#so they had to go with the national team.

[extinctionstories]

On April 19th, 1987, a bird known as Adult Condor 9 was captured in the Bitter Creek National Wildlife Refuge, near Bakersfield, California. After decades ravaged by the threats of lead-poisoning and pesticide exposure, and intense debate over the ethics of captivity, it had been determined that captive breeding was the final hope to save a species. As his designation might suggest, AC-9 was the ninth condor to be captured for the new program; he was also the last.

As the biology team transported the seven-year-old male to the safety of the San Diego Wild Animal Park, his species, the California Condor, North America's largest bird, became extinct in its native range. It was Easter Sunday—a fitting day for the start of a resurrection.

At the time of AC-9's capture, the total world population of California condors constituted just twenty-seven birds. The majority of them represented ongoing conservation attempts: immature birds, taken from the wild as nestlings and eggs to be captive-reared in safety, with the intention of re-release into the wild. Now, efforts turned fully towards the hope of captive breeding.

Captive breeding is never a sure-fire bet, especially for sensitive, slow-reproducing species like the condor. Animals can and do go extinct even when all individuals are successfully shielded from peril and provided with ideal breeding conditions. Persistence in captivity is not the solution to habitat destruction and extirpation—but it can buy valuable time for a species that needs it.

Thankfully, for the California condor, it paid off.

The birds defied expectations, with an egg successfully hatched at the San Diego Zoo the very next year. Unlike many other birds of prey, which may produce clutches of up to 5 hatchlings, the California condor raises a single chick per breeding season, providing care for the first full year of its life, and, as a consequence, often not nesting at all in the year following the birth of a chick. This, combined with the bird's slow maturation (taking six to eight years to start breeding), presented a significant challenge. However, biologists were able to exploit another quirk of the bird's breeding cycle: its ability to double-clutch.

Raising a single offspring per year is a massive risk in a world full of threats, and the California condor's biology has provided it with a back-up plan: in years when a chick or egg has been lost, condors will often re-nest with a second egg. To take advantage of this tendency, eggs were selectively removed from birds in the captive breeding program, which would then lay a replacement, greatly increasing their reproduction rate.

And what of the eggs that were taken? The tendency of hatchlings to imprint is well-known, and the intention from the very beginning was for the birds to one day return to the wild—an impossibility for animals acclimated to humans. And so, puppets were made in the realistic likeness of adult condors, and used by members of the conservation team to feed and nurture the young birds, mitigating the risk of imprintation on the wrong species.

By 1992, the captive population had more than doubled, to 64 birds. That year, after an absence of five years, the first two captive-bred condors were released into their ancestral home. Many other releases followed, including the return of AC-9 himself in 2002. Thanks to the efforts of zoos and conservationists, as of 2024 there are 561 living California condors, over half of which fly free in the wilds of the American West.

The fight to save the California condor is far from over. The species is still listed as critically endangered. Lead poisoning (from ingesting shot/bullets from abandoned carcasses) remains the primary source of mortality for the species, with tagged birds tested and treated whenever possible. Baby condors are fed bone chips by their parents, likely as a calcium supplement—but, to a condor, bits of bone and bits of plastic can be indistinguishable, and dead nestlings have been found with stomachs full of trash.

There's hope, though. There are things we can change, things we can counteract and stop from happening in the future. It was a human hand that created this problem, and it will take a human hand to fix it. Hope is only gone when the last animal breathes its last breath—and the California condor is still here.

-

This painting is titled Puppet Rearing (California Condor), and is part of my series Conservation Pieces, which focuses on the efforts and techniques used to save critically endangered birds from extinction. It is traditional gouache, on 22x30" paper.

[ohbueckers]

TWO CAN PLAY THAT GAME (both ain’t shit).

THIS IS PART ONE! pairing, paige bueckers x teammate!oc. notes, new ju series just dropped who clapped… i’m so excited for this so please let me know what you think and what you wanna see!!! it’ll feature a few different tropes (these bitches are complicated as hell) and i’ll be using different songs. this was also supposed to be out yesterday whoops. warnings, not much just some slight rivalry.

april, 2022

paige sat on the floor, her back pressed against azzi’s bed, eyes staring blankly at her phone screen. the dorm was packed to the brim, all of her teammates crammed into the room, waiting for the news to drop. she wasn’t sure why her palms felt clammy, or why her heart was hammering harder than it should be for a thursday night in late april… or she was completely sure and refused to come to terms with it.

we’re really doing this again, huh?

it had been weeks since the national championship loss, and yet the sting still hadn’t faded. south carolina. dawn staley’s generational ran gamecocks who got almost everything, including that damn sana caruso.

for years, their careers had paralleled each other, both rising basketball stars, always in the spotlight, always part of the same conversations. and yet, for reasons paige couldn’t quite figure out for the life of her, they had never crossed paths. sana was stubborn, that much she knew. paige remembered the day south carolina landed her—it had been all anyone could talk about. opinions flew in every direction: sana should’ve gone to stanford, to oregon, anywhere but there. paige couldn’t lie—part of her had wondered why uconn hadn’t even been in the mix, but it was now, and the blonde felt like she was reliving that evening in 2019 all over again.

wherever she ended up, it would be some news that would flip the script. impact their season, because sana was undoubtedly everywhere. the defensive mastermind, the one who didn’t care if she was 5’10 going up against post players towering over her. she locked them down, put up numbers, and somehow always found her way into the conversation, even when paige tried not to pay attention.

they were talked about like rivals, the head of every one of their matchups, but there had never been any real competition, at least not on the court. paige couldn’t remember a time they’d even properly interacted. but despite how much they were constantly compared, sana had made it painfully clear that paige might as well not exist in her world, and it was infuriating as hell.

“you think she’s really coming?” azzi asked, her voice soft and almost like she didn’t believe it herself as she cut through paige’s thoughts. no one did.

aaliyah, sprawled out on the floor, rolled her eyes. it’d been pushing 10 o’clock, and almost everyone had class in the morning. what had that been stopping, though? absolutely nothing. “if dorka doesn’t hurry up with the article, we’ll never know.”

“hey, be patient.” dorka threw her hand up, shooting her teammates some tight-lipped grin as she furiously scrolled through her phone. “they’re slow with these drops.”

“thats that uconn wifi,” aubrey mumbled, sending everyone into different variations of a laugh.

nika snorted. “nah, she’s right. it’s either that or we’ve got like, fifty million people trying to figure out where sana’s going.”

“bro, you know espn’s probably crashed by now,” aaliyah chipped in, leaning back on her elbows.

paige didn’t know why, but it bugged her that sana had never really acknowledged her—like, at all. not a comment, not a follow, not even a glance her way during games. paige wasn’t used to that. she wasn’t used to being ignored, and their minimal interactions only made the internet have more of a field day with that non-existent rivalry, and if sana weren’t to say anything, why would paige?

and now here they were, possibly about to be on the same team. paige had no clue how that was going to play out, but the thought of it made her stomach flip. it was like some cosmic joke.

“yo, i’m serious though,” aaliyah said, slowly rising from her spot on the floor. “how wild is this? if she really comes here, we’re stacked. that chip is ours this year.”

the blonde suddenly felt defensive. they didn���t need sana caruso to get that chip for them. “she’s not coming here,” paige blurted, half to herself, shaking her head. “no way.”

“why not?” azzi asked, narrowing her eyes. “i mean, all signs point here, right? unless i’m crazy.”

“yeah, but it’s sana,” paige replied as if it were the most obvious thing, running a hand through her hair. “she does what she wants, she’s the type to pick somewhere else just ‘cause everyone thinks she’s coming here.”

“you sound so stupid! and in denial,” nika snickered, throwing herself back into the couch. “just admit you want her on the team, paige.”

paige shot her a look, but couldn’t quite hide the smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “i don’t care what she does.” she pointed at her chest, sinking further into her spot. “she could go anywhere.”

“sure,” dorka added, inserting herself into the conversation. her eyes didn’t leave her screen as she continued to refresh her browser, almost like she didn’t have to. “because that’s exactly why you’ve been all up in your head about her this whole time.”

“hey, wait. don’t do that.” but it was too late, her teammates had already been throwing out their ‘ooh’s,’ like this were some kindergarten class. but the truth was, she couldn’t deny it. there was something about sana that had her all twisted up, more than she cared to admit. maybe it was the way she carried herself, like she didn’t need anyone’s approval, or the fact that she always seemed to be a step ahead. and it didn’t help that she was ridiculously pretty. like, stupidly pretty. the kind of pretty that got under paige’s skin and made her feel something, even when she tried to act like it was no big deal.

maybe that was what really irked her all these years.

“nah, for real, though,” paige said, trying to keep her cool, “she’s different. she’ll probably pull some wild move and end up at marquette or something.”

“marquette?” azzi shot her a confused look. “you’re reaching now.”

“i’m just saying!” paige replied through a laugh, although it was mainly just a gesture to defend herself. shrugging and throwing her hands up in surrender. “she doesn’t follow the crowd. everyone thinks she’s coming here because it makes sense, but you know sana—”

“you don’t know sana,” aubrey cut in with a laugh. “that’s the problem.”

“you sound really passionate about this, paige,” nika laughed out, always the one getting the biggest kick out of things like this. she was always in the mood to tease her twin.

paige opened her mouth to argue, but she stopped short, because aubrey wasn’t exactly wrong. she didn’t know sana, at least not personally. she’d known this version she made up of her in her head, the one that frustrated her to no end, the one she couldn’t ever figure out. and while she did that, sana, with her perfectly highlighted curls that framed her perfect face that always held that stupid fucking smirk probably hadn’t even thought twice about paige bueckers once in her damn life.

“you’ve definitely thought about this way too much,” azzi said, chuckling herself. “like, more than any of us.”

paige threw her head back, groaning. “why is this about me all of a sudden?”

“‘cause you’re acting like she’s been living in your head rent-free for years,” nika teased again, her next laugh coming out in a sputter. this entire thing had clearly been amusing someone.

“yeah, okay, whatever,” paige mumbled, crossing her arms.

“hey, don’t worry,” dorka said, eyes glued to her phone as she moved her hand to rest on paige’s thigh comfortably, consolingly. “you’ll have plenty of time to figure out what’s going on in that head of hers.”

paige raised a brow, lifting her head and turning to the other blonde. “what do you mean?”

dorka’s grin widened as she looked up, everyone’s attention turning back to her. “because she’s coming here. she’s ours, guys!”

for a second, the room went dead silent, the words hanging in the air like they needed time to settle in.

then, chaos.

sana caruso is a uconn husky, meaning paige bueckers could finally figure out what made the girl tick.

july, 2022

the gym was full—more than usual. everyone was there for the first day of summer workouts, even the players sitting out due to injuries. there was the familiar sound of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood floor, and the faint trace of cleaning solution still lingering from the early morning scrubs. july in storrs was hot, too. the kind of heat that clung to your skin and didn’t let go, even inside the gym.

the team was standing around near the sidelines, waiting to start. geno had the new recruits huddled, running through some preseason talk, but all paige could think about was sana—standing a few feet away. they’d obviously been in the same room before, the same gym before, but today felt all too intimate. as it should, though. they were teammates now. hell, they’d be sharing the backcourt.

this would be the first time she’d see her up close—really up close—since everything went down. the transfer news, the headlines, the pics of sana decked out in uconn gear flooding her feed (a sight paige needed to mentally prepare for because damn, did she look good in white and navy blue). it had all felt surreal then, but now, it was about to be real real.

what’s she even thinking right now? paige wondered, feeling a slight pinch of annoyance. because as much as she wanted to believe this was just another day in the gym, it wasn’t. not for her.

when handshakes started, paige couldn’t even hear her own thoughts due to the loudness as everyone went through the routine of greeting the new faces. paige made her way through her teammates, exchanging quick daps and nods, her focus drifting back to sana more times than she’d like to admit.

the blonde was normally more noisy, doing everything in her power to get on with the people she’d be spending the season with. but right now, her interaction with sana would either confirm or deny every assumption she’s ever had, and that was quite frankly the only thing consuming her mind.

she could feel the intensity in her chest when it came time to shake sana’s hand. she stepped forward, hand extended, ready to make some kind of connection, but sana barely looked at her. it was quick, almost dismissive. no eye contact, no words exchanged. paige pulled her hand back, clenching her jaw as she watched her move into conversation with azzi, who seemed to earn a more genuine response than paige could get. a smile, and a giggle that could’ve been mistaken for music.

seriously?

the team broke off, moving toward the court. this’ll be a long practice.

they lined up, and as they went through the typical routine—light shooting drills, ball-handling, footwork—it became clear that sana wasn’t just good. she was a standout. and for someone who was only 5’10 in the basketball world, she carried herself like she could take on anyone, work with anyone, too, no matter the size or position.

“she got handles,” nika muttered under her breath. the comment was meant for the girls around her to catch and respond to, but paige just stood, eye squinted and arms crossed.

“handles? she got vision too,” ice brady, a freshman added, eyes wide as sana weaved through a defense drill, her speed and precision on full display. her ponytail swung perfectly on her head, lip tugged tightly between her teeth as she moved to make a layup. the ball went in, and ayanna moved to grab her rebound. the group cheered her on voluntarily, and paige only moved to turn her head as sana jogged past her to the back of the line, her demeanor as calm and collected as ever. and damn annoying.

the players gathered at the top of the key, forming a loose circle as they got ready to start a more structured scrimmage. paige found herself standing across from sana, their eyes meeting for the first time that morning, but the moment left as quick as it started. sana had her hands on her hips, listening intently to geno as if she didn’t already know what they’d be doing, because the blonde wasn’t supposed to have caught her looking.

“let’s run it!” geno’s voice snapped through the gym again, clapping his hands once, and the team split into two sides as directed, ready to play.

as the scrimmage began, paige tried to shake off the weird tension and focus, although it wasn’t really working. nothing had ever managed to get her off-game this bad. it was the escape, after all, so why did it feel like it would be causing her more problems now? she ran the court as a point guard, eyes scanning for plays, calling out switches, directing traffic. but every time the ball moved to sana, paige noticed the same thing—she’d find a way to dish it to someone else. anyone but her.

what the hell?

on a fast break, paige found herself wide open again, just outside the three-point line. she threw her hands up, calling for the pass. sana had the ball at the top of the key, and paige practically begged for some type of acknowledgment that she didn’t get. but instead of passing, sana faked it and lobbed it to aaliyah under the basket for an easy layup. paige didn’t even move. she just stood there, hands still raised, eyes burning into her ponytail.

“alright, switch it up!” geno called, and the team rotated.

the ball was in her hands now, and she dribbled down the court, eyes searching for a play, trying to shake off the irritation in her chest. the worst part was that no one seemed to notice, because sana had a way of singling the blonde out in a way that made her think she was fucking crazy. she passed to nika, and they rotated again, the pace of the scrimmage picking up.

it finally came to a head when they were working on a transition drill. paige had the ball, racing down the court, and sana was on the wing. paige pushed the tempo, looking for an outlet, but sana cut her off at the last second, forcing her to pull up and reset the play.

that was it. paige lost it.

“yo! if we’re gonna work the backcourt together, you’ve gotta work with me,” she snapped, her voice only turning a few rather concerned heads. she stopped dribbling, staring at sana, her breath coming out in heavy bursts.

sana finally turned to face her, full body and everything, their eyes locking for what felt like the first time all day.

she wasn’t angry, wasn’t startled by paige’s tone. she was calm like she always was, and the slight tilt of her head only pissed paige off more. she was looking right at her now, really looking, and all the playful cockiness that always held some undercurrent, yet always came so naturally to paige, was just gone.

damn.

she didn’t know why she was still standing there, seething, waiting for sana to say something after her outburst. and when she finally spoke, it wasn’t the apology or acknowledgment paige might have been expecting.

“you’re pressing,” sana said, her voice maddeningly casual. like there had been no heat from the beginning. “you’re rushing everything. it’s like you’re trying to do too much.”

paige blinked, caught off guard. rushing? she almost laughed. her jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the ball. she hated how calm sana was, how she managed to deliver criticism like she was just making an observation. “too much?” she shot back, stepping closer. “i’m just trying to get us moving, trying to get you involved. but it seems like you’re more interested in doing your own thing.” she hated that every time she tried to connect with sana on the court, it felt like she was hitting a wall.

but she also hated that she cared about it so much.

sana didn’t break, expression remaining composed, annoyingly unreadable with her short manicured nails digging into her hip. “you think running the floor means you’re the only one who gets to call the shots? that’s not how i play.”

paige blinked, trying to regain her footing, mentally and physically. “you’re not even trying to work with me!” her voice raised a bit as she addressed what had been bothering her before, causing a few heads to turn. the exchange didn’t look entirely friendly after all. “every time i’m open, you’re looking the other way.” she pointed to the court.

sana’s eyes narrowed slightly, some kind of look crossing her face—was it amusement? “it’s not personal, paige. it’s basketball.” it was the first time the blonde’s name left her mouth, first time she felt like an actual person to her, and it still didn’t feel good.

sana, on the other hand, was watching her closely, reading paige’s reaction like she was still deciding how much of this back-and-forth was worth it. she knew she was poking at her ego, but she also thought that ego could use a little deflating. everyone talked about her like she was the second coming of basketball itself, and while sana could respect her talent, the way everyone hung on her every move grated on her.

sana wasn’t jealous. not even a little bit. she wasn’t wired like that. but that didn’t mean she was going to be another cog in the well-oiled bueckers machine. she never liked to make things more complicated than they needed to be, and basketball? basketball was supposed to be simple. play smart, play efficient, make the right decisions. that’s why she was here. that’s why geno recruited her. she didn’t bring flash—she brought results. she played smooth, and if she wasn’t in charge, she sure as hell wasn’t going to let anyone treat her like a sidekick. especially not paige bueckers.

she was willing to work with her, of course. sana was well aware of what her transfer meant, how good it would be for the both of them if people stopped pitting them against each other. but it didn’t mean she would warm up straight away. they’d make an unstoppable duo—if they could just figure out how to coexist.

“look, i’m just saying, you’re pushing too hard. sometimes it’s about playing smart, not playing fast.”

paige’s stomach churned at the implication. she wasn’t just some showboat out there. it felt like a direct shot to everything she stood for.

“you think i’m not playing smart?”

sana raised an eyebrow, her lips curling just slightly. “i think you’re playing like you’ve got something to prove.”

and that stopped paige cold. she’d proven enough. but the way sana was looking at her, cool and detached, like she could see right through her, made her feel small despite her taller figure. it wasn’t anger that sana was giving her—it was indifference. like she didn’t even care enough to be mad.

“run it again!” geno yelled, and they did.

paige inhaled sharply, chewing on her lip as she clutched the ball to her side, watching as sana jogged off, obeying orders immediately. she could feel the eyes of her teammates on her, especially nika, who was biting back a grin from the sidelines, one hundred percent sure her best friend just got schooled. dorka raised an eyebrow at her, silently urging her to keep her cool.

they lined up for the play again, the ball bouncing back into paige’s hands. she hated it, but sana’s words echoed in her head. pressing… rushing… trying too hard. as much as she didn’t want to admit it, maybe she was pressing. maybe she was letting this whole situation get to her in ways she shouldn’t.

when the whistle blew, paige instinctively took control again, charging down the court. but she couldn’t stop herself from hesitating for just a second, looking toward sana on the wing. without overthinking it, she passed the ball to her, her hands moving almost against her will.

sana caught it, knees bent wnd ready before driving to the basket. she didn’t hesitate, didn’t flinch. she just played, like she always did. the ball went in, and the play was perfect, but paige didn’t feel satisfied. if anything, she felt worse. it felt like they were already at odds, and the season hadn’t even started yet.

it had worked. but it was because she’d done what sana said. and if it wasn’t personal before, it definitely was now.

[meazalykov]

nationality switch

esmee brugts x uswnt!dutch!reader

summary: choosing a national team almost made you drift away from the person you love most

warnings: angst

it’s been a long time since you’ve seen esmee, since that fight—since everything changed. 

you’re sitting in the corner of a cozy café in barcelona, sipping your iced coffee, lost in your thoughts about how things used to be. the only noise around you is the coffee machines brewing or the ovens beeping in the background of your thoughts.

you never expected to see her today. you thought she moved to arsenal in london. a club that she mentioned her interest in. but then again, nothing with esmee ever goes as planned.

the bell above the café door chimes, and you look over at the door on instinct. when you see her, your stomach flips. is that her? you had to do a double take.

it is esmee. her eyes lock on yours instantly, and for a second, it’s like no time has passed. the familiarity, the memories, all come rushing back. you miss her, but the weight of your last conversation—the fight—hangs heavily between you both.

you don’t move. you don’t know if you should, and maybe she doesn’t either, because she hesitates before walking over. you freeze before you see her stop at the counter.

you took a deep breath before she gets her flat white and walks over.

when she finally reaches your table, you see that same spark in her eyes, but there’s something else now. something different.

“hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost tentative, as if she’s afraid of how you’ll respond.

you raise an eyebrow, trying to keep things light. 

“esmee, how did you even find me?”

she offers a small smile, a little suspicious. 

“we never turned off each other’s locations on our phones.”

that breaks the tension for a moment, and you can’t help but laugh. 

it’s such a typical esmee thing to say. well for you, as someone who is the closest to her. she never fails to make a heavy moment become lighter. you shake your head at the absurdity of it all. 

“of course.”

she sits down across from you at the wooden table, and suddenly, the reality of everything hits. you’re both here in barcelona. after all this time, all the distance, somehow, fate—or maybe something else—has pulled you back together. 

it feels like you’re supposed to be here, like you were always meant to end up on the same team again. it hasn't been too long since you were both at psv. your contracts ended at the same time and you had a bad feeling that it would've been your last time together.

it wasn't.

“so…” esmee starts, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the napkin in front of her. “i heard the news.”

you nod slowly. “yeah. barca. i guess it was inevitable, huh?”

“inevitable,” she echoes, her gaze dropping to the table before lifting back to meet yours. 

“we were always supposed to end up here together, it was our dream.”

the silence stretches between you both, and it’s not uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. there’s so much unsaid, and you know it. she knows it. 

the past months have been complicated. after the women’s world cup, after that game against the netherlands where you scored that header, after you told her that you weren't going to represent the netherlands on the senior level, things between you two were…different.

“you were mad,” you say softly, cutting through the silence.

her eyes darken slightly, and she nods, not bothering to deny it. “yeah, i was.”

“because I celebrated my goal?”

“because it felt like you were celebrating more than just a goal,” she admits. 

“it felt like you were celebrating the fact that you chose them over us. over me.”

throwback to july 26th, 2023

it’s the 62nd minute, and the game between the u.s and the netherlands is 0-1. the tension is suffocating—this isn’t just any group stage match. 

it’s a battle between two teams who were in the finals of the last world cup. the netherlands want revenge.

for you, it’s personal. you are dutch and american. your mother was born and raised in eindhoven, while your dad is an american who studied there then met your mother.

while growing up, you considered yourself to be dutch. you never lived in the united states. however, you've wondered what it was like to live over there.

at the age of 8 you met your bestfriend, esmee, at a soccer club. the both of you grew up, joined psv together, and played for the dutch youth teams together.

when your father expressed how he wanted you to chose the uswnt when you reached the senior level, you didn't count him out. the team was the best in the world.

the 2019 world cup solidified your decision to represent your father's side of the family. however, sometimes you think about the other world where you chose the dutch team instead of the americans.

you jog back to your position for a corner kick being taken by rose lavelle, feeling the weight of the moment settle on your shoulders. 

your heart pounds in your chest, and as you glance toward the dutch goal, your eyes flicker briefly to the orange clad figure on the left. esmee. 

she’s looks at you briefly, her expression unreadable. for a split second, it’s like time slows down. you remember the late nights practicing at psv, the laughter, the way she used to tell you that you’d both dominate the world together one day.

now, you’re on opposing sides, thanks to you choosing your other nationality.

the whistle blows. you snap back to the present, focusing on the corner being taken. 

the ball soars through the air, heading toward the front post. you leap, eyes locked on the ball, and your timing is perfect. you rise above the defenders, connecting with the ball in a powerful header that rockets past the dutch goalkeeper.

goal!

for a moment, the world stops. then the noise of the crowd hits you like a wave, and you’re running, arms outstretched in celebration. your teammates swarm around you, shouting, grabbing your jersey, jumping on your back. 

you can hear julie yelling for you and lindsey clapping you on the back with a proud grin. it’s chaos—pure joy, adrenaline, and pride.

but as you slow down, turning back toward midfield, your eyes find esmee again. 

she’s standing there, watching, her expression unreadable at first. in the moment that you look away before turning back, you see it: the hurt. the disbelief. you know it’s not just about the goal. it’s about everything else.

you swallow the lump forming in your throat and try to focus on your teammates still celebrating around you, but esmee’s look is burned into your mind. 

she goes back on the left-back then stands, her hands clenched into fists by her sides, it looks as if she’s frozen. you see her teammates—players you grew up with on youth teams—pat her on the back, but it’s clear she’s not hearing them.

it’s the celebration that did it. you know it. the way you threw your fists in the air, the way you smiled at your teammates like this goal was everything. 

to esmee, it wasn’t just a goal against the netherlands. it was a statement, a reminder that you chose the united states over the netherlands, over her.

as the game resumes, you push the thought to the back of your mind. you have to stay focused. there’s still time left, and the dutch team isn’t going to back down easily. but every time you glance in esmee’s direction, it stings. 

you see the frustration in her movements, the way she presses forward with even more intensity than before. she’s angry—at you, at the situation—and it shows.

the game ends and its tied. the rest of her team is exhausted, but she doesn’t even wait for the usual post-match handshakes and shirt swaps. she walks straight down the tunnel, disappearing from view, and a pit forms in your stomach.

you want to go after her, explain that the celebration wasn’t meant to hurt her. but deep down, you know this moment has been building for a long time. 

the decision to play for the united states on the senior level, the arguments, the silence between you two—it’s all led to this. 

in the locker room, your teammates are quiet, they’re focused on the next match. 

your thoughts are stuck on esmee. you stare down at your phone, wondering if you should text her, try to explain. but what could you say? what could make this better?

back to the barcelona cafe, a month later

you blink, taken aback by the raw honesty in her words. 

you’ve had months to think about it—about what it meant when you chose to play for the uswnt, about how your dad had always pushed you to follow in his footsteps. but you didn’t think esmee would take it this personally.

“esmee, it wasn’t about that,” you say, voice soft, almost pleading.

“you know it wasn’t like that.”

it was your first goal for the national team. it happened to be against your other country, the other country that wanted you to play for them too. 

your mother is dutch, and your father is american– so you had a tough decision to make.

esmee shakes her head, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue. but then she sighs, leaning back in her chair. 

“i know. but it hurt. i wanted you to play with me and for the oranje. i wanted us to play together, like we always did in eindhoven. and then, when you celebrated after that goal…it felt like you’d forgotten everything we’d had.”

“i didn’t forget. i could never forget,” you say, and it’s the truth. you haven’t forgotten a single moment. 

“but esmee, you know how much my dad wanted this for me.” 

“i know,” she whispers, and there’s pain in her voice. 

“but i wanted you to want the same things i did. i wanted you to choose me.”

her words hit you hard, and for a second, you can’t respond. this is about more than just football, more than just a decision you had to make when choosing a national team. 

it’s about the two of you—about what you’ve meant to each other all these years.

“esmee,” you start, leaning forward, trying to make her understand. “it wasn’t about choosing them over you. you mean everything to me. i-i didn’t even realize—”

“that’s the thing,” she interrupts, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i was upset because i always want to be around you. it was selfish, maybe, but it’s the truth. i thought…i thought i was going to lose you when you chose them. what if you didn’t choose to come to barcelona? what if i didn’t? we wouldn’t see each other anymore..”

you frown, confused. “esmee, you’re never going to lose me. what are you talking about?”

she bites her lip, her eyes searching yours, and suddenly, it’s like all the walls she’s built up come crashing down. her hands stop gripping on her coffe cup and goes to gently hold your right hand instead. 

you froze.

“i’m talking about how i feel about you,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. 

you feel your heart skip a beat, and for some reason, her confession doesn’t surprise you. 

it’s like you always knew, like a part of you had been waiting for her to say it out loud. she’s been your best friend for years, but deep down, maybe you always knew there was something more.

the left-back never made her crush on you a hidden secret. she was never outright, but her actions towards you spoke for itself. 

“es…” you start, but you don’t know what to say. so instead, you reach across the table, gently taking your other hand and holding hers.

she looks at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable, like she’s terrified of what you’ll say next.

“i like you too,” you say softly, your thumb brushing over the back of her hand. 

“i think i always have.”

her eyes widen even more, but there’s a soft smile playing on her lips now. 

“really?”

you nod, giving her a small smile in return. “yeah. really.”

you stand up slowly, moving around the table, and she doesn’t pull away when you lean down and press a soft kiss to her forehead. 

it feels right and natural, like something you should’ve done a long time ago. you wanted to, but you didn't know how she felt about you then.

nobody was present in the cafe instead of the barista who was too focused on making drinks, so you didn’t feel embarrassed to kiss her.

when you pull back, esmee smiling up at you, and for the first time in months, you feel like things between you two might finally be okay.

“so…barcelona, huh?” you say, trying to lighten the mood.

esmee laughs, that familiar sound you’ve missed so much. “yeah. looks like we’re stuck together again.”

you grin, squeezing her hand gently. “good. i wouldn’t want it any other way.”

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[wilcze-kudly]

Thoughts on…

https://www.tumblr.com/miss-sweetea-pie/731463633376313344/zutara-lens-vs-kataang-lens?source=share

Is it fair to even mention Zuko seeing as Katara never had feelings for him?

Honestly, I find it kinda funny that OP is sorta telling on themselves by seemingly primarily viewing Jet's storyline through a shipping lens, a stepping stone for Kataang or Zutara.

But sure, let's go with this narrative.

OP claims that Jetara could be seen a foreshadowing to Zutara, as they say that Zuko ans Jet have some similarities. And I suppose that can be true on a surface level. As OP says: Rugged teenage boys with traumatic back stories. But franky, other than being mildly edgy and also having been through some sort of trauma, there's not much there.

In fact, if you compare Aang and Jet, I think you'll find many deeper similarities than just "bad boy with questionable morals".

Aang and Jet have both experienced great loss at the hands of the Fire Nation. Aang losing his entire people and Jet losing his parents and village, presumably leaving them both alone in the world and with a lovely case of survivor's guilt to boot.

Jet and Aang are both kids who were forced by the war to take up positions of responsibility over their fellow victims. Aang, of course, being the Avatar and being fated to end the war. While Jet takes up a leadership positions, persumably gathering kids orphaned and hurt by the Fire Nation, leading them and keeping them safe, while also fighting back. Let's not forget that the reason Jet decided to flood that city was because the firebenders occupying it were planning to burn the forest Jet and the Freedom Fighters resided in, forcing them out and putting them in danger.

We also see a very sweet parallel of Jet encouraging Katara's confidence in her waterbending skills, which is something Aang does on numerous occasions, showing us exactly what affection Katara values in a potential partner and that both Jet and Aang not only believe in her skills, but also intuit her needs.

This is why Katara fell for Jet and why she fell for Aang. They're both protectors and heroes of the people, they're both victims of the Fire Nation who chose to stand up against it. They're revolutionaries, rebels, downright rabble-rousers. They both value communities, and do their best to uplift and defend their fellow victims, something Katara does as well. And they both connect with Katara over not only encouraging her in her own abilities, but also in their shared trauma, which leads me to my next point.

Aang works so well paralleling Jet, because both Jet and Aang were written and posited to parallel Katara. This aspect of Jetara is one OP completely neglected to mention, I suppose due to the fact that it doesn't hoist up Zutara as a ship.

Katara and Jet connect over their trauma very early in the episode, and I think this is where Katara's interest in Jet due to his role as a Freedom Fighter turns to a genuine connection over shared trauma.

Jet: The Fire Nation killed my parents. I was only eight years old. That day changed me forever. Katara: Sokka and I lost our mother to the Fire Nation. Jet: I'm so sorry, Katara..

Katara, Jet and Aang share many similarities, which is why I suppose these two boys were Katara's only explicitly confirmed love interests. Just like Aang and Jet, Katara is community oriented, a voice for victims and the marginalised, a fighter for the good of the people.

Seeing these parallels almost makes me wonder if the design team took this into account when making Jet's design colours mainly blue and orange, colours assvociated with Katara and Aang. Though Jet's colour palette is more muted and darker, perhaps signifying the erosion of his morals due to his trauma.

Jet goes astray when he begins to value the fight over the people he is fighting for, something Aang and Katara actively go against, prioritising human life and their moral integrity.

Atla explores the concept of victimhood and how it affects our morality in various ways, especially when it comes to victims of war. The particular focus of this theme is Katara, as we see the writers often connect her to victims who lost that morality, in order to showcase her character. Hama and Jet both serve as excellent foils to show what Katara could've been if she wasn't as kind and compassionate as she is. The crowning jewel of this storyline for her being, of course, the Southern Raiders, which bears callbacks to both Jet and Hama.

But as much as I want this post to be about Katara, OP has other plans, so let's go back to their arguments for Jetara foreshadowing Zutara.

OP makes an argument about how both Zuko and Jet break Katara's trust, testing her charcter, which is a good point, albeit they conveniently omit Hama from the circle of people who connected with Katara over shared trauma and then betrayed her trust.

Can't imagine why. Is it because Hama isn't hot, isnt it? Op doesn't fancy a nice morally compromised gilf, I suppose. 😒 we used to be a proper country.

OP also claims that the show portrays Katara as too trusting, and even claims that the shows message in Jet's case is, in their words: So from a k.ataang lens it leads more towards the lesson that katara need to stop letting these “bad boys” break her heart, “dumb girl your too trusting just give the sweet guy a chance”.

Which is quite the claim, since I actually really enjoy that Katara is never portrayed as being in the wrong, or 'dumb' for trusting Jet, Zuko and Hama. In fact, the three of them are made to look like assholes for taking advantage of her.

The thing about Katara's trust of Jet, Zuko and Hama isn't that it comes from a place of foolishness or naiveté. It comes from empathy and connection. She connects over shared pain ans trauma with these three and she wants to make a connection to alleviate their pain. It just so happens that Zuko is going through his disaster boyfailure era, while Jet and Hama are morally compromised by the horrific events that brutally formed their mentalities.

Anyways, to wrap this point up, can Hama be an honourary bad boy too I think she deserves that

Another argument of OP is that Jet's death could foreshadow Zuko almost dying in the finale and that is could teach, in their words: how we waste time holding grudges and sometimes people don’t have the luxury of apologizing to the people they love.

Now, this is interesting, because Jet's death very clearly connected to Aang's actual death and then ressuraction via Deus ex Katara. However, unlike the theme of pure romance OP proposes in their post, the canon storyline uses these events to feed more into Katara's personal development and stoyline, that of her fear of loss and helplessness, on which I elaborate here:

That is not to say that this storyline doesn't affect Katara and Aangs romance, but I like that the main focus is Katara's meantality and trauma. Because the thing with Katara and Aang's storylines and development is that they intertwine and feed into each other but aren't overshadowed by their romance.

OP continues to speculate that the jetara storyline through a kataang lense is that "bad boys" will break Katara's heart and that she should just "give the nice guy a chance".

I find this a gross twisting of the nature of multiple characters, relationships and storylines.

First of all, reducing Jet to a "bad boy" is fucking demeaning and kinda disgusting. He's not an edgy boy who smokes in the school's bathroom and rides a loudass motorcycle. He's a traumatised child soldier, caring for other children and desperately trying to stop the advance of an army that already has like 3 genocides under its belt. His morals getting messed up in the process doesn't make him a bad boy, they make him a realisitic victim. A kid who tried his best but became misguided.

In the same, paragraph, OP also claims that, despite the message of the show being that everyone is capable of good and evil and that everyone deserves a chance, because people are complex, Jet is not afforded that dignity and understanding.

AND LET ME TELL YOU LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU

That was upsetting.

Because Jet's redemption was shown so wonderfully and symbolically, to the point where sometimes it makes me more emotional than Zuko's.

In B2 we see that Jet has left the forest (persumably bcs the firebenders did burn down the forest) and his entourage has shrunk to just Longshot our trans queen Smellerbee 🏳️‍⚧️. We are told that he is looking for a new life in Ba Sing Se. So far so good.

It seems that the Gaang intervening with his plans has definetly made him rethink his actions. And he's looking to start a new, kinder life. Even going so far as to remove himself from the fight against the Fire Nation, something he had previously been so passionate about, perhaps because he recognised that it brought out his uglier side. Hell yeah we love a king who can recognise his flaws and strives to better himself.

Jet: I've done some things in my past that I'm not proud of, but that's why I'm going to Ba Sing Se: for a new beginning. A second chance.

Despite not being on the frontlines anymore, he's still a hero for the people, straling food for the ferry passengers from the greedy captain. Noice. He immediately takes an interest in Zuko, assuming as many, that Zuko was a victim of the Fire Nation like him, due to Zuko's scar.

Jet: You know, as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were. You're an outcast, like me. And us outcasts have to stick together. We have to watch each other's backs. Because no one else will.

I find this SO endearing because atla places such emphasis on the connections and solidarity between victims. And Jet is no exception to this, having taken so many children orphaned by the Fire Nation (or just orphaned as seemed to be the case with the Duke) and also connecting over being hurt by the Fire Nation with Katara, the same way he thinks he is connecting with Zuko. (Jetara and Jetko should parallel each other actually instead of Jetara and Zutara)

Now things turn south when Jet realises that Zuko and Iroh are firebenders, which while showcasing that Jet's need for redemption hasn't healed his trauma (not surprising) around the Fire Nation, I can't really blame him. Like, he's seen the worst of what firebenders can do, why on earth would he stand by and let them infiltrate the city that refugees flock to in order to escape the war. And yeah he sounds like a raving lunatic, but he is right. Zuko and Iroh are firebenders.

From then on, Jet is used as a pawn by Long Feng and the Dai Li, but he still does his best to help the Gaang, seemingly holding no grudge against them for ruining his plans of mass murder.

We see a nice lil trauma flashback of Jet's childhood trauma, giving us a tangible illustration of his motivations and pushing us to sympathise with him. We see him and Katara share a sweet moment as she literally alleviates the pain of the memories. This scene can not only be read as romantic but as another example of solidarity and support between victims in atla.

But it's in the bowels of Lake Laogai, as Aang and Jet face off against Long Feng, that we see the symbolic redemption for Jet really come to its crescendo.

Long Feng, compels Jet into fighting Aang, directly paralleling Aang and Jet's previous battle in the Jet episode. Aang is trying to solve the situation peacefully, even while Jet is trying to hurt him.

Aang: Jet, it's me, Aang! You don't have to do this! Long Feng: I'm afraid he no longer has a choice.

[...] Aang: Jet, I'm your friend! Look inside your heart! Long Feng: Do your duty, Jet! Aang: He can't make you do this! You're a Freedom Fighter!

And I can't not think how the brainwashing pushed Jet into an almost identical situation as his grief and anger did all those years ago. It's a decent comparison, I suppose. Both stem from a painful, stressful situation, influence his actions, pusging him to do things against his usual morals, turning him away from the caring, idealist Freedom fighter he is.

But this time, Jet breaks through the thing clouding his mind. He remembers himself. His trauma, his friendship and care for the freedom fighters and his connection to Katara. He sadly pays the ultimate price for this.

And while I dislike this plot point, because as a rule of thumb I dislike when a character gets a redemption arc and immediately dies or redeems themself by dying, but I can appreciate this scene for how it defined puts a lot of care into showing us the change in Jet, his perception by the gaang and his role in the story.

Katara tries to heal Jet, but is pessimistic(in the commentary of this episode, it's mentioned that there could be a few explanations as to why she didn't use the spirit water.) Here, Jet urges Katara and the Gaang to go find Appa, leaving him to essentially die.

And it's as the Gaang leave, we can compare the ends of the two Jet storylines. In Jet, the last time we look upon Jet's face, it is twisted by anger and rage. In Lake Laogai, he wears a sad, but reassuring smile, and somehow looks at peace.

When Katara first had to leave him in Jet, her expression is one of betrayal and disappointment. In Lake Laogai, she looks to be preparing to grieve, almost as if she were trying to hold back tears. She's conflicted and sad in both scenes, but for different reasons, showing how Jet has redeemed himself in her eyes.

Where in Jet, we leave Jet disgraced and in turmoil, in Lake Laogai we leave him dying, yes, but also a hero, kind and brave, and free. And I like to believe that the second is the real Jet.

Ok this just turned into me gushing over jet, but I think this was important to highlight the significance and uniqueness of Jet and Katara's relationship. Presenting it as "the proto-Zutara" is a disservice to this complex, heartwrenching storyline. And that was kinda gross of OP. Shame on them.

I also think OP is mistaken by labelling Aang as just the "nice guy" whom Katara should "give a chance to". Aang is indeed a nice, kind person and this is something that attracts Katara, because she's also a good person and she values such traits. But this is not the only reason Katara falls for Aang. Like with Jet, she connects with him over shared trauma. He enables her growth, respects her as a teacher, offers her comfort when needed, is her friend and supporter.

Katara is not "giving him a chance" their relation simply progresses very slowly and in a slightly unorthodox manner. We see that Katara has a growing crush on Aang, blushing over him and getting incredibly jealous when other girls try to get with him.

I also like that Aang and Jet are never pitted against each other and Aang is never jealous of Jet. In fact Aang seems almost just as infatuated with Jet as Katara lol (jetaang rights babey).

OP also claims that a lot of people misinterpret TSR as Katara being manipulated by Zuko and "needing Nice Guy Aang to save her". Which is something I've talked about a few times. I don't believe Zuko was consciously manipulating Katara. He was simply trying to build a relationship with her because she was very adamant on hating him. And because he didn't know her that well, he tried to help by projecting his own needs and anger over his mother's loss onto her. Which is very 16 year old boy of him.

And I don't believe Aang was even trying to "save" her. I think he was simply trying to help Katara think through her actions throughly before she did something rash that may haunt her forever.

Aang bringing up Jet also seemed more like a : "hey remember when we saw a guy betray his morals due to his grief pain and trauma despite being a kind and good person with an good goal?" Which I think is a kinda understandable thing since it happened like twice to them already. And remember that Aang has also experienced how destructive his anger can be and he knows Katara's morality and idealism well enough to know that what she is planning is way out of character.

OP tags this post with "I swear zutara gives the show so much more depth" and while I don't want to deride the ship as a whole, the themes and storylines OP gave don't really bring that much depth into the show. It simply repurposes the arcs and storylines that served to either explore Katara, or the concept of victimhood and morality into serving a romance.

Which is... fine, if that's what you consider deep I suppose. I just think it's obvious that OP had clear biases when coming up with their post. And like, biases are fine, we're writing meta about a kid's show not a fucking reseaech paper, I'd be a hypocrite if I called OP out on having preferences.

But it's obvious that OP did their darndest to present Kataang in the least favourable light and didn't even try to consider giving it a shred of anything but a cursory, critical glance.

If I were to talk about their "Jetara foreshadowing Zutara" idea with its "bittersweet lesson how we waste time holding grudges and sometimes people don’t have the luxury of apologizing to the people they love" like they talk about Kataang, I could say (altering OP's text here):

"So from a Zutara lens it leads more towards the lesson that katara need to stop holding a grudge towards these boys who hurt and used her, “dumb girl you need to forgive them quickly cause what if they suddenly die and you realise you love them and regret it“ .

...which sounds like some manner of abuse apologism. I don't think OP had this in mind, but it just shows how easy it is to paint a benign message into something shitty if you're just salty enough.

I think that wraps this up. I can vaguely understand what OP meant, and it's a cute concept for Zutara shippers, I just don't know why Kataang slander had to get dragged in here. Since while OP seems fairly invested in Zuko, they visibly have a little issue giving thought to Katara, Aang and Jet's storylines.

Which is sad, especially in Jet's case, since he doesn't get nearly enough love from the fandom. So here's the little note from the atla cookbook that made me really emotional over Jet lol

HE COOKED FOR THE FREEDOM FIGHTERS AGH OUGH AGH

[mxtxfanatic]

Hi again! I come bearing a set of... more detailed-answer-requiring questions...which I'll send in different asks so... first question:

We know that LWJ used to believe in the gentry, cultivation clans, hierarchy, rules, orthodoxy etc. Like he expected them to do their jobs and justice to be served and everything which is how I am justifying his pre-resurrection treatment of WWX. But I do think he went through a massive perspective shift when his own clan elders turns their weapons at him and a barely-sane (at that moment) man and then it got cemented by his own punishment and the siege led on the burial mounds after the promise JGS made that caused WQ to offer herself. So my question is, am I just seeing it or did he really stop believing in justice and clans and their bullshit to be anything but self-serving and began making his own way in the world after. Like I know he's strong and all but I dont remember him ever asking for backup from his clan, no matter what and I feel like that kinda reflected on how they had broken his trust so wholly and irrevocably? Thoughts?

Whoa there, actually, we do not all agree that Lan Wangji used to believe in any of those things. Just like the plot-twist about Wei Wuxian's character is that he wasn't some evil demon corrupted by power, Lan Wangji's character plot-twist is that he was never as wedded to the rules as we are led to believe at the beginning. He has no problems going against his clan when he feels it necessary, in situations as big as his mother's death and the Nightless City bloodbath and as small as choosing to keep and raise the rabbits that Wei Wuxian gifted him. Neither fighting his elders nor his subsequent punishment were the beginnings of this idea for him as he's been doing this since he was six. As for his "loyalty" to the orthodoxy: Lan Wangji doesn't care about the orthodoxy so much as he cares that Wei Wuxian has reappeared after a 3-month disappearance, looking emaciated and hardened and using a completely new cultivation style that leaves mass death in its wake. He cares about Wei Wuxian using the ghost path because he assumes it is the reason why Wei Wuxian has taken this sharp 180 in personality. He and we learn that it is not.

My answer to the other ask is that people in the English-speaking fandom, particularly those from Western nations like the United States, are so attached to their usual literary archetypes that they fail to consider that a story from a completely different culture would have different literary archetypes. Wangxian's love is not "I will burn the world down for you." That is a Western take on romance. Wangxian's love is "I will support you at your side, always," and the story is built around that. Lan Wangji saved a catatonic Wei Wuxian from the Nightless City bloodbath and protected him against his own clan. Lan Wangji took in the child that Wei Wuxian and the Wen remnants raised and hid to save. Lan Wangji stands with Wei Wuxian publicly after the "Mo Xuanyu" reveal and during the second siege. When Wei Wuxian is resurrected, he follows the other man's lead and only moves to cover the other man's blind spots. Why does Lan Wangji do all this? Because they are on the same team.

[finnglas]

Let me tell you a funny story about baseball.

I'm not a sports gay. I enjoy some sports a moderate amount. (I discovered during the 2024 Paralympics that I really enjoy women's wheelchair basketball. Hot ladies with shoulders, and no squeaky basketball shoe sounds to make me want to rupture both eardrums! But I digress.) The one sport that I've traditionally enjoyed, both playing and watching, is baseball.

For a brief period of time, around 2008-2009, I followed MLB pretty closely. I very carefully decided I was going to have A Team that was my team, and deliberately chose said team. I had some requirements: I wanted a team who was in the American League, not the National League (don't ask, idk), and I wanted one that had been around since the beginning of said league, not one of the newcomers. I also wanted them to have some connection to something I enjoyed, even if it was only that I liked the team uniforms. I ended up with a primary team (the Chicago White Sox) and a secondary team (the Boston Red Sox). (Did I call myself a polysoxxer? I did. Leave me alone.)

Anyway. I followed them religiously. I had the best experience of living in Charlotte, NC, where the White Sox had a farm team in the Charlotte Knights, and I knew exactly which players were in town while they were recovering from an injury - oh, and one time they played an exhibition game and I paid extra for a seat directly behind the White Sox dugout, and was in arm's reach of Carlos Quentin, my absolute favorite player.

Anyway. Things happened. The White Sox traded Quentin and fired Ozzie Guillen. Half my Red Sox got traded - some of them to the *mutters* Yankees. Varitek retired in 2012. I got busy. I hit a period of deep clinical depression. I finally admitted to myself I was queer and started getting more into connecting with the queer scene in town. And I quit following both teams. They weren't "mine" anymore.

For a period of several years, any time I'd express any interest in baseball, people would ask who my team was, and I'd joke that I needed to do some interviews and find a new one. Couldn't be the Tampa Bay Rays because I'm still mad at them for changing the name from the Devil Rays because the new owner is some weirdo Christian, didn't really care about the rest. (My dad, who has been loyal to the St Louis Cardinals since he was eight years old, is baffled as to why I didn't just come over to his team. Well, Dad, they're National League for one thing.)

Well, a few weeks ago, I was traveling for work and I wanted some background noise in the hotel room so I turned on the television. It was on MLB, but on commercial break. I was like you know what? It's time I got a new baseball team. Whoever is playing, I'm going to pick one of these two teams as my new team, provided it's not the Cardinals or the Rays.

Reader. Do you know who was playing that night?

It was the Chicago White Sox vs the Boston Red Sox.

Anyway so I got back together with both my exes during the worst season in the White Sox's history, and every time I see a new update about how bad they're doing I just have to be like, yep, that's my team.

[rocksibblingsau]

what’s something about the fic that you wanna share but don’t think you’ll get a chance too?

Some deleted/rewritten scenes!

One of the first scenes I envisioned was a scene of Barb singing Seven Nation Army (in regards to Branch having worries about Trolls not liking him and her reassuring him she'd fight anyone off who did), but I had Branch reveal his trauma pretty earlier on once I started writing and Barb choosing to sing a song would have been massively out of character.

The initial plan for Branch getting his headphones from Riff actually took place in the upper bowl, and would have also been when Branch met Sid, but I changed it to the coffee scene simply because it worked better.

An earlier concept of Chapter 8 had Barb gifting Branch Bobo, but to be honest Branch wouldn't have liked Bobo so he got a new plushie. I also briefly considered the idea of Branch accidentally ripping Bobo, but to be honest Bobo is so destroyed that how could you even tell if you did rip him.

There was a scrapped concept between chapters 9 and 10 that would have had him spending time and watching wrestling on TV, but that was reworked into him watching it live during their special day.

In chapters 11/12, I briefly considered Billy being the one to find Branch on behalf of Barb, but decided to have Barb find him, have a fight with him and then send Billy in.

The nickname 'Twigs' just randomly came to me and wasn't planned, but once I came up with it I wanted to make it their thing.

In chapter 14, I was torn between laser tag and bumper cars but settled on laser tag. I'm happy I did because I don't think bumper cars would have been as special or interesting, and now Branch has a thing he's good at. I also debated who the teams should have been for awhile.

In chapter 15 Branch wasn't originally going to break the CD player, and Demo would have checked over his work, but it felt more in character to me that Branch might have a more violent reaction.

In chapter 19 there was going to be a scene where a large spray of lava was going to hit Barb and Branch, and Barb would toss Branch to Sid to keep him from getting submerged. I realized half way through writing that scene that it was too close to Branch being pushed by his grandma and would more than likely have caused Branch a panic attack, and that chapter was meant to be cute so I cut the scene entirely.

Raff's personality was initially kinda different. She was a more anxious person, with a bit of a defeatist attitude. Canonically that's what she used to be like, before she got therapy.

Branch's revelation about Cooper at one point was planned for when he met Prince D, but I moved it to coming about thanks to therapy.

I cannot stress how last minute Dickory was. Part of why I added him is because Poppy's story was actually kind of depressing without him.

Before I made the plan for the haunted house to go poorly, Branch was going to go to the carnival where there would have been yet another Spider tease.

[lunar-years]

@roughroadhaley THEY SHOT A SAM/SIMI GET TOGETHER SCENE??? And then they didn’t include it??? We lost so badly omg 😭

[ifindus]

Cross-country season has started! Fifa!talia is out, FIS!talia is in!

Most of the athletes on the GBR team are Scottish and they all live in Norway most of the year. Norwegians have such a love for them and some of them even speak Norwegian fluently. Two years ago, they lost funding from the UK government and it looked like they would have to quit skiing all-together. Then, rich Norwegians began sponsoring them and now they are training with a private Norwegian team and funded by Norwegians 💖

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

[annefic]

Do you think Anne is a pilates girlie? I think she'd love it but would hate group fitness classes like Soulcycle (and the hype around them)

I think Anne is a horse girlie who cannot physically make herself sit still for more than five minutes at a stretch

[supercantaloupe]

what’s a fun fact about you that people may not guess

i am not anyone's idea of athletic. however since my social circle is like 90% other honors student orchestra losers, i technically qualify as a jock given that i have six years of experience playing field hockey

[necromancy-savant]

That one poll reminded me of how one time in high school one Ms. Pease saw me quietly listening to my ipod in the hallway waiting for my next class and she just ripped it out of my hands. And I was staring in pure dumb shock for like 30 seconds and she was like "are you coming or not." She then proceeded to explain, once we walked the whole fucking school to her shitty little office she shared with 15 other people, that ipods aren't allowed in hallways. Which was news to me on account of everyone had them or cd players. She was known for being horrible for no reason but damn. I wish it was her who got arrested for cocaine

[exopelagic]

everyone was so harsh to alola it deserved so much better. like this region is so well designed and so pretty and the story is actually really fun? will never forgive everyone for what we did to her

[my5hiningstars]

dude. aussies in the 5sos fandom on tumblr? i can count us on my hand, you're one too? a melbourne afl fan as well?

haha, yeah i have noticed there are surprisingly few of us around here 🥺

not so much an afl fan tho, as much as a person who was born in a part of the country that likes afl,, so seeing luke picking the correct sport gave me weird state pride that i don't generally have ^^;

[firebenders-are-cool]

Years ago I came up with an ATLA fic idea for the earth avatar after korra and it was kinda good but I stopped caring about it. as I developed the plot and transformed my initial (flawed) idea, I got less interested in it because it was no longer the same idea. I basically wanted to write Trope A, didn't like that it was such a bad rendition of Trope A, fixed it, and got bored cause it wasn't Trope A anymore. I absolutely don't have the time (or desire) to go write it now (especially with avatar studios coming in hot with a new avatar), but damn I hope an alternate universe-me wrote it.