#crying over barbie not olympics

[virtchandmoir]

tessavirtue17: It was a privilege to chat with my good friend (and extraordinary interviewer) @anastasure for her LAST EVER episode of the Player’s Own Voice podcast on CBC. Thanks for creating the space to reflect, reminisce, and reconcile a career in sport … and for so expertly guiding the conversation from prison stints to wedding bells 🙃 Give it a listen wherever you get your podcasts!

[partycatty]

Hear me out bi han with a figure skating reader?..

YAS i actually have two other requests for the same thing! u guys r so cute i love ur lil ideas :))

bi-han > foolish

how it goes when you're an elegant skater and he's a stoic ninja!

warnings: u almost die, controversial bi-han character writing?

notes: this reads like a barbie movie it's a little corny, also i imagine his frost/ice shoots out like elsa LMFAO like all beautiful n shit when he's not trying to spear someone w an icicle

masterlist <3

•when i say bi-han is absolutely horrible at verbalizing his romantic thoughts, i promise with my entire being that i mean it.

•so it comes to nobody's surprise when all bi-han can do is watch you as you glide across the ice like a gorgeous fairy, eyes closed and completely encapsulated in the movement. he was supposed to be scouring the land for raiden and kung lao to confirm their whereabouts, but he stopped when he heard your pretty humming and scraping of ice. all he could do was stand atop a roof and observe you quietly, suddenly feeling a little warm, which was completely out of character for the cryomancer.

•your skates were handmade and your movements weren't professional. you learned through VHS tapes and magazines growing up, and you wanted nothing more than to leave fengjian and make it big in the olympics.

•each time he returns to fengjian to spy on the farmers and report back to liu kang, he's sure to stray from the path when nobody is looking, and checks on the frozen pond to see if you're skating. something about it entrances him. perhaps it's because he uses his ice for dominance and strength, while you submit your entire life to the deadly pond in such a beautiful display of grace.

•it takes him several visits to actually approach you, and it was entirely unintentional. you had actually fallen into a thin patch of ice, your leg trapped in a jagged part and effectively sucking your leg into the freezing water. he leapt from the rooftop and revealed himself to you. while he may not be the best at encouraging words, he's great at barking commands. so, in his all-ice-knowing voice, he tells you how to save yourself step by step, since you seemed entirely clueless about this incredibly important survival skill.

•your nerves got the better of you as you cry out and squirm, and the ice cracked even more. bi-han let out a growl of frustration with the situation before stomping across the ice to you. you wanted to shout out and tell him to stand back or he'd make it worse, but the words get caught in your throat when, with each step, his footsteps spawned large swirling waves of frosty ice, effectively repairing the cracks around you.

•bi-han doesn't outstretch an arm, he just stands menacingly - and silently - over you as you whimper in pain. saving yourself, you use his thick arm as leverage and hoist yourself out of the water, and he barely flinches at your soggy weight.

•"you... you did that," you say incredulously and out of breath, pointing at the intricate patterns along the ice top. bi-han's eyes follow your point and he exhales before turning back to you. "with the ice... how?"

•"you were foolish," he replies coldly, though you sense a morbidly caring tone in his voice. "stay near the shore. you'll lose that leg if you're not careful. no more skating then."

•your hand is on his chest as you regain your balance, and your eyes fall to the emblem on his uniform.

•"how did you know i was skating?" you ask, with a smirk teasing your lips. bi-han tenses up at your question, looking away momentarily. he would literally rather die than admit he was staring at you, and you sense that, so you move back to the emblem.

•"you are in a clan," you mutter, reaching to trace it. "what are ninjas doing in fengjian?"

•instinctively, he snatches up your wrist and holds it in the air, warning you silently not to touch it. but even so, bi-han's lips part for a moment, his eagerness to speak to you overtaking his stoicism. he covers his mouth and furrows his brows. something about your gentleness, your kindness, causes him to desire to match it. your sweet eyes looking into his, you tilt your head and he nearly collapses.

•he decides not to answer your question, and you assume whatever it is is a private matter. perhaps the whispers in madam bo's restaurant might offer an explanation later.

•"well... thank you," you thank him gently, with your arm still in his grip. it's evident that... he doesn't scare you. in fact, you're fascinated by this man. everyone knows everyone, so who could this big yummy scoop of ice cream be??

•"don't thank me yet," he replies, eyes looking down at the ice and back to the shore. "with me. come."

•you do an awkward combination of skating and walking beside bi-han as he leads you back to the snowy shore. his hand rests on your back, full palm taking up a great amount of space on your back. you shudder at the thought.

•"may i thank you now?" you ask with gentle playfulness, smiling up at the ninja before bowing out of respect. "you saved my life, sir. the least you can do is tell me your name."

•"bi-han," he finally replies, his lips in a firm line. "don't make me save you again. be smart. be vigilant."

•his lecture halts when he hears his brothers call for his name in the echoey distance. he shares one last glance with you before walking off into the village alleys, and you're utterly dumbfounded. did that actually happen, or was that a weird hypothermic hallucination? do those even happen?

•before the lin kuei end their exploration of your village, bi-han decides to leave one last lesson for you at your doorstep. how he even knew where you lived baffled you. but, the uneasiness went away when you opened the hastily put together box, and see a brand new pair of ice skates, the blades frosted with the same beautiful pattern you saw on the ice that day.

•never again did you get near the thin points of the icy pond. and, every winter after that, you can't help but feel a pair of eyes on you in the distance as you improve your flips and pivots using your gorgeous skates. and you're pretty sure the lin kuei's business in the village ended quite some time ago...

[devilsrecreation]

TLG Outlanders as Ghost Stories Dub Quotes

Jasiri: I told you I’m going to be fine, why are you still crying?

Tunu: Because these pajamas are gay 🥺

Tamka: Leave me alone. I gotta fill out my Stupid Olympics application

Njano: *bursts into laughter* Stupid- Stupid Olympics! Ha! Can’t wait!

Kiburi: Leave him alone

Njano: (in a stupid voice) Hey Kiburi, I’m gonna do shot put, can you somewhere put shot put shot shopot?

Kiburi: Float, what do you want for dinner?

Njano: (in the same voice) I want zebra!

Kiburi: I’m gonna beat you stupid

Janja: (about Tamaa) Where’s the damn bird?

Cheezi: But he-

Janja: WHAT? CHEEZI, WHAT ARE YOU, A FURBRAIN?!

Cheezi: Beh-uh-

Janja: Obviously! Which way did he go?!

Cheezi: *points* Bweh-hu-ueh-

Janja: HUEH HU HUEH—Now we’ll never find out where the Guard is! I hope to the kings you’re adopted!

(I feel like this could also be Shenzi and Banzai with Ed hfhfhd)

Nala: Hold it right there!

Janja: (thinking) Ugh, Queen Nala. What a bitch

Ushari: (at the Lion Guard) God, you are five of the ugliest fucking kids I have ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. I can’t wait for this bitch to kill you

Human AU

Janja:Guess it’s just you and me, Raggedy Ann

The doll (Janja): Call me Barbie!

Janja: Okay fine. Looks like it’s you and me, Barbie…I’m going fucking crazy!

Janja: Hey, you guys hear anything?

Reirei: You know what I hear? I hear the sound of you shutting the fuck up!

Chungu: (watching Janja run off) God bless him. Leaving us here alone and defenseless in a fire, what a hyena! :D

Makuu: KIBURI! Get your tail over here!

Kiburi: What?

Makuu: Don’t ‘what’ me, Kiburi! You say ‘Yes, Makuu’!

Kiburi: You’re such a bitch

Makuu: What did you say?!

Kiburi: I have an itch

[maizumis]

— HAIKYUU BOYS HAVING A TEA PARTY WITH YOUR DAUGHTER

ft. timeskip!miya atsumu, bokuto koutaro, oikawa tooru, kuroo tetsuro, iwaizumi hajime

note: female reader ‼️ watch me write about dad!haikyuu all the moments I didn't have with my own sperm donor

MIYA ATSUMU after a long day at work, you were coming home a little more late than usual and as you were opening the door with a sigh, the first thing you listen is “PEASANT, DO NOT TOUCH THE QWEEN CWON”, yeah that’s definitely your daughter and your pretty sure that the “peasant” is your, oh so-called husband. Curiosity took the best of you, now you were behind your daughter’s door listen carefully what atsumu was saying to her, “WHATYA MEANT PEASANT? I WANNA WEAR A CROWN TOO YA KNOW!” your daughter gasps in disbelieve, “daddy, mom is da queen, I’m da princess and yer the peasant! And clearly, mommy isn’t here so don’t touch her cwon!” One thing you know is that you wouldn’t like to see and hear a screaming match between the peasant and the princess in question, thinking that stepping in is the best option, you said “what’s the matter in here?”, next thing you know, your daughter with his big brown eyes that she got from her father, comes running at you, screaming “momm- I mean queen! Yeah, queen! yer just on time for the tea party, this peasant needs to learn some manners” you picked her up, enjoying the way her little arms go around your neck, “yeah? What did dada do this time?” while her face is on your neck, she tells you with a whisper “psss mom, he is not dad now, remember is tea party time” and now with her voice a little more loud she announces to you what he did “he wanted to use ya cwon!  Literally had to scream at him cause of that! Peoples this time are onbelivabol” the las part coming with a sigh, “ugh I now right? Why don’t we teach him some manners then?” After a little thinking, your daughter tells you “uh-huh! Yer right my queen, now I will leave to the bathroom and come back to continue this celebration”. While she leaves, atsumu comes at you with a back hug asking if ya really taking her side? with a low tone, so you replied with “of course I’m taking her side, she’s a child, our child in fact” atsumu looks at you with big eyes and tells you “she is right, people these times are onbelivabol but I still love you my queen”, now facing him, noses and foreheads touching each other you whisper to him “I love you to my peasant” and after a little chuckle you continue “thank you so much for this”.

 BOKUTO KOUTAROU he always had tea parties with his daughter on Mondays after his volleyball practice with the MSBY. He couldn’t go to last week's party because of an away game, and he was devasted and promised her little princess that he would get her something. Now he is coming home from the airport with three Elsa dresses, one for his precious child, the other for his precious wife, and the last one for him, it was very difficult to find one of his size cause of his beefy body, but if he promises his little girl something, he is gonna make it without a doubt. “HEY HEY HEY! GUESS WHOS HOME” he screams while putting his suitcase down “HEY HEY HEY DADDY! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! MOMMY IS MAKING DINNER WHILE I PREPARED OUR SUPER DUPER EXTRA TEA PARTY!!” he picks her up with one arm, making his way to the kitchen to involve you in a hug with the arm he had free “we missed you, kou” snuggling into his neck, and while his arm tightens around you he replies with a soft tone “missed my two girls too, so much” he puts her daughter on the floor again and tells her “missy I have a surprise for our tea party, why don’t you finish the preparations and then mom and I are gonna go there with dinner? Sounds good?” whit a little nod she answers with “yeah dada, that sounds good”. After hearing her enter her room you ask your husband what did he get for her, and when he tells you he didn’t get one, not two but three princess dresses you’re over the moon, the fuck you’re going to do with three dresses? you don’t question him and keep cooking as if you wouldn’t have to put on a frozen show in less than half an hour. “BABY IM COMING TO YOUR ROOM WITH HOT FOOD, BE CAREFULL” the little girl sees you in all your glory, with the most beautiful Elsa dress she ever saw “MAMA, WHY YOU DIDNT TOLD ME ELSA LET YOU BORROW HER DRESS? YOU'RE SO PWETTY!” laughing a little at her comment you decide that it was the best to tell her is a secret between adults, excited to see her reaction when her dad comes to her room with the same dress on him and a little one for her. “IM COMING IN!” your husband yells and your daughter’s eyes are the bigger you ever saw them, running like the flash to steal the dress that was in his dad's hands. “Daddy, that dress is so pwetty on you, and there's one for me! We are all matching! And now we are gonna have our four curse, ugh no, cruse, ump corse, mommy how do I say it?”, “course darling, four meal course. Now dada, why don’t you come to eat with us this fancy dinner?” after nodding and making his way to the both of you, bokuto thinks he is gonna ask for another kid one of these days.

[calumcest]

i took a walk with my fame down memory lane (i never did find my way back) - chapter two

[ao3]

here we are...look at me posting on a regular schedule who ever said i was chaotic! 

@tirednotflirting i will not stop thanking you on every single chapter get ready to get incredibly bored of hearing me thank you and say how nice it is to have you on the doc because i’m saying it twice for every chapter once here and once on ao3 which actually has just reminded me to put the ao3 link on this chapter see it’s actually super useful. ao3 link inserted i love you i adore you and i cannot thank you enough for the amount of bullshit you put up with from me both generally and regarding this fic especially 

me posting this fic is just please enjoy my downwards spiral (and listen to britpop)

Predictably, Noel doesn’t piss himself. He also doesn’t aim a punch at Calum when he finds out about the bet, though, which is his way of saying hope you’re alright. Instead, he just cuffs Liam upside the head, calls all of them pricks, and announces he’s going to bed. Liam rolls his eyes and calls him a boring cunt, which earns him another clip around the ear, but not two minutes after Noel and Bonehead have filed out of the room, Liam’s yawning and saying that he might turn in too. Calum, not wanting to be left in the living room on his own during a comedown, follows him out, listening to Liam mutter something about Tony and firing him because he’s almost as much of a boring cunt as Noel all the way up to their room.

Liam crashes almost as soon as they get in, passing out fully-clothed on his bed, and, as Calum’s trying to carefully pick his way through the debris littering the floor from his bed to the ensuite to brush his teeth, he trips over something that makes him stub his toe against the wardrobe and swear under his breath. He winces, gripping his toe as he looks for the offending object on the floor to give it an angry kick, and finds-

The magazine. 

The magazine. The one he’d nicked from the dental surgery, the one Liam had nearly got in a fight over, all because of one tiny, glossy picture of Michael Clifford. He hasn’t looked at it since that day, too sober and too busy being yelled at every single minute of the day by Noel for playing too rough, or playing too clean, or playing at all. He hasn’t wanted to, either, hasn’t wanted to be confronted with the evidence that Michael’s carried on living without him, that he’s not that same seventeen year old boy that Calum had left behind in Sydney Airport half a decade ago. 

That’s not to say he’s forgotten about it, though. Far from it - even in his pretty-much-permanently inebriated state, the little picture of Michael, stubble and all, has been playing around in the background of most of his thoughts. It’s easier to ignore when he’s with the others, when Noel’s snapping at him or screaming at Liam, when Bonehead’s rolling his eyes and passing him another joint, when Tony’s muttering about how Noel expects far too much of him, when Mark’s chivvying all of them to get up and get in the fucking studio, don’t they know they’re paying two thousand quid a day for this shit? It’s easier to focus on snapping at Noel, on stepping back from the brothers and leaving them to it, on taking a long toke from the joint, on ignoring Tony while whole-heartedly agreeing with him, on rolling his eyes as he shuffles into the live room and picks up his bass. He doesn’t have to think too hard, then, doesn’t have to let his thoughts stray from the here and now back to being seventeen and sun-kissed and in love. 

Now, though, on his own, teetering on the brink of a comedown but still pleasantly drunk, Liam passed out and snoring gently on the bed a few feet away, Calum’s got nothing tying him down. There’s nothing for him to ground himself in, no stern, suspiciously-Noel-sounding voice in his mind telling him to stay fucking focused, or he’ll get a clip round the ear. 

So, before he’s even really thought about it, Calum leans down and picks the magazine up, flipping straight to the page with the little picture of Michael on. 

Even though he’s prepared this time, even though he knows he’s going to see Michael, older and broader and taller, his stomach still starts its best impersonation of a fucking Olympics tryout when his eyes find Michael at the bottom of the page. Christ. It’s like looking at someone Calum had seen every day for years at a train station, or maybe in a dream; he’s instantly recognisable but doesn’t quite match up to the mental image Calum’s got of him, lips a little plumper and eyes a little darker than Calum had expected. He looks like a mixture of someone so fucking familiar to Calum - the way he’s got his hands tucked in his pockets and his head tilted back a little - and someone Calum’s never met before, with the way his eyes are dark and almost hungry, the way his lashes are lowered slightly, the way he’s holding himself with such an air of confidence. 

Calum sits down on the edge of his bed, disgusting taste in his mouth forgotten as he flips back to the first page of the article and starts to read. Mike, the singer calls him. Mike Clifford. It’s fucking ridiculous. Michael had always hated being called Mike, would always use his last vestiges of energy to lift his head from the toilet and protest weakly whenever Calum called him Mikey. The only time Calum had ever actually got away with calling him Mikey was when he was stroking his hair and Michael was crying into his chest, drunk and stoned and fucking miserable about Calum moving to the UK. 

Mike’s our secret weapon, the singer (Damon, as Calum’s reminded) says, with an ‘air of confidence’, apparently. Calum briefly wonders what he means by that as his eyes flit to the next paragraph, mind lagging a few seconds behind. What kind of a war does he think they’re fighting? 

Of course we’re a British band, Damon comments later on. We sing about British life, British experiences. Mike’s not penning songs about kangaroos and shrimps on barbies, is he? And anyway, he can outdrink the lot of us, which is what really matters. Are these really the best questions NME can come up with? Calum can’t help the way his lips twitch at that. That, at least, sounds like Michael. 

It was serendipity, I think, Damon ‘muses’ a few paragraphs later, according to the journalist. We were looking for a second guitarist, and Mike had just moved over. He was living with Graham - he knew him through a friend from Sydney - and when Graham mentioned that he thought his band might need a second guitarist, Mike mentioned he could play. 

It never came up in conversation before? the journalist asks, and Damon apparently ‘smiles wryly’. 

That’s Mike for you, he allegedly says, with a shrug, and Calum feels a strange, hollow tug at his heart. Yeah. That is Michael. Anyway, he came along to a practice session and gelled perfectly with the rest of us. In fact, he brought some new ideas, a breath of fresh air that I think we needed. You know, the rest of us are four lads from the south who all grew up in similar circumstances and listened to similar music. I think we needed the different perspective. 

That’s all Damon says about Michael. It leaves a sort of sour taste in Calum’s mouth - although, in fairness, that might just be the aftertaste of vomit - because this ‘Mike’ doesn’t sound like Michael, doesn’t feel like Calum’s- well. Whatever Michael ever was to him. 

They’d never actually spoken about it. There had never been a conversation, an are you my boyfriend now, then, or what? They’d just both known - I’m yours, and you’re mine, and that’s all that matters. It had made it easier, Calum thinks, for him to justify it to himself when he got caught up in his new life, when Liam’s bright blue eyes started swimming in front of Michael’s sea-green ones, when harsh cackles were dubbed over soft laughter, when loud and brash northern accents started taking up more of his thoughts than gentle Australian twangs. We weren’t actually together, he’d told himself, every time he saw a letter in the post and his stomach twisted with guilt. You don’t owe him anything. 

In fairness, it hadn’t just been him. Michael’s letters had stopped coming once a week, started coming once a fortnight, and then once a month. But it was Calum’s responses that got ever shorter, from pages and pages to a few half-hearted sentences, because Liam would often barge in halfway through and demand he comes down to the Boardwalk with him right fucking now, and it got harder and harder to justify to himself why he was giving up spending time with one of his best mates to write letters to a boy whose middle name he’d already started to forget. And it was Calum who had seen one last letter from Michael, tossed it on his desk to read later, and then forgotten about it until it was too late and his mum had already thrown it out. He’d barely cared, at the time, because Liam had crashed into his room, Calum’s mum tutting loudly at him from downstairs, and announced that he’d joined a band and they were the best band in the fucking world, and Calum should fucking join, and when Noel got back from tour he’d definitely join too, and they’d be the fucking second coming of the Beatles. 

The guy staring at him from the picture, older and more confident, doesn’t seem like the same guy who’d sent Calum all those letters, telling him I miss you. I’m saving up to fly over to the UK. We’ll be together again, in a year or two. Don’t forget about me. It feels like there are two of him - Calum’s version, Michael, the boy who’d blink at Calum through dark, inky lashes and press soft kisses along his jawline, and this Blur version, Mike, the guy who stares back at Calum almost defiantly, like he’s daring him to keep looking. 

Calum’s not sure whether it’s the drink or the drugs or whether it really is Michael, five years older and having grown into himself and built up a life without Calum, that’s making his stomach twist and turn and his heart sink like this. Or maybe it’s the guilt, all the love and regrets that Calum’s pushed down over the years and paved over with bricks of Liam and Noel and music, that’s stopping him from being able to tear his gaze away from the little Michael on the page, looking like he knows Calum’s eyes are glued to him. 

Calum shifts, and in the near-silence of the room he hears something crinkle in his back pocket, and he frowns, lifting his hips up and fishing a messily-folded piece of paper out. He unfolds it, wondering whether he’s left a receipt or something in there, and finds two scrawled lines of text. 

Noel’s lyrics. 

It was serendipity, I think, the singer had said in the article, and Calum finds himself thinking the same thing as he stares down at the mostly-empty sheet of paper. Maybe this is supposed to mean something, he thinks. Probably just that his jeans are in desperate need of a wash.

There’s a guitar propped up next to Liam’s bed, one he’s been messing around on in what he says is boredom but Calum knows is an attempt to write something that Noel will throw a kind word or two at, and Calum’s grabbing it and setting it on his lap before he’s even really thought about it. He’s not a songwriter, never has been - he’s always wondered how the fuck Noel can retreat into a back room and come out half an hour later with a song like Supersonic - but right now, lyrics on one thigh, picture of Michael on the other, the words and the notes feel like they’re bursting to get out of his mind and down on paper. 

Not for the first time, Calum’s glad Liam’s a deep sleeper, so he doesn’t have to lock himself in the too-big, too-empty living room to write. There’s something comforting about Liam’s presence, something that reminds Calum that he’s not alone, his deep breathing the thin line that ties Calum’s old life to his new life. Calum breathes along with him for a moment, a little drunkenly, like he’s trying to let as much of Liam as possible seep into his veins, maybe hoping he can absorb Liam’s don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and brash courage enough to get the words out without buckling under their weight.

There’s a pen on his bedside table, and he reaches over for it, uncaps it, holds it in his teeth, and starts to strum, humming along to the melody he’s had in his head since reading Noel’s lyrics. It only takes him a few minutes to find the right chord sequence, shifting into a key he knows Liam’ll be able to sing, because Calum knows he won’t be able to sing this himself. It needs a layer of removal, something that Calum can place between himself and the song and look at without having to look any further. 

There we were now here we are All this confusion nothing’s the same to me There we were now here we are All this confusion nothing’s the same to me 

I can’t tell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me I can’t sell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me What I heard is not what I hear I can see the signs but they’re not very clear What I heard is not what I hear I can see the signs but they’re not very clear

So I can’t tell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me I can’t sell you the way I feel Because the way I feel is oh so new to me

This is confusion, am I confusing you? This is confusion, am I confusing you? This is confusion, we don’t want to feel you This is confusion, we don’t want to feel you

The words almost seem to write themselves, ink on the page before Calum’s inebriated mind has even had time to think. Noel’s words slot in flawlessly as a chorus, the perfect contrast to Calum’s muddled, drunken musings, and it only takes about twenty minutes before the whole song’s done, every chord written, every word penned. And, to Calum’s surprise, it sounds really fucking good. 

He sits back, fingers stilling on the strings, and stares down at the sheet of paper. The words look hasty, rushed, a little crooked, and Noel’s going to have questions about the shakiness of the letters, but that’s a problem for a later Calum. 

He reads over it again while he’s still drunk enough to allow himself to, knowing he’ll hate it in the morning, and then puts the pen down to the paper again to write a title. 

Confusion. No, that doesn’t sound right. It’s too vague, too impersonal. New to me. No, that’s a cop-out. Then and Now. No, that won’t be obvious enough. 

And that’s it, Calum thinks, swallowing thickly. He wants it to be obvious. He wants Michael, and only Michael, to know that it’s about him, for him. 

(“How will you know it’s me?” Calum remembers asking urgently one night, standing in the hallway on the phone to Michael, who had just called to mutter that he’s grounded, not allowed out, Calum needs to sneak in and make sure he makes it obvious that it’s him and not Luke or Ashton or else Michael won’t open his window. Apparently Luke, the sly little bastard, has taken to telling Michael it's Calum so Michael opens up for him.

“Say it’s- um-” Michael’s breaking up, and Calum clutches the phone closer to his ear like it’s going to make him any more audible.

“Say what?” 

“Column-” 

“Say it’s Column?” Calum’s incensed. “Michael, d’you fucking know how to pronounce my name?” 

“Fucking- Columbia,” he makes out, and then the line goes dead.) 

Calum only hesitates for a split second, enough for the tiny scrap of him that’s still sober tell him this is a terrible idea, and then the alcohol in his blood barges in, shouldering the remnant of his rational side out of the way and telling him do it, what the fuck have you got to lose? It’s a fucking great idea. 

Yeah, Calum thinks wildly, as his pen touches the paper again. Fuck it. Michael probably won’t hear it, anyway. 

Columbia.

 -------

 Calum plans to keep the song to himself, to sit on it and tell himself he’s agonising over whether or not to show Noel when he knows full well he’s got absolutely no intention of doing so, but, as though he can read Calum’s fucking mind, Noel corners him at lunchtime the next day. 

“So,” he says, blocking Calum’s path out of the kitchen as Liam trails after Tony in the direction of the live room, complaining loudly that if he has to eat one more fucking ham and cheese sandwich he’s going to burn the fucking kitchen down. “That song. What’d you do to it?” 

“What song?” Calum says, momentarily stumped. They’ve just been recording Slide Away, and Calum’s pretty sure he hasn’t fucked anything up so far. In fact, he’s absolutely fucking certain he hasn’t, because if Noel’s stopping them mid-recording to shout at Tony to tighten his floor tom then he’d definitely have thrown a fit over Calum playing a wrong note, or a fraction of a second too fast, or whatever. 

“You know,” Noel says. “The one. From the other night.” He’s acting a little sketchy about it, a little guarded, and that’s what makes it click - oh. That song. The one Noel had been writing on his own in the kitchen at fucking five in the morning, and Calum had finished off at about three last night, drunk out of his mind.

“Oh,” Calum says, and he feels his expression shift into something just as evasive as Noel’s. “Uh. Yeah. I wrote something.” 

“Well, let’s fucking hear it, then,” Noel says. Calum hesitates. 

“Not in front of everyone else,” he says, because he knows the guitars are all in the live room, and by the time it’s cleared out Noel might have forgotten about the song altogether. Noel raises an eyebrow, but nods. 

“My room,” he says. 

“Now?” Calum says, looking down at his sandwich. “Can’t I fucking eat?” 

“Now,” Noel confirms. “We’re on a tight fucking schedule, Cal.” 

“Didn’t stop you spending half of Tuesday fucking off your head,” Calum shoots back. Noel just flips him off, like that’s a fucking answer, and walks out of the kitchen, presumably to fetch a guitar. Calum sighs, stomach sinking, because he hasn’t looked at the lyrics since he wrote them but he has a slightly hazy memory of knowing he’d hate them sober. He’s far too fucking hungover to stomach the fight that’s going to ensue if he refuses to play it to Noel, though, so he just sighs again, deep and resigned, shoves half the sandwich in his mouth and heads up to his room to pick up the sheet of paper with the lyrics and chords on.

Noel’s already in his room when Calum pushes the door open a little too roughly, perched on the edge of his bed, and he holds out his second-favourite acoustic guitar by the neck for Calum to take. Calum does, yanks it out of his hands to tell him I don’t fucking like that you’re making me do this without having to say it - not that Noel will care either way - and sits down on Bonehead’s bed, pulling the guitar into his lap and smoothing the sheet of paper in front of him so he won’t have to look at Noel.

“Right,” he says, and he can hear the nervousness in his own voice. “Don’t fucking laugh.” 

“Won’t if it’s not worth laughing at,” Noel promises, which is as good as Calum’s going to get from him. He swallows, positions his fingers, and starts to play. 

It sounds horrible, he thinks, as he’s playing. He has to try not to wince, because his voice cracks on the words as they drip with the kind of raw honesty that only a song written about his sort-of ex at three in the fucking morning, drunk and halfway between a high and a comedown, can summon. It’s too much for him, hearing his own voice sing the words that he doesn’t want to admit that he means, overwhelms him with the way it makes his heart clench in his chest to hear himself say nothing’s the same to me, and he has to stop before he can reach the end, stilling the strings and shrugging at Noel a little tensely. 

“You get the gist,” he says. Noel blinks at him. He’s not laughing. 

“That’s going on the album,” he says. Calum stares at him. 

“You’re taking the piss,” he says flatly. 

“D’you think I’d fucking take the piss about kicking one of my songs off the album to make room for yours? ” Noel says, and, yeah, that’s a good point. 

“Well, I’m not singing it,” Calum says, before Noel gets any ideas. He’s not putting that out there, him singing a fucking half-love song for Michael. He'd have to be on every drug in the world to even get all the way through it. 

“Why not?” Noel says. 

“Can’t.” 

“You fucking can. Just did.” 

“I’m not fucking singing it, Noel.” Noel purses his lips, looking like he’s weighing up starting a fight with both Calum, who’s very clearly chosen this hill to die on, and Liam, who can’t stand feeling like a spare part, versus relenting and getting something he might not like as much musically but won’t potentially end in a trip to the hospital.

“It won’t sound as good,” he says, sounding annoyed, but that’s a concession from him. 

“I’m arsed,” Calum says. Noel looks at him for a moment, hard, eyes flitting across every crevice of Calum’s face like he’s trying to find the weak link, and then he leans back with a sigh. 

“You sound dead fucking British,” is all he says, a little too calmly for the conversation they've just had, and Calum feels like there’s something more to it that he should be able to pick out but can’t quite discern from the careful guardedness that fronts it. 

“Been here five years, haven’t I?” he shoots back, feeling like he’s on the back foot, somehow. 

“Wouldn’t even know you were Australian if you weren’t such a lightweight,” Noel says, and Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Fuck off,” he says. “I could outdrink all five-two of you any day, Irish blood and all.” Noel flips him off, but his eyes still look far too calculating for Calum’s liking. 

“You know Blur have an Australian guitarist?” he says, and Calum can see from the shrewd look in Noel’s eyes that that’s it, that’s what he’s been leading up to, and Calum’s stomach bottoms out.  

“Oh?” he says, trying to straddle the line between interested enough and uninterested enough. There’s no way Noel can know, he tells himself, as his heart rate picks up. Calum’s never mentioned any of his mates back home to Noel before, let alone mentioned Michael. And even if he did, there’s no reason to make that assumption. Noel doesn’t even know Calum dates guys, and only knows he fucks them because of one night three years ago that neither of them speak about. 

“Mm,” Noel hums. “He’s from Sydney.” He doesn’t say anything else, states it like it’s just an interesting tidbit of information, but the implication is clear. Maybe you know him. A challenge, or maybe a test. 

“So’s a quarter of Australia,” Calum says, pleased with how cool and collected he sounds. Noel cocks his head.

“Weird, though, isn’t it?” he says. “What’re the odds?”

“Since when are you all fucking superstitious?” Calum asks. Noel shrugs. 

“Just think it’s a strange coincidence,” he says lightly. “Two British bands with Australian members, fighting to be number one.” 

“Who’s fighting to be number one?” Calum says. “We haven’t even released a single.”

“Yeah, but anything we release’ll be better than their shite,” Noel says derisively, eyes narrowing, and Calum exhales quietly, because it means the moment’s passed. “Girls who like boys who do boys, or whatever. Fucking shite.” Calum rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, like ‘I’m feeling supersonic, give me gin and tonic’ is any better,” he says, and Noel scowls and kicks at Calum’s shin. 

“Just you fucking wait,” Noel says, and it sounds like a fucking threat, like Calum’s going to be held personally responsible if Supersonic doesn’t go to number one. Which, knowing Noel, is a distinct possibility. 

“I’ll fucking wait,” Calum tells him, setting the guitar aside. 

“Eeyar, what d’you think you’re doing with that?” Noel says, nodding at the guitar. “If you don’t want to sing it, you’ll have to play it to our kid.” The thought makes Calum’s stomach clench. He never wants to sing the fucking song ever again. In fact, he wishes he'd never sung it to Noel in the first place, wishes he'd just dealt with the taunts and jeers that would have come from Noel if he'd thought Calum hadn't been able to get a song down. It'd still be more bearable than having to listen to his own drunken, honest thoughts spilling from his sober lips. 

“You really want to put it on the fucking album?” he says, and he can’t help the note of doubt that creeps into his tone. It's a good song, yeah - really fucking good, actually - but is it as good as Noel's?

“It’s good,” Noel says, which, from Noel, might as well be a declaration that it belonged on the White Album. 

“Not as good as yours,” Calum says. Noel fixes him with a stare, a really, don’t you fucking dare make me say it’s better than one of mine kind of stare, and Calum sighs. It is a good song - it’s definitely better than Cloudburst, might even be better than Sad Song - but he’s not sure he can go through playing it to Liam, Bonehead and Tony. Playing it to Noel was fucking bad enough. 

“Play it to our kid,” Noel says again, like he can read the exact thoughts behind Calum’s stricken expression. “I’ll sort out parts for Tony and Bonehead.” 

Calum loves him.

 -------

 (Liam frowns at him when he trails off halfway through the bridge. 

“That’s fucking mega, that is,” he says, but his tone doesn’t match his words. 

“Cheers,” Calum says, and swallows thickly. Liam doesn’t say anything else, even though Calum can tell from the way his fingers are twitching that he wants to, just hesitates and then sighs and pulls Calum into a tight hug.) 

 -------

 They finish recording the album in mid-March. It’s their second attempt, and it still sounds wrong, so their record label, in one last-ditch attempt to save it, send it off to Owen Morris for mixing. 

Noel’s progressed beyond irate and lashing out at any and all of them for fucking up his precious album to complete despondence, retreating into himself, sitting staring silently out of the car window as they get driven back up to Manchester, not even rising to the bait when Bonehead threatens to steal his Sergeant Pepper vinyl. In the strange, symbiotic way that the brothers have - or maybe just because they’d shared a room for sixteen years and Liam had been at the receiving end of enough of Noel’s tantrums to know how to cope with them - Liam seems to know exactly what Noel needs. He sits close to him, throws an arm around him, pulls him in so Noel’s head is resting on Liam’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything, carries on normal conversation with the rest of them with a slight edge to his tone, like he’s challenging any of them to fucking comment on the state Noel’s in. They all know better than that, of course. Anyone who’s spent more than thirty seconds in either of the Gallaghers’ presence would know better than that. 

When they get back to Manchester, predictably dull and drizzling slightly, they all head off in their separate directions; Liam and Noel to Noel’s flat, Bonehead to the flat he shares with his girlfriend, Tony back to his parents’ house. Calum, too, heads back to the boring little two-up two-down he’s spent the past five years in.

“You look a state,” is how his mum greets him when he drags his bags out of the car and up the garden path. She holds her arms out for a hug and Calum hesitates for a moment - he knows he reeks of last night’s alcohol with maybe a pinch of stale weed added to the mix - but she gives him a stern look and he relents, wrapping his arms around her and inhaling the familiar scent of home-cooking and books. 

“You smell terrible,” she says disapprovingly, when he pulls away. Calum shrugs. 

“I’ll shower when I get in,” he says. 

“You’ll fix the wall first,” she says, and Calum sighs. Not the fucking wall. 

“Not the fucking wall,” he mutters, and his mum tuts at him, but steps aside to let him into the house. 

“Your dad’s outside already,” she says, as Calum drops his bags next to the stairs. 

“He’s not tried to do anything to the wall, has he?” Calum says, because if his dad’s had anything to do with it, Calum’s going to have his work cut out for him. 

“He said he was just going to take a look,” his mum says, and Calum swears under his breath and heads for the back door. His dad has never quite grasped that ‘just taking a look’ doesn’t require prodding and poking and, on one memorable occasion, a blowtorch. 

As Calum had expected, his dad is frowning at a section of collapsed wall, a mortar board piled high with badly-mixed mortar in one hand and a brick trowel in the other. 

“Fucking hell, dad,” Calum says, jogging up and snatching the mortar board out of his hands, making his dad whip around in surprise.

“Hello to you too,” he says mildly. “How was Cornwall?” 

“Great,” Calum says, and takes a step back so his dad won’t smell the booze on him. “What the fuck are you doing to the wall?” 

“I saved the bricks that fell out,” his dad, gesturing at a haphazard pile a few metres away. “I was going to use those to fix it.” 

“Not with this, you weren’t,” Calum says, brandishing the mortar. “I’ll mix some more tomorrow. And you can’t be laying bricks in the rain.” His dad looks up at the sky. 

“It’s just drizzle,” he says.

“It’s enough,” Calum says. His dad looks at him for a moment, wavering between son, if I say the wall needs fixing the wall needs fixing and you do actually know what you’re doing, before sighing and holding his hands up in defeat. 

“Fine,” he says. “But your mum will have my balls if it’s not done first thing tomorrow.” 

“She’ll have your balls if you do it in the rain and it falls apart again in three weeks, too,” Calum tells him.

“At least I’ll get three extra weeks with my balls, then,” his dad says as they make their way back inside, and Calum snorts.  

“That was quick,” he hears his mum shout from the kitchen, a little reprovingly, as Calum sets the mortar board down on the table. He’ll deal with it later. 

“It’s raining,” Calum shouts back. 

“It’s what?” his mum calls, turning down the upbeat, almost disco song playing on the radio.

“It’s raining,” Calum repeats. “Can’t lay bricks in the rain.” 

“It’s only drizzling.” 

“D’you want to go and fucking do it, then?” Calum says, exasperated, and his mum pops her head out of the kitchen with a frown. 

“Calum,” she reprimands, and he sighs. He needs to fucking shower, and then sleep for about seven years until his liver’s had a chance to process at least half of the shit he’s ingested over the past few weeks. 

“Sorry,” he says, and he means it. “I’m going to go and shower.” His mum nods, and her head disappears again, and he hears the radio turn up again. The song’s finishing up, something about how it always should be someone you really love, and Calum finds himself nodding along as he heads for the stairs and picks up his bags. It’s catchy, he thinks, and not like anything he’s heard in a while. Maybe he should recommend it to Noel; he could do with nicking ideas off someone other than Paul McCartney once in a while. 

“And that was Blur, with Girls and Boys,” the radio host announces as the song starts to fade out, and Calum’s fingers slip in the handle of the bag in his right hand, causing it to fall on his foot. He curses under his breath, trying to think about the pain rather than the way his heart’s skipped a beat. 

“Calum?” his mum calls from the kitchen. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, mum, sorry,” he shouts back, wincing and flexing his foot, steadying himself on the banister with his now-free hand as he tries to listen to the radio over the pounding in his ears. Another song’s started now, though, and Calum shakes himself out of it, picking up the bag and heading up the stairs to have an excuse for his racing heart and heavy breathing. 

It feels fucking weird, he thinks, dumping his bags on the floor of his room and throwing himself down on the bed, to have heard Michael without hearing him. He would have paid more attention to the song if he’d known he was listening to Michael’s fingers pick out those notes. He can still hear the riff in his mind, bouncing around as it tries to find its way out but enclosed in a bubble of Michael like a good portion of Calum’s thoughts have been for the past few weeks. It doesn’t feel quite right, though, Michael’s guitar playing on Calum’s radio in Manchester. It feels like Mike, not Michael, and the thought makes him feel a little queasy. 

He rolls over, staring at the blank wall in front of him as he waits for his heart to slow down. Always should be someone you really love, the guy - what was it, Damon? - had sung. It feels like a fucking joke, now, leaves a bitter taste in Calum’s mouth that that line is the first he’s heard of Michael in five fucking years. It’s like the universe is just having its way with him and laughing about it. 

(It was serendipity, I think, Damon had said in the article, but Calum tries not to let the idea cross his mind.) 

 -------

 Supersonic is, in fact, as Liam and Noel crow at least five times a day, fucking mega. 

The single comes out in early April, when they’re in Middlesbrough, or maybe Stoke, or maybe Leeds - somewhere northern, cold, wet, and miserable. It’s played on the radio a few times, and it makes something warm spread from Calum’s heart to his toes every time he can pick out his own bass, every time he hears Noel’s lazy solo, Liam’s gravelly drawl, Bonehead’s overdriven chords. Even Tony’s drumming makes him grin, giddy on the high that’s him, them, him and his three best mates (and Tony) coming together to create something that, fuck whatever the charts say, sounds fucking good. It’s raw and it’s rough around the edges and it’s melodic and it’s dirty, and it’s ‘fucking rock ‘n’ roll’ if Liam ever gets half a second to comment on it, but, more than all of that, it’s them and Calum loves it. 

It doesn’t do amazingly, but none of them even care, because they know it’s good. Noel’s already busy arguing with Marcus at the record label about whether Shakermaker or Live Forever should be the next single, shouting at him on the phone whenever they get somewhere with a payphone. The tour’s going well, too; there’s not been a venue they haven’t sold out yet, and the crowd actually know all the songs, now, screaming out the words whenever Liam takes a break for a swig of beer. 

They’re playing Glastonbury in June, which Noel seems to think is the fucking be all and end all of their entire career despite the fact that they’ve released one album. He’s taken it upon himself to ensure that every waking minute that they’re not playing shows or off their heads on whatever substances they’ve been able to put up their noses is spent with him telling them in minute detail exactly how he’s going to skin them alive if they miss one more beat or hit the wrong string one more time. Even Liam isn’t safe, despite his lack of a proper instrument, after missing one of the higher notes in Supersonic one night in Liverpool. Calum’s never believed in God, but he thinks the fact that he was rooming with Tony and the brothers were rooming with each other that night, screaming at each other out of Calum's earshot, might be evidence of divine intervention. 

Further potential evidence for the existence of God comes in the form of an invitation to an awards show to be held in early June, which is the only thing that could possibly have appeased Noel. It doesn’t stop him shouting at Liam for fucking breathing, or whatever it happens to be that hour, but it placates him enough to keep the band together, which is what matters. He starts writing like crazy, and by late May already has six songs that he claims are good enough for their second album, and Calum’s floored when Noel rips the curtain to his bunk open one night and shoves an unfinished song at him with a look on his face that says if you fucking tell anyone about this, I’ll have your balls. I’ll fucking have them. 

(“D’you think me growing up in Australia brings a different perspective to the band?” Calum had asked the previous day, thinking of the interview he’d read with Damon, and Noel had snorted, not even looking up from his guitar. 

“Do I fuck,” he’d said. “I’m the fucking genius here. Why, ‘s someone been telling you you’re important? Do I need to remind you that you barely even play an instrument?” Calum rolls his eyes and flips him off, but it settles his stomach a little to know that Noel's not giving him the songs because of some abstract musical perspective, but because of his talent. And, maybe, because Noel might just be a little fond of him.) 

The awards show isn’t anything huge, not NME or anyone that Liam thinks matters, but Noel tells them that it’s the principle, that the fact that they’re being nominated for awards is what counts, and that they’ll fucking well show up. Liam still looks like he’s going to argue about it, probably just because his instinct to do the opposite of whatever Noel tells him overrides even his survival instinct, but he grudgingly agrees to go when Calum reminds him about all the free alcohol that’s sure to be there. 

The ceremony’s much bigger than Calum had expected, held in a theatre that’s had the stalls cleared out to make room for tables for artists and their teams to sit at. They’re shown to a table on the far right of the room, and Calum sees names like Elastica and Björk on the tables they pass on their way, which makes him think that this might actually be a bigger deal than they’d thought it was. Their table is tucked away in a corner, which Calum thinks probably isn’t a good sign, but can’t bring himself to care that much about when he sees the three bottles of champagne waiting for them. 

They’re tipsy before the show’s even begun, barely even noticing the room filling behind them as they call for more champagne, grinning and yelling at each other across the table as they all think fuck me, we’re really doing this, then? Even Noel somehow manages to dislodge the stick from his arse and laugh along when Liam starts heckling every single act that wins an award. It’s just fucking fun, Calum thinks, watching Noel and Liam put their arms around each other and yell the lyrics to Creep as Radiohead win an award, changing out half of the words for increasingly creative variants of words for certain parts of the male anatomy. It’s just a good fucking time with his best mates. 

Liam’s so caught up in the heckling, yelling rubbish! Fucking rubbish! before the winners have even been announced, and they’re all so caught up in laughing at him that they don’t even realise they’ve won an award until Marcus glares at them pointedly, and they realise that the reason they suddenly can’t see properly is because there’s a spotlight on them.

“Best live act!” Noel shouts, grinning, and Calum shoots up and out of his seat and is hugging Noel and Bonehead, jumping up and down, before he can even think about it. Best live act, fucking hell. 

“Rubbish!” Liam’s yelling, sounding absolutely irate. “Fucking rubbi- oh, that’s us.” He stands up calmly, flashing Marcus a winning smile as he walks past on his way to the stage, and the rest of them follow in his wake. 

“Best fucking live act,” Noel repeats, like he can’t quite believe it. Their first fucking award. "That's all me, that is." 

“You wanker, you’re rubbish,” Liam tells him, as they jog up the stairs onto the stage. “You can’t even play the guitar.” Noel cuffs him upside the head, but he’s still grinning, and Liam grins back at him as they walk over to accept their awards, shake a lot of sweaty hands, and make their acceptance speech.

“Right, then, who’s first then?” Liam says, leaning into the microphone and pulling his sunglasses down to survey the crowd. “It’s gotta be you there with that weird haircut. How many haircuts you got there, four?” He leans back as the crowd laughs, looking deadpan, but Calum can see the way his lips twitch as he soaks up the laughter and smattering of applause. Calum shakes his head, grinning, and looks out at the sea of faces looking back at him, trying to really absorb the moment, anchor himself so he’ll remember it tomorrow despite the champagne. There are a few people he recognises, which feels fucking insane - that’s fucking Robbie Williams, over there, presumably sat with the rest of the blokes from Take That whose names he doesn’t know, and he thinks he can make out the singer of Radiohead in the corner, and there’s the frontwoman of Elastica, and next to her is that Damon guy from Blur, and-

Oh, fuck.

Noel’s moved on to speaking now, a little more seriously than Liam - which isn’t saying much given that he’s currently in the middle of thanking himself for being such a genius and writing such impeccable songs - but the words are washing over Calum as his eyes flit to Damon’s left, taking in the moody-looking dark-haired guy and the ginger guy, and then to his right, a dark-haired guy in glasses and- 

And Michael. 

Calum thinks his legs might fucking give out. Staring back at him, eyes wide and jaw clenched, is Michael. Michael Clifford. His Michael. Fucking hell. 

In the bright lights, Calum can see the tension in Michael’s shoulders, the way he’s sort of hunched into himself, sort of sat up straight, like he’s ready for a fight. He can see the shock on Michael’s face, the underlying hurt and pain in the twist of his lips, the way his fist is clenched on the table. He looks nothing like Calum had ever envisioned when imagining them reuniting, no carefree laughter and bright, joyful eyes. Calum’s sure he doesn’t look much better, lips slightly parted in surprise, pure horror written all over his face, but he can’t bring himself to care when Michael’s right there, in front of him, five years older and five years prettier, making Calum’s heart skip and race like it’s singlehandedly trying to win the fucking World Acrobatics Championship of 1994.

Liam’s taken the mic back off Noel to add a quick thank you to the people who voted for them, and then Noel’s clapping him on the back as they walk offstage, but Calum’s rooted to the fucking spot, can’t take his eyes off Michael. Neither of them are blinking, and as the lights sweep from the audience to them Calum almost loses Michael in the darkness, just sees the slight gleaming of his eyes, still fixed on Calum. 

“Fucking come on,” Noel nigh-on shouts in his ear, startling Calum out of it, and his feet unstick themselves as Noel puts his hand on the small of Calum’s back, guiding him off the stage. Calum tears his gaze away, looks down at his feet so he won’t trip down the stairs, and by the time he’s got to the bottom and is looking out into the sea of faces again, he’s lost Michael. He searches in vain all the way back to their table, trying to map out just how far to the right the Blur table is from the Oasis one based on where it had been in relation to the stage, but then Liam’s in front of him, waving an award in his face and grinning inanely, and Calum’s line of sight is blocked by Bonehead jumping on Liam’s back, and Noel’s shouting something at the three of them through a smile, and Calum’s being forced into his seat. 

The rest of the ceremony passes in a haze. Liam carries on heckling every act that gets up on stage, waving his award around over his head like it’ll somehow further his point, and Noel almost cries laughing at the sight of him until Liam’s fingers slip and the trophy goes flying and hits Noel smack in the face. Even that isn’t enough to get more than the ghost of a smile out of Calum, whose stomach is still twisting, eyes still flitting across the crowd, breath still catching every time a new award is announced just in case Michael will have to walk past their table, traipse up the stairs to their right, look down at Calum from the stage. Blur don’t win anything, though, much to the brothers’ delight, and as soon as they realise it’s winding down Liam’s saying something about an afterparty and trying to get up and leave before the ceremony’s officially ended. Tony grabs his arm and pulls him back down, mutters something about taking photos that both Noel and Liam scoff at, but one look from their management is enough to keep the two of them in their seats, albeit with glowers and grumbles. 

The hosts close the awards in the most long-winded way Calum’s ever seen, and then they’re being ushered into some back room to take photos along with all the other acts. Noel and Liam are drunker than Calum’s seen them in months, shouting and laughing and throwing their arms around each other and pressing kisses to anyone who dares walk within five metres of them, and, seeing how irritated the rest of the acts and the photographer are at their antics, they ramp it up, yelling and screaming and singing until everyone’s shooting them filthy looks and Calum’s almost managing a proper smile. His eyes have been roaming the room since they got in, looking past the miserable looking bloke from Radiohead because he thought he’d seen a flash of blonde that had turned out to be Robbie Williams’ terrible haircut, but either Blur have already been and gone or they’re still hanging around outside. 

“Cal,” Liam shouts, and then Calum’s being pulled into a headlock - quite a fucking feat, actually, because it’s Noel doing the headlocking, and he’s a good half-foot shorter than Calum. “What d'you reckon, eh? Best band on the fucking planet!” 

“Don’t think that was quite what they said,” Calum says, and Noel ruffles his hair before letting him go, just enough that Calum can stand up straight, and wrapping an arm around Calum’s waist. Calum leans into it, a little unsteady from the alcohol and Michael, relishing the comfort of a steady anchor to counter the way he feels so fucking unbalanced from seeing Michael in the flesh again after five years. 

“You’ve got to read between the lines , Cal,” Liam says earnestly. “They might not’ve said it, but it’s what they meant.” 

“Eeyar,” Noel says suddenly, grinning wickedly. “Is that who I think it is?” Liam twists, following Noel’s gaze, and Calum does the same, turning to the door and finding-

“‘S fucking Dermot All-bran!” Liam crows, cackling gleefully as Damon’s eyes flit to the three of them. He smiles, pretty and polite, and heads in their direction, and as he comes through the door with the woman from Elastica in tow, four more people file in behind him - ginger guy, moody guy, glasses guy, and, to the detriment of Calum’s heartbeat, Michael. 

“Congratulations,” Damon calls, nodding at the award in Liam’s hand. He’s almost reached them, and the rest of his band are trailing behind him, and Calum’s heart is beating so fucking fast and loud that he can barely hear Liam screaming next to him over the pounding in his ears as he watches Michael get closer and closer, carefully avoiding Calum’s burning gaze. 

“Fucking right,” Liam says proudly. “Fucking best band in the world, we are. Real rock ‘n’ roll stars. Not like you posh fucking wankers.” The guy in glasses behind Damon rolls his eyes, and something that looks like irritation flashes across Damon’s face, but Calum barely cares. 

Michael’s still not looking at him, all of three feet away, and Calum’s skin is fucking crawling, itching with the desire to reach out and touch him, to force him to look at Calum, to slot their fingers and their legs and their lips together again, just to see if they still fit. Fuck, he shouldn’t have drunk all that champagne.  

“Don’t think we’ve met,” the tall guy says, holding out a hand. “I’m Alex. This is Graham-” glasses guy, who nods tightly, “-and Dave-” ginger guy, who holds up a hand in an awkward wave, “-and you know Damon. And our resident Australian, Mike.” 

“Looks like a cunt,” Liam remarks, and Calum vaguely registers Noel and Bonehead laughing next to him, loud and giddy and a little spiteful. 

“Ours is better than yours, anyway,” Noel says, arm tightening around Calum, somewhere between defensive and proud. Damon raises an eyebrow, a definite challenge in his eyes now. 

“Is that so?” he says, and in the two years since Calum last heard him speak he’s forgotten how different his speaking voice is to how he sings, eloquent and deep and rich. It’s a secondary thought, though, because Calum’s still staring at Michael, willing him to take his eyes off Damon and look at Calum for just one fucking second, but Michael’s face remains carefully blank, and the closest he gets to looking at Calum is sending Liam a scornful glance. 

“Aye, ‘course it is, you prick,” Liam says, brash and careless, and Damon turns to Calum. 

“Calum, isn’t it?” he says. Calum tears his gaze away from Michael for a moment, enough to see the way Damon’s holding himself, and that whatever Calum says next is going to form Damon’s entire opinion of him. 

“Yeah,” Calum says, aiming for bold and confident to match Liam, because that’s where his loyalties lie now, and hopes no one else can hear how dry his throat is. 

“Didn’t you have a mate in Sydney called Calum?” Damon says, almost idly, turning to Michael. “Was he the one that moved to the UK?” Calum watches the line of Michael’s throat as he swallows, and tries not to superimpose the bruises his lips had left there the night before he’d left Australia for the first and last time on top of it. 

“Yeah,” he says, and Calum’s heart fucking splinters at the sound of his voice. Even in that one syllable, he can hear his Michael, the same tone and sound and depth, but there’s a new edge to it, something slower and more controlled than the wild seventeen-year-old Calum had left behind. The years without Calum have added a gloss to him, a new confidence in his voice and his expression and how he holds himself, and Calum just wants Michael to fucking look at him.

Fuck it, he thinks - or maybe the champagne thinks for him - and he swallows. 

“Hey, Michael,” he says quietly, and all hell breaks loose. 

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chapter three

[thebaronmunchausen]

Look, she has hair on her kili-kili! Yecch! Blecch! Ewwww!" I whisper to my four-year-old sister Tisha, who is too busy splashing about in the water with her tiny little hands to care. "Yecch! Blecch! Ewww!" she squeals, followed by a fit of giggles. She’s copying the way I talk again. I don’t think she even knows what I’m talking about. But never mind. She looks so cute in her orange bikini I want to bite her. Tisha hasn’t been listening to me lately. She should, because I’m her Ate, but these days she’s just been such a bad girl. Even Yaya says so. Suwail, she calls Tisha. Last year, in the sandbox in school, when I told her the Family Secret she just kept on shoveling sand into her little yellow pail. She was making a castle for her Princess Barbie doll. "Tisha, I’ll tell you a secret but you promise not to tell, okay?" "Okay." She pressed her little palms to pack the sand into the pail and inverted it onto the ground. "Swear to God? Cross your heart and hope to die?" She crossed her heart with her left hand while patting the roof of her castle with her right. "You know why Mom was crying again last night?" "’Cause she was sad?" "Yeah, but do you know why she was sad?" Tisha just shrugged. She poured some water from her Thermos on her castle to make it more siksik. I wanted to scold her for wasting her cold drinking water but I was too busy telling her the secret. "Dad had a child with another woman! We have a half-brother! His name is Diego!" She didn’t even look at me. She scooped sand again into her yellow pail. Then, she got sand from the pail with her shovel… and put it into her Thermos! Into her drinking water! "Mwahahahahahaha!" she laughed an evil laugh like The Count on Sesame Street. "Sand Juice! With ice! Yum, yum! Want some, Ate Tanya?" She finally looked up at me and smirked. Tisha isn’t listening to me either today on this very hot day at the Olympic-sized swimming pool at the YWCA, which is filled with lots of children who look negroalready from their swimming lessons. The little girls’ bathing suits are not very nice, not like mine and Tisha’s, which Mom bought for us in Rustan’s. Mine is a pink one-piece with big yellow flowers and a bumblebee. Tisha’s is an orange bikini with plastic yellow rings that hold the bra in the middle and on each side of the panty. She chose it herself. She’s so arte talaga. The little boys are so magulo and their swimming trunks just look like ordinary pambahay. I think they go to public school because they’re not speaking in English. And the water smells funny, like Clorox mixed with sweat and rubber from their ugly black salbabidas. We’re on the side of the pool in the corner facing the street – me, Tisha and her – Diego’s mom, our swimming teacher, Hairy Kili-kili Woman. "It’s okay with you?" I heard Dad say last week when Mom suggested we take swimming lessons with her. I almost said "Ewwww!" out loud but I covered my mouth. "Why not?" Mom replied. "You’ve always wanted the girls to learn how to swim, right? She’s as good a teacher as any, I suppose. At least she’s someone we know," she said. "Ang bait mo talaga," he said and smiled. She wasn’t always that kind to him about her. Last-last year, another one of Mom’s crying and fighting sessions with Dad woke me up. I ran to their room and saw her trying to grab a yellow Kodak envelope from Dad. "Let me see! Is that the kid? Let me see!" she yelled. I had never heard her shout at him before. I could tell Dad was very angry because his bushy eyebrows formed one straight line, like Bert’s on Sesame Street. "Give them back!" he yelled back at her. Their agawan became very rough. I got scared. Then, I got even more scared when Dad caught me peeking by the door and yelled at me, too: "Tanya! Go back to your room!" Dad used to be nice, especially when he would tell me bedtime stories about Achilles and his heel and Medusa and her snake hairdo from his old brown Greek Mythology pocketbook. Or when he’d show me the great paintings of the world from the Book of Knowledge Encyclopedia like the "Mona Lisa" or the dark blue and yellow swirly one like in the song Starry, Starry Night. But lately, especially after Tisha turned two, he began to yell more and more often. Especially when we touched his things. Once when I got his giant brown Swingline stapler from his study table because I needed it to staple my assignment for English and I forgot to return it, he started screaming at the whole house. He yelled, "Sino ba’ng punyeta’ng kumukuha ng mga gamit ko?" and started throwing things. But I was only borrowing it! I just forgot to ask for his permission. I was too afraid to return the stapler, so I hid in my closet and buried it under my clothes until I was sure he was gone. Later, I returned it when he wasn’t looking. Last February 14, Mom didn’t even come home at all. That day, we made greeting cards for our parents in art class with red art paper. I cut out two big hearts and glued them on top of each other and wrote "It’s Valentine’s Day!" on top of the hearts using red Pentel Pen. But when I got home and Mom wasn’t there, I got worried. So I wrote "Please don’t fight!" on top of "It’s Valentine’s Day" and put the card beside their dinner plates. I waited and waited for Mom to come home until I fell asleep. At midnight, I woke up and ran to the dining room. Their plates were still there, untouched. Maybe they went out to dinner together and didn’t see my card! So I got the card and went to their room. Dad was sleeping alone in their bed. Even if I was scared he might shout at me for waking him up, I tapped him on his back and gave him the card. I started to cry. "Where’s Mom?" I asked. "Don’t cry," he said, "she slept in your Tita Alice’s house." I didn’t ask why. He let me sleep beside him. When Yaya woke me up to go to school the next morning, Mom still wasn’t there. Maybe Mom decided to be kind now because Tita Alice told her, "Just kill him with kindness," when Mom confessed to her and my other titas, the wives of Dad’s brothers, that Dad had a kid with another woman. They were all in the garden pretending to look at Mom’s orchids. They thought I couldn’t hear them from where I was by the swing, but I could. I pretended to fix my favorite Raggedy Ann and Andy knee socks because their elastic parts were so worn out they kept rolling down. I had to put rubber bands on each knee and fold the top of each sock over to keep them up. "Ang bait mo naman," my Tita Mary said, "Okay lang sa ’yo?" "Wala kong magagawa, eh. He’s always wanted a boy," Mom shrugged. My other titas just kept quiet and looked away. "Eh, I couldn’t give him one. ‘Look o," she pointed to Thea, our six-month-old baby sister in Yaya’s arms. "Another girl," she sighed. "Wala akong laban." We are in the part of the pool near the stairs, and Hairy Kili-kili Woman is putting on her bathing cap. It’s like a shower cap but tighter and made of rubber. It’s bright green, matching her one-piece bathing suit with lots of leaves and flowers. Maybe her long, thick, curly hair, which Yaya calls "kinky," couldn’t fit into the cap, that’s why she had to wet it first to make it more flat. That’s how I first saw her kili-kili hair, which is also curly like the hair on her head, when she put her hands up to pile up all her hair on top to put the cap on. Ewwww. Her kili-kilis look like little curly porcupines. Maybe they need bathing caps, too. I imagine how that would look and start to laugh. "First, we will learn how to do ‘bubbles,’" Hairy Kili-kili Woman tells us, leading us deeper into the part of the pool that says "3 FT." The water reaches up to my kili-kili and almost up to Tisha’s neck. Tisha jumps up and down in the water and claps her hands. She loves bubbles. H.K.W. laughs, plants a kiss on Tisha’s cheek and jumps up and down with her. Ewwww. I flash Tisha a sungit look and try to make my eyebrows meet, but she doesn’t mind me. They’re holding hands in the water, and H.K.W. reaches out to me so I can join their circle, but I just stare at her and put my hands behind my back. Okay, her name isn’t really H.K.W. It’s Amihan. Amihan Marquez. She’s a painter and a water ballerina. Mom told me this one night last year. I was on the floor in my room gluing pictures of flowers I cut out from her old Good Housekeeping magazines on bond paper for my "Flowers of the World" project in Botany. I thought she would get mad when she came into the room because I made so much kalat and spilled Elmer’s Glue on the floor. I was about to cover the gluey spot with a piece of bond paper so she wouldn’t see it when she suddenly sat down on the floor with me. She didn’t see the spot at all. Her eyes were red and she was wiping her sipon with a Kleenex. "Tanya, I have to talk to you," she said, looking very serious. I wondered what I did wrong. Uh-oh, maybe I forgot to check if the magazines I was cutting were really old! Then, she got up and pulled me towards her. "Come with me," she said and led me to the door. "Where are we going?" I asked. "To Aristocrat," she said. "Let’s have a midnight snack." It was only nine o’clock. Mom, Tisha and I go to Aristocrat for breakfast every Sunday after hearing Mass in Malate Church. It’s near our house on Carolina Street so we just walk. Dad stopped going to church a long time ago. Mom says he’s an atheist, which is someone who doesn’t believe in God. Mom says when he was a little boy he was a sacristan in their church, but when he became a grownup he stopped believing in God. That’s why Tisha and I study in the Learning Community where they don’t teach religion. Mom wanted us to go to a Catholic school like Assumption, but Dad said no. He said he wanted us to learn to think for ourselves and not according to any religion. That’s why when my cousins asked me to show them my First Communion picture and I said I didn’t have one, they laughed at me. Mom said not to mind them. She lets me take Communion anyway, because I like the taste of the Body of Christ. "But Mom," I whined, "I have to change first. I’m just in my pajamas and chinelas!" "That’s okay, let’s go, come on!" She almost yanked my arm off. That’s when I knew something was really wrong. She never allows us to leave the house unless we’re dressed nicely. We can’t even play outside in our slippers. We have to wear shoes. I ordered my favorite Chicken Honey and a Choco-Vim. Mom wasn’t hungry. She just asked for tea. It was very different in Aristocrat at night. There were no children like on Sundays, no vendors in front selling balloons and colored popcorn and pet chicks and colorful maya birds in bamboo cages. Just negra-looking women in very short skirts wearing a lot of makeup, making landi to foreigners. I tried not to stare at them too much. I think they’re called Hospitality Girls. I see them hanging around the go-go bars when the school bus passes by Mabini Street. While waiting for our order, Mom told me. "You’re a big girl now," she began. No, I’m not, I wanted to say, because when we form a line "according to height" during flag ceremony, I’m just Number 2. "And you’re very smart for your age," she continued. Oh, okay, maybe she meant I was only eight and already in Grade Four. All my other classmates were ten. "So I know it’s time for you to know," Mom said, trying not to cry. She said Dad still loved us but he wanted a baby boy so badly that he had to find another Mommy for it. Mom said all she could make was girls like me and Tisha and Thea. But she said Diego, our baby brother, was very cute and we would meet him soon and he might stay with us during the weekends. She said not to tell other people, that it would be our Family Secret. Yaya later told me that Amihan was a kabit and Diego was an anak sa labas. I tried to cry like Flor de Luna. I blinked my eyes very hard, waiting for tears to come out, but nothing came out. So I just embraced Mom and stroked her hair, which only made her cry more. I didn’t know what to do. The Hospitality Girls were looking at her. I said "Shhhh…" like I see in sad movies on TV. I felt like I was the Mommy and she was the baby. By the time my order came, I had lost my appetite, so Mom just told the waiter, "Take home." Tita Amihan (Mom told me to call her that, but I still can’t say it out loud) is still smiling at me even if I’m suplada to her. Her teeth are very big and white, like her eyes. Maybe they look so white because her skin is so dark, not like Mom, who’s fair like me and has singkit eyes and short, straight hair like mine. We always have our hair cut in the same style in the beauty parlor, the Page Boy. It’s the same hairstyle in her wedding photo with Dad, where she looks so pretty in her Princess gown and he looks so handsome in his Amerikana, I swear they look just like a movie love team, like Susan Roces and Eddie Gutierrez or Gloria Romero and Juancho Gutierrez in the Sine Siete movies Yaya lets us watch every afternoon before our siesta. Tisha looks more like Dad, dark and curly with big eyes. Yaya told me Tita Amihan looks like a Jeprox, like Sampaguita, because she’s always wearing long, loose clothes with no bra and doesn’t comb her hair whenever Yaya picks up Diego from their apartment every Saturday to bring him to our house. Once, when Mom heard me calling Tita Amihan a Jeprox, she got mad and said it’s not nice to call people names. She explained that Tita Amihan was an artist and probably a hippie, that’s why she looked like that. Mom said Tita Amihan was the one who painted the big blue-and-green painting in our sala. That’s what the A.M. in the bottom corner of the painting meant all along – Amihan Marquez! Well, it’s not really a painting of anything. It just looks like a jigsaw puzzle. Dad told me it’s called an abstract, but he didn’t tell me shepainted it. It used to be my favorite painting in the whole house and I used to copy it all the time in my sketchpad with my Cray Pas – until I learned the Family Secret. Well, I think she looks a like a bomba star. Like a negra Vivian Velez doing her sexy "Body Language" dance on Discorama on Channel 7. They have the same body, like in the rhyme the boys in school love to recite: "Wow sexy, Katawan Pepsi, Coca-Cola body, Lawlaw panty!" Vivian Velez is also always bra-less. When she dances, she squirms and wiggles and her big boobs jiggle around, so Tisha and I laugh and copy her wriggly worm dance while singing, "When you’re moving next to me, I can feel your body heat, so come on move a little closer, let me feel your body heat…" Whenever we watch the show every Saturday night, Tito Boy, Mom’s younger brother, points to her nipples making bakatunder her tube top and says, "Hayop!" Right now in the pool, Tita Amihan’s nipples are also making bakat under her wet bathing suit. She also won’t stop smiling at me. I hate her stupid smile. What’s she so happy about anyway? I suddenly remember that I haven’t seen Mom smile in such a long time. She’s always sad and crying or mad at Dad. "Okay, girls, who can show me how to inhale and exhale?" Tita Amihan asks. I raise my hand automatically like I always do when I know the answer in class. Tsk! Why’d I do that? Oh well. I won’t smile na lang. I show Tita Amihan and Tisha how, drawing in air through my nose and making my stomach small, then breathing the air out, making my stomach big. "Very good," Tita Amihan exclaims and claps. "Now, we are going to make bubbles by doing what Tanya did – but under the water. Let’s blow out air through our nose and mouth. Let’s pretend we’re sea lions. Do you know what a sea lion is?" I roll my eyes. Sus! Of course I do! I learned it in Zoology. Does she know it’s a mammal? Tita Amihan sinks down into the water, and when Tisha sees bubbles form on top of her head, she gets excited and copies her right away. Soon, they’re both jumping up and down in the water again, making lots of bubbles and laughing when they come up. "Wow, Tisha, you’re a nachural!" she says, pronouncing natural with a "ch." It’s just like the way Dad says pizza pie with a "ch" and supermarket and stupid with a "sh" instead of an "s." They’re looking at me, but I just stand there with my arms crossed in front of me. "Come on, Tanya, try it!" Tita Amihan calls out to me. "Yes, Ate Tanya, try it, it’s fun!" Tisha squeals. It looks pretty easy, but my feet are glued to the floor of the pool and I can’t move. It’s so noisy, I can’t concentrate – suddenly my ears have turned bionic and I can hear the kids in the pool talking, laughing, screaming and splashing water all at the same time. I stare at Tita Amihan’s curly porcupines. Maybe they’re baho like the anghit of the high school boys who play basketball in our school gym sometimes. I force myself to try. I bend my knees and crouch down until the water comes up to my chin, then I stop. I’m afraid to taste the water that’s been touched by her kili-kili hair, so I press my lips inwards very tightly to seal my tongue in, then continue crouching down until my head is completely under the water. But I forget to close my eyes! Ouch! The water goes inside my eyes and stings them, so I shut them very tight. I forget to exhale, so the water goes inside my nostrils, stinging them, too. Ouch! I jerk up and come out of the water. I start coughing and sputtering. My eyes are still shut tight and I’m pinching my nose because it’s so painful, like the time a grain of rice got stuck in it. Even my throat hurts. Tita Amihan rushes to me and puts her arm around me. "Oh no, Tanya, are you okay?" she asks. I struggle away from her grasp and grab the hand railing. "I’m fine, leave me alone," I’m sungit to her again as I wipe the water from my eyes and smooth back all the clumped wet hair that’s all over my face. I want to quit and leave the pool, but I can’t. I’m trapped. Dad won’t pick us up until five. I never wanted to be here in the first place, but I was afraid that Mom and Dad would fight again if I complained. Who cares about swimming anyway? Only Dad does. He says we have to grow up to be survivors. "One day, you’ll be on a boat that will sink. What if you don’t know how to swim? In life, you either sink or swim!" he always says. Dad grew up near Bauang Beach in La Union, so he learned how to swim at a very young age. He wants us to be like him, and even if we’re girls, he wants us to learn things like riding a bike and karate and sports. He got so angry last summer when Mom, Tisha and I came back from the YWCA and she told him she enrolled us in Hula and Tahitian dance instead of swimming because all the classes were full when we got there. "Hula? Tahitian?" he screamed at Mom. "Ano’ng lecheng kaartehan na naman ‘yan? That’s not a survival skill! It’s just a waste of money. My money!" I got scared. He was already mad at Mom for enrolling us in ballet classes. Dad grew up poor and had to sell newspapers and shine shoes to put himself through school, that’s why I think he wants us to have a hard time, too. Whenever he sees us with a new toy or new clothes or shoes, he says, "When I was your age, we never had enough money for those things. We had to work to save up money for what we needed." He says we might become spoiled brats if we get too used to special stuff. But Mom used to be a folk dancer, so she wanted us to learn dancing, too. She said we would have good posture and become graceful. I make sure Dad never sees me and Tisha practicing our dancing, and I always hide our ballet shoes and grass skirts under my bed. I know that if he sees them he’ll remember our dance lessons and get mad again. I’m always afraid to make him angry. He might get so mad and leave all of us and make a new family with Tita Amihan and Diego. These days, when I hear his car horn honking whenever he comes home early at night I grab Tisha and we run to my room and hide under my bed. But that’s not too often, because usually by the time he gets home we’re already asleep. Don’t worry, Tanya, you’ll get the hang of it before you know it! Let’s do something easier," says Tita Amihan. She leads us to the gutter and tells us to hold on to it with both hands while stretching out our arms in front of us, then to let our legs float to the surface and kick our feet behind us. "Kick from your knees with your toes pointed," she says. That’s easy, we learned how to point our toes in ballet. "Pretend the top of the water is the roof, and you’re breaking the roof from below with your feet." she says. As Tisha and I kick the water-roof, I remember that Tita Amihan is a water ballerina. Mom told me she was an Aquabelle in Sulô Hotel, where there’s an underground restaurant with a huge glass window with a view of one side of the pool so the people eating could watch the Aquabelles do water ballet. I’ve always wondered if that’s how they met. Maybe Dad was eating there and saw her in the window like the Little Mermaid and fell in love with her. Or maybe he saw her nipples making bakat under her bathing suit. But I’m too scared to ask Mom. It might make her cry again. I wonder why Dad doesn’t want us to study ballet when Tita Amihan is a ballerina, too. Well, sort of. I want to be a ballerina, too, but the real kind, onstage. "Now, girls, slowly put your face in the water, then try to release your hands from the gutter and kick backwards. Don’t worry, Tanya, you can close your eyes first. Inhale, exhale." I look at Tisha. She’s doing it already – just like that, she can swim! Without touching the gutter! And her eyes are open! I can’t believe it. How can she be so brave? I’m surprised that I can even put my face down in the water, but I can’t let go of the gutter. Every time I try to let go, one hand at a time, just when I’m almost there I change my mind and cling to it again. It’s like I’m glued to the gutter with Elmer’s. What a scaredy cat! Soon, my legs are tired. I stand up to see Tisha and Tita Amihan smiling again and looking at me. They must think I’m stupid and hopeless. "Keep trying, Tanya," Tita Amihan says. "You can do it, Ate," Tisha shouts. I roll my eyes. Why does she have to make kampi? Arrrggh! Why can’t I do it? I’m not stupid, I’m bright! In school they call me a prodigy. I can learn anything! Even this! Maybe if I learn this stupid thing we won’t have to see Tita Amihan ever again, and Dad will forget about her and our family will go back to normal. The sides of my tummy hurt. So does my head. I really just want to go home. But I can’t give up or she’ll think I’m stupid. I shiver in the water but decide I will keep trying even if my fingers are all wrinkled like prunes and manhid. On my tenth try, just before I stand up to give up, I feel Tita Amihan’s hands on my stomach. "Relax," she says, "relax your legs and put your face back in the water again," moving me in the water towards the middle of the pool, "and let me teach you how to float." I’m so tired, I have no strength left to put up a fight. Her voice is so gentle I feel like I’m being hypnotized. I become a very obedient girl and surrender to her. I can feel my whole body turning very straight in the water, touched only by the palm of her hand. Before I know it, my eyes have popped open without the water stinging them, and I can see the blue floor of the pool. It looks like a page from my math notebook. I imagine numbers on each tile and try to solve a math problem. But there are no numbers, just dark, skinny legs attached to ugly bathing suits running around underwater. All of a sudden, it’s very quiet. No noise from the public school children, no crying Mom, no yelling Dad. It’s like a very nice dream. In my head I can hear my favorite Church song, "Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me…" I always wondered what "peace on earth" was like. Maybe it’s like this. Just me and the water and no noise. My body is moving forward like a slow submarine. Nothing is touching me anymore except the water, and I feel like I’m in a cradle. A water cradle that’s rocking me to sleep. I can hear someone saying "Shhhhh…" and it’s not me. It’s Mom! "Shhhhh…" she says, and I’m back to being the baby again. I make bubbles without even trying. After a while, my eyes begin to feel very heavy so I try to make them open wider. The floor has become even bluer, and more peaceful. When I look around me, there are no more skinny legs touching the floor! Where did all the children go? I look to my right behind me and see green flowers and leaves… attached to a body… attached to arms… attached to armpits – with hairy porcupines! It’s not Mom who’s rocking me, it’s Tita Amihan! I wriggle away from her and move the opposite way. I look to my left and see "6 FT" written on the wall. I panic when I remember that the last time I got measured in the doctor’s office, I was just four feet tall. I struggle to get up and lift my head out the water, but my body shoots downward like something’s pulling me from below. I drop lower and lower near the blue floor. I can’t breathe. I can’t make bubbles. I’m sinking. I really want to cry but I can’t underwater. Then, from out of the blue, Aquabelle swoops down to rescue me from the floor like Aquaman on Superfriends. She grabs on to my waist and wrist and pulls me up to the surface zooming through the water like a torpedo. I gasp for breath, coughing and spitting out water. She lifts me onto the pool’s edge, where Tisha is dangling her feet in the water with a very worried look. "Are you okay?" Tita Amihan asks, throwing a towel around me. "Why did you panic? You were floating already! You were really doing well, Tanya! You didn’t have to worry. I was right there beside you. Just trust me, okay? Next time, you just have to trust me." I just stare at her. Then, I look at the big clock by the lifeguard tower and say, "It’s almost five o’clock. Dad will be here soon. My Mom is waiting for us at home." I get up and run to the ladies’ shower room, forgetting to bring Tisha along. When we come out of the YWCA, Dad is already waiting at the entrance with Diego. His face lights up when he sees Tita Amihan in her loose, white backless dress. I don’t think he even sees me or Tisha until she runs to him and shouts, "I can swim, Dad! I can swim!" He smiles, then looks at me. "How about you, Tanya?" He looks back at Tita Amihan, who gives him a strange look like they have a code. I say nothing, except "Where’s the car?" He points to the parking lot across the street. He’s so busy looking at her that when I say "Can I have the key?" he just hands them over without looking. I leave them and walk towards the car. When I turn around, I see Dad and Tita Amihan holding a squealing Diego in between them, swinging him back and forth with their arms while they talk. I’ve never seen Dad laugh and smile so much. He looks so happy. Not mad like he usually is at home. Tisha wants to join them and tries to squeeze in, so I run back to get her and force her to come with me to our car. "Tisha, get in the back of the car!" I order her. "Ate!" she whines but obeys me. I think of joining her in the back seat, but I worry that Tita Amihan might sit in front, and that’s Mom’s seat. So I sit in front instead. If she wants, she can stay with Tisha in the back. I sneak a look across the street again. I catch Dad kissing Tita Amihan on the lips. Then, she walks away from him in the opposite direction with Diego. Dad crosses the street to join us, alone. When we get home, it is almost six thirty, and Mom is standing in front of our gate carrying Baby Thea, right under the lamppost. In the ray of light shining over her head, I can see a cloud of lamoks flying on top of her hair. She’s wearing her pink Chinese silk robe on top of her pambahay and just chinelas, and has a kawawa face – the kind Tisha makes when she knows she’s about to be spanked. She’s wiping her nose with a Kleenex again. I wonder how long she’s been waiting for us? She didn’t have to stand out there in the street – why didn’t Yaya just call her inside the house when Dad honked the horn? I suddenly feel very sad. We didn’t even think of buying any pasalubong for her! I don’t care if Dad gets mad, I run out of the car to her and hug her tight. She smiles down at me and asks, "So, can you swim now?" I whisper, "I didn’t learn Mom, she’s not a good teacher!" And just before Tisha can shout from the car window, "I can swim, Mom!" I whisper to her again, "Please don’t make me take swimming lessons with her again, Mom. Please." She kisses my forehead, then Thea’s, and nods.

Sink or Swim Myrza Sison Second Prize, Short Story, 2006 Palanca Awards

[margridarnauds]

I think I never got a notification about Nous Devons au Pouvoir so i only noticed now (THANK YOU by the way, it's amazing, I really appreciate it!!) but 4, 13, and 14 for the meme, please! And also, I'm sorry that I ended up reading it so late, it wasn't my intention to ignore it at all.

Thank you so much! (I was more than slightly terrified, even though I also understood your schedule, but I was also going “Oh my God what if I gave her the equivalent of a dead rat for her birthday?” I’m really, really glad that you liked it!) 

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

The boy straightened up, even as he averted his eyes downward in deference, and the growl was gone in his voice. “There are many common soldiers. There is but one king of France.”

This fic and the fic that precedes it, Le Cri de ma Naissance (WHICH I HAVE NOT GIVEN UP ON), both really explore…HOW Lazare becomes the Comte de Peyrol. From that scared little kid clutching his book in the Beauce, who still has SOME hope of escaping (even if it’s dying a little bit every day) to the figure who stalks the halls of the Bastille. And this line is one of them where Adult!Laz starts to really show himself with that kind of blunt, yet diplomatic speech that kind of becomes a trademark of his. 

And it’s not what Artois is EXPECTING. He was expecting Laz to either explode in rage or run crying out of the hall, but instead he gathers himself up together, gives an explanation that is perfectly flattering to Louis, and stands up to Artois in the politest possible way (and in a way that he’s probably not going to be able to do for some time afterwards.) It’s very much a rare Olympe Moment for Laz, even if unfortunately he’s going to end up over his head in a way that Olympe was able to avert. It’s just a pity that this line also had to earn him Artois’ interest, because he suddenly realized that he could have a new plaything. 

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? 

A lot of the time, I can’t really listen to music WHILE writing because I can either focus on one or the other, and if I put on the music while I’m trying to get an idea out, it’s going to lead me pacing the halls for an unspecified period of time tossing ideas around. Some of the songs that I listened to while pacing around, but that I don’t NECESSARILY recommend for the overall mood (though I’m not going to say that you SHOULDN’T listen to Barbie songs while reading it): 

(1) Become the Beast - Karliene 

(2) Lunacy of Duke Venomania, Servant of Evil, and Seven Crimes and Punishments - Mothy 

(3) Applause - Lady Gaga

(4) Animals - Maroon 5 

(5) Weil Ich Besser Bin - Marie Antoinette das Musical 

(6) Bubblegum Bitch and Primadonna Girl- Marina and the Diamonds 

(7) Gasoline - Halsey 

(8) Candy Store - Heathers: The Musical

(9) How Can I Refuse - Barbie: The Princess and the Pauper

In general, I was really trying to get into that mood of sheer ENTITLEMENT, ego, and overall idea of the monstrous lurking in a court setting with no one really there to halt his progress. 

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I mean, my file name for this one while I was writing it WAS “Artois You Piece of Shit,” but that doesn’t really say anything NEW. 

In all seriousness, as I mentioned in my response to Forgiveness, I don’t think that I GENERALLY go in with an idea of pounding out some sort of moral message, even though I can’t REALLY divorce myself from my own cultural context/personal background. And personally, I’m too much into ideas of interpretation and being able to analyze a story to really have One True Lesson. 

I GUESS that if I was going to actually apply a lesson to it, from Laz’s point of view, it would be that it’s really, really common for people who have survived abuse at the hands of one person to end up in a situation where they’re being abused by someone else, sometimes in a different way, sometimes not. I personally thought while writing it that the villain of the piece wasn’t even really ARTOIS (though of course Artois sets everything into play and still has AGENCY), it was more the society and the overall system that CREATED him and that turned a blind eye to what Lazare’s grandfather was more or less openly doing to him while happily laughing along whenever Artois chose a new victim. (That, and Lazare’s grandfather, whose treatment of Laz before this began basically set him up for everything even if that wasn’t necessarily his end goal. Like, of COURSE Lazare is going to go to an authority figure, a member of the Royal Family that he was taught to serve unquestioningly, who gives him a scrap of interest and affection, even if it’s completely insincere.)

Also: Court presentations? Very, very important in the 18th century. Very important. Especially in military service since that was the main distinction between officers who could move up in the ranks and the lower, more provincial nobles who were stuck in the lower ranks. 

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Jeanne! We’re excited to have you and Haley Sterling in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Jeanne Age: 25 Timezone: EST Ships: Haley/Chemistry, Haley/Nerdiness Anti-Ships: Haley/NoChem

IC INFO

Full Name: Haley Nicole Sterling Face Claim: Virginia Gardner Age/Birthday: 23 / September 17, 1995 Occupation: Part-time acup barista, part-time level 1 instructor through NYC Ultra Gymnastics, part-time student at NYU, defender for April’s Showers Personality: Competitive, impulsive, determined, naive, ditzy Hometown: San Francisco, CA

Bio:

Oh, the Sterling family. If there was ever a group more fitted for a reality TV show on TLC, it was them. That’s how an outsider would see it, at least. For Haley, it was just her family. The first few years of her life were spent loving her parents and little sister, and then her second mom and her second dad came into the picture. Whenever she went over to her friends houses growing up, they introduced her to their parents. Haley did the same, it just so happened she had a few more parents than them. It wasn’t the picture that she saw on TV, but that didn’t really matter. She had a family that loved and doted on her, that’s what mattered. She was an incredibly content child - set her out in the backyard to run around and play, and she was a happy camper. Or set her up in her bedroom, playing with her little sister (once upon a time, Jemma really did play with barbie dolls properly). She was content, and she was friendly, always running up to strangers and asking if they wanted to be her friend. Needless to say, her parents had to have the stranger danger talk with her more times than she can count, but the fact remains that Haley has always been a people person, easily able to settle into a crowd.

Dedication isn’t a word many people would associate with Haley even today, and it never has been. She comes across as having her head in the clouds 9 times out of 10 and she wasn’t exactly a contender for valedictorian. She’s not the person you to go if you’re looking for reliability, and that’s why a lot of people are thrown off when they find out she’s been honing her skills as a gymnast since the age of 4. It wasn’t some kind of “love at first sight” moment, where Haley knew she wanted to make it her life from day one. On the contrary, she remembers crying in frustration when she couldn’t get a somersault down as easily as the other kids in her class (granted it was within the first week of classes, but Haley’s child mind didn’t care about that).

That’s why it was so invigorating when she finally nailed it by week two… Haley’s never been known for her patience, you see, but the one thing she’s got going for her is that she doesn’t quit. She doesn’t quit because of that same excitement she got when she perfected that first somersault right, followed by her first cartwheel, her first handstand, mastering her first forward tuck and everything over the next few years as she climbed up the levels. She was 8 years old, level 9, when she got her first first place award on the uneven bars, subsequently helping her team take home the win as well. That, my friends, is when Haley fell in love with the sweet taste of victory.

There wasn’t time for Haley to ever cultivate many other areas of extracurricular interest. She’d arrive at school an hour before classes started to make use of the gym’s empty weight room for strength and conditioning, and immediately after school she would make her way down to the gymnastics center for more hours worth of practice. Her dedication and prowess in the sport are what helped her lock in a scholarship offered by NYC Ultra, a gymnastics club located not too far away from NYU’s campus. The school itself didn’t have a gymnastics program, but NYC Ultra had scouted her during her final meet during high school and offered to help fund her higher education if she joined their team upon moving. And its a good thing they did, because her grades certainly wouldn’t be earning her any academic scholarships.

Leaving her family had her balling like a baby, but Haley found herself settling in to New York City life eventually. It was a much different pace than San Francisco, that was for sure. Still, Haley prides herself on never really feeling like a fish out of water, especially since she quickly made friends with the other members of her gym and then at school. Her decision to major in social work was based in her family’s own unconventional-but-still-good history, and as much as she struggled to maintain her school, practice, and work schedules, she did find herself liking the course she was on. She was a full-time student for her first two years, but recently after much debate and guidance from people significantly smarter than her, Haley made the choice to go from full-time student to part-time student.

At the same time, she also made the decision to retire from competing in gymnastics and try her hand at coaching, something she’s discovered a love for. She’s now certified to teach entry-level gymnastics, and she thinks she’s found a good balance to her life. It also lost her her academic scholarship, but with the time she’s freed up from her previously strict practice schedule and full-time course-load, it’s all been a relief. She can study without feeling pressured to make it a priority, and is able to both work and be involved in athletics at a pace that lets her enjoy herself rather than feeling constantly stressed. Sure her schedule is pretty packed, but it’s all things that bring her happiness, so it’s worth it.

See, the thing with Haley is that if she isn’t interested in something, it falls to the wayside. But once she finds her passion and groove, she is all in. That’s the reason why she can’t sit through an algebra class without daydreaming, but she’ll give you a point-by-point breakdown of why Laurie Hernandez should’ve taken the gold for the Women’s balance beam during the 2016 Olympics, or make an entire PowerPoint on why Digimon trumps Pokemon (she’s still gotta catch ‘em all though, make no mistake). She knows what she loves and doesn’t waste her time or energy on things that won’t end up bringing her personal happiness and fulfillment. Is that a good way to be successful in life? Probably not, but has it helped Haley get through the last 23 years with minimal sadness and reason to say she didn’t give something her all? Absolutely, 100%, a thousand times yes.

Pets: Haley has had iced coffees last longer than some goldfish. She’s pretty much given up on trying to keep any kind of pet alive at this point, so instead she has her bedroom windowsill decorated with succulents. They’re less likely to ruin her carpet and lose her her deposit.

Relationships:

Jemma Sterling — She’s the first person to admit that Jemma is far from perfect, but she’ll also attempt to rip anyone’s head off who dares insult or undersell her baby sister. Watch it, folks. Haley adores Jemma, even if she does worry her from time to time with just how… we’ll say just how “free” she can be. It’s probably not the best idea, but she trusts Jemma wholeheartedly. In a way, Haley is a little envious of how open her sister is with everything, but that’s a story for another time. She still loves her to the moon and back and then to the moon and back again.

Blair Anderson — Haley and Blair dated for a short time, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when the broke up. Or at least Haley calls it a break up — she won’t say it out loud, but a part of her felt completely jilted and forgotten about when Blair went on her cruise. It’s been months since they’re brief fling, and while Haley hates being anything less than UBER SUNSHINE HAPPINESS, she’s also still angry with Blair. Could she suck it up and just talk to her to get resolution? Of course she could. Has she? Absolutely not, Haley lacks that kind of foresight for common sense.

April’s Showers — Even though she replaced being on a gymnastics team with coaching, Haley did miss the extra boost of athleticism that came with constantly being in practice. She got the idea to join April’s soccer team from her sister, and it’s definitely been a big help in keeping her endorphin levels high and her laziness levels low. It feeds in to her competitive nature, and she digs almost everyone on the team so far. Being on the same team as her sister means they have to share the family brain cell at the same time, but Haley’s enjoying herself.

EXTRA INFO

mmmhalebop ☄️ / HaleyStorm / i’m secretly the fourth member of Hanson

Five latest tweets:

@HaleyStorm: @marvelstudios pls call my insurance company and tell them you’ll cover the surgery to have the heart you ripped out of my chest replaced @HaleyStorm: manny santos hiking up her thong will always be iconic #whateverittakes @HaleyStorm: #gymnastsecret - if you see me hold a position on the bar too long, it’s bc i 100% blanked on the rest of the routine @HaleyStorm: tba @HaleyStorm: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! guess who just saw a dog, me it was me you don’t have to guess

[expatimes]

Deferred dreams: What COVID taught three Olympic athletes

The Tokyo Olympics was arguably the biggest sporting casualty of the coronavirus pandemic, postponed in March in an unprecedented move as a third of the world was plunged into COVID-19-related lockdowns.

More than 11,000 elite athletes from 33 different sports were due to compete in the games – for most the pinnacle of sporting achievement.

A pared-down Olympics is now scheduled to be held for two weeks from July 23, 2021, with some adjustments for the pandemic. The Paralympics will follow.

The Ariake Arena, where the gymnastics competitions will be held, lit up in support of athletes preparing for the delayed Olympic and Paralympic on July 23, 2021

Even as vaccines are finally rolled out, it is still not 100 percent certain the event will even be able to proceed in 2021.

Al Jazeera spoke to three athletes from the Asia Pacific region to find out how they were affected by the postponement.

Kelsey-Lee Barber, Australia

  Kelsey Ann Barber, Australia’s world champion in javelin

Everyone wants to know how she became the javelin women’s world champion.

“It’s the question I get asked the most,” said Kelsey-Lee Barber, laughing, after Al Jazeera put forward the same question.

“Javelin is quite an unusual event,” she admitted. “Especially in a country like Australia where team sports are the focus.”

Born in South Africa, Barber moved to Australia as a child. In high school, she threw the discus but her coach encouraged her to dabble in other field events such as shot put and javelin.

It was when Barber won the javelin event in the 2008 Pacific School Games that she realised it was the sport for her.

“This is the event that’s going to take me to the Olympics,” she recalled thinking. “This is what I want to do with my life.”

Her gut was right – 29-year-old Barber is now not only the world champion, winning gold in Doha in 2019 but also has the 12th-longest javelin throw on record. She threw an incredible 67.70m (222 feet) in Lucerne last year.

Barber is preparing for her second Olympics and has fortunately not been as affected by the COVID-19 lockdowns as other sportspeople have – after all, athletics is predominantly an individual event.

“We had to move off-site at the beginning and we were training in our garages and local parks,” Barber said. “When COVID was announced as a pandemic, we thought would do everything in their power to make it happen.”

Track and field events are due to take place in Tokyo’s National Stadium, which will also host the opening and closing ceremonies

By late March, several countries – including Australia and Canada – had officially withdrawn their teams from the Tokyo games, citing concerns for their health.

“When things started to escalate as rapidly as they did, I think that’s when I started realising that maybe Tokyo wouldn’t go ahead this year,” says Barber.

While disappointed that she did not get to compete this year, Barber says she thinks it was the right thing to do.

“It’s given me a different opportunity this year,” she mused. “I’ve really been able to focus on looking after my body this year, and that’s a huge plus going forward.”

“I’ve potentially put a few extra years onto my career because of the work I’ve been able to do this year.”

“This year has also given me an opportunity to just be me,” Barber added, smiling. “I’ve still put in a lot of training but for the first time in a very long time, athletics hasn’t had to be the number one priority.”

Farah Ann Abdul Hadi, Malaysia

  Farah Ann Abdul Hadi was the first Malaysian woman to qualify to compete in gymnastics at the Olympics

Malaysian gymnast Farah Ann Abdul Hadi was supposed to spend July competing beneath the lofty roof of the 12,000 seat Ariake Gymnastics Centre in Tokyo, the first Malaysian woman ever to qualify for the competition.

Instead, the 26-year-old was working on her routines in Malaysia’s National Sports Complex in the southern suburbs of Kuala Lumpur, putting in the hours in the gym and with physiotherapy and sharing regular updates with her 340,000 Instagram followers.

Looking back, Farah says that while she was “a little bit upset” as talk swirled that the Olympics would be cancelled, the delay was perhaps a blessing in disguise, allowing her body time to fully recover after back-to-back competitions in 2019 and multiple injuries throughout her international career.

“I don’t train in pain any more,” she told Al Jazeera on a video call from Bukit Jalil. “Since I’m more of a senior gymnast already – I’m 26 and obviously, my body isn’t like it was when I was 16 any more – it’s quality rather than quantity. To perfect the skills and make sure my body is in good health for 2021.”

Farah took up gymnastics when she was three, attending classes alongside her older sister. “My parents are both sporty and they wanted their children to do sports too,” she said, explaining how she “fell in love” with gymnastics. “I was also a hyperactive child,” she says, smiling.

She began competing for her state when she was six and training with the national squad two years later. Her first international competition was in 2010.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Farah Ann Abdul Hadi (@farahann94)

  Artistic gymnastics is a test of agility, flexibility and strength and has been part of the Summer Games since they were held in Amsterdam in 1928.

Women compete in four disciplines – the uneven bars, beam, vault and floor – in a sport that has long been dominated by the United States, Russia and China. So far, Malaysia has had more success in badminton, diving and cycling.

Farah enjoys the floor the most.

“I love expressing myself and performing for the crowd and it’s also where I can show my strength and my artistry,” she said.

She has a “history” with the beam, she says ruefully of the 10-cm wide (4 inches) and five-metre (16.4-feet) long piece of wooden apparatus, which is 1.25 metres (4.1 feet) off the floor. “I like the beam, but it doesn’t really like me back.”

It was a mistake on the beam that cost the gymnast a spot in the Rio Games by the tiniest of margins. It was, she says, a “devastating” blow.

She secured her space in Tokyo through the qualifiers at the World Championships in Stuttgart in October 2019. Competing early in the morning, Farah endured a nerve-racking wait until late at night before she knew for sure she had qualified. “Tokyo, here we come!” she messaged her family back in Malaysia.

When Farah first started out in the sport she was inspired by Nastia Liukin who emerged an Olympic All-Around Champion – excelling across the four disciplines – in 2008. Now it is Simone Biles, the most decorated female athlete of the Olympics, who took home four gold medals in Rio and entranced a generation of young women.

This year, toymaker Mattel made a one-of-a-kind Barbie of Farah – part of a project to honour inspirational women from around the world.

Farah hopes by competing in Tokyo, she can show Malaysians that nothing is impossible.

“It’s basically having a goal and reaching that dream you have had since you were eight years old – to go out there with the Malaysian flag on your shoulder,” she said. “I’m very proud to be a female gymnast, to be able to represent my country and to show young girls that you can make a career of sport, and that you can be who you want to be.”

Annabelle Smith, Australia

  Olympic diver Annabelle Smith

Australian diver Annabelle Smith was “pretty devastated” when she found out the games had been postponed due to COVID-19.

“When you’ve been working towards something for four years or your entire career – to have it ripped away from you at the last minute was pretty disappointing,” the 27-year-old told Al Jazeera.

Smith has been diving for 15 years and in that time has competed in the London and Rio Olympic Games, winning a bronze medal in Rio.

As such, she feels “grateful” to have already had two Olympic experiences and has spent a lot of time resetting goals and talking to her sports psychologist and coach in preparation for Tokyo 2021 and now feels “re-energised”.

She says some of her Olympic teammates have found it more difficult, noting that that “people plan their careers around the Olympic Games”.

Smith also knows some athletes have been forced into retirement because they had different plans for 2021, such as starting a family, while others have “aged out” of their sport or face an increased risk of injury.

Being a Melbourne-based athlete presented additional difficulties during the lockdown – one of the longest and strictest in the world.

“I just had to train in my living room at home,” she said.

However, she is now fortunate to be back in the training facilities, albeit ensuring they remain COVID-19-safe.

“In our gym sessions, we have to clean the equipment thoroughly and really use our initiative to make sure everything is staying safe.”

Mai Yasuda dives from the 10-metre (32-foot) platform during the opening ceremony of the Tokyo Aquatics Centre, which is due to host artistic swimming, diving, and swimming events during the Olympic and Paralympic games

However, with COVID-19 far from over, Annabelle says that while she is training and preparing as if the games are going ahead as scheduled, she will “probably cry” if they are postponed again.

“I think it will really be such a positive thing for the world just to get the Olympic Games under way and for people to be able to watch on TV and celebrate something after going through all these challenges of COVID. I’m just excited for it to unite everybody.”

With reporting by Kate Walton in Canberra, Kate Mayberry in Kuala Lumpur, and Ali MC in Melbourne.

#sport Read full article: https://expatimes.com/?p=16221&feed_id=25930 #asiapacific #athletics #australia #coronaviruspandemic #features #japan #malaysia #news #olympics #sports

[troglobite]

fhsldhs i was listening at work and i got a bit distracted when they were reading the submission and then i realized they were talking about ice skating and was like "WAIT WAS THAT BECK'S" and went back to hear that bit again and was disappointed that it was not yours

also i super wanna submit something myself but am afraid i would not be able to limit it to a few sentences. *~*~AUTISM~*~*

@drcoxsredwingsjersey

completely forgot to reply to this earlier bc i slept in super late BUT thank you bc same. lol unfortunately twas not....but fate had been so cruel as to trick us BOTH into thinking that it was... lol

also dude, same. i’m afraid that’s why they didn’t read mine. technically it was only a few sentences. then i hit space several times and said ‘this isn’t for the podcast, this is for y’all’ and linked like....6 videos for them to watch. BUT LIKE. HOW CAN I MAKE THEM UNDERSTAND MY ENTHUSIASM FOR YUZU’S SKATING IF I DON’T SHOW THEM HIS SKATING???? anyway. lol

it’s also weird to me that they repeat “keep it to one or two sentences” when the things they read are like clearly MORE than that. idk.

but yeah it’s like. you can’t...create a show...about enthusiasm and love and wonderful things and excitement and positivity....and not expect a shitload of your autistic or otherwise neurodivergent fans to be like “HERE’S MY GIANT INFODUMP TREATISE ON WHY THIS PARTICULAR NICHE INTEREST GIVES MY LIFE JOY” like ???? my dudes, i have loved figure skating since i was a KID. i used to have figure skating barbies and make the kitchen floor a skating rink and make them do incredible jumps and then commentate like the people on the olympics. i’ve spent HOURS researching this shit, deciphering the official score cards from the ISU that are only posted on a difficult to find link on their fucking website and have, of course, stayed up until 5 in the morning to watch a livestream of various competitions because i wanted to see it live with no/good commentary, instead of the heavily edited and talked-over GARBAGE that NBC airs. 

lol idk it’s bizarre it’s just kinda like. suuuuper wish they’d devote a bigger segment of the show to like--like, they do the regular amount of time for some short listener submissions, but then they’d pick one Bigger Submission and talk about it a little longer.

because the idea is to SPREAD that joy and enthusiasm??? and i sent them the videos (after making it clear only the short few sentences were meant for the podcast) bc i want THEM to be enthusiastic about it too! i want them to watch the routines and cry or cheer and clap! i want them to get it! same thing with shakespeare! or performance poetry! i want people to get it and then to enjoy it! if it’s not their thing that’s okay, but i want to invite them in so they at least have all the info to decide whether or not it’s their thing.

PLUUUUUUUS the skating season has ALREADY STARTED. like the us classic started yesterday and pairs and mens skated today! nathan chen and jason brown debuted their new short programs! like!!!! jason brown is skating to HAMILTON and i am 1000000% about to go youtube it and check it out (the livestream kept freezing for me earlier :( )

and yuzuru’s competing at the----...autumn classic? i think? and i’m SO FUCKING EXCITED for his new (old) programs. they’ve been updated, and this fucker has been practicing a fucking quadruple axel are you motherfucking kidding me i guarantee it’s not competition ready but NEITHER AM I so it’s a good thing. lol 

i just---AJSDLFKJSDLKFJSLDFKJASDLKJ SPECIAL INTERESTS I AM IN SPECIAL INTEREST HELL RN I NEED RACHEL AND GRIFFIN TO LISTEN TO A TEENY TINY BIT OF THIS. lololol

i’m probs gonna send in another but about the OSF instead... oh! about the show Will! i think that’ll be good. yeah, okay, i can keep that short, i think....

i just want to spread my LOVE. :( lol

[nanalikessurveys]

What is the easiest website to pass time on? Youtube, i could watch videos on youtube for hours What’s the last place you left early, and what was your reason? I don’t remember Do you take your medications in the morning or at night? I have meds that i take in the morning and also meds that i take at night Would you rather visit London or Paris? I’ve been to paris already so i would want to go explore london

Have you ever bought a youtuber’s merch? No

Pick a flavor: pumpkin or apple? I don’t think i’ve ever even tasted anything pumpkin flavored so Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk? Milk What kind of milk do you usually use? Light milk or whatever it’s called in english lol What is the best type of donut? Caramel or cinnamon and sugar

What was your last great garage sale find? I haven’t been to a garage sale Do you like thrift stores? Sure, i just don’t go there that often When was the last time you ran into someone that you didn’t want to see? I don’t remember Was anyone rude to you today? No What is your town known for? The amusement park i guess Who is your favorite set of twins on youtube? The only twin youtubers i watch sometimes are Lucas and Marcus Do you like to watch DIY craft videos? No, i never watch them

What are you regretting right now? Not paying that much attention in class when i was in school Who was the last person who was rude to you? I don’t remember Would you ever let the barista at Starbucks make a random drink for you? Sure, i’m usually pretty open to trying new flavors Have you ever used a fake name at Starbucks? No Have you ever left a note in a library book? I haven’t What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair? Morning or night What is the worst job you’ve ever had? I’ve never had a job What is the best job you’ve ever had? - What job do you want to have? Forensic psychologist. or just something that pays well/okay and i enjoy What are you passionate about? Sports Have you ever tried vlogging, and if yes, did you stick with it? No, but i have made videos with my flip phone camera when i was in elementary school haha, i’m glad i never put them up on the internet ^Same question with blogging. Have you? No

Do you have to alter a lot of your clothes? No What country do you most want to visit? Iceland Do you have chronic pain? No If you go to church, what is your favorite thing about it? I don’t go to church ^and what is your least favorite thing about it? - Did you go to church this week? No What is something that’s bothering you right now? Nothing actually at the moment Are you happy right this instant? Sure What’s your favorite fall beverage? I don’t know what counts as a fall beverage but i like lattes and hot chocolate

Do you exercise daily? No What do you do for exercise? I dance at home lol. and i also go to the gym occasionally and also go to bodycombat Is your room/house cluttered? It’s pretty cluttered atm but i’m going to do some cleaning soon, my mom is coming over in two days Do you live in a house, condo, apartment, or dorm? Apartment Were your college years the best years of your life? I didn’t go to college What was your favorite class in high school? English, finnish and psychology Which class in high school did you hate the most? Just anything maths Do you have a birthmark? If yes, what color is it? Yes, it’s white What color is your lava lamp? I don’t have one Do you have an inspiration board? No Where do you store old photos? In a box Do you have photos on the wall in your bedroom? Nope Favorite scent for a candle? I’m not really into candles but i like the scent of vanilla Would you ever film a youtube video with no make-up on and messy hair? I wouldn’t lol, not with this face

What is the most comfortable type of pants, in your opinion? Leggings or tights Do you cry a lot? Sometimes Do you keep up to date with the latest technology? Not really Would you ever want to live in a big city, like New York or Chicago? Nah

What about a big city sounds appealing to you? It doesn’t sound really appealing Do you wish you had more money to do the things you want to do? Of course Do you prefer college-ruled or wide-ruled? What is the difference Pencils or pens? Pens

Favorite ink pen color? Black What are you craving right now? Some sleep Do you have a sweet tooth? Sometimes Do you need to lose weight? Not really Do you need to gain weight? No Who is your favorite Lisa Frank character? I don’t know what that is Have you ever won a prize at the age guessing booth? No, never even tried it

What’s your favorite movie that you remember seeing in the theater? So many What was the name of your very first imaginary friend? I don’t want to tell the name Do you know anyone who has ten cats? Haha no Have you ever had a cat? Yes, troughout my whole life i’ve had cats Have you ever had a dog? No Have you ever any other kind of animal? A hamster Have you ever had a pet rock? Lol no Which Olympic sport would you most like to be a pro in? Have you ever played this sport? Artistic gymnastics. i have What were you voted in the senior class polls? Not a thing here Who was your favorite teacher in high school? Idk, i liked all of them tbh Do you own a bobblehead? No What’s on your desk? Makeup and a mirror Do you love someone who treats you like a piece of shit? No Isn’t loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way horrible? Oh yeah What’s your favorite DIY Halloween costume that you’ve seen? I don’t know What is your favorite gender-neutral name? I don’t have any Do you want to give your kids common names or unique names? Something in between What is your favorite type of braid? French braids What is your favorite spice? Vanilla Favorite Spice Girl? I don’t have one Favorite Cheetah Girl? I don’t know this Backstreet Boys or *N Sync? I don’t listen to either of these Were you a boy band fan? No What decade were you born in? 90s What is your favorite coffee shop? Espresso house What is your favorite tattoo that you’ve seen? Hmm What is something you have too many of? Makeup What collection are you thinking of starting? There’s none Do you collect anything now? If so, what? I wouldn’t cal it collecting When was the last time you painted something? Tuesday Do you have any disabilities? Kinda Do you have any unique or hidden talents? I can still climb up the doorframe LOL Do people call you gifted? No Do people call you unique? No Do you get bullied? Not anymore Do you own a dreamcatcher? No

What are five of your favorite stores at the mall? Idk When was the last time you went to Michael’s? Never

Do you knit or crochet? I don’t Do you enter craft projects in your county’s fair? No What modes of transportation do you use? Bus What is your least favorite chore? Washing the dishes What is the best gift you have ever given someone? I don’t know What is the best gift you have ever received? Hmm, there’s many Have you ever made a decision that you regret? Of course Do you make your own greeting cards? I have as a kid What color feather boas do you own? None Do you use colored hangers? Nope Do you organize your clothes by color? No, i don’t have time for that What time does your alarm go off in the morning? It varies

What was your favorite toy as a child? Barbies What do you want to name your first child? Not sure yet List ten favorite girls names. Don’t have that many List ten favorite boys names. ^ What season do you want to get married in? Summer i guess Is your Pinterest cluttered? It is but it doesn’t matter Are you a trendsetter? No lol Do you want to be a trendsetter? No What was the last great book you read? It’s been awhile since i’ve read a book

Are you a free spirit? I guess so Has anyone called you a free spirit? No Do you get more compliments or insults? Compliments Has anyone ever spread lies about you? Yes

What is your favorite insect? None What bugs scare you? Every damn one

What was your favorite vacation? I’ve alove all of them Who picked your name, your mom or your dad? I think my dad What is your first and middle name? Nana Emilia What were some other names your parents were considering when they had you? I can’t really remember, they’re in my baby book tho

What are your siblings’ names? Not saying Do you own any Lularoe leggings? No What was the last thing you bought online? Shoes Do you enjoy public speaking? Noooooooo

[ginnyzero]

Dream Jobs, Fashion, & Barbie

Originally Posted 1/31/2016

If I had been a more self aware seven year old child, I would have wanted to work for Mattel's Barbie division. - Me

Ironically, I actually had this scheduled to go up Wednesday, but two days ago, Mattel announced new Barbie doll molds. Barbie now comes in curvy, tall and petite.

Barbie was actually the toy I played the most with as a child. I would build her houses with Legos and Lincoln Logs. I liked to change her clothes. I had a ton of accessories from both Barbie brand and knock off toy brands that she could use. Barbie even had a perfume bottle set that was pretty prized and fought over when my friends came to play. I wasn't extremely creative with her story lines, I cared a lot more about her clothes and what fashion packs I could get (or at least stare longingly at in the toy aisle.) I remember that as a kid, I loved green and Barbie just didn't have enough green in their options. So, I wrote them a letter asking for more green. They sent me a standard form rejection letter in response. Way to crush a child's dreams, Mattel.

Barbie and the Crayola Fashion Designer set (that I used through high school) were the two driving reasons why when I couldn't figure out how to get into Video Game design (thank you Myst behind the scenes videos), that I rummaged through my hobbies and dug into my ACT employment test and decided to go to school for Fashion Design. Architecture seemed too math heavy. Writing too risky. (I should have gone for writing. Sigh.)

Now, Barbie in particular has had her fair share of bad marketing and mothers accusing them of creating bad body image in girls. Overall, Mattel has always stuck with the idea that the Barbie Brand is positive because even back when women didn't have careers outside the home (or at least not many of them did), Barbie promoted to girls that they could dream to be anything whether it was a Doctor, a Veterinarian, an Astronaut, a lawyer and I seem to remember Barbies that went to the Olympics. But due to the recent and not so recent push back about 'natural' bodies and 'body positivity' Mattel has finally gotten on board (or at least been pushed by falling sales numbers in the Barbie division) to create different body types.

There have been at least a couple of dolls that tried to promote a more body positive image in a fashion doll. The biggest that I know about is Lammily. Most of Lammily's early marketing was about not being Barbie and how the doll was created on the proportions of the 'average' teenager. And that's what Lammily looks like, average. She's not 'warm' or 'inviting' like the creator wants you to think. She's actually, really pretty boring. Also, her clothes are boring and they don't fit and she doesn't have any shape to make them aesthetically pleasing. See, the creator of Lammily and most the people who cry about body positivity and having 'natural proportions' miss the point of a fashion doll entirely. They seem to think that Mattel and fashion designers and those in the fashion industry don't know that Barbie's proportions are wrong and she's too tall and too thin and has too small of a waist and her bust is too big.

We do. In fact, I think I've sat through at least two classes on this at both universities I attended, one even had a homemade model of what Barbie would look like if she was human sized. It was a bit scary. (Both the proportions and the execution of the model.)

The thing is, we don't care.

First and for most, fashion is a business. Fashion dolls are a business. Fashion itself is around a three trillion dollar global industry. Fashion is about branding. It's about marketing and it's about trend forecasting. In fashion, we know what you're going to do before you do.

Fashion execs and marketers shamelessly use psychology in their advertisements to get the populace to buy their products. We know it's not real. We know it's fake. We know that without photoshop that no one can achieve the proportions of the girls in the magazine ads. We know that catwalk models are 2% of the population in the world, which by the way is the same percent as people who can wear that bright sickly yellow that the human eye sees first! We make ourselves immune to it. We accept that it is fantasy.

The fashion industry and fashion dolls sell a fantasy. That's how they make their living. No matter how much people scream about the models looking anorexic. (They might possibly be or they might naturally just be that skinny.) Or that Barbie if she was human height wouldn't be able to walk because her bust is too big and she's be over six foot eight and she lacks internal organs, if it is going to continue to make the fashion industry and the fashion doll industry money. It's not going to change anything.

Now, I don't really think that Barbie's lack of natural proportions has been the reason her sales numbers have been falling. My recent perusal of Mattel's shopping site left me bitterly disappointed on how boring and normal Barbie looked, even though the clothes fit. They just didn't feel high fashion or even outrageous fashion. (My favorite outfit included a hot pink denim jacket. Oh, the eighties.) There wasn't any fantasy. The fantasy that Monster High & Ever After High and things like Disney's Fairies or the Frozen dolls have. A fantasy that Lammily never had to begin with.

I don't know if these new Barbie dolls are going to change that. It might take quite a bit more than trying to embrace different body types to bring the magic and the fantasy back to Barbie.

[nostalgiaispeace]

244.

you ever played “call of duty”? did you like it? are you into those types of video games at all?   nope.

do you like to cook for people, or do you order to be cooked for? has anyone ever told you that you were a good cook? neither; no

do you have any clocks in your house that chime when the hour changes? do those types of clocks annoy you?   nope.

what is your usual hair style? do you tend to wear the same style every day, or do you switch it up a lot?   bun. because work.

have you had the same doctor pretty much your whole life, or have you went to a bunch of different ones over the years? have you ever been to the doctor thinking something was horribly wrong with you, but it turned out to be something minor?   pretty much had the same ones my whole life until i moved.

are there any stores you feel uncomfortable going into (ex: if you dress girly, do you feel uncomfortable going into hot topic)? are there any stores that you refuse, or just never go in to?   no; no

do you look in mirrors a lot, or do you try to avoid them? how many mirrors are in your house?   avoid them; 2

what do you think is the greatest invention of all time? why? are there any inventions you wish had never been made?   electricity; because light; not that i can think of.

are you proud of yourself? do you feel that you’ve accomplished (or will accomplish) the things you want in your life? what other person are you the most proud of and why?   no; no; Matthew because of how far he has come

did you ever have a terrible roommate? what did they do that bothered you so much? no

if someone has a problem with something you’ve done, do you prefer they confront you directly? why or why not? when you’re the one who needs to tell someone about a problem, what’s your method of doing so? directly; because don’t be a pussy; i tell them

do you like the color gray?   sure

is it possible to love someone if you don’t love yourself? obviously

do you believe happiness can exist without sadness? i dunno.

what hospital in your area would you most recommend for good treatment?   i don’t know the name

who is the best person you’ve ever “met” online? Kehn

who is the most versatile actor ever?   Leonardo DiCaprio

do you ever nap and wake up and forget what day it is?   no

what was your maternal grandmother’s first name? Nelly

what was the last video message you received on your phone?   a snapchat

would you kiss someone you didn’t have feelings for? no

what would your dream engagement ring look like? i like my ring that i have.

is someone hurting you mentally at the moment? nope.

do you feel like no one understands you?   yeah

have you ever attempted to drown yourself? No.

would you rather deal with all your emotions at once, or none at all?   noneeee

what’s the best sex scene in a movie you’ve ever seen?   i don’t know?

is pornography evil or are you neutral about it? i like porn fine.

do you prefer to be monogamous, or are you more a casual dater or swinger? i’m in a serious relationship....

does your pet wear a collar? yeah

what is your favorite song in “the sound of music”?   i don’t like that movie.

what would you do if your mom/dad saw a hickey on you? i wouldn’t have a hickey.

you’ve just had an argument with the guy you like, and you walk away. do you want them to leave you alone?   yeah

have you ever read any self-help books?   yeah

do you thank the bus driver? i don’t ride the bus.

have you ever had your heart broken?   yeah

when was the last time you flirted? i try to flirt with matt daily but i’m probably not very good at it.

are good-byes easy or hard for you? hard.

whatcha listening to? I’m watching TV.

what do you feel about our president? FUCK HIM

do you remember the song, blue (da ba dee) by eiffel 65? no

if you told someone how far have you have gone with the opposite sex, how would others view you? i don’t think they’d care/

do you have a secret that you’ve never told ANYONE? not that i can think of

would you care if your last ex fell in love with someone else? no

what’s something you really want right now, be honest?   to turn back time and not spill mtn dew on my laptop

were your parents married when they had you? yeah

are they married now? nope.

would you marry someone 30 years older than you if they had millions? no

how long were employed at your last job? 4 years

if you found out you were pregnant who would you tell first? Matt or my mom

what did you do when you hung out with the last person you kissed?   we went to band practice and then chatted and i went to bed lol

do you prefer online classes or real classes?   Real classes.

do you like documentaries? have you ever watched one and find it boring? yes; yes

if you had to choose, would you rather be an alcoholic or pothead?   neither.

do you hate your ex?   no

do you like kids?   yeah

are your eyes the same color as your mom’s or dad’s? dads

do you think too much or too little?   Too much.

does anyone know your facebook password? no

have you ever seen the last person you kissed without their shirt on?   Yes.

…what about their pants? Yes.

did you ever rip off a barbie doll head? probably?

how many people have you slept with (sexually not actually sleeping)?   One.

do you have any sort of ongoing health problem? yes

are you a teenager and yet want a baby?   no

would you date a guy with a prince albert?   a what?

do you think you are a hick?   no. i get called a yankee lol

have you ever told someone to their face that they were ugly? probably

have you ever swallowed a watermelon seed?   Probably.

what would be worse - going out in public with no bra or no panties? without underwear.

would you ever let your child drop out of high school?   depends

honestly, do you think that inner beauty is as important as outer beauty? yeah.

do you pronounce “aunt” like “awnt” or “ant”? ant

have you ever seen wayne’s world?   yeah

what was your favorite video game as a child? spyro

list five things you’re currently thinking about:   “i hope my laptop doesn’t die”

is the last person you kissed a virgin? nope.

have you ever kissed anyone with a lip ring?   yeah

what was the last video you added to your favorites on youtube? i dunno

do you have any morbid interests? no

eat breakfast or skip it? skip

favorite disney channel show? lizzie mcguire.

do you believe in jesus?   yeah

would you ever get a tattoo in a “naughty” place?   naw

are your ears gauged? yeah

is there a band you like that many others dislike? which? probably

do you play pokemon go?   Nope.

are you a bad influence?   probably.

be honest. have you had any dirty thoughts today? no

honestly, have you ever danced naked?   sure

is smoking pot a turn off?   do your thing

have you ever scared yourself?   yeah

on facebook, do you have people listed as your siblings who aren’t really your siblings?   Nope.

is it ever okay for a woman to ask out a man?   Yes.

how important is it for a significant other to be good with kids? important considering he’s a dad

when did your last relationship end? when i was like 19

did your father go to college? many times

do you plan on going to college?   i wish

ever seen a burning building in person? no

do you like gore? eh

do you own any choker/collar necklaces?   yeah

did you have a “scene” phase?   i’m always in a scene phase.

how often do you shave your legs, if at all? why do/don’t you?   whenever i feel like it; because i’m lazy

are you dressing up for halloween this year?   probably not

horror movies: the bloodier, the better. right?   no

what do you think of people that smoke pot?   it’s whatever.

do you have pests in your house? if not, have you ever?   no

do you like korn? yes

what do you think of dodgeball being banned at some high schools?   good

when you were little, did you pick up worms? do you pick worms up now?   no;no

if you have younger siblings, do they play sports? do you go watch their games?   no

what do you think your friends say about you when you aren’t around?   don’t know

can you cut your own hair? not well

do you own a guitar? yeah

do you plan on seeing a band live this year? i wish

what’s a sport you don’t mind watching? olympics

what color hair would you like your baby to have?   i don’t care.

why do you think people care so much about looks?   because society

do you enjoy dancing? yeah

were you ever obsessed with the jonas brothers? yeah lol

do you ever feel like life is going by too fast?   yeah

do you pay for your own things?   yeah

have you ever gotten in trouble on the internet?   no

honestly, have you ever had lice? when i was really little.

do you think it’s possible to be in a long relationship without having sex?   sure

where did you last bleed from and why?   -

has the last person you kissed ever seen you cry? tons of times.

what do you like most about making out? i don’t really like making out unless like we’re gonna fuck.

have you ever had a guy put his hand in your shirt? yeah

what is the last thing you stapled? 

 dunno

who was your first prom date?

   never went to prom

have you ever been slapped in the face?

   probably.

have you ever touched a snake?

 yeah

are you lonely? no

do you like condoms? no

are you good at editing pictures? 

 yeah i think so

are you any good at public speaking? 
   yeah

would you have kids with the last person you kissed? i want to

have you ever thought of making love in a dressing room? no

do you know anyone who tries to steal everyone’s boyfriend?   no

do you appreciate raunchy humor? no

have you ever looked up porn on the internet? yeah

did you ever try cutting yourself? -

do you like to tell people who you like? sure

ever been institutionalized?   yeah

ever hold a newborn animal? yeah

[acuppellarp]

♬ Full Name: Haley Nicole Sterling ♪  FC: Virginia Gardner ♫ Alternate FCs: ♪ Age/Birthday: 23 / September 17, 1995 ♫ Occupation: Part-time acup barista, part-time level 1 instructor through NYC Ultra Gymnastics, part-time student at NYU, defender for April’s Showers ♪ Hometown: San Francisco, CA ♫ Personality: Competitive, impulsive, determined, naive, ditzy 

Oh, the Sterling family. If there was ever a group more fitted for a reality TV show on TLC, it was them. That’s how an outsider would see it, at least. For Haley, it was just her family. The first few years of her life were spent loving her parents and little sister, and then her second mom and her second dad came into the picture. Whenever she went over to her friends houses growing up, they introduced her to their parents. Haley did the same, it just so happened she had a few more parents than them. It wasn’t the picture that she saw on TV, but that didn’t really matter. She had a family that loved and doted on her, that’s what mattered. She was an incredibly content child - set her out in the backyard to run around and play, and she was a happy camper. Or set her up in her bedroom, playing with her little sister (once upon a time, Jemma really did play with barbie dolls properly). She was content, and she was friendly, always running up to strangers and asking if they wanted to be her friend. Needless to say, her parents had to have the stranger danger talk with her more times than she can count, but the fact remains that Haley has always been a people person, easily able to settle into a crowd.

Dedication isn’t a word many people would associate with Haley even today, and it never has been. She comes across as having her head in the clouds 9 times out of 10 and she wasn’t exactly a contender for valedictorian. She’s not the person you to go if you’re looking for reliability, and that’s why a lot of people are thrown off when they find out she’s been honing her skills as a gymnast since the age of 4. It wasn’t some kind of “love at first sight” moment, where Haley knew she wanted to make it her life from day one. On the contrary, she remembers crying in frustration when she couldn’t get a somersault down as easily as the other kids in her class (granted it was within the first week of classes, but Haley’s child mind didn’t care about that).

That’s why it was so invigorating when she finally nailed it by week two… Haley’s never been known for her patience, you see, but the one thing she’s got going for her is that she doesn’t quit. She doesn’t quit because of that same excitement she got when she perfected that first somersault right, followed by her first cartwheel, her first handstand, mastering her first forward tuck and everything over the next few years as she climbed up the levels. She was 8 years old, level 9, when she got her first first place award on the uneven bars, subsequently helping her team take home the win as well. That, my friends, is when Haley fell in love with the sweet taste of victory.

There wasn’t time for Haley to ever cultivate many other areas of extracurricular interest. She’d arrive at school an hour before classes started to make use of the gym’s empty weight room for strength and conditioning, and immediately after school she would make her way down to the gymnastics center for more hours worth of practice. Her dedication and prowess in the sport are what helped her lock in a scholarship offered by NYC Ultra, a gymnastics club located not too far away from NYU’s campus. The school itself didn’t have a gymnastics program, but NYC Ultra had scouted her during her final meet during high school and offered to help fund her higher education if she joined their team upon moving. And its a good thing they did, because her grades certainly wouldn’t be earning her any academic scholarships.

Leaving her family had her balling like a baby, but Haley found herself settling in to New York City life eventually. It was a much different pace than San Francisco, that was for sure. Still, Haley prides herself on never really feeling like a fish out of water, especially since she quickly made friends with the other members of her gym and then at school. Her decision to major in social work was based in her family’s own unconventional-but-still-good history, and as much as she struggled to maintain her school, practice, and work schedules, she did find herself liking the course she was on. She was a full-time student for her first two years, but recently after much debate and guidance from people significantly smarter than her, Haley made the choice to go from full-time student to part-time student.

At the same time, she also made the decision to retire from competing in gymnastics and try her hand at coaching, something she’s discovered a love for. She’s now certified to teach entry-level gymnastics, and she thinks she’s found a good balance to her life. It also lost her her academic scholarship, but with the time she’s freed up from her previously strict practice schedule and full-time course-load, it’s all been a relief. She can study without feeling pressured to make it a priority, and is able to both work and be involved in athletics at a pace that lets her enjoy herself rather than feeling constantly stressed. Sure her schedule is pretty packed, but it’s all things that bring her happiness, so it’s worth it.

See, the thing with Haley is that if she isn’t interested in something, it falls to the wayside. But once she finds her passion and groove, she is all in. That’s the reason why she can’t sit through an algebra class without daydreaming, but she’ll give you a point-by-point breakdown of why Laurie Hernandez should’ve taken the gold for the Women’s balance beam during the 2016 Olympics, or make an entire PowerPoint on why Digimon trumps Pokemon (she’s still gotta catch ‘em all though, make no mistake). She knows what she loves and doesn’t waste her time or energy on things that won’t end up bringing her personal happiness and fulfillment. Is that a good way to be successful in life? Probably not, but has it helped Haley get through the last 23 years with minimal sadness and reason to say she didn’t give something her all? Absolutely, 100%, a thousand times yes.

Pets: Haley has had iced coffees last longer than some goldfish. She’s pretty much given up on trying to keep any kind of pet alive at this point, so instead she has her bedroom windowsill decorated with succulents. They’re less likely to ruin her carpet and lose her her deposit.

♬ Jemma Sterling

She’s the first person to admit that Jemma is far from perfect, but she’ll also attempt to rip anyone’s head off who dares insult or undersell her baby sister. Watch it, folks. Haley adores Jemma, even if she does worry her from time to time with just how… we’ll say just how “free” she can be. It’s probably not the best idea, but she trusts Jemma wholeheartedly. In a way, Haley is a little envious of how open her sister is with everything, but that’s a story for another time. She still loves her to the moon and back and then to the moon and back again.

♪ Blair Anderson

Haley and Blair dated for a short time, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when the broke up. Or at least Haley calls it a break up — she won’t say it out loud, but a part of her felt completely jilted and forgotten about when Blair went on her cruise. It’s been months since they’re brief fling, and while Haley hates being anything less than UBER SUNSHINE HAPPINESS, she’s also still angry with Blair. Could she suck it up and just talk to her to get resolution? Of course she could. Has she? Absolutely not, Haley lacks that kind of foresight for common sense.

♬ April’s Showers 

Even though she replaced being on a gymnastics team with coaching, Haley did miss the extra boost of athleticism that came with constantly being in practice. She got the idea to join April’s soccer team from her sister, and it’s definitely been a big help in keeping her endorphin levels high and her laziness levels low. It feeds in to her competitive nature, and she digs almost everyone on the team so far. Being on the same team as her sister means they have to share the family brain cell at the same time, but Haley’s enjoying herself.

[acuppellarp]

We’re excited to announce that Jeanne has decided to level up Haley Sterling from a mumu minor character to a main character! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Jeanne Age: 24 Timezone: EST Ships: Haley/Chemistry, Haley/Nerdiness Anti-Ships: Haley/NoChem

IC INFO

Full Name: Haley Nicole Sterling Face Claim: Virginia Gardner Age/Birthday: 22 / September 17, 1995 Occupation: Social work student at NYU, gymnast at NYC Ultra Gymnastics Center, telemarketer Personality: Competitive, impulsive, determined, naive, ditzy Hometown: San Francisco, CA Bio:

Oh, the Sterling family. If there was ever a group more fitted for a reality TV show on TLC, it was them. That’s how an outsider would see it, at least. For Haley, it was just her family. The first few years of her life were spent loving her parents and little sister, and then her second mom and her second dad came into the picture. Whenever she went over to her friends houses growing up, they introduced her to their parents. Haley did the same, it just so happened she had a few more parents than them. It wasn’t the picture that she saw on TV, but that didn’t really matter. She had a family that loved and doted on her, that’s what mattered. She was an incredibly content child - set her out in the backyard to run around and play, and she was a happy camper. Or set her up in her bedroom, playing with her little sister (once upon a time, Jemma really did play with barbie dolls properly). She was content, and she was friendly, always running up to strangers and asking if they wanted to be her friend. Needless to say, her parents had to have the stranger danger talk with her more times than she can count, but the fact remains that Haley has always been a people person, easily able to settle into a crowd.

Dedication isn’t a word many people would associate with Haley even today, and it never has been. She comes across as having her head in the clouds 9 times out of 10 and she wasn’t exactly a contender for valedictorian. She’s not the person you to go if you’re looking for reliability, and that’s why a lot of people are thrown off when they find out she’s been honing her skills as a gymnast since the age of 4. It wasn’t some kind of “love at first sight” moment, where Haley knew she wanted to make it her life from day one. On the contrary, she remembers crying in frustration when she couldn’t get a somersault down as easily as the other kids in her class (granted it was within the first week of classes, but Haley’s child mind didn’t care about that).

That’s why it was so invigorating when she finally nailed it by week two… Haley’s never been known for her patience, you see, but the one thing she’s got going for her is that she doesn’t quit. She doesn’t quit because of that same excitement she got when she perfected that first somersault right, followed by her first cartwheel, her first handstand, mastering her first forward tuck and everything over the next few years as she climbed up the levels. She was 8 years old, level 9, when she got her first first place award on the uneven bars, subsequently helping her team take home the win as well. That, my friends, is when Haley fell in love with the sweet taste of victory.

There wasn’t time for Haley to ever cultivate many other areas of extracurricular interest. She’d arrive at school an hour before classes started to make use of the gym’s empty weight room for strength and conditioning, and immediately after school she would make her way down to the gymnastics center for more hours worth of practice. Her dedication and prowess in the sport are what helped her lock in a scholarship offered by NYC Ultra, a gymnastics club located not too far away from NYU’s campus. The school itself didn’t have a gymnastics program, but NYC Ultra had scouted her during her final meet during high school and offered to help fund her higher education if she joined their team upon moving. And its a good thing they did, because her grades certainly wouldn’t be earning her any academic scholarships.

Leaving her family had her balling like a baby, but Haley found herself settling in to New York City life eventually. It was a much different pace than San Francisco, that was for sure. Still, Haley prides herself on never really feeling like a fish out of water, especially since she quickly made friends with the other members of her gym and then at school. Social work is a demanding field and it can come as somewhat of a shock that the ditzy blonde chose it as her major, but Haley doesn’t understand the surprise. She grew up in a very unconventional family that, despite the tribulations and disruptions later on, was filled with love for the most part. Haley wants to help ensure that other people get to experience that same level of love and support in whatever way she can, or at the very least bring them a sense of safety. It helps that she is actually able to focus on her major work better than she ever could her high school and general education credits.

See, the thing with Haley is that if she isn’t interested in something, it falls to the wayside. But once she finds her passion and groove, she is all in. That’s the reason why she can’t sit through an algebra class without daydreaming, but she’ll give you a point-by-point breakdown of why Laurie Hernandez should’ve taken the gold for the Women’s balance beam during the 2016 Olympics, or make an entire PowerPoint on why Digimon trumps Pokemon (she’s still gotta catch ‘em all though, make no mistake). She knows what she loves and doesn’t waste her time or energy on things that won’t end up bringing her personal happiness and fulfillment. Is that a good way to be successful in life? Probably not, but has it helped Haley get through the last 24 years with minimal sadness and reason to say she didn’t give something her all? Absolutely, 100%, a thousand times yes.

Pets: Haley has had iced coffees last longer than some goldfish. She’s pretty much given up on trying to keep any kind of pet alive at this point, so instead she has her bedroom windowsill decorated with succulents. They’re less likely to ruin her carpet and lose her her deposit.

Relationships:

Jemma Sterling — She’s the first person to admit that Jemma is far from perfect, but she’ll also attempt to rip anyone’s head off who dares insult or undersell her baby sister. Watch it, folks. Haley adores Jemma, even if she does worry her from time to time with just how… we’ll say just how “free” she can be. It’s probably not the best idea, but she trusts Jemma wholeheartedly. In a way, Haley is a little envious of how open her sister is with everything, but that’s a story for another time. She still loves her to the moon and back and then to the moon and back again.

EXTRA INFO

mmmhalebop ☄️ / HaleyStorm / I’m secretly the fourth member of Hanson:

Five latest tweets:

@HaleyStorm: @marvelstudios pls call my insurance company and tell them you’ll cover the surgery to have the heart you ripped out of my chest replaced @HaleyStorm: manny santos hiking up her thong will always be iconic #whateverittakes @HaleyStorm: #gymnastsecret - if you see me hold a position on the bar too long, it’s bc i 100% blanked on the rest of the routine @HaleyStorm: is crimped hair still in style?? asking for a friend @HaleyStorm: update - i am that friend and idc. get ready to see me rocking lizzie mcguire hair today #ifoundcolorfulextensionstoo