#and its hosted in sweden

[pseudophan]

i feel like this goes without saying but just for the record my annual eurovision posting is obviously not happening tomorrow. i was originally going to pirate it and just not post about it at all, but after all the bullshit svt and the ebu have been pulling i don't even want to watch it illegally. fuck all of that bullshit. i will be following the news cause i am very curious to see what's gonna happen, especially because i think israel is very likely to win, which makes sense since unfortunately you can't vote against anyone and MOST anti-israel people are boycotting and so it stands to reason that all the pro-israel assholes will vote as much as they can to make a point about how pro genocide they are.

if you are watching still (illegally i hope! don't give them streams! and don't vote!) you can still send me asks about it but i probably won't post them unless it's specifically anti israel/pro palestine

i delusionally do hope one day we'll be able to watch eurovision again, but as long as israel (and a couple of other countries if we're being real) are in it it's not fucking worth it. and even if they do ban israel, if they don't replace the entire board currently at the ebu, or at least whoever is pushing this bullshit if somehow it's not all of them, i'm out lol. and that sucks so fucking bad because eurovision has been one of my main sources of joy since i was like six years old. but it's not fucking worth it.

[bobfloydsbabe]

Eurovision week is upon us, and I am about to be so aggressively European you’ll be sick of me by the end of it

[fight-for-what-you-love]

♪ Worldwide - Big Time Rush

I'm gonna be honest- these episodes kind of fell apart while I was making this. The more I re-wrote the story for it's second draft the less this version made sense and the less interested I was to work on it. I have not much else to say except sorry this part is kinda iffy and sorry it took so long. I promise you I'll make up for this in the next episode I PROMISE

Notes on both episodes under the cut!

Sweden Sour

* (I think it’d be really funny if Cody just doesn’t talk at all this episode. Not a word. Just nods and head shakes and depressed faces.)

* Cody’s incredibly depressed after Noah’s elimination. Sierra’s over the moon, though. She sees Cody depressed and gives him a tight side hug, petting his head. She tries consoling him with “I know you’re sad, but it’s ok! At least I’m still here~.” Cody starts sobbing, head in hands. Heather is sick of this already.

* The teams get their “ibuilda” pieces and the Amazons argue on what it’s supposed to be. Cody stares at the pieces for a few seconds before the light briefly re enters his eyes. He starts building. Courtney tells him to stop but Heather tells her he’s obviously got it, so let him work. They start helping him build… something.

* Once the Amazons are done, Heather, Sierra and Courtney take a step back to see what they’ve built. It’s a giant wooden Noah head. Their faces drop. Heather is filled with murderous rage.

* We built Noah’s face (We’re gonna take first place) Cause we built Noah’s faaaace

* Tyler’s jumper would be white.

* Cody doesn’t sing in this number. Chris notices and stares at him threateningly. He reluctantly hums the chorus and Chris takes what he can get.

* (Alejandro takes off his shirt to pull the boat like a freak. Duncan is unfazed and Tyler will deny it if you ask him if he blushed.)

* Sierra hits Noah’s Head hard enough it falls over on its side and suggests sawing off the side to ride in him like a boat. Heather and Courtney agree to this. Cody has no comment.

* Duncan and Alejandro don't bother bending over backwards to please Tyler. Duncan makes himself captain and no one argues.

* When the Amazons go to pick a captain, Courtney grabs the hat and declares herself captain without input. Heather tries to argue but Courtney argues back- Cody is in no condition, no one trusts Sierra and Heather took control the last challenge so this time she’s in charge. Heather reluctantly backs down.

* Amazons catch up to team Chris in the water. Alejandro sees them approach and makes note of Cody’s face, making fun of him for being so upset about “the Noah thing”. Cody furrows his eyebrows and points furiously at Chris’s boat. Courtney agrees that yes, they should shoot their boat.

* It doesn’t matter who wins the challenge since it’s a non elimination round, but I want to say the Amazons persevere. The massage helps Cody enough that he’s not stone faced next episode at least.

Aftermath III (Aftermath Aftermayhem)

* Gwen, Owen and Noah are introduced together. Gwen walks out first and Owen, hugging Noah to the point of lifting him off the ground, walks behind her.

* Geoff asks what all that’s about and Gwen responds that Owen refused to let him go until Noah “understood just how sorry he was”. Noah insists he forgives him, but Owen still won’t let him go.

* The Owen square is replaced by the Tyler square. The prompt is survive. (The hosts throw a bunch of debris at the contestant for thirty seconds and if they dodge everything they move on.)

* (For brevity’s sake, assume all of the contestants that participated in the board game in the original episode participated here [with the exception of Tyler, who is replaced with Owen]. They all get eliminated the same way as well, Noah getting got by aliens, Owen falling down the booby trap square and Beth making it to the final question.)

* When Beth gets stumped on the last question (What was Duncan's band called) Noah yells at her, frustrated: “Oh my- It’s Der Schnitzel Kickers, Beth!!” Confetti and balloons fall from the ceiling.

* (He knows this because Cody had mentioned it in a conversation after the London challenge.)

* Noah initially complains about winning the game, but Owen reminds him that he gets to see Cody again and he shuts up immediately.

* “Noah wins!” “Wasn’t he disquali-” “NOAH WINS!! Let’s wrap it up. We’re done here.”

[sarcasticscribbles]

BOYCOTT EUROVISION FOR ISRAEL PARTICIPATION.

I am the Eurovision gay this time of year, I love this show. Not only is my country hosting 2024 but it's also in a city I love, but I can't watch as people sing about peace and love while Palestinians are getting killed by one of the participants.

I've complied a couple of petitions, open letters and information regarding Eurovision: Eurovision isn't the highest priority regarding Gaza, but this show is marketing & tourism for countries, Israel is using it to pink wash their politics

According to SVT, Swedish television network in charge of Eurovision 2024 in Sweden Malmö, Eurovision is apolitical, and therefore Israel qualify. They refer to any calls for boycott meaningless ( via )

SVT statement:

[ID: "SVT statement on the debate over Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest

Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest is generating debate and today a number of Swedish artists have called on the EBU to cancel Israel’s participation in the Eurovision Song Contest 2024. It is the EBU’s decision which public broadcasters may take part in the event, and as the host broadcaster, SVT follows the EBU’s decisions. The humanitarian suffering in this deeply complex conflict is devastating. Nobody can be left unmoved by the current situation in Gaza, or by the Hamas attack in Israel. We are also concerned about these developments. We understand and respect that groups of people wish to make their voices heard. As the host broadcaster, SVT has an ongoing dialogue with the EBU about the challenges of producing Europe’s largest TV-production in times of unrest. We are humbled by the task and are working to ensure the project can be carried out in the best way possible, with the vision that music unites." END ID]

Eurovision has always been political, and was created as a celebration of peace after WW2. Songs are statements, and EBU took action by banning Russia and Belarus for the invasion of Ukraine. It's a way to show sympathy and solidarity, which Gaza is in need of now.

Why Eurovision is so important to Israel is the opportunity of pink washing, and appearing liberal and LGBTQ-friendly, that the show encourages. This leads to great marketing and tourism for the country, alqueerian on twitter did a great thread about it:

[ID: Tweet from @ alqueerian on X formerly known as Twitter. Tweet: "A really quick thread on pinkwashing and why it’s wrong: pinkwashing is a term that was coined by LGBTQ Palestinians to specifically refer to the use of homophobia as a justification for israeli war crimes, ethnic cleansing, mass displacement, starvation etc." END ID]

Full thread

WHAT YOU CAN DO:

Here are a couple of petitions, open letters and links to encourage the ban of Israel in Eurovision

And if all fail: we boycott

Here are two petitions for the ban of Israel: Petition 1

Petition 2

A list of emails and contact information for broadcasters regarding Israel participation: copy, paste and send. Document

It's created by verilybitchie on YouTube who also made a great call to action video I can recommend

[ID: Screenshot of verilybitchie youtube video "Genocide at the Eurovision Song Contest". The video is showing an article by Chris Lockeyer, news reposter, titled "Israel to compete at Eurovision despite boycott threats" The article says: "The European broadcast Union said its member organisations approved Israel's participation in the competition and it remains aligned with other competition organisations on its stance." The article is from December 19th, 2023. END ID]

And for Swedes, I think it's extra important for us to speak up; here's what we can do:

Open letter via Björk & Frihet, a charity in Skåne offer letters to sign but also have pdf version to print at home!

[ID: Photo from Björk & Frihet, a swedish charity offering open letters to sign to send to the government. "Stoppa folkmordet" as the letters are ladled, means "stop the genocide" END ID]

This is also a letter regarding the contest being held in Malmö, a city with a long history fighting for Palestine! Sign here

[ID: Vote for Swedes in Malmö to sign to protest Israel's participation in Eurovision. END ID]

Meanwhile, don't forget your daily clicks to help Palestine while we wait for EBU to stand by their words and prove we are united by music!

[ID: Iceland's Hatari holds up Palestinian flags during Eurovision in Tel Aviv, May 19, 2019. END ID]

[woso-dreamzzz]

World Cup VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: It's heartbreaking

It's the worst kind of pain imaginable.

The kind of pain that lodges in a chest, in a throat, in a mind. The kind of pain that radiates throughout a body, weighing on someone, eating away at them until there's nothing left.

Eaten from the inside out.

Until there's nothing left but an empty husk of a person.

To be so close to a dream that will never be reached.

Not now.

Not ever.

It chokes someone from the inside, suffocating them until they can do nothing but accept their fate.

There's not much else to say about it.

The kind of pain that is only really experienced once in a lifetime.

The kind of pain only experienced in extra time of a football match as one last substitute is made.

The board goes up.

"On for number fourteen, number one for Sweden, Harder-Eriksson."

The final of a World Cup.

Sweden, two.

Spain, two.

And the worst person to take penalties against is subbed on.

"No," Talia says as she watches you run on," No, please. Please."

You'd taken a knock in the semifinals against Colombia, a bad one that had you sitting out most of the final.

Selfishly, Talia was glad for it.

The two goals she had scored wouldn't have gone in had you been standing between the sticks.

Had you been on in the beginning, there would have been no extra time.

You are the greatest goalkeeper in the world and you're never out of control in finals.

You thrive under the pressure, under the pressure of the whole world watching your every mood, under the pressure of Magda and Pernille's legacy.

You rise to the occasion every time.

You show why you are so sought after.

Extra time leaks away and the tears already fall as penalties are announced.

Your Sweden team isn't known for their penalty-taking abilities but it hardly matters. All it takes is one penalty to win.

One ball in the back of the net.

You can delay that for as long as you need to.

One goal to win a match.

One goal for a childhood dream to shatter.

One missed save to return to Spain as a World Champion.

But you have never let a penalty passed in your entire career.

Not at Linköping. Not at Arsenal. Not at Barcelona.

Not for Denmark. Not for Sweden.

No penalty has ever escaped you.

The shots are taken in quick succession.

You don't let any pass but neither does Spain's keeper.

The anticipation swells. The tension builds. The camera flashes to fans in the crowd.

To Patri, sitting in the stands with her hands clasped in front of her and a nervous look on her face. Talia has never seen her cousin so shaken before.

She cuts a striking picture against the complete calmness of Magda and Pernille when the camera switches again. They don't look worried in the slightest.

They've always been your biggest supporters, the biggest believers in your ability to do anything you set your mind to. They've seen the talent in you for years.

There is no reason for them to be worried.

Talia takes the ball, the last penalty for Spain.

She steps forward.

You come out of your goal, walking forward towards her until you're face to face.

The conflict is clear on your face.

To anyone else, you look deadly calm. Magda's feature on your face matches your mother's expression in the crowd but Talia can see through it.

The slight furrow of your brow, the downturn of the corner of your mouth. The way that you can't quite meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry," You say as she places the ball on the penalty spot.

"I know," Talia replies.

"I am really sorry, my love. I...I didn't want it to end like this."

"Don't be. Go do what you do best."

Talia's dreams of a World Cup slip through her fingers in an instant. She usually shoots right, in the top corner. This time though, she'll shoot left to the bottom.

Pernille sits up in the stands as you back away from Talia, returning to your line.

The stadium holds its breath.

A home World Cup win would mean the world to Sweden. To defeat the hosts would mean the world to Spain.

But you stand in their way.

A formidable force between the sticks with more experience than most your age and an unshakeable spirit that intimidates by just your mere presence on the pitch.

"She's got this," Magda whispers to her, clasping Pernille's hand tight," Even if it is Talia."

The stadium ripples with anticipation, shouts escaping throats as Talia lets the ball fly...

Your familiar red jersey moves, your black gloves reaching out.

Your body crashes to the ground.

A millisecond too late and the ball would have gone in.

Your fingertips manage to brush it away though, forcing it away from your line.

The knock to Spain's confidence is big.

It can be felt all around the stadium and just a box away, Pernille sees Patri bury her head in her hands.

Sweden's last penalty is taken quickly.

Scored even quicker by your captain.

A title defended on home soil. The triumph of Sweden over Spain.

The crowd is electric and Magda pumps her fist into the air, screaming like she'd just won this herself and Pernille hauls herself out of her seat to head down to the barriers with her wife to greet you.

The crowd is nothing compared to the roaring in Talia's ears as that pain settles into her bones and gnaws away at her muscles.

She falls to the floor, breathing in a ragged breath as a childhood dream slips away from her.

"I'm sorry," She can hear over her sobs," My love, I'm so sorry."

Familiar arms wrap around her. A familiar smell filling her senses and she grabs onto a familiar red jersey, pulling at it and forcing herself even closer.

"Go," She says," And celebrate."

"No," You reply, sitting down next to her and guiding her head to your shoulder where she could cry without cameras watching her," I'm staying right here."

"Your mothers-"

"Can wait," You insist," I want to be here. With you."

You've singlehandedly ruined Natalia's dreams. You had dangled a World Cup in her face and snatched it away again.

It was so close.

She was so close to being the first person to ever score a penalty against you.

Mere inches sat between her and the World Cup.

But you'd ruined it. You anticipated her change. You pushed away her penalty.

Last time, you'd scored Sweden's only goal. This year, you'd saved all of Spain's penalties.

You are Sweden's hero. Sweden's golden girl. Sweden's vice-captain and the greatest goalkeeper they've ever produced.

There is no hope of competing against you.

A World Cup won and a World Cup lost.

Magda and Pernille wait by the barrier. Talia can see them, ready to celebrate with you.

But you don't go anywhere.

You just hold her as she cries.

[vintage-sweden]

Boys picking freshwater pearl mussels by hand when the water level was low in river Lagan, 1910, Sweden. The freshwater pearl mussel began disappearing from Swedish rivers in the mid-20th century, but its numbers in the Lagan dropped sharply after the hydroelectric dam was built in 1932. Pollution, riverbed disruption, and the decline in host fish all contributed. The freshwater pearl mussel has been a protected species nationwide since 1994.

[astrobiscuits]

Unknown asteroids #1

🦭Adorno (21029) – of Spanish origin; means to decorate/embellish; (for females only) if Sun, Mars, Saturn or the Descendant are badly aspected by this asteroid in the natal chart, it can indicate being “objectified” by men; if one of the mentioned planets/angle are positively aspected by this asteroid, it can indicate fighting for women's rights when it comes to the objectification of women

🦭Advincula (23017) – of Latin origin; denotes someone advanced in a certain skill/job/life experiences OR someone who can advance a certain field

🦭Aenna (1155) – of Hebrew origin; means favor/grace, God has favored me; denotes someone getting blessed by a higher force

🦭Aemilia (159) – of Latin origin; means industrious; denotes a workaholic and/or someone who works in engineering; a second meaning: to strive/excel

🦭Aeschylus (2876) – father of Greek tragedy drama; denotes a strong affinity for drama works (either in reading or writing them); if it aspects Uranus, it can bring popularity due to scandals/dramatic past

🦭Bengt (1846) – of Latin origin, but frequently used in Sweden; means blessed

🦭Cappi (49777) – of Italian origin; means lucky

🦭Elpis (59) – of Greek origin; means "the spirit of hope"; like the star card in tarot, this asteroid shows us where we are most hopeful

🦭Gorky (2768) – of English origin; means awkward/strange

🦭Khandrika (12068) – of Indian origin; means small village/small place

🦭Khalat (468725) – of Indian origin; means robe; denotes someone with high social status, someone who dresses expensive

🦭Libby (5672) – of British origin; means God’s promise; if relevant in synastry, it can indicate fated connections, someone given to us from the above

🦭Odeh (34786) – of Arabic origin; denotes someone (or something) coming back into your life, similar to Aesculapia (1027)

🦭Oenomaos (164555) – from Greek mythology (corresponds to King Oenomaus of Pisa); shows love for consuming wine; if prominent in the natal chart, it can point to an alcoholic

🦭Oenone (215) – from Greek mythology; a nymph abandoned by her lover, Paris, who choose Helen of Troy over her; prominent in people who have been cheated on/left by lovers

🦭Okugi (5174) – of Japanese origin; means the heart or depth of something, secrets, mysteries, esoterica

🦭Okuni (7769) – of Japanese origin; means homeland or native country

🦭Olathe (18984) – its meaning comes from the Shawnee language; means lovely/beautiful

🦭Paeonia (1061) – of Latin origin; denotes the latin term for peony (symbols of peony: love, honor, romance, beauty)

🦭Palach (1834) – of Russian origin; means executioner, hangman, butcher, torturer

🦭Piedade (11912) – of Portugese origin; means pity, mercy, kindness towards an enemy

🦭Pierre (1392) – of French origin; means stone, rock

🦭Quigley (18699) – of Irish origin; means “from the mother’s side”; denotes someone very similar to their own mother or her family, heavily attached to the mother figure or someone who has grown up without a father; a second meaning: “unruly hair”; denotes someone with crazy hair

🦭Quinn (107561) – of Irish origin; means wise, intelligent

🦭Quito (10793) – of Spanish origin; means “center of the world”; denotes someone popular and/or famous

🦭Seiwa (16700) – of Japanese origin; means saint; denotes a person of superior knowledge and virtue; a second meaning: peace, calm

🦭Vangelis (6354) – of Greek origin; means good news

🦭Vate (12312) – of English origin, but borrowed from Latin; means prophet, fortune teller, inspired writer; prominent in witches and tarot readers

🦭Vedrana (176014) – of Croatian and Serbian origin; denotes someone who is lighthearted, joyful, cheerful

🦭Xenia (625) – of Greek origin; denotes a great host, someone hospitable and welcoming with guests and strangers in need

(21029, 23017, 1155, 159, 2876, 1846, 49777, 59, 2768, 12068, 468725, 5672, 34786, 164555, 215, 5174, 7769, 18984, 1061, 1834, 11912, 1392, 18699, 107561, 10793, 16700, 6354, 12312, 176014, 625)

[crazyintheeast]

Dear Polytrix fans looking for interesting AU ideas for our girls let me introduce you to a special concept known was the Erasmus program . What is the Erasmus program ? Well in Europe the Erasmus program allows young people to travel and study for feee . It has several different variants but one of the most common goes like this :

Say you are an NGO in Spain who decides to make a project about studying how music helps teenagers develop friendships so you name “Teen bonding through music “ . You find some partners from Germany , Sweden , Italy , Bulgaria , Ireland and you submit it for approval to the EU. Once it’s approve and they give you the funds you book a hotel and each one of your partner countries sends theee or more young people who are interested in the projects . All their expenses are paid and you get to host them and less the study group . To encourage intercultural exchange rooms are mixed . So you would place one Italian , one Swedish and One German in one room and so on . The lengths depends and it can four five days or even two weeks

Then you start with the ice breakers so people get to know each other . This can range from simple word games to sharing personal stories to giving each others massages ( yes one time they had us fill on straddle each other and give each other massages ). Then you will have a few hours of lectures , lunch , lectures again and then free time where people would go explore the local city , go to the beach , to clubs basically anything they want . Now the biggest event is halfway through the project and it’s called a cultural night . Each participants beings information , food and alcohol (usually hard alcohol ) from their country and everyone would eat , dance and get very drunk .After the project ends you usually have to take what you learned and apply it in your country ( like for example do a workshop or a little concert or something ) and if the project gets enough funding there may be a second stage in another country where they discuss the results

So imagine the girls not knowing each other and spending their summer in Europe . Zoey is in Italy , Mira is in Spain , Rumi is in Ireland and they hear about this great project and its awesome so they apply and they get approved

They are assigned a room together and they giddy to discover that they are all from Korea even if they currently represent European nations . And it’s an amazing time . They become fast friends and are constantly hanging out together . They do every assignment together , they hang out together it’s wonderful . And then comes the intercultural night . It’s awesome . They get to dance they get to try so many different foods and so many different drinks and they even make a little Korean corner and cook traditional Korean food

Except they have a little too much to drink and dance a little too much and next morning they wake up naked in bed together. Rumi absolutely freaks out , Mirs gets angry at this reaction and shuts down and Zoey tries to talk them through it but gets sad when it doesn’t work

.Its a sad goodbye and they spent the best six months regretting how it ended and wishing things could have gone differently and that when the second stage drops . Yup they are all going to a new city where they would spend a week together discussing their efforts

[boyfhee]

﹙𝓲ssue﹚ㅤ:ㅤmemoirs of the windㅤ...ㅤ( 제이 )

ㅤㅤ﹙2072﹚ ㅤ장르 angst, bittersweetㅤㅤwarnings drinking, light implications of substance abuse, smoking, break-up, sort of non closure on his partㅤㅤᐢᗜᐢ for @okwonyo's celestial ballet event ! i had sm fun writing this, thank u for hosting the event iNDEX

ib only by lee hi ⋆ there are references to the lyrics in this work

the clock strikes eight, a click of the lighter follows— the flame settles on the wick of the candle, fluttering before resting still like everything else in the apartment. the wind plays its melancholic howls as if music orchestrated for the day. outside, it’s a dance of leaves waving on trees. inside, it’s your birthday, and it’s quiet. 

he sits at the kitchen counter, eyes fixed on the cake. it’s your favourite, cherry vanilla, with little flowers made of red buttercream adding to its appeal. the candle lights up a little over and across the sweet delicacy, albeit nothing compared to the dim lights of his kitchen. he sighs, and wonders, and wonders, and then whispers above the weighing silence. 

“happy birthday,” he says to the ghost of you. perhaps you’re on the couch watching him, or maybe on the stool across from him. in his mind, you’re here. in his heart, on his lips, and when the alcohol wears off for a brief minute— you’re back to sweden. 

“happiest birthday,” he mutters again, eyes never leaving your name on the cake. it’s your first birthday without him. you said you’d spend your birthdays with him but here you are nonetheless. here he is, wondering, waiting, wasting himself over memories from six months ago. over words you probably have never meant, maybe they never weighed enough for you. 

there’s alcohol on the side. you detest it— gosh— shuddering away from the whiff alone. jay thought he would have to give up on drinking if he wanted to keep you. there has never been an ‘if’ actually, for he stopped buying beer and wine, stayed away from drinking even though his friends made fun of him, sometimes. and yet there you were on his instagram feed, smiling, partying with a bottle of Kopparberg in your hand.

‘times change,’ you had said once when he saw you munching on your mint-chocolate ice cream. you had claimed to hate it, and then you were on the couch, saying you had changed your mind and it definitely doesn’t taste like toothpaste. ‘people change, jay,’

that day, he didn’t think much over your words and laughed it off, deciding to have a taste as well. today, however, it’s all hitting him like a wave at the sea during a storm. he wonders what else has changed. do you still like macaroons? do you still wear that bracelet he gifted on your hundred days anniversary? is lee hi still your favourite artist?

he remembers the song— only, it’s also from your favourite album of hers. you played it on repeat sometimes, while cleaning your room or baking. soft hums of its familiar melodies danced off your lips while you did laundry. jay could only ask himself why you like it so much, until he actually asked you one day, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the doorframe. 

‘it’s cute and romantic,’ you had responded while folding your clothes, the slight fragrance of your detergent spinning in the air. ‘it sounds like love,’ 

that was like you, to associate and define things as love. his kisses tasted like love, touch felt like love, voice resonated with love— sometimes, he’d stop and shake his head at your words with a silly smile. how could you see love in everything around, in things as ugly as shame, and pretty as stars? he remembers meeting you and you described the feeling as love. 

you came in like a spring wind. first day, first interaction, and he was floored. 

jay doesn’t know much about love. he isn’t the one to ponder about it and put it in words. love, to him, is the feeling, happy or sad. to him, it’s in longing and yearning, yet also in letting go. you were his first girlfriend, and his hands were shaking when he felt like he had the entire world on his palms. he would stutter and stumble and you would lend him a hand. that’s love to him. when his patience ran thin and he ended up saying words he didn’t mean, when arguments left you with silence weaving itself in between, you would hold him and promise to stay together, and he says he’ll do better. that’s love to him. 

love, to jay, was when he came home in a hurry to your long texts— your bags laid out with clothes inside, and he let your hand slip out of his fingers. 

‘can you explain yourself?’ he had asked, anxious and frantic, going crazy behind his eyes. his heart threatening to beat out of his chest as he pulled you aside, holding your hands ever so dearly and in fear. 

‘there’s nothing to explain. i told you everything over text,’ and that’s all you had said before going back to packing your stuff. jay saw your flight tickets on the bedside table and realised there was a lot you didn’t tell him about— and you’re still a mystery to him.

‘did i do something wrong?’ 

‘did i push you away?’

‘am i not good enough?’

all these questions spun in the room, and you had taken his hand ever so tenderly, planting a soft, gentle kiss, looking at him in the eyes with pain— love. you had told him so inexplicably how happy you were and how much the time you two spent meant to you. you had told him how lovely he was and how all your rainy nights and lonely days felt like you were being coloured in his shiny light because he was with you. 

you told him, he believed, and you let go of his hands with a bittersweet smile before walking back to your closet. 

‘did you fall out of love?’ silence. 

‘are you tired of me?’ and silence. 

he still thinks about those questions he asked, even now as he’s sitting in front of your supposed birthday cake. you never responded, but your silence told more than words could ever recite. he wishes you had answered him, though. it would’ve been easier for him to move on, even though he has always known what your answer would be. sometimes, he wishes for you to come back running, half because he wants to close the door on you and hurt you the same way you hurt him, and half because he wants to hold you in his arms and pour out all the love he has for you. his fingers hover above the like button of your posts. he wonders if he should comment or maybe send you a direct message. he wants to pull you back, but you look so happy without him— and who was he ever to take away your happiness? so he just scrolls past, liking other posts and reels, and hangs in there drowning in thoughts of you until you post again— and the ugly cycle continues. 

jay notices the candle melting and puts it away on the kitchen counter, not wanting the wax to poison the cake if it ever could. he grabs a can of beer from the fridge, downs it, and then grabs another, then another, and another, to the point his vision is blurring. he tries to light a cigarette but the lighter doesn’t work. he takes off his cardigan and throws it around in attempt to make a mess. he wants you to see him— pitiful and in pain, and he wants you to stop him like you always had.

he tunes in the recorder, listening to a few of the songs that you enjoyed. he never bothered changing it. and he drinks yet another can of beer, looking around and out of the window, looking at the unattended cake and the melted wax on the table. oh how you would scrape it out with your nails. 

“do you think about me?” he asks into the empty. the question gnaws at him from the inside, along with a thousand others. he waits, and waits, hoping for a response, knowing it’s useless, hopeless. “sometimes, i think about you every minute,”

he tries to think of how you’d respond to those words— with a laugh, maybe. maybe, you’d tell him you think of him too, he can only guess, he can only imagine. he imagines you walking up to him and leaning down for a kiss. you’d whisper something sweet in your enchanting voice and then kiss him again, this time getting onto his lap, your lips pulling him in a way he can’t help but wrap his arms around you. and just when it would be getting better— you’d pull away. 

‘i don’t like dancing,’ you had mentioned once, as he suddenly remembers via the alcohol taking him down the memory lane, when he asked you for a dance at the freshers party. he didn’t even know you then, not more than the fact that you were the most beautiful person he had seen that night.

and then a year later, you were in his apartment, arms over his shoulders, his hands on your waist. you gave him this sweet smile and made him inch closer for a kiss, all while waltzing to your favourite song. you said you didn’t mind dancing if it was him, only him. because he was the only one. 

and jay huffs at the memory, a bit frustrated. it was a lie, a pure white lie. you didn’t mind sharing dance with a few of your friends. he knew it was childish of him to be upset at this, but he’s annoyed nonetheless. you’ve told him lies, about love, about him, about yourself; to the point he believed they were the truth. like when you said he didn’t have a talent for music so he should take engineering instead so that you two could stay together. and when you said everything would be fine now that he was in love with you— a whole lot of lies. he grips the can tightly at the memory, pressing his fingers into the metal. and then your song comes on. 

jay just stares at the recorder for a few seconds. he pictures you walking up to him from the living room with a smile on your face, asking him for a dance and he’d agree— as he does, standing up from the stool except this time, he’s holding a beer can instead of your hand. every step he takes reminds him of the little dance you two performed together. he closes his eyes occasionally, taking in the lyrics, the chorus that you like so much. he let his mind trace over every single memory of yours he has preserved in his mind. how quickly you made him fall for you and how swiftly you left. 

like a wind blowing past the curtains into his living room, you came into his life, and entranced him in your presence. you had asked him to make room for you in his heart and he gave you your entire self and soul. being with you was an adventure, like walking into a storm. he had to share his love and you’ll never let go. now, he starts picturing you in his arms while waltzing down the kitchen all alone, reliving the feeling of your body pressed close to him.

he lets his feet guide him around his apartment, down to the living room, bumping into the couch slightly but he doesn’t stop. it’s like the first dance he shared with you, magical, as you had him lost in yourself completely. all the walks together with you, hands intertwined together, it all plays in his head like a movie. and jay never understood the song like you did, but he can walk on the world stage and thump his chest to claim you’re the only one— but it wouldn’t mean a damn thing since he’s not yours in return. 

he takes a sip of beer, humming to the melody of the song as he waltzes on his own, walking down to the balcony. you were his muse, and his notepad is full of songs he wrote about you, and he— jay lets out a chuckle— a passerby. you came in like a wind, calling him your only one amongst the other people you had pulled in your whirl all along, and he leans against the railing, taking last sips of beer from his can.

a wind flows by— and you’re gone. 

[beauty-and-passion]

Eurovision 2025: the problem you cannot ignore

So, another Eurovision comes to an end.

And it was the 69th, so you suppose it was probably filled with sexual jokes only. But nope, aside from a couple more sexual songs, it was quite tame overall.

Am I happy about that? Eeeh. Eurovision’s experience includes stupid, silly jokes, so the 69th edition should’ve given a free pass to all of that. But I suppose the main atmosphere wasn’t too much about joking.

At least, Switzerland did its best to try and keep the competition as neutral as possible - both in terms of jokes and politics. 

_____________

Rules for a good hosting

After last year’s hosting catastrophe, this year's was particularly good. I faced the first semi-final with fear in my eyes and heart, but it was way better than expected.

Please, allow me to explain why - oh and, Sweden: take notes, you might need them.

The Swiss are able to make fun of themselves, while telling us something about themselves. “Made in Switzerland” is a funny joke song, but it also taught me something new about Switzerland. Like that they invented LSD, which… makes both no sense and too much sense. But at least they’ve been able to tell me something about them that wasn’t just “Bo-hoo, we’re good for Eurovision only, stop blaming us for wanting to win, we’re good for nothing else”.

The Swiss made good interval acts and didn’t spend the entire time talking about Eurovision. Sure, they made sure to repeat that they were the birthplace of the competition, but didn’t talk just about that. They talked about the people behind the scenes, the fans, all stuff related to the competition. It wasn’t just a constant “greatest hits of the past compilation”.

They knew that last year, they lost to the people’s winner (Baby Lasagna), yet they invited him and gave him the chance to shine. They didn’t reduce his presence to 20 seconds into a joke song that insulted his country by saying: “Ah ah, we’re so much better than them at hosting, see how stupid their show would’ve been.”.

For the same reason, they invited Käärijä because they just knew that’s what people wanted and justice had to be made.

They didn’t try any stupid AI shit, by bringing up people who clearly didn’t want to participate: ABBA are not available? No problem, let’s make the whole stadium sing Waterloo. It wasn’t so hard.

Last but not least, they used only two hosts. Not three, not five, not twenty. Two competent hosts were more than enough.

And yes, I know Michelle Hunziker was in the finale - which was extremely weird for me, because I am used to seeing her on Italian TV. But she was mostly there to have an Italian speaker for the Italian side of Switzerland, so I suppose it’s fine.

In the end, the overall show and hosting were good. Nothing too life changing, nothing too shitty. Even the cringy moments are not so terrible: it’s mostly Hazel being awkward or having fun. Even the tongue thingy, that made me cringe in the first semi-final, when it came back in the final, it made me burst into a laugh. It was just too stupid to handle.

_____________

The list of robbed kings is endless

My Australian Milkshake Man. My beautiful, funky, shirtless guy didn’t make it into the final.

The ignominy. The treachery. 200% sure it was rigged, because he was too good for this world, his song was perfect Eurovision material and his voice was great.

But if we have to mourn all robbed kings and queens the list would be endless and Käärijä and Baby Lasagna would still be on top. So let’s do the only sensible thing possible, which is follow them, listen to their songs, support them and shower them with love.

They deserve it.

___________

Sweden and Estonia: A joke can take you far

This year proved that you don’t always have to bring a serious song to get a high vote. Sometimes, something funny, carefree and different is enough.

And I think it’s beautiful that a silly song about sauna and the espresso macchiato came respectively 4th and 3rd. They were fun and people enjoyed them. So, they rightfully voted for them.

I hope this teaches something important to all countries, especially Sweden: there’s no need to always bring Generic Pop Song #36 performed by Generic Good-Looking Person #47. You can bring this too: a song in a Swedish dialect about something typical of your country. Something you enjoy.

Heck, I’ve learned more about Sweden thanks to this song, than by following last year’s show! At least this song tells me you like saunas: all I learned last year was that you have nothing but Eurovision.

But Espresso Macchiato teaches us something important too, which is: Italy is always good. It doesn’t matter if it’s Italy’s own entry, a song about Italy performed by San Marino or a song about Italian food. When in doubt, resort to Italy.

Which is comforting, at least. Our economy and politics are shit, but at least we still have a good reputation about the important things in life, aka arts and food.

___________

An overall good winner

At the end of the day, JJ was a good winner. The song was good, his vocals were incredible and the mix of three genres (opera, pop and electro) was new and original.

Sure, the theme is stale and old (a song about love, groundbreaking), but the means he used were interesting. A mix of genres is always appreciated and opera singers are great in general. Also, this song wasn’t a boring ballad and this is always the most important thing.

___________

The elephant in the room, behind the scenes and center stage

I’m tired.

Trust me, I would do anything else, aside from talking about Israel. But it’s not me that is bringing politics into a “nOn-PoLitIcAl ShOw”.

Israel is literally buying its place in the contest. It did it for a while and we ignored it. Now it’s more insufferable than ever.

Last year, it was all about bullying the other artists and buying votes with ads spread all over the Internet. Now it’s bending the rules and buying votes with ads spread all over the Internet.

And if this enraged me at first, now it makes me sad.

Israel is acting like a rich kid, who desperately wants to be part of a group. It has money, so it thinks it can buy anything. And, in a way, it can: it can buy a spot in this group and stay close to the other kids and show to the world that, hey, look, it is part of the group! It is just like the other kids!

But the other kids don’t like having Israel around. So, Israel buys their silence. It uses money to get posters all over, which show it close to the other kids, as a member of their group. See? Israel is part of the group! And no one protests, because clearly others are fine with its presence! It is just like the other kids!

But the group has rules to follow. So, Israel bends them and closes the protester’s mouths. This way, no one can say Israel has done something wrong or that it doesn’t belong to the group. It is just like the other kids!

But the kids don’t want it and want to say it. So, Israel bends rules again, uses bots, tampers with votes. It tries everything it can, to show how much the other kids love it. See? They love Israel! Israel is part of their group! It’s just like, it is exactly like them. And everyone loves it and treats it well and applaud when it appears because Israel is so normal and so loved and so appreciated.

For me, that’s just pathetic. The kind of pathetic only someone alone, unloved and in the wrong can make you feel. The sadness of a spoiled kid, too weak and coward to take responsibility for its own actions. A kid who prefers to hide, to lie, to bend truth and rules. All because it’s too difficult to admit it’s in the wrong.

I don’t believe the public’s votes were the ones given. I am 95% sure they were all rigged. And maybe the same didn’t happen to the jury votes, because they’re less likely to be tampered with by a government that has its tendrils all over the EBU. A government that is so blind and ignorant, to give 12 points to the Greek song. A song about genocide. Yes, they’re this oblivious.

When we reached the final, I was holding my breath too. And I am so, so relieved Austria won. But as many others pointed out, when you end a competition not by feeling happy or satisfied, but relieved… well, then there’s something wrong.

And something wrong is here indeed. It’s the participation of a spoiled, oblivious nation, that uses money and bends rules, because it really REALLY wants to pretend to have a good reputation, when it has not.

The truth is different and you know that, Israel. You know your reputation is not as good as you pretend it to be. You know your 2nd place isn’t the result of an incredible appreciation from all over the world.

You brought that placement, just like you brought your place in Eurovision. Because, deep down, you know Europe doesn’t want you here. You know that it would never invite you on its own accord. You know that, if you remove the anti-booing technology and stop the protests, you won’t hear loud cheers but just complaints and protests.

And not even all the money in the world can buy you the love and appreciation you so desperately crave.

So please, please try again and spend even more money. Bend the rules, use propaganda, lie and bully the other innocent participants, use bots and rig the voting system. Do your worst, to shout down all the voices that don’t want you there at all. You might actually win, if you rig the competition well enough.

And once you’ll have won, please, tell me how does it feel. How does it feel, to hold a cold trophy and pretend not to see the disgust on the world’s face? How does it feel, to buy an empty, soulless victory? How does it feel, to know you are not loved at all?

Please support your favourite artists.

And when in doubt, donate to aid agencies.

[edvinception]

Summary - Edvin on P4 extra

Edvin says the weekend has been good. He was at a graduation party in an other city and on Sunday he was at his family's Sunday dinner. He says they do it every Sunday and they call his sister who lives in a other city.

They talk about the story of him getting his first time the story we've heard many times before.

Edvin plays a Swedish Nato soldier that get stuck on the Island (the British island)

Its a poetic movie about the circle of life and with alot of beautiful nature.

He says Alfie Williams and him bonded and that he saw himself in Alfie during filming.

Everything went super fast and he was very nervous when he all of sudden found himself sitting in a car with an Oscar winning director and famous actors. He thinks he embarrassed himself.

He talks about the movie premiere in London at Leicester Square. And he jokes about Crown Prince a William being there and him making a fool of himself.

They talk about him becoming the host's new side kick.

She asks if he gets paid well for his movies and he says he's at a point were he can get well paid jobs but when he took the step internationally he kinda took a step down money wise but it's worth it and he want a long career both in Sweden and internationally.

He says Danny Boyle wanted Swedish to be included in the script and Edvin got instructions on what Danny wanted and Edvin translated freely into Swedish.

They talk about the movie being shot with iPhones.

He says he's very happy with the movie.

The host says he was the best dressed at the Oscar's and he says he works with Paul now and that Paul and taught him about using fashion to tell a story.

He says he ran into mark Hamill at the Oscar's who said "Look at you being all wrapped up" (about Edvins outfit and sash) he said he had a good time.

He was able to make some connections at the Oscar's.

For the premiere he says they will wear a blood red look in leather

_

This is a translate as you listen so it's very broad

[porterdavis]

Darkness is encroaching on the Western world. France and Germany's governments have crumbled, England is adrift, doughty Sweden is succumbing to right-wing forces, Türkiye has followed Hungary into being an autocratic nation, Poland has turned inward and racist, Canada is on the verge of ousting a long-serving moderate Liberal and replacing him with an odious Trump-light figurehead.

And then there's the spectre of another four or more years of Trump-led nihilism based on an oligarchy and cult-like leader.

Civilizations collapse but it is rare to see so many failing simultaneously. Globalism has created an unanticipated, unintended consequence. Mankind has lost its direction just when it's needed most to save its host -- planet earth.

[bittersuitejacobs]

• an unhealthy obsession • Nate Jacobs •

one. spectacle

Summary: A new school year is about to begin and after reinventing herself into the perfect prey, Ophelia finds herself in Nate Jacobs' crosshairs far sooner than she'd expected, at McKay's end of Summer party.

Warnings: SMUT, drinking, semi-public fingering, implied traumatic childhood.

A/N: 3032 words. Coming out of the gates red hot. This whole fic is very self indulgent, you have been warned. Looking forward to hearing what you guys think about this set up. ❤️

{ masterpost }

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

---

Nate Jacobs was a shockingly easy person to read.

Ophelia Chase, who was no stranger to falling into obsession - whether it was with books, movies, shows, or people - found him to be an incredibly alluring subject for observation, so perhaps it was less that Nate himself was easy to read, and more that Ophelia was a most competent reader. Either way, she'd noticed his apparent saviour complex, his desperate desire to be some kind of hero, especially when it came to Maddie. It had started with this idle thought, a curiosity as to whether she could use it to get him to notice her too.

Ophelia knew in a rather detached way that she has become someone who others would consider objectively hot. It stemmed from being an unfortunately plain and sickly child, which continued for most of her experience being homeschooled through middle school, as did her less than flattering wardrobe and hair choices. Both of which were courtesy of a controlling mother who was struggling with feeling out of control in her own life and making up for it by treating her only daughter like the World's ugliest doll. At least that's what Ophelia had believed for a long time; the sickness that too plagued her childhood, left her feeble and frail and often bedridden was less an act of God, as her mother so often wept, but an act of malice perpetrated by the very same woman. Now, with an entirely too permissive father who travelled for work, and no more poisons being discretely fed to her, to keep her needing the mother who feared her freedom, Ophelia was finally, after years, beginning to come into her own as a teenager.

But she started in the background.

She worked hard to remain unnoticed. At parties hosted by her peers, she dressed well enough not to stand out, but never enough to draw attention to herself. Observing from the sidelines, drink in hand, figuring out the creatures around her, it's how she first properly noticed Nate, not that he was entirely foreign to her to begin with. But the real obsession started when she'd noticed his wandering eyes, clinging to those she hadn't anticipated him being drawn to, always when he knew Maddie wasn't looking. Pretty girls, sweet girls, girls who were surprisingly different to his admittedly beautiful but brash girlfriend.

Maddie was a hurricane of a girl, Ophelia wondered if Nate was trying to tame her like a bucking bull.

Nate wants to be in charge. Wants to be the hero. Wants.

And Ophelia wanted him.

So it started with catching the eye.

It started with dressing the part.

After spending the Summer in Sweden with her father, she gets back a few days before her Senior year starts with high hopes and set intentions. A day at the mall has her set with a whole new wardrobe, and Mckay's party is the first chance she has to try it out. Its a far cry from the baggy jeans and graphic tees she'd spent most of the past few years in. A tight, white t-shirt with the words 'Too Sweet' stretched across her chest, tucked into a high waisted pleated skirt with a flirty hem on her thighs, the look was completed with white, knee high socks and a pair of cherry red flats. Her long, healthy hair was pulled into two messy buns, and she kept her makeup light, apart from the red lip she wore. The perfume, however, was a novelty, aift from her father, sweet and citrusy, from one of his trips to Spain.

If this was to be the debut of the new and eye catching Ophelia Chase, she'd make sure everything was absolutely perfect. She'd even been practicing, for far longer than she was willing to admit, to hide the Southern twang to her accent, mirrored from her father, whom she'd spent most of her time with growing up.

However, when she finally arrived at the party itself, it seemed she still had a lot to learn, considering she was unable to abandon her wallflower ways. Drink in hand, she received no shortage of attention considering her look, but still felt awkward being noticed so much more than she usually was, even after taking a few dexys a pretty boy offered her as she'd headed to the bathroom. Or perhaps they'd made her too aware of how different, how out of place she felt when caught in their gazes.

There was a moment where Nate, who'd she'd been seeing around all night, gorgeous and shirtless, swanning around like he owned the place, actually noticed her. He's drunk, had been since she'd arrived around eleven, but he'd also been pressed up on some girl who definitely wasn't his girlfriend, so Ophelia kept her focus elsewhere. Still, it made her smile; his tumultuous relationship with Maddie apparently wouldn't be a problem tonight. Every cruel aside her mother had hissed long ago about the likes of Nathaniel Jacobs whenever his family had been brought up blow through her mind at once. She often wondered how much of her mother's ire had come from a place of truth; she warned Ophelia that just being near him would spoil her, ruin her, taint her in some terrible, intangible way. As a child, she'd thought that couldn't possibly be true. At seventeen, however, the prospect kind of thrilled her.

Now, she was sitting on the arm of a sofa, pleats of her perfectly white skirt splitting on her thigh as she chatted lightly with a girl she'd seen around school, hanging out with Maddie and Kat; BB. Out of the corner of her eye she spots him in the kitchen, pouring another shot for himself, when he looks up and catches sight of her.

Ophelia's heart is in her throat suddenly -

BB makes an amusing observation about someone across the room, and Ophelia's momentarily caught up in laughter. Its only when BB grins broadly at the laughing girl and announces she's going to get a drink, asking if Ophelia wants one, to which she smiles sweetly and agrees. In her own head, she's wondering if she has time to head outside for a cigarette, and doesn't notice she now has new company before he speaks.

"Cute shirt, is it true?" Giving a start at the sudden voice beside her, Ophelia then looks down for a second, before seeing the 'Too Sweet' emblazoned tightly across her chest. Looking up again, she sees Nate smirking with amusement, "I get the feeling it is."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Like her heart isn't going a hundred miles an hour in her chest. He offers her a shot, one of the two he's holding, eyebrows raised in silent question, silent challenge. Ophelia wet her lips, smiling slyly, attempting to regain her composure, "not sure if I should be accepting drinks from strange men," still, she took it from his hands, heady buzzing in her ears from the brief moment their fingers brush.

They've had multiple classes together since the start of high school.

"I'm Nate," he offered, "now we're not strangers, Too Sweet." He offered his own shot to cheers.

"Fi," she cheerses him, and they both take the shots. Ophelia, who's been drinking around the world for years, isn't bothered by the way it burns, but pretty girls, sweet girls, they're not supposed to take shots like it's nothing. Tequila was always something she enjoyed, though she prefers it with a chaser, it still brought back fond memories of time spent in Mexico with her dad. Ophelia makes a face, shudders a little, and listens to the way Nate laughs at her reaction, pride blooming in her chest at her own performance. He takes the shot glasses and puts them on a nearby table that's already covered in bottles and cups, returning to take the seat BB had just vacated. He's got a hand on her thigh, sliding just up beneath the hem of her skirt.

"How come I've never seen you around before?" He had, Ophelia had just never been worth looking at before now. Feeling uncharacteristically bold, Ophelia shifts, presses her leg into his hand just a little.

"Who says you haven't?"

"Because I'd remember a pretty girl like you," he gives her thigh a squeeze, and Ophelia can feels like she's about to go into cardiac arrest from the way he's looking at her. Everything feels warm and fuzzy and wonderful and Ophelia thinks about how fucking often she'd pictured this moment, this 'first' meeting, but never imagined it going this well. Instead, Ophelia laughs, blush rising on her cheeks.

"Fuck, I thought I was the sweet one," she dropped her gaze.

"You are from where I'm sitting," he wets his lips, once again looking her over, gaze clearly leering. Emboldened as she feels the shot start to hit her, she slid from the arm of the sofa into his lap.

"You wanna check again?" Not in a thousand years could she have imagined how this situation would be playing out. Nate Jacobs' arm around her, Nate Jacobs holding her face, Nate Jacobs running his thumb along her bottom lip as he gazed at her with what she can only describe as want. His thumb comes away clean, her shiny, transfer-proof lipstick proving itself to be true. Ophelia can read the amusement in his eyes, "I didn't want it coming off on my drinks," her blush only grew deeper, despite the fact it was the thinnest truth, self conscious of any alternative situations he may have assumed she was preparing for.

"Too sweet," Nate had muttered faintly with a smirk, Ophelia grinned back, letting him pull her in for a kiss. They're both drunk, Ophelia's head spinning as he nips at her lip, deepens the kiss into something messy and passionate, his tongue in her mouth, hand moving from her face to her thigh. She's not sure when she moved to straddle his lap, but she hears the appreciative way he murmurs, "that's right," against her lips as she wraps her arms around his neck, pressed against him, his hands on her ass.

It was as if her blood was singing in her veins to be in this moment, at this party, already wrapped up in the very boy who's attention she'd designed herself hoping to entice. The future, the concequenses, be damned; she moaned into Nate's mouth as he roughly groped her ass.

One of his hands moves, warm and broad as it trailed back over her thigh beneath her skirt. Nate has always known what he wants, was always rather direct about it too, from what Ophelia had witnessed, and now was no different. When he pushes her pretty, lace panties to the side, sliding a finger into her with ease in the middle of the party, Ophelia gasps.

"So fucking wet," Nate teased, already adding another finger, curling them inside of her. Instead of a proper response, Ophelia's eyes fell closed, biting her lip to hold back the pleased noises trying to escape her. If anyone around then had taken notice - which they hadn't, since Nate's hand on her ass under her skirt was enough for everyone to already look away - Ophelia didn't care.

Nate kisses her again, rougher this time, biting at her lip, finger fucking her in his lap as his other hand came up to rest on the back of her neck in a firm grip. Blaming the drinking, or the music, or the dexys, or shirtless, flirty Nate goddamn Jacobs, Ophelia sighs and whimpers into Nate's mouth as her hips rock gently against his fingers, his thumb insistent against her clit.

"Nate-" she chokes out breathlessly as she's getting close, forehead pressed against his. Nate smirks at her, looks so goddamn pleased with himself, but thankfully doesn't stop.

"Gonna make you cum in the middle of the party, aren't I?" He goads, all warm and encouraging and smug. She wants to tell him to shut up, but he's unfortunately right, and Ophelia's not getting anywhere close to coherent right now. All she can do is nod, weakly, panting and breathless as she feels herself begin to topple over the edge, "slut," he goads against her lips with a grin. Ophelia leans in, kissing him to muffle how she's whimpering as her orgasm crashes through her, stars bursting bright behind her eyes, a mix of shame and elation following in its wake.

Never ever could have imagined this.

Coming down from the sudden rush of endorphins, she pulls back a little, only to see Nate's smug, wide smile as he removes his fingers from her, raising them to his lips. Ophelia, who was already shocked by her own actions, breathing hard, arms still around his neck, watches with a flustered, wide-eyes gaze as Nate sticks both fingers in his mouth, tasting her, tasting what he'd been able to do to her.

"Sweet girl," his grin is all teeth; Ophelia feels trapped in his dark, hungry gaze, but desire still burns low in her gut amid the satisfaction. Nate's hand finds her thigh again, squeezing gently, "lets get another drink and go upstairs; you can return the favour."

Fuck, her mum was right. She'd absolutely let him ruin her.

Ophelia nods eagerly, despite her expression still clearly reading as flustered, but before she can, he pulls her in for a final kiss, makes her taste herself on his tongue. A soft, needy noise escapes her, and before he finally lets her stand, Nate mutters -

"Such a good fucking girl, Fi."

She thinks she might pass out with how much she wants him right now.

As she stands, he smacks her ass before he gets up, and Ophelia, having regained access to her higher brain function, rolls her eyes at him, but grins.

But in the kitchen, halfway through pouring another drink, someone Ophelia vaguely recognises as one of Nate's friends mutters something to him that makes him furious. Its like he's forgotten her entirely, storming from the kitchen, leaving her utterly confused by the very sudden change. Debating whether to follow him or wait there, her mind is made up by the pretty, soft spoken blonde who compliments her outfit. The girl introduces herself as Jules, wearing a rather cute outfit of her own, in dark blues and florals, and Ophelia compliments her as such.

"I'm Ophelia, by the way," she offers with a bright smile, "but Lia's less of a mouthful," she offers with a laugh. Jules is new to town, and has the most beautiful laugh.

"Did you pick Ophelia?" Jules grins, but Ophelia shook her head.

"Mona couldn't find a way to feminize Hamlet," she smiled wryly, "so I had to grow up hearing 'never kill yourself over a boy'."

"Clearly she should have had more faith; you would totally own as Hamlet," Jules' face fell, however, as Ophelia's expression twists bitterly.

"I would," she agrees, head starting to feel fuzzy in all the wrong ways, as it did whenever she found herself reflecting on her mother, "Mona should have done a lot of things differently."

"Sorry," immediately Jules is apologising, "I shouldn't have -" but Ophelia tries to relax, giving her a tight smile.

"Shout out to terrible moms for breaking the stereotype," she managed, ruefully, grabbing the nearest bottle of liquor, forgoing a cup as she raised it in sarcastic cheers. Jules, however, barks a laugh, shaking her head.

"I will gladly drink to that," she offers in solidarity as Ophelia takes a large mouthful of the vodka. Surprised by the unfortunate common ground, something warms in her, the tension genuinely easing, and she offers the bottle. Jules only takes a token sip, but the moment breaks as both girls end up bursting into laughter, commiserating together.

When Ophelia leaves to find the bathroom, she assures Jules she'll return, but it's Jules who manages to disappear before she gets back. The atmosphere in the kitchen is tense. Nate is back but looks like he's more than half way to murderous as he's chugging the last of the vodka Ophelia had drunk from earlier.

And she barely gets through a sentence to him before he spits at her to fuck off. His gaze is so fucking cold -

"I just- are you- ?"

"I said -" he steps up to her, leaning in and radiating malevolent intent as he looms so large over her in this moment, "fuck. Off." Ophelia shrinks back, like she isn't thinking about how damn hot she thinks he is right now, how much she wants him to push her up against the nearest wall or counter.

"I'm going," she huffs, quietly defensive as a front, "sorry for trying to give a shit, Jesus fucking Christ," stepping back with placating hands. In her haste to get away, she misses the brief moment in which Nate's fury holds a flicker of surprise, but it passes, disperses as she retreats from the kitchen towards the front of the house. She doesn't see him throw the empty bottle in the garbage disposal with so much force it shatters upon impact, but she certainly hears it.

Mckay's house isn't really within walking distance, which she forgets until she's a block away and halfway through a cigarette. So she has to call herself an uber to return to the quiet, empty, upper-middle class family home that is the Chase residence. Tucked into bed, she's out before her head even hits the pillow, and only when she wakes up the next day, shocking hang over hitting her like a truck, that she can reflect on the night.

All things considered, it was at least a partial success. She'd definitely caught his attention, at least until something more important to him had stolen it. It wouldn't take her long to learn that it was Maddie and some college guy fucking in the pool, doing the exact same thing Nate has used Ophelia for; making the other jealous.

But, Ophelia thinks with quiet pride as she popped Advil and drank water like her life depended on it, that tonight was definitely a good start.

[napolebonasacc]

The Imperial Yachts of Napoléon III

•La Reine Hortense, (Queen Hortense)

Originally named Comte d’Eu, the ship was renamed Patriote on February 20, 1848, following the French Revolution. In June 1853, Napoléon III made it the imperial yacht and renamed it once again, this time to La Reine Hortense, after his mother.

The vessel soon saw military service, acting as a troopship in 1855 during the Crimean War. In early 1859, it transported Prince Napoléon (nicknamed “Plon-Plon”) from Marseille to Genoa for his wedding to Princess Maria Clotilde of Savoy. Later that same year, it also transported Napoléon III. In 1854, the ship briefly returned to service with the French Navy.

The Emperor On Board The Screw Steam-Yacht La Reine Hortense, Leaving The Harbour, 1854

In 1862, while sailing in the Baltic, La Reine Hortense aided a British vessel, towing it 80 miles to Stockholm. Aboard that ship was Lord Dufferin, whom the ship—and its notable passengers—would meet again.

On April 20, 1865, La Reine Hortense was once again recommissioned as the imperial yacht for a visit to Algeria.

____

Prince Napoléon's journey to the North in 1856

In 1856, La Reine Hortense carried Prince Napoléon on his notable four-ship Nordic expedition. A science enthusiast, the prince aimed to gather scientific knowledge and establish political connections to bring back insights about the Nordic countries to France.

Following the Crimean War, the prince led a five-month expedition from June 16 to October 2, 1856, traveling through northern Scotland, the Icelandic fjords, Greenland, and parts of Scandinavia. His goal was to explore extraordinary geological sites like those in Iceland (e.g., Reykjavik and the Geysir geysers), as well as locations known for significant mineralogical discoveries, such as Arendal and Ytterby.

Much of the expedition’s progress was chronicled by his friend and fellow traveler, Charles Edmond.

In Reykjavik, the expedition once again crossed paths with Lord Dufferin, who was then on his own voyage that would later inspire Letters From High Latitudes. When Dufferin’s schooner Foam broke down, Prince Napoléon offered to tow it north to Jan Mayen. The flotilla departed on July 7, but increasing ice forced them to abandon the journey 100 miles short of their destination. They returned to Reykjavik and released Foam on July 11 to continue under sail.

La Reine Hortense in the ice off Jan Mayen.

This delay proved fortuitous, as they later encountered the Saxon, a collier damaged by ice—an incident that would have caused a fuel shortage had they not been nearby.

______

Visit to Norway – August 1856

In August 1856, the expedition stopped in Kristiania (modern-day Oslo), where Prince Napoléon was received with grand ceremony. That summer, Kristiania hosted seven royals from three royal houses, an imperial house, and a princely house. Among them was Crown Prince Karl of Sweden-Norway (a grandson of Eugène de Beauharnais), his wife, and their daughter.

When locals asked who the visiting dignitary was, Karl simply replied, “Plon-Plon,” offering no further clarification.

Upon Prince Napoléon’s arrival aboard La Reine Hortense, a 21-gun salute welcomed him in the Oslofjord. When he came ashore, the French flag was hoisted, and he was greeted by Count Adam Johan Frederik Poulsen Trampe, chamberlain at the viceroy’s court.

Lunch was held at Bygdøy Royal Farm, followed by a guided tour of the city’s streets, the newly built castle, and the fortress. Notably, the prince wore civilian clothes and took time to speak with local citizens, as reported by newspapers of the day. That afternoon, he dined aboard his ship while it cruised the coast of Bygdøy, offering scenic views.

Later, Napoléon was invited to a small, exclusive ball, where he and Prince Karl engaged in a long discussion about Iceland. Karl, though never having visited the island, was keenly interested. Napoléon shared that Iceland was “spectacular” and expressed his wish to return. He also mentioned his desire to visit Jan Mayen, which had been thwarted by poor weather and lack of maps.

Soon after Napoléon’s arrival, two more royal guests—Prince Albrecht of Prussia and Prince Kraft of Hohenlohe-Ingelfingen—arrived. Prince Albrecht, brother and son of Prussian kings, was Crown Princess Louise’s uncle. Despite these ties, Karl treated him coldly, openly favoring Prince Napoléon. This “undiplomatic” behavior displeased the Germans.

Nonetheless, Albrecht and Napoléon developed a warm rapport, holding many conversations. This newfound friendship led to a large Prussian delegation’s visit to Paris in December, hosted by Napoléon, with Albrecht in attendance.

Prince Kraft, though not closely related to the others, was a respected commander from a notable German noble family.

So, why did Karl favor Napoléon over his German relative? The answer lies in geopolitics. During the Crimean War, Karl had unsuccessfully attempted to bring Sweden-Norway into the conflict and sought an alliance with France to help reclaim Finland. Though the alliance never materialized, Karl still saw France as a key future ally—unlike Prussia, which he viewed with suspicion.

⸻

Final Leg of the Journey

In their first days together, Karl and Napoléon spent time with university students, where Napoléon particularly enjoyed engaging with young Norwegians. A mini-parade in his honor was held by four companies of chasseurs at Akershus Fortress.

Napoléon remained in the capital for a week before departing south, with Karl accompanying him and again leaving his family behind. They stopped briefly in Kongsberg to visit the silver mines, then continued on to Gothenburg and Copenhagen, where they met King Frederick VII of Denmark.

After a short visit, Napoléon returned to Stockholm via the Göta Canal to meet King Oscar I, while Karl returned to Norway.

Charles-Edmond Chojecki documented the journey in his 1857 travelogue, published in French. Upon Karl’s return to Norway, only three royals remained—himself, his wife, and their daughter—as Prince Albrecht, Prince Kraft, and his father-in-law had departed.

In late September, a letter bearing the French imperial seal arrived in Christiania. It was from Emperor Napoléon III, expressing gratitude for the warm reception extended to his cousin.

At a subsequent ball, Napoléon received the Grand Cross of the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav.

With the expedition effectively concluded, La Reine Hortense was decommissioned in October.

____

The Fate of La Reine Hortense

On February 14, 1867, she was renamed Cassard and assigned to Algiers. Her design influenced a generation of lightly armed, sail-and-steam commerce raiding cruisers—effective for “gunboat diplomacy” but rendered obsolete after the Franco-Prussian War.

As Cassard, she served until 1881, later becoming a coastal defense ship. Renamed Faune in 1893, she was used as a hulk in Port-Vendres and was finally broken up in 1920.

•L'AIGLE. (The Eagle)

The Aigle was built for Emperor Napoléon III in Cherbourg from 1857 to replace the Reine Hortense as the imperial yacht. Designed by Henri Dupuy de Lôme, she was launched in May 1859 and ready for service by December.

The Aigle featured two main masts and a smaller mizzen mast, primarily powered by a Mazeline and Comp steam engine driving two paddle wheels, allowing her to reach speeds of 15 knots.

Emperor Napoléon II and the Empress Eugénie on the yacht the Aigle

After trials in Cherbourg in June 1859, she sailed to Toulon in June 1860. Napoléon III used her for trips to Algiers, arriving there on September 17, 1860, and again on May 3, 1865.

The Aigle at Port Said for the inauguration of the Suez Canal in November 1869.

The Aigle undertook several voyages in the Mediterranean, most notably transporting Empress Eugenie to Egypt in October 1869 for the inauguration of the Suez Canal. On November 17, the Aigle, with the Empress and Ferdinand de Lesseps aboard, led the convoy into the canal, Officially The Aigle being the first ship to navigate through the canal, followed by the British ocean liner Delta. The Aigle then reached Ismailia, then the Bitter Lakes, and finally Suez on November 20. Lesseps famously telegraphed Paris: "The Aigle has anchored in the Red Sea!"

The yacht L' Aigle with on board the empress Eugenia in Suez canal, november 17, 1869

In 1870, she was converted into a gunboat. On May 31, 1873, she was reclassified as a corvette and renamed Le Rapide. The vessel was placed in reserve and disarmed between 1885 and 1888. She was struck from the naval list on January 29, 1891, and sold for demolition in Cherbourg on October 6 for 103,210 francs.

[solarpunkbusiness]

17-year-old Zabeer Zarif Akhter earned a coveted spot in The Stockholm Junior Water Prize — an international competition hosted by the Stockholm International Water Institute in Sweden. In the competition, students from ages 15 to 20 are tasked with developing research projects and building inventions that tackle the world’s leading water challenges, including pollution, drought, and water scarcity. 

Akhter’s focus? Contamination. 

In his home country of Bangladesh, a shocking ​​49% of the country’s drinking well water has unsafe limits of carcinogenic arsenic, which can cause skin lesions and cancer in the bladder and the lungs. Climate change has worsened the water contamination crisis, with an uptick in cyclones and torrential monsoons causing devastating floods throughout the country. 

Akhter invented a first-of-its-kind water purification system that uses ultraviolet radiation and plasma sterilization to remove pathogens like E. coli, TC toxins, and Fd bacteriophage from the water. 

Remarkably, the water purifier is made entirely from electronic waste including recycled laptop batteries, damaged circuit boards, abandoned driver motors, and even parts from an old TV.

[asharawild]

Ser Davos Seaworth is a lowborn man. He’s a sailor who breaks the laws of the realm by bringing food to break a siege. Liam Cunningham, the man who depicted him in HBO’s Game of Thrones, is today turning 64.

He’s doing it from the deck of the Madleen, part of the Freedom Flotilla, which is sailing from Sicily to attempt to open a humanitarian corridor and get aid–food, medical supplies, anything and everything that might save a life–into Gaza, which is currently subject to genocide by Israel.

I say ‘currently’. It is difficult to periodise Israel’s behaviour toward Palestine into a ‘genocidal’ and ‘non-genocidal’ era. From the 1948 Nakba onwards Israel has explicitly treated Palestine as a stain upon the land — which it has claimed under shield of British imperialism, though its settlements contravene international law.

What is the clearance of a people from its land, if not genocidal? So asked a speaker at a UN panel discussion titled “1948–2024: The Ongoing Palestinian Nakba”. Representing Doctors Against Genocide, he:

said that the reason for the current genocide is that the international community “never addressed the original sin”. Instead, in the same month that the UN recognized genocide as an international crime, it turned a blind eye to the Nakba. He then asked what it would take for the UN to create a special body to restudy the Nakba as an act of genocide to both hold perpetrators accountable and strengthen the case currently before the International Court of Justice. (source)

Here’s the rub, or part of it: to correctly label the entire Israeli project as genocidal also implicates every other imperial and colonial project as such. They were and are, of course.

George RR Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire examines at length the effect of war upon the smallfolk. Hundreds of thousands of words are dedicated to famine and flame and fear:

“You in the holdfast. We mean you no harm. We’re king’s men.” Faces appeared on the wall above the gate. “They was king’s men burned our village,” one man called down. “Before that, some other king’s men took our sheep. They were for a different king, but that didn’t matter none to our sheep. King’s men killed Harsley and Ser Ormond, and raped Lacey till she died.” (A Dance With Dragons, Jaime I)

In the north, the existential threat of the undead gathers beyond the realms of men. The Commander of the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow, makes the controversial decision to admit the Watch’s frequent enemy, the wildling host, through the wall to safety. Note the construction of wildlings as Other: savages, barbarous, undeserving of the rights afforded by being considered human. Genocidal rhetoric relies on such othering.

“You have not seen them. Half of them are dead on their feet.” “I would sooner have them dead in the ground,” said Yarwyck. “If it please my lord.” “It does not please me.” Jon’s voice was as cold as the wind snapping at their cloaks. “There are children in that camp, hundreds of them, thousands. Women as well.” […] “These are godless savages,” said Septon Cellador. […] “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord — what are these wildlings, if not men?” Bowen Marsh opened his mouth. No words came out. A flush crept up his neck. (A Dance With Dragons, Jon XI)

A Song of Ice and Fire was first conceived in 1991, shortly after scientific consensus crystallised on climate change (the IPCC, for example, was formed in 1988). George RR Martin himself acknowledged the similarities:

“The people in Westeros are fighting their individual battles over power and status and wealth. And those are so distracting to them that they’re ignoring the threat of “winter is coming,” which has the potential to destroy all of them and to destroy their world. And there is a great parallel there to, I think, what I see this planet doing here, where we’re fighting our own battles.” (source)

Greta Thunberg, then aged 15, went on strike from school to campaign for Sweden to comply with the Paris Climate Agreement. She is also aboard the Madleen. As a pigtailed child exhorting leaders to care about climate change, she received a relatively warm reception from world leaders who perhaps thought her easily defanged and coopted.

Yet she has always recognised that climate justice is inextricably linked to colonial injustice. She reified this stance in 2023 when attacked for her support of Palestine:

“Advocating for climate justice fundamentally comes from a place of caring about people and their human rights. That means speaking up when people suffer, are forced to flee their homes or are killed — regardless of the cause.” (source)

I watched a video today of Thunberg, close to tears, as she says from the deck of the Madleen that “no matter how dangerous this mission is, it is nowhere near as dangerous as the silence of the entire world in the face of a livestreamed genocide.”

I can’t identify a ‘most horrifying’ part of this genocide. No one can rank a burning child against a beheaded baby against the 335 rounds fired at five-year-old Hind Rajab. But the silence and indifference of those watching this genocide is something I did not quite expect. I thought we would all be howling in the fucking streets.

What privilege, to be intimidated by a few flags and leaflets!

In Gaza, people sit in rubble and makeshift housing, without food or water or hope, as F-35 jets (whose construction depends on British parts) fly overhead. We sit here in the so-called developed world (developed at whose expense?) and are all of us materially complicit in this genocide. We should not be able to speak for shame, and some of us laugh!

Are people so blind to empathy, so eager to turn their eyes away, that they would rather pretend Gaza has nothing to do with them than look in the mirror and ask what action they can take?

Those on the Madleen have a simple ask: all eyes on deck. Their task is dangerous: in May another Freedom Flotilla ship, The Conscience, was attacked by drones in international waters. It costs nothing to extend your solidarity. It costs everything–your very soul–to look away.

If you have loved another living thing, you should be screaming. You should be boycotting everything on the BDS list, and having uncomfortable conversations with others who do not. You should be supporting direct action like that undertaken by Palestine Action, who act to impede the operations of companies who profit from the genocide (and succeed in doing so). If you cannot undertake arrestable actions yourself, you can learn more about supporting actionists here, or donate here. You should be supporting Medical Aid for Palestinians, and the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund, and the Palestine Solidarity Campaign. You should be showing solidarity with a keffiyeh, or a pin, and otherwise doing everything you can to at the very least ensure that Palestine, and its people, are not forgotten. Don’t let people look away.

All eyes on deck, and free Palestine.

this post is also on Medium and Substack