#and now my big wheeled boy is at SIX WINS and no losses all season

[mobbossbaby]

Not to be melodramatic but if Huge doesn’t win the giant nut this year I’m gonna riot

[jamaisjoons]

the summer bucketlist | m.list

When the weather sees the return of sunshine and warmth, the joy and exuberance of summer is revived, and everyone rushes to enjoy the season to the fullest. Bonfire nights with your friends, seeing brilliant firework displays or laying under the stars on a humid night and watching the world go by. Learning to surf, or dive or snorkel or simply collecting seashells along the shore. Late nights at the amusement parks, thrilling roller-coaster rides or spectacular views on the Ferris Wheel. Skinny dipping in a lake after dark, attending a film or music festival, or even just visiting the popup street market in your city. Everything you had been dreaming off since the start of autumn, you can do once again. And who better to do it with, than the boys who bring more joy and warmth to our lives than summer itself?

Welcome to ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ - a writing event/author collab hosted by @jamaisjoons​

The Summer Bucketlist: BTS Edition - is an event in which various different authors can sign up to write a story based on traditional Bucketlist Items. Find their stories below!

⟶ song of the sea; knj ⇥ @jamaisjoons​       ➳ fantasy au. little mermaid au.            ↳   ⎡Take a Trip to the Museum⎦

« Captivated by the sight of you, he can’t help but watch you swim around his home. And when you turn to leave, he doesn’t know what overcomes him - but as if spellbound - he finds himself following you back to land. »

⟶ molotov cocktail; jhs ⇥ @yeoldontknow​      ➳ bartender au. arranged marriage au.           ↳   ⎡Take a Cocktail Class⎦

«  You met him January, on a night when you were newly single and newly wanting to break free from your father’s unyielding control. You left him in January, full of regret but full of purpose. You meet him again in July, and now you want nothing more than to run to the ends of the earth with him, to burn down the shape your life has taken in the hope of making something new. »

⟶ luminous; pjm ⇥ @luffles424​     ➳ summer festival au. tentacle monster au.          ↳   ⎡Watch Fireworks⎦

« The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here.  »

⟶ sticky situation; kth ⇥ @jiminsfault​     ➳ camping au. established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go Camping⎦

« You hate camping, but Taehyung is determined on changing your mind on that. »

⟶ pull me in; jhs ⇥ @guccybangtan​     ➳ established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go to a Water Park⎦

« In the heat of the summer, there's nothing more relaxing than relaxing than a nice trip to the water park.  »

⟶ a beautiful epiphany; jjk ⇥ @onherwings​     ➳ friends to lovers au.           ↳   ⎡Join an Art Contest⎦

« Who would have thought that falling in love with your muse could either lead to something beautiful or bring you to your own demise? »

⟶ love grows where you go; myg ⇥ @rookiegukie​    ➳ arranged marriage au. pining au.         ↳   ⎡Watch the Sunset on the Beach⎦

« Determined to make you and Yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. You know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you're positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don't find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. That is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.  »

⟶ petrichor; pjm ⇥ @taetaewonderland​    ➳ strangers to lovers au. domestic au.         ↳   ⎡Go on a Picnic⎦

« There are smells in the world that can trigger your brain to think of a memory almost in an instant. »

⟶ sun cockblock; myg ⇥ @cremeandsuga​    ➳ best friends to lovers au. summer au.         ↳   ⎡Join a Sandcastle Building Competition⎦

« Cancún was always a trip to remember - sun, beaches, hookups and day drinking, not to mention the annual sand castle competition you entered with your best friend every year. Yoongi smells like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven. Entering a sandcastle competition with one of the least competitive people in the world was pure agony — but it didn’t dawn to you that your best friend wasn’t competitive because he was confident he would win. Upon your loss, he sees you trying to soothe the burn of it (and the sun) with the beach bartender. He may smell like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven, but he’s sure you feel like heaven.  »

⟶ rejuvenation; myg & jhs ⇥ @caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma​    ➳ spa owners au.         ↳   ⎡Treat Yourself to a Spa Day⎦

« You finally get a break from work and you decide to indulge in a little pampering and self-care. During lunch, your friend slips a card into your hand for an exclusive spa with a special referral discount. How can you resist? Let’s hope the Bangtan Blossoms Spa provides the relaxation & rejuvenation experience you desperately seek. »

⟶ just a taste; kth ⇥ @xjoonchildx​   ➳ pwp au.        ↳   ⎡Go Wine Tasting⎦

« He’s hot. he’s considerate. He’s refusing to make a move. weeks of sexual frustration come to a head at a wine tasting and -- this is going to shock NO ONE -- smut ensues. »

⟶ lollipop; myg ⇥ @ironicarmy​   ➳ neighbours to lovers au.        ↳   ⎡Attempt to make Ice Cream⎦

« It’s a hot summer day, he’s desperate, and your ice lollies taste like heaven.  »

⟶ carnival lights; kth ⇥ @taephilia​   ➳ haunted carnival au. horror au.        ↳   ⎡Visit a Carnival⎦

« With half of your friend group graduated and leaving your hometown to move to the city for work, you and your friends decide to have one last adventure together (in the words of hobi even though it’s only may and you see each other like every day). But things are always different in the nighttime and you never know what’s lurking between the funnel cakes. »

⟶ midnight menagerie; knj ⇥ @jooneggs​  ➳ friends to lovers au.       ↳   ⎡Go to a Botanical Garden⎦

« Like water, cradling your fragile soul, Namjoon has held the lily of your heart all your life and you wish you could let him know just how much that means to you. Coincidentally, it just so happens you can: in a week's time when you're stuck in the holiday of your life at Namjoon's father's Botanical gardens. Will you finally get to repay him in a bed of roses or will he be the one to make the bouquet for you? »

⟶ ferris drink; jhs ⇥ @salvejoon​  ➳ pwp au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Ride a Ferris Wheel⎦

« Your boyfriend has a bucket list of places he wants to do the nasty and next up is a Ferris Wheel. »

⟶ hose wars; ksj & myg ⇥ @babybinnyboy​  ➳ neighbour au.       ↳   ⎡Have a Water Fight⎦

« Spending a summer in a little coastal town was supposed to be relaxing. It wasn't supposed to include a broken AC unit, record break heatwave, a hose, 2 ridiculously confident, attractive neighbors with an annoyingly low fence. »

⟶ cut shot; myg ⇥ @kimtaehyunq​  ➳ vacation au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Learn to Volleyball⎦

« He hates the water, he hates the heat, and he hates the Sun. Any form of physical activity is a big no-no, yet Min Yoongi will go out of his way to show that he loves you on your mini vacation. »

⟶ eternal summer; pjm ⇥ @aiimaginesbts​  ➳ childhood friends to lovers au. vacation au.       ↳   ⎡Go Sightseeing on Vacation⎦

« Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away. »

⟶ sway with me; knj & jhs ⇥ @minjoonalist​ ➳ established relationship au.      ↳   ⎡Take a Boat Ride⎦

« You love celebrating your anniversary, it was the only special part about summer that you looked forward to every year- But when your husband Is unable to make the availability due to his job- You thought why not make the best of it? »

⟶ ecstatic shock; jhs ⇥ @iluvstrawberry​ ➳ strangers to lovers au. abo au.      ↳   ⎡Host a BBQ⎦

« The garden party your parents throw every year is coming up. Seeing your conservative parents, is something you definitely don’t want to face on your own. But with all your friends being busy, you’ve decided to accept your fate and drown your sorrows at your favourite bar. Enter: Jung Hoseok, bartender, lifesaver and the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen. »

⟶ kaleidoscopic; knj ⇥ @boywivlove​ ➳ established relationship au.     ↳   ⎡Go Paintballing⎦

« You and Namjoon decide to blow off some steam and go to a paint balling range, one multicoloured blitzkrieg later; bruised, sweaty and victorious you celebrate your win. »

⟶ undercurrent; jjk ⇥ @jjungkooksthighs ➳ best friends to lovers au. post college au.     ↳   ⎡Go Diving⎦

« After a year and six months of sea fare and many more nights of sunken eyes that had been dotted with the black shadings of sleeplessness that you’d helped to nurse him because of, the fruits of your best friend’s efforts had earned him the completion of his mission to map the entire eastern seaboard. In all his work, though, Jungkook has not gotten the chance to dive at many of the areas scattered around the ocean in the vastness of the seas. You decide to take him to a previously unmarked, unmapped sector of the sea after following his own nautical charts. The catch is this: you’re afraid of the water. What happens when you find yourself following after him and into the arms of the sea after years of pent up sexual frustration that you blame entirely on him? »

a/n: this is incredibly late but onefgeoingoeitng i hope you enjoy reading all of these works! If you participated in the collab but your fic isn’t on here, it’s because it hasn’t appeared in the tags! please feel free to DM with the link to the fic!!

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 121: Rocknaldo

“I don't love that. I don't accept that.”

Ronaldo Fryman has always been annoying.

From his first speaking role in Cat Fingers, and his first starring role in Keep Beach City Weird, this has been obvious. He’s selfish and insensitive, dominating every conversation he’s a part of and refusing to respect viewpoints that differ from his. He works well in small doses, where his grating nature can be properly diluted, so it’s understandable that an entire episode of Ronaldo at peak Ronaldo is not a widely beloved entry in the Steven Universe canon. But even though I can’t stand watching Rocknaldo, I actually, uh, kind of love it.

That’s a hard “uh, kind of” though. It’s tough to separate my emotions about this one, because I respect such an incredible portrayal of toxic fandom, but I hate toxic fandom so much that I don’t enjoy spending time with it, even as parody. This isn’t an episode I’m ever in the mood for, but it’s just so good at what it’s doing that I can’t stay mad at it.

Ronaldo’s propaganda is first played for laughs, with Steven’s bewilderment at what he’s reading (“They’re adding mind-controlling minerals to our water suppl—they hate men?”) and the vaudevillian back and forth of Ronaldo’s Rock People talking points and Steven’s quick and absolute dismissals. Ronaldo’s embarrassment is a bit of a surprise considering he’s never seemed capable of such a sensation, and his willingness to admit he’s wrong seems like a good sign, but oh boy does that attitude not last.

The mindset that led Ronaldo to make his bad faith arguments in pamphlet form (which he calls Ronalphlets because heaven forbid we get the idea that it’s not about him) persists, and it’s so much worse in conversation than as printed media. It’s not enough that he impedes on Steven’s personal space, but he checks off multiple key items on the Pathetic Internet Troll I Find Useless List (or “PITIFUL” if we’re using proper jargon). He’s casually sexist. He negs Steven into accepting his intrusions. He gatekeeps the concept of being a “true” Crystal Gem, which is lousy in a bubble but so much worse in practice because he’s doing it to an actual Crystal Gem. He gaslights by stating his incorrect views as obvious facts, complete with his own lingo, to make Steven question his own validity. And perhaps worst of all, he takes advantage of Steven’s empathetic nature to pretend that a tolerant person must accept abuse.

On the one hand, Ronaldo’s extreme behavior can be chalked up to severe sleep loss; that’s certainly the angle the episode goes for. But on the other, his toxicity begins well before he decides to stop sleeping, and as someone whose record for consecutive waking hours is an inadvisable thirty-six, fatigue will make you cranky, but it won’t make you more conniving. In cartoon world it’s a clean device to up Ronaldo’s awfulness in a way we can walk back from, but ugh he’s still a trashfire. Zach Callison always deserves kudos, and Rocknaldo is no exception, but Zachary Steel wins out here for capturing such a loathsome version of his character.

A key ingredient for Rocknaldo is timing. Steven just had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, and this is our first glimpse at how it’s changed him, so what better way to test our all-loving hero than to pit him against a black hole of selfishness? He’s grown a lot since Keep Beach City Weird in a way Ronaldo hasn’t, and while his instinct is still kindness, now there’s a welcome dose of teen moodiness mixed in. 

It takes a while for Steven to realize it’s a grift, but beyond this slowness being a necessity for the conflict of the episode to work, it makes sense for where he’s at this point in the show. Again, kindness is an instinct for this kid, and even when Ronaldo starts getting infuriating, we’ve seen Steven be patient with him before. He’s also got that martyr complex revved up: this isn’t the first or last time he’s been willing to suffer to make someone else comfortable. He knows how much it sucks to be called the wrong name by now, so he’s the only person who consistently calls Ronaldo “Bloodstone.” And considering Rose Quartz wasn’t what he thought, he now feels that he must double his efforts to be his best self to compensate.

Also important is Steven’s willingness to defend his friends from the start, calling the term “Rock People” offensive and defending the Gems’ decision to leave Ronaldo behind on a dangerous mission. He can take Ronaldo’s lousiness all day, but finally snaps when Connie’s worthiness is insulted. It’s sweet that he sticks up for people, but it’s a bummer that he probably would’ve put up with Ronaldo even longer if the only one suffering was himself. Steven would do anything for his friends, but he’s not doing much for Steven.

This is why Ronaldo is the ideal antagonist for an episode coming off Steven’s space adventure. Steven’s selflessness contrasts perfectly with Ronaldo’s selfishness, but instead of a story about selflessness being good and selfishness being bad, we see how selflessness isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, it’s good to care about others, but it’s also important to have boundaries and enough self-respect to defend yourself; this isn’t even the first time we’ve gotten this message, but it bears repeating. There’s are limits to tolerance that trolls will always exploit (“White Nationalists aren’t welcome here? So much for the ‘Tolerant Left!’”), and on a show about empathy we need for Steven (and the audience) to see that empathy doesn’t mean being a doormat.

Steven’s patience fuels the episode, but the wheels are greased by the Amethyst and Pearl’s disdain. It’s a minor part of Rocknaldo, but I’m not sure I could survive how grating Ronaldo is without some backup from the Gems.

Garnet may lead a slow clap at Steven’s rousing speech on the nature of acceptance, but Amethyst is happy to crack jokes at Ronaldo’s self-seriousness, down to that perfect impression near the end of the episode. Meanwhile, Pearl openly hates the guy. We don’t even get Sassy Pearl (perhaps the greatest Pearl of all), she’s just bluntly dismissive as a refreshing antidote to Steven’s hospitality. She doesn’t bother to remember his ridiculous new name because she refuses to humor the notion that he’s a Gem, and it totally works for me; misnaming is played for drama when Steven is concerned, as befits the trans allegory that comes to a head in Change Your Mind, but Ronaldo is a human belittling Steven’s identity by pretending he shares it, so “Bloodstone” isn’t worth getting right to her (it helps that “Fryrocko” is also a delightful thing to call somebody). This jokey take on names works in the moment, but more importantly primes us for a more serious take in our last scene.

The final conversation, after a rare time jump, does salvage Ronaldo somewhat. He apologizes and admits he was acting like a jerk, and remains dedicated to helping the Crystal Gems in his own weird way. But the root of his problem isn’t gonna up and go away, and that root, again, is selfishness. He doesn’t fit in because he would rather the world adjust to meet his whims than take a single step towards self-improvement, so he chooses to see himself as “the ultimate outsider.” I guess it’s nice to find a positive spin on qualities you’re not great at, but it reeks of self-importance in a way that’s true to the character but is still frustrating to watch. Ronaldo is very good at being who he is, but I just don’t have much patience for intentionally annoying characters.

Still, we get that lovely moment of Steven talking about his name; it’s not a big revelation that folks only call him Rose Quartz when they’re mad at him, but verbalizing it shows that he’s aware of the pattern. The issue of his name will pop up more and more, becoming a cornerstone of both the Season 4 and Season 5 finales, so it’s nice to discuss it in a calm moment so we can keep Steven’s opinion in the back of our minds when things get messy. Ronaldo, to his credit, asks permission before sharing this story on his pamphlet, and evokes fellow emotionally-challenged antagonist Zuko in his attempt at solidarity. (Fun fact: in no other way is Ronaldo similar to Zuko.)

Moving from Zuko to Zuke: I don’t know where Rocknaldo’s production lined up on the timeline of the Steven Universe fandom's worst elements harassing Jesse Zuke, but I hope Zuke got some level of catharsis in portraying such “fans” in this pathetic manner. Speaking as a guy with a blog, calling Ronaldo “just a guy with a blog” is perfect putdown for a loser that makes himself feel big by pretending to know how to run a ship better than the captain. Imagine if I spent every post saying how much better of a storyteller I am than this crew. Ugh.

Fandoms can do great things, but man are they pros at doing horrible things. During the week that I wrote this review, a 15-year-old Super Smash Bros player got yelled off the internet for beating an established player in an incredible fashion, because while the community adores a young upstart, they can’t stand when that upstart is a girl. And no, I’m not saying the entire fandom did it, just as the entire Steven Universe fandom didn’t target one of the show’s best boarders (note that this article was written when Zuke still went by Lauren), but there are more than enough Ronaldos in every community, and it’s up to people who comprehend the basic tenets of empathy provided by a show they claim to love to stand up to such bullies.

If you don’t like Rocknaldo, that’s just fine. Because you shouldn’t like how Ronaldo acts in it. Liking something doesn’t give you the right to harass people, so do your part in shutting that nonsense down. 

I’ve never been to this…how do you say…school?

Just give us an episode with Peridot, Yellow Pearl, Peedee, and Ronaldo trapped in a room already.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I hate watching this episode, but that doesn’t mean I hate the episode. It does its job very well, which is worthy of admiration even if I’m probably never going to watch it again now that this review is done.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[amillionsmiles]

head in the game (Pidge/Lance)

Summary:

Lance’s plan for his senior year goes like this:

Snag a second-time championship title for Voltron Academy.

Finally buy a new car.

Pass AP Computer Science.

Tripping and falling flat on his face for their basketball manager? 

Not part of the list.

A/N: this ship crawled out of the woodwork and punched me in the face, so naturally I had to write fic.  for @longhairpidge and @flusteredkeith, whom I blame for everything.

[Read and review over on Ao3] or continue under the cut.

The air is heavy with defeat.

Final score: 52 to 41.  Hardly enough to be considered a blowout, but the somber atmosphere of the locker room suggests otherwise. It’s difficult to believe that this is the same team that managed to snatch a victory from under Galra Tech’s nose at last year’s championship.

But that’s exactly the problem—they aren’t the same team, a fact made painfully obvious by the stony silence of their new team captain.  Keith’s hands are fisted in the fabric of his shorts, head bent and gaze drilling into the floor.

“All right.” Coach Coran clears his throat.  “Chin up, boys.  Nobody’s died.”

“We knew this was going to be a tough game going into it,” he continues, looking around the room. “We’ve lost a lot of talent and experience between last year and this year, it’s true.  But that’s true of every team.  Some of you are filling new roles, and they aren’t shoes I expect you to fit right into immediately.  That’ll come with time.  Chalk this up to experience; that’s what the pre-season is for.  Now we’ve seen what works and what needs to be fixed.

Practice tomorrow afternoon at the usual time.  Finish up whatever you need to in here and make sure you guys don’t leave any of your stuff behind.  Let’s bring it in.”

Everyone gets to their feet and circles up, hands placed in the center.  Normally, Keith would lead the cheer, but Lance can tell he’s still a bit rattled from the loss, so he steps in.  

“Lions on 3!”

“1-2-3 Lions!”

They break.  Hunk goes to the bathroom to wash up; Coach Coran leaves the locker room to check on the bus.  The rest of the team starts dressing out—Lance grimaces as the collective odor from eleven boys pulling off their basketball shoes fills the air.

He steps into his pants slowly.  Perks of skinny jeans: they make his ass look good.  The downside is that they’re a pain to put on after games, as they tend to stick to his legs when he’s sweaty.  By the time he’s buckled his belt and slipped into his usual cotton tee, most of the locker room has cleared out, save Keith, still in his uniform and looking utterly dejected.

Shoving his dirty socks into his bag, Lance goes over and sits next to him.

“Hey, man, don’t beat yourself up about this.  Like Coach said, it’s still pre-season.”

A year ago, if you’d told Lance that he’d be here, comforting Keith Kogane, he’d have scoffed.  It turns out, however, that you can’t really win a district title without respecting your teammates, and anyways, they left the whole rivalry thing in the dust a while ago, despite the good-natured ribbing that remains here and there. Point is, Keith is solidly in the friend camp, and friends don’t let other friends mope for no good reason.  

“I messed up,” Keith says, head thudding against the wall behind them as he looks up at the ceiling.  “Trying to take on their defense, all those turnovers—what was I thinking?”

“Hey, it’s okay.  You were just trying to play your game.  The only difference is that now you have to see it more as our game.” Lance taps the side of his head with his finger.

Keith snorts.  “You sound like Shiro.”  There’s a wistfulness to his voice when he speaks of the former captain, now away at college.  “I was up last night talking to him, you know.  We were going over strategies and talking about plays and then I stepped out on that court tonight and it’s like I just—forgot it all.  We would’ve beat Balmera last year like it was nothing. I blew it.”

“There you go again with the ‘I,’” says Lance.  “There are five of us out on that court, Keith, plus six more of us on the bench.  Eight, if you count Coach and Pidge.  We’re all in this together.  So we lost—big deal.  We’ll work hard and we’ll beat them when we see them again in district, no problem.”  He claps Keith on the shoulder, standing up.  “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired. The sooner we get on the bus, the sooner we get home.”

Keith shoots him a small but grateful smile.  “Yeah, okay.  I’ll be right out.”

Satisfied with their pep talk, Lance leaves him behind and heads out to the parking lot, bounding up the steps of the bus.  Coach Coran is seated toward the front—“Keith?” he questions, and Lance answers, “He’s on his way,” while scanning the rows before him.  Most everyone is an indistinct shape in the dark, but he finally finds the person he’s looking for.

“‘Sup, nerd bird.”

Their basketball manager rolls her eyes, unfazed by the nickname.  (Meanwhile, Lance is especially proud of the whole Pidge = pigeon = bird association.) Still, she doesn’t argue when he sits next to her, the laminated vinyl crinkling under his weight.

“Can I see the stats?”

It’s an old routine between them by now.  Pidge passes over the book and Lance takes out his phone to use as a flashlight, holding it up with his left hand as he traces down the page with his right to find his name.  11 points: 2 of them from free throws, and only 1 3-pointer made out of 5 attempts.  He’s definitely had better days.

Pidge seems to read his mind.  “You guys didn’t do as well on the outside shots this time around,” she assesses, taking back the stats book.  “It’s all right, though.  I’m 95% sure we’ll beat them next time.”

“Only 95%?” Lance teases, but he’s already shrugging off the loss.  Next play, and all that.  It’s why he loves the sport—there’s a certain dynamism on the court that’s hard to find anywhere else.

The bus gets rolling, starting forward with a lurch; Keith must have finally boarded.

“Is your dad picking you up from school?” asks Lance, bending over to rummage around in his bag for a granola bar.

“Yeah.”

“I could have given you a ride, you know.” He breaks off a chunk of his KIND bar, popping it in his mouth.  “You don’t live that far away from me, and then your dad wouldn’t have to drive at night.”

Pidge shoots him a doubtful look.  “Your car is like, on the verge of breaking down.”

“Lucky Blue is old, not decrepit,” scoffs Lance.  “But fine, when I finally get a new car, then I’ll take you home.”

“Ew, gross.”

“Shut up, Pidge, I didn’t mean it like that.”

God forbid that he’d ever consider Pidge romantically.  She doesn’t let him get away with nearly enough, plus he’s pretty sure that she’s still secretly plotting revenge for last year’s Tabasco Fiasco.

Pidge looks on the brink of retort but stifles a yawn instead, glasses tilting askew as she reaches up with a knuckle to rub the corner of her eye.  It makes her appear adorably innocent, and Lance can’t resist teasing, poking her in the side.

“You can close your eyes and get some rest, you know.  I’ll even be nice and offer my shoulder as a cushion.”

“Please, your shoulder’s too bony.”

“Funny, because I have it on several good authorities that my shoulders are broad and swoon-worthy—”

That earns him a punch on said shoulder, along with a grumbled, “You are so obnoxious.”

Lance laughs.  “Just go to sleep, Pidge.  I’ll wake you up when we’re back on campus.”

Surprisingly, she listens, flipping up her hood and curling away from him toward the window, where the lights from the cityscape slice through the glass.    

*

It’s 6:45 A.M. and Lance is sitting in his car, trying to get his driver’s side window to roll back up.  The sun has just started to rise, which takes some of the edge off of his frustration, but the 3-inch gap between where his window ends and where it should be remains painfully obvious.

“Come on, Blue, don’t do this to me,” he groans, thumping forward so that his head hits the top of the steering wheel.  It’s not the end of the world—the student body of Voltron Academy is trustworthy enough that he doubts anyone would try to break into his car, and it’s not like he has anything valuable to begin with, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.  This is the same car that got three of his four older siblings through high school.  He’s like, 99% sure that Tommy lost his virginity in the backseat.  So every time Lucky Blue falls apart on him, it feels like a betrayal.

Then again, maybe Lucky Blue has gotten wind of Lance’s long-term plan to replace her, and this is her revenge.  Not that cars are sentient, but. It’s a theory.

Lance finally gives up and takes the keys out of the ignition, grabbing his stuff from the seat next to him and getting out of the car.

At least I got a good parking spot, he thinks.  He hates the weeks when they have early morning practice as much as the next person, but the upside is that it gets him to school before 90% of the rest of the populace.

Shoving his phone in his back pocket, Lance heads toward the gym, clicking his keys over his shoulder.  As he gets closer, he notices a petite figure seated at one of the stone tables near the gym doors.  The person is slumped forward, head buried in their arms, glasses perched in a tangled mane of tawny hair.

A grin steals over his face.

Lance slows his steps, treading quietly.  Sneaking up behind his victim, he brings his lips as close as possible to the shell of their ear before releasing one loud, long whistle.

The elbow driven into his stomach is expected but worth it, especially for the bleary-eyed scowl he receives.

“Morning, sunshine,” Lance grins, sliding onto the bench beside Pidge. He snatches up the thermos by her elbow and sniffs it, making a face at the bitter stench of black coffee.

Pidge swipes at him half-heartedly, bags beneath her eyes.  “Go away.”

“Why are you here so early?”

“Parents had work. Dad dropped me off on the way to his lab.” Shortly after her pronouncement, she thumps forward into her arms again.

“You know what would solve this whole problem?” asks Lance, nudging her.

“Don’t say it—”

“Getting your license.”

Pidge doesn’t deign to provide a verbal response, instead opting to raise her middle finger.

“There’s a reason cars have captured the American imagination,” Lance persists, philosophizing. “Automobiles are a symbol of autonomy.  They offer personal mobility, freedom…”

“Currently, the only thing enticing me to get behind a wheel is the prospect of maybe one day running you over.”

“And get tried as a minor.  Clever.”

“Lance.” Keith has finally shown up, gym bag slung over his shoulder and basketball shoes in hand.  “Stop bothering Pidge and get in the gym, it’s time for practice.”

“Aye aye, cap’n,” Lance salutes, getting to his feet.  To Pidge, he says: “Duty calls.  Guess you’re on your own again.”

“Oh, no, I’m so upset.”

“You’ll miss me one of these days,” he counters, reaching over to ruffle her hair.

Keith falls into step beside him, pulling open the gym doors. “You’re cheerful,” he observes, a single eyebrow raised.

“Am I?” asks Lance, setting his stuff down in the bleachers and shimmying out of his sweatpants and jacket to reveal the T-shirt and shorts underneath.  Now that he considers it, he does feel a bit more upbeat than he was when he first got on campus.  “Might be because of the weather. It’s not usually this warm in November.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, a certain dryness to his tone. “Must be the weather.”

The rest of the team filters in, tying shoelaces, touching toes.  They start their stretches, and soon the blood is pumping through his veins as they move on to conditioning and other drills.  His back, arms, and hamstrings are aching after the first batch of towel runs, and then it’s full-court layups and 3 on 2 on 1 and 7-spot shooting.  It’s a good kind of ache, though.  There’s something about fighting your way through the fatigue of a sport that makes you feel like you can conquer anything.  By the time practice has ended, Lance’s body is tired but his mind is alert.

Hunk, though, looks a little worse for wear.

“You okay, buddy?” Lance asks his best friend.  “You look like you didn’t sleep much last night.”

“I didn’t,” Hunk sighs.  “I was studying for the English quiz and trying to finish at least one of my college essays, plus I have a physics test tomorrow.”

Lance makes a face.  “That’s rough.  What about you, Keith?”

Keith shrugs.  “Homework’s the usual, I guess, but my schedule’s not as packed as Hunk’s.  Plus I’m done with all my college stuff.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah, I only applied to 3 schools.” He frowns at Lance.  “I thought you were done, too.  Didn’t you turn an app in back in October?”

“Yeah, for Carolina.  But I still have to do like 6 others.”  He swallows.  “In case, you know…”

“When do you find out?”

“End of January.”

It’s weird, what college admissions season does to people.  Lance has never been a superstitious person, and he grew up breathing and bleeding Carolina Blue, courtesy of two parents and two older siblings (Anais and Tommy decided to buck the trend).  But the closer he gets to hearing back, the less he wants to talk about it—afraid to wear his wanting too openly, because then it’ll hurt that much more if he gets rejected.

Hunk picks up on his mood and reaches over, squeezing his knee.

“You’ll get in, Lance.”

“And if you don’t, screw them,” shrugs Keith, who spent the entirety of last year’s AP season plotting Collegeboard’s demise alongside Pidge.  He shoots Lance a wry smile, pulling on his fingerless gloves.  “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

*

There are lots of things that Lance finds funny.  For example: elephant seals, Vine compilations, and the sight of Katie Holt trying to maneuver a box of uniforms down the stairs.

It’s their last tournament before winter break, and most everyone is on the bus or about to board it.  As manager, Pidge has been saddled with the task of bringing up the rear, carrying all their equipment.  The box containing their jerseys, however, is almost too wide for her arm span; as a result, Pidge is forced to waddle comically, using her hips to keep it in place.

Lance watches her progress down the steps leading from the back door of the gym.  At their base, Pidge sets the box down next to the bag of basketballs.  She places her hands on her hips as she regards the items in front of her, trying to figure out the most efficient way to carry the two in one trip.

Lance bounds over just as Pidge hauls the ball bag over her shoulder, picking up the box of jerseys before she can get her hands on them.

“That’s my job,” she says, frowning, because of course Pidge would rather be annoyed at him than grateful.

Lance raises an eyebrow.  “Just let me carry this.  The ball bag is already three-quarters of your size.”

“Shut up,” growls Pidge, aiming a kick at his shins.  He steps out of range easily, and Pidge scurries to catch up; Lance bites the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from making a comment about how it takes her two strides to match one of his.

“Do you have the med kit?”

“It’s already on the bus,” says Pidge.  “Where’s your gym bag?”

“Gave it to Hunk to carry.”

“Typical.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” quips Lance, which, granted, doesn’t make complete sense, but at least it gets him an eye roll.  “Are you excited for winter break?”

Pidge smiles.  “Yeah.  Matt will back in town, so we’ll probably do a Carlsbad trip and a White Sands trip like usual, then spend the rest of the time just hanging out.”  She hesitates, biting her lip before asking, “What about you?”

“Visiting the grandparents in Florida.  Mariel and Anais are coming down so I’ll be on babysitting duty with the little nieces and nephews again.”

“Uncle Lance.” Pidge looks thoughtful and, dare he say it, mildly impressed.  When she catches him studying her, though, her expression quickly shifts back to neutral.

They finally get the stuff onto the bus.  Lance leaves Pidge’s side to sit next to Hunk, though Pidge ends up in the seat in front of them, immediately putting on her bulky headphones.  Lance pulls out his laptop; it’s a forty-five minute drive to Arus High, the host of the tournament, and he’s hopeful that he can make some headway on his computer science homework before they get there.

Taking the class had been a bit of a whim; he’d done mostly biology throughout high school and figured that it might be good to try something new before graduating.  After ten minutes, though, there’s a growing pressure behind his eyes, heralding a coming migraine.

Lance looks to his side.  Hunk is knocked out, head bumping against the rattling bus window. Which leaves…

“What?” Pidge asks upon feeling him tap the top of her head.

“I need help,” says Lance, handing his laptop to her over the seat before stepping into the aisle and sliding into the spot next to her.  “I’m supposed to program this stupid mosquito to multiply every three steps, but it keeps disappearing.”

Pidge scans through his code before handing his laptop back to him.  “You’re missing a semicolon on line 35—”

“Fuck, I knew it’d be something stupid like that,” says Lance, saving the change and hitting run again.  “Wait, hold on, now there’s too many of them—”

“I wasn’t done listing all your errors,” huffs Pidge, leaning over.  “This whole switch-case portion is messed up, you can actually just take care of it with one if-then…”

Lance listens to her talk.  There’s something soothing about her techno-babble, an endearing quality to her excitement as she gets particularly heated about his decision to use a for-each loop—god, Lance, are you trying to make this harder for yourself? He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until she turns her head to look at him, scrutinizing behind those giant circular frames.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head.  “Just thinking.”

Pidge narrows her eyes.  “About what?”

“About how smart you are,” Lance says, and it’s true—Pidge skipped a grade, could easily have skipped two if she’d wanted to, though it’s strange to envision her graduating alongside him and Hunk and Keith.  “And how lucky I am to have you.”

He means it in the most grateful way possible—his grade in this class would be significantly lower without her—but Pidge seems to take offense, cheeks flushing pink.

“Stupid,” she mutters.  He can’t tell whether the comment is meant for him or herself. She pulls her headphones back over her ears before he can ask.      

*

One week after returning from winter break, Pidge barges into the library, disturbing Hunk and Lance’s quiet study session.

“Lance,” she says unceremoniously, and his first thought is—oh, shit, what am I in trouble for now—before she follows up with: “You have a car.”

Lance leans back in his chair, balancing precariously on its two back legs as he eyes her warily.  “Yes, I do.  And it’s a new one, too.”

He’d finally gotten it over winter break, the culmination of two years of savings plus money from his parents, on the agreement that the car will go to his mom while he’s away at college.  It’s a sleek red beauty, all shiny paint and feline grace.  Lance’s only regret is that he didn’t have it junior year, because it definitely would have helped him pick up chicks.

“Great. You’re helping me with dinner duty, then.”

“Excuse me, what?”

“Coach Coran gave me money to cover food for the whole team before the game,” Pidge explains, and Lance sees a slip of paper change hands between her and Hunk.  “I need you to drive me.”

“Why can’t Keith do it? He’s captain!”

“Keith’s in ‘the zone’ right now.  Besides.” And here she actually attempts a pout—Lance nearly topples backward, he’s so surprised.  “You promised me you’d give me a ride when you got your new car.”

“I—” splutters Lance, at a loss.  Hunk smothers a laugh, disguising it as a cough.

“Just go with her, Lance,” he says, and there’s something suspicious in his tone that Lance will have to grill him about later.  “It’s not like you were being that productive anyways.”

“I resent that,” says Lance.  “If I fail this quiz tomorrow, I’m blaming both of you.”

“Ha!” is Pidge’s only response before she’s manhandling him out the door, dragging him toward the parking lot by his sleeve.  He manages to put his foot down and extricate himself from her grip eventually, resting an arm on her head when she comes to a stop, looking utterly lost.  The parking lot stuffed full of cars glitters before them, all shiny chrome bumpers.

“Lance,” Pidge says through gritted teeth, when a minute has passed and he’s still using her as an armrest.  “Where’s your car.”

“This way,” he says, whistling cheerfully.  Pidge follows.

They get to Big Red and he leans against the driver’s side door, posing proudly as he waits for her assessment.  “Well?”

“Well, it definitely screams ‘I’m an adolescent male.’”

Lance rolls his eyes.  “Just get in.”

Pidge doesn’t need to be told twice, opening the passenger’s side and sliding into her seat without ceremony, clicking her seatbelt.  Lance, meanwhile, takes significantly more time, savoring the feel of the leather.  The smooth purr of the engine as he turns the key in the ignition, a far cry from the dying splutter of his old car.  A windshield that isn’t pockmarked, and the sweet, sweet scent of air freshener—

“Any day now, Lance.”

“Look, it’s my car, I can do whatever I want and take as long as I please.  Also, congratulations, you’re the first person to sit in Big Red besides me, which means you get to be the first to hear the rules.  Don’t scratch the leather, don’t leave any smudges on the dashboard, and don’t touch any of the buttons!”

Pidge scowls when he slaps her hand away.  “I was just trying to turn on the heat,” she grumbles, shoving her hands into the pockets of her green hoodie.  “It’s cold.”

“All in due time,” says Lance, bracing a hand on the back of her headrest so that he can reverse out of the parking lot.  “So, where to?”

“Subway.” Pidge pulls a folded list out of her pocket, waving it in the air.  “I’ve got orders.”

“Sweet, did you get down mine?”

“Yeah. 6-inch Spicy Italian, red onion and jalapenos.”

“Aw, Pidge.” Lance smirks at her, finally reaching over to adjust the heat.  “You’ve got it memorized. I’m touched.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Keeping data on you is literally part of my job.”  And then, in typical Pidge fashion, she turns things around on him: “Also, can we talk about the fact that you named your car Big Red?”

The ensuing debate keeps them busy until they get to Subway.  After that, it’s a quick stop by the gas station so he can refill his tank while Pidge dashes in to use the bathroom.  Lance has the heat running, the interior of the car toasty warm by the time she gets back.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold on, what is that?” he asks, throwing an arm across the seat to prevent Pidge from sitting down.

Pidge looks at the giant cup in her hands, the frosty blue dome visible through the clear, plastic lid.  “A Slurpee?”

“Okay, first off, you were complaining about being cold and now you went and bought a frozen drink?  Secondly, you are not bringing that in my car.”

Pidge shoots him a flat look.  “I’m not five years old, Lance. I won’t spill.”

“You see these seats? Spotless. I’m not risking it.”

“Fine.” Pidge shrugs. “If you’re willing to wait here until I finish.  But pre-game starts in an hour and if we don’t head back now you won’t have enough time to eat your dinner and actually digest it.  I’d hate for you to get a stomach cramp…”  She punctuates her statement by taking an obnoxiously loud sip of the Slurpee, maintaining eye contact the whole time.  Any other girl might have thrown Lance a bone and at least tried to bat her eyelashes.  But not Pidge, no. Pidge dropped all pretense of sweetness and innocence a long time ago in favor of aligning herself with the Devil.

“Goddamnit,” Lance swears, retracting his arm.  “If a single drop gets on these seats, you’re dead.”

Pidge doesn’t respond, too busy gloating like the little asshole she is.  Lance turns on the radio, hoping the cheesy pop music will distract him from sneaking sideways glances and entertaining worst-case scenarios the whole way back.  It doesn’t work. Pidge remains glaringly obvious in his peripheral vision, the worst kind of magnet.  A drop of syrup tracks its way down the side of her cup; Lance is about to make a dying noise when Pidge swipes it up with her thumb just in time, licking it off her finger.    

The gesture eases Lance’s mind, somewhat, and he fully relaxes five minutes later, deciding to embrace the situation as he holds out his right hand.

“Gimme a sip.”

Pidge pauses mid-slurp, considering.  “No.”

“No?” His fingers wiggle impatiently at her across the center console.  “I drove you.  This is your passenger tax.  Pay up.”

“I’m saying this as your manager,” Pidge says.  “No soft drinks before the game. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“That’s a BS rule!”

“Maybe, but you have to honor it.  Also, you were supposed to turn left at that last light.”

“Wh—no I wasn’t!” Lance denies, despite the gut knowledge telling him otherwise.

“Were too.”

“Was not.”

“Were too,” says Pidge.  When Lance looks over at her, she sticks out her tongue, stained blue.  The end of the red straw of her drink has been gnawed at, a crumpled mess, and Lance files that detail away as further proof that Pidge is, in fact, a gremlin.

“Okay, look here, missy, you can’t be a backseat driver if you don’t even have a license.”

“I have a permit!”

“My point exactly.  When are you going to actually learn to drive?”

Pidge wrinkles her nose.  “I just think it’s boring,” she says.  “Besides, why bother when I have you?”

“Wow, is that all I am to you? Just a set of wheels?” says Lance, placing a hand over his chest in mock hurt.  “And here I thought you hung out with me for my charming personality.”  He leans a bit toward Pidge, checking over his right shoulder to change lanes and start circling back.  “What are you going to do next year when I’m away at college?”

Pidge is quiet.  So quiet that Lance thinks she must not have heard him.  He opens his mouth to repeat himself.

“I’ll figure something out.”  She doesn’t look at him when she says it, face directed toward the passenger window, like there’s something in the side mirror that Lance can’t see.  The shift is jarring; the mood between them has gone uncharacteristically pensive, weighted.  It feels like he should say something reassuring, but he isn’t sure what.

And it does feel strange, the more he thinks about it.  The idea of being somewhere else next year, whether or not it ends up being Chapel Hill.  No more randomly crashing at Hunk’s on weeknights or smoothie runs with Keith or trading barbs with Pidge.  A campus that he won’t know like the back of his hand.  Hallways that won’t make him feel on top of the world when he strides through them, at least not until he’s earned his keep.

But these are thoughts better indulged late at night, in the comfort of his bedroom.  So Lance pushes them aside, focusing back on the road and the game ahead.

*

He’s at his desk working on his computer science project when the email appears, a notification in the top right corner of his screen.  At first, he ignores it, but soon the brief glimpse of words is cycling through his head: a status updated has been posted to your portal, a status update has been posted to your portal—

Lance closes out of his program with a shaky breath, opening up his browser.  He’s typed the website in so many times that autofill does most of the work for him; soon, he’s navigating to the panel on the right, cursor hovering over the link.

His heart thuds in his ears, rabbit-fast.

The walls of his room seem to press closer, curious; the posters over his bed regard him with watchful eyes.

He sucks in a breath of air—like readying himself to blow out a cake full of candles—and clicks.

Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you acceptance to—

The laptop screen slams down and he’s rocketing out of his chair, nearly clipping his shoulder on the doorframe as he careens down the stairs.

“Mom!  Dad!  I got in!”

*

The tray of cupcakes slides in front of him unceremoniously, some of the pale blue frosting already stuck to the saran wrap.

Lance looks up.  “Pidge! What are these?”

“Congratulations, doofus.  You got into college.”

He peels the plastic covering away gingerly, lifts one up to the light.  Birthday cake mix—his favorite.

Right before he takes a bite, he pauses.

Wait.

Pidge never goes out of her way to do nice things for him.

“Did you poison this?”

Pidge’s eyes flash.  “Trust me, Lance, I have much more creative ways to introduce you to your death.”

Hunk has already snatched one up and tells Pidge, through a spray of crumbs: “Hey, this is pretty good, Pidge, I never would have guessed you baked.  Little heavy on the vanilla extract, but a solid 7 out of 10 all around.”

“Wasn’t I supposed to get the first bite?” Lance asks, offended.  He quickly remedies the situation by shoving as big a portion as possible into his mouth. The action reduces him to giving Pidge a thumbs-up instead of any meaningful comment, and she rolls her eyes, sitting down next to him and reaching for a cupcake of her own.

*

One of Lance’s favorite sounds is the gentle swish of the net when a shot goes in.  Bounce, step, release: a rhythm ingrained into his bones, one he could tap out in his sleep.

Hunk is tutoring some freshman in math and Keith is who knows where, so he’s enlisted Pidge to rebound for him instead.

“Are you excited for college?” she asks over a bounce pass.

Lance steps forward to catch it, raises his hands, snaps his wrist.  He winces when the ball hits the rim and goes flying in the other direction, forcing Pidge to chase it down.

“I’m more excited for the summer, to be honest,” he answers.  “But then college, sure.  All I know is that I’m definitely ready to be done with senior year.”

He takes a shot from the top of the key before looking over at her.  “What about you? How’s junior year treating you?”

Pidge shrugs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.  “I got all of Matt’s old quizzes, so that’s been a godsend.”

“Sneaky.” Lance grins at her. “I like it.”

Pidge throws the ball back toward him; Lance catches it waist-level before dribbling backwards, an idea taking shape.

“Hey, how much do you want to bet I can make this half-court shot?”

Pidge sends him a flat look.  “The statistical likelihood of you sinking that shot is like, negative one.”

“Okay, I don’t even take statistics but I know that it a straight-up lie,” he says.  “How about this: if I make this, you owe me fries and a milkshake.”

“Deal.” Pidge crosses her arms, smug.  “And if you don’t, you owe me fifty dollars.”

“Ten.”

“Thirty.”

“I’m broke, Pidge!” he protests, before they eventually settle on twenty-five.

The stakes decided, Lance lines up for his shot, giving himself plenty of room behind half-court.  He gets a running start, ball and feet pounding on the shiny hardwood before pulling up right at the bold black line and launching himself into the air, simultaneously lobbing the ball with all his might.  It spins out of his hands all wrong and Lance makes a face, already anticipating the ache of twenty-five fewer dollars in his wallet.  Outwardly, though, he’s not one to concede defeat, and so he and Pidge both watch as the basketball rotates through the air.

And sails, cleanly, through the net.

“A HA!” Lance screeches.

What he does next is more out of instinct and adrenaline than anything.  In lieu of a victory lap, he charges at Pidge, sweeping her up and over his shoulder.  Pidge makes a sound of outrage, somewhere between pterodactyl shriek and angry cat.

“Put me down, Lance!”

“You thought I couldn’t do it,” he singsongs, spinning her around for good measure.  “Say it with me: Lance McClain is a mcfreaking god.”

“In your dreams,” counters Pidge, trying to kick out of his grip.  Lance, however, has perfected this particular hold.  Uncle duties, and all that.  He’s definitely had to drag several angry children apart from each other during family gatherings.

“Guess you aren’t coming down, then,” says Lance, fake innocence.  “I could do this all day.”

Pidge’s fists hammer against his back for a bit longer before she gives up, her entire body sagging.  She mumbles something under her breath.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Lance McClain is a mcfreaking god,” she says, grudgingly, and Lance laughs, finally putting her down.  There’s a lightness in his chest, like the one he gets when he plays with Sofia and Manny, Mariel’s twins, except different.

“You okay there? Your face is red.”

“That’s what happens when you hang upside down and all the blood rushes to your head, you idiot,” Pidge grouches, throwing a hand out at him.  Lance dodges the would-be blow to his gut easily, fingers wrapping around her wrist to prevent any further attack.

And it’s in that moment, with sweat dripping down his back and Pidge’s mouth pursed at him like a fish’s, cheeks puffed out in annoyance, that he becomes suddenly aware of the rapid pulse under his thumb, the hitch in his own breathing.  Nothing to do with physical exertion but everything to do, maybe, with the girl standing in front of him, all five-feet-flat of snark and I-will-kick-your-ass.

Oh, Lance thinks.  Well.

*

“I think I have a crush on Pidge.”

Hunk doesn’t miss a beat, eyes trained straight down on his calculus textbook as he flips the page.  “Yeah, I figured.”

“You figured?”

Hunk levels him with a flat look and holds up a hand, ticking off on his fingers: “Let’s see.  You always bother her on the bus, you get excited when she asks you to give her rides home, and you let her eat in your car.  So yeah, if I’d had to make a guess, having a crush on her is what I would have gone with.” His statement finished, Hunk bends his head, pencil scratching away on paper.

“Are you writing this down?”

“No, I’m trying to finish the math homework.  What’d you get for number six?”

“Haven’t made it that far yet.  Can you focus for a second? My love life is on the line.”

Hunk heaves a long-suffering sigh before closing his notebook and pushing it aside.

“You have five minutes to unload.”

“It’s just weird to think about, you know?  Like, when did this even happen?  When did something in my brain suddenly flip a switch and decide, ‘Hey, you like Pidge!’ And like, I think she likes me, because I was getting some serious vibes or whatever, but what if I’m reading it all wrong? What should I do?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know. Hang out more, I guess.  Take her to prom—” Lance cuts himself off abruptly, going wide-eyed.

“Lance, what just happened.  Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine, I just—I just imagined Pidge in a dress.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow.  “Good image or bad image?”

“Definitely a good image.  Not that she has to wear a dress or anything. Fuck the gender binary, she can show up in a tux for all I care—oh my god. Hunk.” Lance cradles his head in his hands, feeling like a car whose wheels have spun out from under him.  “I have it so bad.”

“If it’s any consolation, Pidge has probably constructed a robot in your likeness and then smashed it to pieces as her preferred method of coping, so I’d say you’re handling this revelation pretty well.”

“The championship game is in two weeks, Hunk,” Lance moans.  “I can’t catch feelings.  I have to get my head in the game.”

“That veiled High School Musical reference destroyed any sympathy I had left for you.”

Lance grins.  “Okay, but what does it say about you if you picked up on it?”

“That I spend too much time hanging out with you, clearly,” says Hunk, throwing an eraser at him.  “Now seriously, we need to finish the homework.”

“Roger that.”

*

For the record, Lance has gone through his entire basketball career without ever once throwing up.  That’s more than what can be said for half of the team—Hunk, for example, definitely heaved after pushing himself too hard during their first conditioning run.  Tonight, though, Lance might join the ranks; his stomach is a roiling, acidic mess.

The bleachers are crammed with people, half of them wearing Galra Tech’s red and purple, the other half wearing Voltron Academy’s black and white.  And they’ve been here before, but it’s different, now that they’re the defending champions.  Last year’s defeat is a fresh wound, and the crowd is thirsty for blood.

Not to mention, Lance does not like the look of Galra’s new point guard.  Lance doesn’t trust any guy who can make a ponytail look slick instead of greasy.  That’s like, next level witchcraft.

Keith is on edge, too.  He keeps eyeing the other team during their pre-game, almost gets a bloody nose due to his distraction, if not for Hunk intercepting the ball flying toward his face at the last minute. Allura, Matt, and Shiro have managed to make it down for the game, and Lance knows that Keith is particularly antsy at the thought of his boyfriend watching from the stands.  There’s a lot on his shoulders.

On all of their shoulders.

A minute before the buzzer goes off, Coach Coran calls them in.  Lance squeezes into the huddle between Hunk and Keith, and suddenly he’s overwhelmed by it all—the warm press of bodies, the determination in everyone’s eyes, the blisters and sports tape and sweat stains that have taken them to this moment.  It swells inside him, this sense of belonging to something greater.  Victory, but also loss, because after this it’s upwards and onwards, to college and the rest of his life’s great unknown.

The end of an era.

“Whatever happens tonight, know that you’ve earned your place on this court,” Coach Coran says, looking in each of their eyes.  “A championship isn’t something you just win, it’s something you work for, and that’s what I’ve seen from all of you since the start of the season.  We’ve come a long way.  Keep your heads on straight, keep your hearts in the right place, and look out for each other.  You get out there, and you play ball.”    

“Lions on 3!” Keith calls, eyes bright with the challenge.

“1-2-3 Lions!"

*

They’re down by three, with 2 seconds left in the game.

The air is tense.  It’s been a good fight—they were trailing ten points at the half but managed to come roaring out of the gates, keeping it neck and neck afterwards. Galra Tech’s offense is trickier this year; they’re more patient with their passes, content to wear out the defense before trying to make anything big happen.  It’s Voltron Academy’s possession, everyone’s brows furrowed as they inspect the play Coach Coran has written up on his clipboard.

“Hunk, you inbound.  Rax, Rocky, Keith, you three will draw defenders on the backcourt.  Lance—you set yourself up for the three.”

“They’ll be riding us hard,” Keith pipes up.  “If you need to step up higher to get the pass, do it.  We don’t have much time, Lance, so any shot you think you can get up…” He reaches over, clasping Lance’s shoulder, and it’s a testament to how far they’ve come, that Lance can read the faith burning in his eyes.  “Take it.”

Lance swallows.  “Okay.”

“Drink up.” Pidge shoves her way into their midst, the team huddle dispersing to wait out the remaining ten seconds of their time-out.

Lance accepts the bottle of blue Gatorade from her gratefully, gulping down as much as he can.

“Thanks, Pidge,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  Pidge takes the drink back, nodding.

“You’ve got this,” she says.  It’s the same voice she used to bully her way into captaining the robotics team, a tone that brooks no room for debate, and Lance’s chest overflows, suddenly, with affection.

I don’t have a crush on Pidge, he thinks.  Crushes are soft, simple things.  Katie Holt is a complicated tangle of parts, and Lance is starting to realize that he wants to spend a good portion of his foreseeable future figuring them out.

Any shot you think you can get up… take it.

He’s about to lob a 22 ounce ball into an 18-inch diameter hoop from a distance of at least 19 feet. A long shot.

What’s one more to add to the list?      

“Pidge,” Lance starts, heart pounding faster than it does after a full-court layup, “if I make this shot, will you go out with me?”

The last part gets semi-drowned out by the buzzer going off (thanks, universe), and Pidge waves him off with a “Yeah, sure,” shooing him onto the court.  It’s not until they’ve gotten into position and the ref has blown his whistle, handing the ball over to Hunk to inbound, that the rest kicks in—“Wait, what?”

*

This is how the longest two seconds of Lance’s life unfold:

Hunk slaps the ball.  Keith and Rax dive toward him, criss-crossing in hopes of throwing off their defenders.  Lotor is back on Keith in a heartbeat, the two point guards struggling for position.  Rocky tries to get open, to no avail.

Across the court, Hunk motions desperately.  Lance starts running to catch the pass, but one of the Galra defenders manages to get his hand in the lane, fingers knocking it from its original trajectory, and it’s a mad dash for possession, the clock ticking now that someone’s made contact, and Lance chases it down right at half-court, no options left but to launch it from where he stands.

It goes in.

*

It’s nearly 10 P.M. when he finally leaves the gym, hair curling around his ears and damp from all the sweat.  They managed to pull out the win in overtime, 63 to 59. Allura has invited everyone over to celebrate—like old times—and he’s changed into a simple blue tee and thrown on his letterman for the occasion.

Whistling cheerfully, Lance is in no way prepared for the shape that materializes out of the darkness.

“Jesus,” he swears, taking a step back.  He squints. “Pidge?”

“Hey, Lance.”  She doesn’t move from her spot.

Lance walks toward her.  “I thought you’d be leaving with Matt.”

“Yeah, well.”  Pidge eyes him sideways, as if afraid to meet his gaze head on.  “I was wondering if you could give me a ride.”

“Sure, of course.”

Neither of them moves.  There’s an awkward distance between them because Lance can’t decide whether he should close the gap.  He can feel himself reddening the longer they stand there.  Nice going, McClain.  Ask a girl out in the heat of the moment and then consign yourself to the sound of crickets chirping for the rest of your life.  Good one.

“Did you mean it?” blurts Pidge. “What you said in the gym.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, and boy is he not prepared for the way his voice comes out, low and hoarse.  “Yeah, I did.”

Pidge looks at him fully, then, and it’s almost like he can see the gears whirring in her head.  “But you’re graduating.”

“So?” Lance steps forward, emboldened. He never thought he’d make it this far.  “If Keith and Shiro can manage it, then so can we.”

“You’re not as responsible as Shiro.”

“Okay, see, clearly in that statement I was comparing myself to Keith.”

Pidge smiles. In the dark, the glint of her teeth is a prize all its own.

“I don’t even know why I like you,” she says, but it’s all warmth and affection, edged with wonder.  Lance’s chest buzzes with it.

“I can make a list,” he offers.  “Would you like it alphabetized?  I give really good back rubs.”

That gets him an eye roll.

God, he really likes her eye rolls.

Pidge beckons with a finger.  “C’mere.”

Lance doesn’t need to be told twice.  As he approaches, he realizes that the reason Pidge hasn’t moved is because she’s strategically positioned herself on a ledge.  It gives her an added foot of height, forcing him to tilt his face up slightly as they get closer.  Because of course Pidge would take the high ground.

“Is this some sort of power play?” he asks.  “Because if so… that’s pretty kinky.”

“Shut up, Lance,” says Pidge, winding her arms around his neck.  He shrugs off his duffel to hold her closer; the bag hits the ground with a satisfying thump, and then it’s nothing but softness and strawberry chapstick, noses bumping against each other when they miss the first time, laughing in the late night air.

Pidge folds into his arms perfectly, and he beams up at her when they break apart.

“Wanna grab Slurpees before we head to Allura’s?”

She grins down at him.  A tiny green gremlin with a sweet tooth and a loudly thumping heart.

“You bet.”

[ part 2 (the pidge sequel!)  ]

[frogbutane57-blog]

Best TV of 2019 so far

Back to Life

Daisy Haggard’s downbeat gem took on a tough topic – a woman’s return to her home town after a stretch behind bars – and turned it into a meditation on grief, regret and the passing of time, though with enough gags to keep things zipping along.

What we said: A few episodes into Back to Life, I felt like pushing it away in protest. “No, no!” I cried inwardly. “It’s too much! It’s too good!” Read the full review

Barry

In its second season, this black comedy about a hitman who catches the acting bug took its story into darker territory, with Barry’s attempts to extricate himself from his past life only dragging him further into oblivion. Things aren’t going to end well.

What we said: Though it’s a comedy rather than a thriller, Barry replicates much of what made Breaking Bad irresistible. Read more

Broad City

After five virtually flawless sitcom seasons, Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson’s millennial kweens went out in the same way they came in: with gross-out gags, madcap surrealism and one of the greatest on-screen friendships in TV history.

What we said: This season has given Abbi and Ilana the best possible send-off. It has been joyful, silly and wild, and while it feels like the perfect and necessary time to wrap up their adventures, it is poignant that they’ve done so by reminding you just how good those can be. Read more

A fitting, shocking end ... Catastrophe. Photograph: Channel 4

Catastrophe

Another comedy that went out on a high, Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney’s tale of floundering parents managed to deliver more home truths about the family unit, pay fond tribute to late guest star Carrie Fisher – and offer up one of the most shocking endings in recent TV history.

What we said: From first to last, Catastrophe has been an unremitting triumph. Read the full review

Chernobyl

Already sitting atop IMDb’s top 250 TV shows list before the final episode has even aired, Sky and HBO’s restaging of the Soviet nuclear disaster captures the ineptitude, corruption and horror at its core.

What we said: Chernobyl is a disaster movie, a spy movie, a horror movie, a political thriller, and a human drama, and it spins each plate expertly. The terror is unflinching and explicit, and its images of burned bodies collapsing into putrid decay are impossible to forget. Yet it never feels shocking for the sake of it, only as haunting and horrible as its subject matter demands. Read more

Finally ... David Attenborough lays bare our greatest threat in Climate Change: The Facts. Photograph: BBC/Polly Alderton

Climate Change: The Facts

After years spent hinting at the damage done to our planet by the climate crisis , David Attenborough finally laid out the threat in all its magnitude, in a documentary that may just have turned sceptics into believers.

What we said: This is a rousing call to arms. It is an alarm clock set at a horrifying volume. Read the full review

Dead Pixels

E4’s comedy accurately captured the loneliness and mundanity, but also the sense of community, that comes with picking up a controller. All that, and it was as addictive as an all-night Fifa session to boot.

What we said: This wickedly entertaining new sitcom may have been inspired by the massive success of online games like World of Warcraft but, thankfully, you are not required to know your Azeroth from your elbow to enjoy it. Read more

Derry Girls

One of last year’s surprise hits, Lisa McGee’s Northern Irish comedy didn’t let things slip in its second season, with its quartet still finding teenage kicks in the midst of the Troubles. The scene in which teens from both sides of the sectarian divide unleashed a barrage of stereotypes about each other (“Protestants hate ABBA!”) is among the year’s funniest.

What we said: Derry Girls’ magic remains intact. The evocation of the 90s is as lightly done as ever (Elizabeth Hurley is fleetingly referenced – “She’s a total ride, but she paperclips her frocks together”) and the Troubled setting never overwhelms but simply throws into relief the ordinariness of the girls’ lives in the middle of extraordinary depths of conflict. Read the full review

Don’t Forget the Driver

Bleak comedy … Toby Jones in Don’t Forget the Driver Photograph: BBC/Sister Pictures

Pulling off a state-of-the-Brexit-nation series looked a tall order, but Toby Jones’s understated comedy-drama was taller, finding humour and pathos in its tale of a coach driver who discovers a refugee hiding in his wheel arch and a body washed up on the beach.

What we said: If it is a comedy, it is one with the bleakest tragedy at its heart. But whatever label you put on it, it is a fine, fine piece of work. Read the full review

Fleabag

Back for its second (and, as it turned out, final) outing, Fleabag added a hot priest into the already heady mix of biting wit and family dysfunction – and it built to a heart-rending ending with a wedding, a mad dash to the airport … and a fox. Unforgettable.

What we said: Series two raised the bar. Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s risks were so impressive all one could do was shake one’s head in appreciation. Read the full review

Game of Thrones

Unquestionably the TV event of the year ... Game of Thrones. Photograph: HBO

Did the gargantuan fantasy drama stick the landing in its final season? That’s an argument for the comments section, but both in the scale of its six episodes, and the fevered discussion they prompted, it was unquestionably the TV event of the year.

What we said: The ending was true to the series’ overall subject – war, and the pity of war – and, after doing a lot of wrong to several protagonists, it did right by those left standing. When you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. Overall, I think, it won. Read the full review

Gentleman Jack

Sally Wainwright travelled back in time for her latest piece of thrillingly human Yorkshire drama, with this real life tale of Anne Lister. Suranne Jones has received rave reviews for her portrayal of the 19th-century industrialist and diarist, who developed a code to hide her lesbianism.

What we said: It’s Regency Fleabag! Because the heroine occasionally breaks the fourth wall and exteriorises her inner monologue. But it’s set in Halifax in 1832, so it could be Northern Jane Austen. Then again, it’s about Anne Lister, who has been dubbed the first modern lesbian, so maybe it’s Queer Brontë ... You can afford to have a little fun with Gentleman Jack; Sally Wainwright clearly has. Read the full review

Ghosts

The Horrible Histories team offered up more unashamedly silly comedy with this spirited sitcom about a group of ghouls going to war with the new owners of a crumbling mansion.

What we said: In making us giggle at the supernatural, Ghosts is very British. But it is American in the sense of having a gag-to-airtime ratio much higher than British sitcoms normally manage these days. Read the full review

I Think You Should Leave With Tim Robinson

This deliriously absurd sketch show from a former Saturday Night Live player was hailed immediately as one of the greatest Netflix shows to date.

What we said: I wolfed down the entire series in one sitting, genuinely incapacitated with laughter. And then I watched it all again. I’m at the stage where I’m cherrypicking sketches now, but I’ve seen my favourites six or seven times. I’m fully obsessed at this point. At its peak, I think I Think You Should Leave might be one of the funniest things I have ever seen. Read more

Leaving Neverland

A devastating four-hour exposé of alleged child sexual abuse by Michael Jackson. Wade Robson and James Safechuck chillingly and plausibly outlined their accounts of childhood grooming by the man that they, and the whole world, worshipped.

What we said: An astonishing piece of work. Relentlessly spare and unsensationalist, it manages better than any other in its genre not to let its attention wander from the survivors’ testimony. Footage of Jackson is confined almost wholly to that of him with the boys themselves on stage, private calls between them and family snaps. He is never allowed to overwhelm the story. Read the full review

Line of Duty

Complex … Martin Compston and Stephen Graham in Line of Duty. Photograph: BBC/World Productions

Jed Mercurio’s police corruption masterpiece returned for a fifth outing after a two-year wait, bringing with it a stunningly complex performance from Stephen Graham, more urgent exits required … and heartstopping, jaw-dropping action to the last.

What we said: As ever, nothing is wasted; not a scene, not a line, not a beat. It fits together flawlessly – you can imagine Mercurio sitting like a watchmaker at his table with the parts spread before him and fitting the loupe to his eye before assembling the whole thing and listening for its perfectly regulated tick. Read the full review

Mum

Stefan Golaszewski’s sitcom tour de force ended on a heartwarming high. Over three lovely series, Lesley Manville and Peter Mullan as Cathy and Michael gave us the gift of a quietly epic romance that will echo down the ages – and kept the tears in our eyes.

What we said: Mum might have looked like it was just a sitcom, but it had something beautiful to say about love and loss. It’s said it. Read the full review

Pose

Assembling the largest collection of trans actors in televisual history, Ryan Murphy’s big-hearted drama about the voguing scene in 1980s New York had style, grace, swagger and sass for days. What’s not to love?

What we said: Razzle-dazzle showmanship isn’t Pose’s only source of infectious joy. Watching the slow, still-unfolding process of these characters becoming more and more their true selves is as exhilarating as the opening bars of Cheryl Lynn’s Got to be Real. Self-actualisation isn’t easy, but it sure is beautiful. Read the full review

Pure

Frank and fearless ... Pure. Photograph: Sophia Spring/Channel 4

Following a young woman with a form of OCD called Pure O, which manifests as constant invasive thoughts about sex, this comedy-drama was among the year’s frankest and most fearless TV.

What we said: The drama and the gags are never sacrificed to worthy exposition, virtue-signalling or finger-wagging, but, at the same time, the series has so evidently been made in good faith that you can surrender to it entirely, never fearing that it will put a foot wrong. Read the full review

Russian Doll

A hipster Groundhog Day, but also so much more, Natasha Lyonne’s comedy about a thirtysomething trapped in a time loop of death and rebirth proved a truly mind-bending proposition.

What we said: Russian Doll is an acquired taste. But do persist: there is such a fine, idiosyncratic, impressive show nested within. Read the full review

Sex Education

Gillian Anderson starred as Jean, a sex therapist whose son Otis (Asa Butterfield) – though too anxious to masturbate himself – sets up a sex advice service at school. A punchy, horny comedy, with the added bonus of the fantastic Ncuti Gatwa as Otis’s best friend Eric. Worth watching for his heroic prom outfit alone.

What we said: Endlessly and seemingly effortlessly funny, in a naturalistic way that doesn’t have you listening for the hooves of the next gag thundering down a well-worn track but, like Catastrophe, catches you almost unawares and makes you bark with laughter. Read the full review

The Last Survivors

Sam Dresner, Anita Lasker-Wallfisch, Frank Bright and Susan Pollack ... The Last Survivors. Composite: BBC/Minnow Films Ltd

Arthur Cary’s thoughtful, wonderful and always dignified 90-minute documentary heard the stories of some of the last living people who survived concentration camps as children. A very important work indeed.

What we said: For an hour and a half, I was crying, especially when Cary followed three generations of Holocaust survivors to Auschwitz, knowing all the time that tears are not enough. Nor guilt. Read the full review

The Other Two

How would you react if you could barely get cast as Man Who Smells Fart in an advert while your kid brother became a Bieber-esque teen hearthrob overnight? That’s the premise of this brilliant satire, which skewers our pop-culture-obsessed society spectacularly.

What we said: It has heart, charm, steel, belly laughs and a gimlet eye. Get on it. Read the full review

The Victim

John Hannah and Kelly Macdonald starred in an intelligent drama about a vigilante attack on a potential child killer that managed to ask ever more challenging questions as its episodes rolled on.

What we said: It is a drama that resonates with its time by asking what constitutes a victim and how much leeway we allow in bestowing that status. Do they have to be perfect? How sure do we have to be? And what happens when the perpetrator becomes a victim too, of a different kind? Read the full review

The Virtues

Shane Meadows reunited with This is England star Stephen Graham for an unflinching drama about a troubled dad attempting to reunite with his long-lost sister and process childhood sexual abuse.

What we said: Unspoken pain infuses every scene, every gesture and expression from Stephen Graham and in doing so lays the foundations to do justice to the suffering of victims everywhere. Read the full review

The Yorkshire Ripper Files

Liza Williams’s three-part documentary revisited one of the biggest – and longest – murder manhunts in British history, taking us back to a time so different it seemed almost foreign.

What we said: At its best, Williams’ series – with its mixture of archive footage and new interviews – is a social document. The hindsight it offers is not primarily about the mishandling of the investigation, but of the grim tone of the times. Read the full review

This Time With Alan Partridge

Appalling company ... This Time With Alan Partridge. Photograph: Colin Hutton/BBC/Baby Cow

The excruciating monkey tennis-pitcher went back to the BBC for a One Show-style magazine programme. Inevitably – and hilariously for viewers – it wasn’t the smoothest of returns.

What we said: We get the heroes we deserve, and as you finish writhing in agony and lie limp from laughter, hatred, panic, despair or in awe at the end of another half-hour in his appalling company, you can only reflect that if Brexit means Alan then the whole business just got more complicated still. Read the full review

Veep

A last hurrah for Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s mendacious yet incompetent vice-president, in a political satire that was perfectly attuned for these most buffoonish of times.

What we said: Louis-Dreyfus has won a record six Emmy awards for her role as Selina Meyer, and, frankly, it’s no wonder. She is magnificent, brittle and furiously amoral. In this seventh and final season of Veep, it appears to be getting out while it still has a hope in hell of making its fictional world look more comedic than the real one. Read the full review

When They See Us

Almost unbearably harrowing ... When They See Us. Photograph: Atsushi Nishijima/Netflix

Ava DuVernay’s staggering miniseries about the Central Park Five showed how a group of young boys came to be falsely convicted for raping a young white woman in 1989. It is unbearably harrowing to watch the boys, as young as 13, get violently coerced by police into giving confessions.

What we said: The performances are uniformly astonishing – especially from the central five, Asante Blackk, Caleel Harris, Ethan Herisse, Marquis Rodriguez and Jharrel Jerome, most of whom are just a few years older than the teens they are playing. They capture the innocence, in all senses, of children, and the permanence of its loss. It feels like a great privilege to see them. Read the full review

Years and Years

Russell T Davies’s hugely ambitious drama followed a family through the next 15 years of British life, taking in the migrant crisis, terrifying technological innovations and Trump’s increasingly fraught face-off with China.

What we said: For a series that compresses 15 years into six hours, it seems to pass in the blink of an eye thanks to Russell T Davies’s trademark humour, compassion and the kinetic energy with which he infuses every project. We do not deserve Davies, but thank God he’s here. Read the full review

100 Vaginas

Following her projects about breasts and penises, artist Laura Dodsworth photographed a range of women’s vulvas, then showed the sitters their vaginal portraits and interviewed them for their responses. The result? Intimate, empowering television, unlike anything that has ever aired before.

What we said: A gently but relentlessly radical documentary. It’s not until you see a full set of female genitals filling your screen that you realise how little you see anything of or about them in wider culture. Read the full review

Source: https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2019/jun/03/best-tv-of-2019-so-far

[thrashermaxey]

Ramblings: The Injury Bug Spreads (Dec 13)

The Injury Bug Spreads To Hall, Dubnyk, among others…

Injuries, injuries, injuries… blech. Is it just me, or has it been a brutal past week? After staying relatively healthy for the first two months of the season, my fantasy teams are suddenly getting hammered with them. It seems as though every day there’s a new injury.

I know that Matt Murray has been reactivated and Corey Perry is now out week-to-week, but I won’t get into the specifics on those. I’ll let Brennan cover the details of those in his Injury Report, which will be posted later today. But… I managed to squeeze one injury news bit between each * and * in this edition of the Ramblings. So let’s hope that the damage was minimal to your team. But if not, please feel free to share your sob story below. Here’s mine.  

When you lose Schultz, Byfuglien, and Pietrangelo to injury all in the same week pic.twitter.com/iCTOOD9Wbk

— Ian Gooding (@Ian_Gooding) December 12, 2017

*

A gut punch to many fantasy teams (such as mine) was the announcement that Alex Pietrangelo is headed to IR with a lower-body injury. Pietrangelo is a top-5 scoring defenseman who is also in the top 10 among d-men in icetime and shots on goal. So those will be big shoes to fill on the St. Louis defense.

With Jay Bouwmeester also out of commission on Tuesday, Colton Parayko logged 27 minutes – a total that he has now reached in back-to-back games. The Blues had just one power-play in their game against Tampa Bay, so there wasn’t a huge sample to draw from. But it is worth mentioning that Vince Dunn led all Blues’ d-men in power-play time in this game. Dunn has just six points in 30 games, so you probably aren’t going to be rushing out to grab him. But he is worth keeping an eye on should Pietrangelo miss more than a few games.

The injury-ravaged Blues didn’t score because they ran into Andrei Vasilevskiy, who has been one of fantasy’s top goalies. The Bolts’ keeper stopped all 32 shots he faced in earning the win in this battle of conference leaders. Vasilevskiy is the first goalie to reach 20 wins this season, as he holds an immaculate 20-4-1 record following this win and shutout.

*

Continuing our theme on injuries, Taylor Hall left Tuesday’s game in the third period with a knee injury. But at least he scored two goals to help the Devils in a convincing 5-1 win over Los Angeles. Don’t forget that Hall is a decorated Band-Aid Boy. Although Hall has stayed relatively healthy over the past two seasons, he has averaged under 70 games played over the six full non-lockout seasons he has played in.

Hall has been driving the bus for the Devils as a point-per-game player this season. So any potential loss would be felt by both his owners and those of his linemates Nico Hischier and Jesper Bratt. Let’s cross our fingers.

*

Here’s another doozie for you. Devan Dubnyk left Tuesday’s game against Calgary after the first period with a lower-body injury. Alex Stalock took over, stopping 16 of 17 shots in eventually earning a shootout victory. Stalock would obviously be a goalie to target should Dubnyk miss any time.

As for a Dubnyk update, take this for what it’s worth:  

Boudreau found out during the first break in the first period that Dubnyk was struggling, but he stayed in the game. "Which says to me that it’s not that serious, I would think," Boudreau said. "I don’t know, though."

— Sarah McLellan (@sarah__mclellan) December 13, 2017

*

Connor McDavid did everything except score and lead the Oilers to victory on Sunday in Toronto. So he was clearly due, and the victim happened to be John Tortorella and the Columbus Blue Jackets. McDavid scored a goal and added three assists as the Oilers annihilated the Blue Jackets 7-2 in Columbus.

It’s worth mentioning that Jesse Puljujarvi has been playing on the McDavid line recently. He scored a goal and added an assist, giving him five goals and two assists in the 14 games since his callup from Bakersfield of the AHL. The fourth overall pick from last year’s draft is currently owned in just 8 percent of Yahoo leagues, making him a viable target in deeper formats.

Sergei Bobrovsky was very un-Bobrovsky-like in this game, allowing five goals on 26 shots before getting the hook at the end of the second period. Out of all the goalies I own on fantasy teams, I can truthfully say he’s been the one goalie I can rely on every night. But even the best goalies put up stinkers every now and then.

And yes, here’s another injury, just to keep the theme going. Brandon Dubinsky was injured late in the third period after a fight with Zack Kassian.  

John Tortorella with one of the shortest press conferences of the season pic.twitter.com/vpSExs4Apx

— Brady Trettenero (@BradyTrett) December 13, 2017

I was sooooooooo looking forward to this. But I’m left soooooooo disappointed. This was a classic waiting to happen.

*

Life is so rough for the Ottawa Senators right now, they can’t even beat Buffalo. That’s five losses in a row for the Sens, who showed their frustration with slammed bench doors and numerous long faces throughout this game.     

I was told that good writers attempt to bring unity throughout their work, so I am trying to do that here with mention of yet another injury. In this section, it’s Bobby Ryan, who left the game in the third period after getting levelled along the boards by Jordan Nolan. After the game, Guy Boucher said that Ryan is fine and was simply pulled by concussion spotters as a precaution.

Erik Karlsson: Worth what you paid for him in a draft? A total of 19 points in 24 games isn’t terrible. But we expected a lot better than a minus-16 (regardless of your opinion of plus-minus). At least he has assists in two of his past three games (including Tuesday’s game), but those are his only points if you go back nearly a month. I can’t help but think that the no-trade list talk is a distraction to this team, but maybe things will settle down.

But are the Sens really this bad? Remember this is a team that could have just as well beaten Pittsburgh in Game 7 overtime of the East Finals, so in less than half a season the wheels have to have really fallen off if they are suddenly a lottery team. While this black cloud is hanging over Canada’s capital, why not test the waters on your league’s Karlsson owner with a discounted offer? Here’s an example of one on the Forum.

*

This time, some positive injury news! Marc-Andre Fleury returned to the Vegas goal on Tuesday, which was his first game in nearly two months. The Hurricanes, being the strong puck possession team that they are, fired 37 shots on Fleury and he was up to the task on all but two of them. Unfortunately he could not hold on for the win, losing in a shootout.

The Golden Knights’ unexpected success has resulted in Fleury currently being valued much higher than we assumed entering fantasy drafts, despite his limited number of games played. It’s amazing that Vegas has been able to stay in a playoff spot in spite of that revolving door of inexperienced goaltenders. Having a stable veteran such as Fleury can only help this team.

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The Jonathan Toews – Brandon Saad – Alex DeBrincat line was buzzing on Tuesday, as each recorded two points in the Hawks’ 3-2 overtime win. We know that Toews and Saad connect, but we should also mention that DeBrincat’s fantasy stock is on the up and up as long as he’s on that line. If you go back to his hat trick on November 27, DeBrincat has ten points (5g-5a) over his last nine games. He’s also a top-5 rookie scorer in both goals and points. Plus he’s fun to watch.

DeBrincat’s presence on this line has made Richard Panik obsolete for fantasy purposes. A player that I very nearly landed in my auction keeper league, Panik was a healthy scratch for this game. He has not scored a goal in 21 games and has not recorded a point in his last seven games. He was replaced for this game by Ryan Hartman, who is also battling through his own goalless drought (15 games). Panik is still owned in 30 percent of Yahoo leagues, so you can probably find a better option if you’re still one of those owners.

More injury good news! Evgenii Dadonov returned earlier than expected to the Panthers’ lineup on Tuesday. However, he was held without a point in 16 minutes of icetime and didn’t play on the Panthers’ top line with Jonathan Huberdeau and Aleksander Barkov in this one.

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Apologies if I missed any injuries.

For more fantasy hockey information, follow me on Twitter @Ian_Gooding.

from All About Sports http://www.dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-the-injury-bug-spreads-dec-13/