors of the Vixen Den to the Foxes on Wednesday night. 

On Friday, September 14, as parents and alumni make their way into town for the weekend’s festivities, during which both Palmetto’s Exy and Football teams will play games, there’s a pep rally during the afternoon. Wymack has long since learned that it’s not worth it to try and force his players to participate, and so it falls to the Vixens to represent the Foxes—next to the football team and the football team’s cheerleaders, who feel like they know exactly who to blame for the vandalism of the cheerleaders’ house, and don’t want to accept tit for tat as an excuse, hissing insults under their breath while they smile and pretend to play nice while school officials are watching.

For the Foxes, there’s nothing to do but wait for Friday evening, when the game—and the chance to get their season on the right track—will begin, in front of what is sure to be a sold-out crowd of students and parents—and, for some of the Foxes, their parents, with seats reserved in the front row.

(OOC information related to the game under the cut)

The results of the game against the Terrapins will be posted on Friday night and, in order to put it together, there are a few things I need from you:

Due to the size of the roster, not every player will get to play in every game. For this game, this particularly includes dealers, so if you want your character not to play in the game (for reasons that could be related to being late to practice, poor performance in practice, mouthing off to Wymack/Grant/Claudia, or any other reason you can think of!) please let me know;

If there’s anything exceptional you want to take place during the game (fights, red cards, injuries, exceptionally poor play, etc.) please let me know, and I’ll do my best to work it in. This will work on a first-come-first-serve basis, if the game is getting too packed with details, you might have to wait for the next one;

After each game, two players will be selected to answer questions from the press. If you want to volunteer your character, please message me! This will also be on a first-come-first-serve basis. And if you volunteer for press duty, please only do so if you expect to be able to play out the thread with your partner in a timely fashion;

Remember, you only have to reach out to me if there’s something very specific you want me to work in!

And, as always, I welcome any feedback!

[switchbrainedholylime]

The Hate U Give really interesting to read, especially as a white woman who grew up in a bougie school district. 

At my high school, there were 5 black kids in a school of 1500 students. I’m not even exaggerating. Ask any Peters Township alumni and they’ll tell you that they had entire years where they’d have no classes with a single person of color. Maybe they’d have a class with an Asian kid, but that’s it. 

At Peters, we didn't even have protests. While I'd like to think that I'd be like Chris or Maya, but if I'm being completely honest with myself, I'd probably be oblivious to everything going on around me because in high school I ignored basically everyone since I was mainly focused on getting out of that school district ASAP. All I wanted was to get the fuck out of Peters, go to college and never once look back. 

Knowing me, I'd be in the back of the library eating ham & cheese sandwiches and cutting out pictures from old magazines in the back room the entire time not even realizing what the hell was going on around me. I’d be in my own little personal bubble of naivete. 

I never went to any of the pep rallies; I either slept in the nurse’s office or hid in the library, away from people. As an Autistic, I hate noise and crowds. Always have, always will. I also hated 99% of the people at Peters. At my high school graduation, I danced around the football field with both middle fingers pointed straight up at the sky.   

That’s an uncomfortable feeling since I don’t like thinking about my time at Peters. It’s good that this book confronts me about my privilege. 

Any good piece of literature is brave enough to make someone uncomfortable and doesn’t play it safe.   

Though if I had one critique of the book, it'd be that I'm worried of how it'll age over time. It's one thing to have a few pop culture references, and it's authentic to how a teenager talks. Though like all pop culture references, it's going to age like milk. That's why in classic works like the Aeneid, the Divine Commedia or the Odyssey people go "HUH?!" when the author talks about political figures/gods/goddesses that were well-known to the people of that era but not as well known to us. 

I know I'm the last person to lecture someone on this since I've written lots of poems about pop culture, namely about escaping into video games and anime to escape from reality where I was bullied or ignored. I doubt that's going to age well, either. So I know I'm being a giant hypocrite, which I hate being, but it's just something I keep thinking to myself. 

It's a great book and invokes a lot of emotion, which literature is supposed to do. I just hate the fact that probably it's not going to age well since it has such a relevant, powerful message.