#this is literally love winning live and we are watching it ALL unfold in REAL TIME !!!!

[abovenorbelowne1]

I found myself ruminating on our current political environment amidst the upcoming presidential elections. Including but not limited to the whirlwind of events that have happened since Trump took office, throughout our fight of an epidemic, then tracing my “thought finger” to the end of the line ending at present. It has been packed full of chaos and almost too much for one to digest.

Then my mind began going back to the distant past, but further away from this bubble of mayhem.

I remember as a kid watching the hearing to impeach Clinton and witnessing everything which unfolded. In all bluntness, the president got impeached, yet not removed, for getting his dick sucked outside of matrimony. I can still hear his almost overzealous twang of an accent when he said the infamous words, “I did not have sexual relations with that woman!”

I began comparing what happened to Clinton to Trumps impeachment attempts during his presidency, along with all 30 charges sentenced then redacted after his term.

My thought bubble then furthered. Rights for people of color, sexual freedom, and gender have had such a longer struggle than the past decade in general. It spans back for far too long and although it is still present, has at least made steps forward to individual rights and freedoms. It has blossomed from the Salem Witch trials to persistent hazing of sorts. You gotta take some sort of win there, although not completely victorious and not currently absolved entirely.

During Clinton’s administration is when Ellen couldn’t come out as gay, AIDS was still prevalent and strong, inequalities still existed for women (actually the only group who was better then in a sense), and the disgusting treatment of people of color needs no explanation. We cared so much about someone’s gender, who one should be allowed to love, hate still tinged in the breaths and minds about the color of one’s skin. We had so much concern over morality and focused so eagerly on that compass that it repulses me to think about it all.

We cared so much about all of these things and impeached a president for sexual acts. What the actual fuck happened?

The pentagon admitted that UFO’s were real. The existence has been proven of evil corruption, lies, misleading and malicious manipulations of individuals, women’s rights were sent back in time, and most of this has been at the expense of not only just the minority groups but the majority of our society. It has cost us financially, mentally, and unfortunately many lives. Have the events in the last decade and what has lead up to them desensitized us so much that we are blind to truth? Our society fought so hard, in my opinion, for the most obscene and pathetic reasons in the past. But now we just let everything slide right on through and I couldn’t tell you where that compass which was so prevalent before even exists. It’s mind blowing to me comparing it all at once. The depravity of it all.

It makes me feel hopeless and sad. Why don’t we care anymore? I am not wishing for more rights to be reverted back to the past for certain groups by any means. I clearly don’t condone it whatsoever. However, we literally acted as the morality police which led to the impeachment of Clinton, but now are okay with letting someone get away with murder.

In the future, although I don’t wish to live it, I hope we can almost mock this era in text books when taking a step back to assess it all. I hope it still no longer exists and we haven’t turned into a version of the movie Idiocracy. However and unfortunately, I can’t fight giving myself over to despondency.

[whimsicaldragonette]

Blog Blitz and Arc Review: A Love by Design by Elizabeth Everett (The Secret Scientists of London #3)

Welcome to my stop on the A Love by Design Blog Blitz with Berkley Publishing. (This is also posted on my Wordpress book review blog Whimsical Dragonette.)

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Publication Date: January 17, 2023

Synopsis:

You couldn't design a better hero than the very eligible and extremely charming Earl Grantham. Unless, of course, you are Margaret Gault, who wants nothing to do with the man who broke her youthful heart. Widowed and determined, Margaret Gault has returned to Athena's Retreat and the welcoming arms of her fellow secret scientists with an ambitious plan in mind: to establish England's first woman-owned engineering firm. But from the moment she sets foot in London her plans are threatened by greedy investors and--at literally every turn--the irritatingly attractive Earl Grantham, a man she can never forgive. George Willis, the Earl Grantham, is thrilled that the woman he has loved since childhood has returned to London. Not as thrilling, however, is her decision to undertake an engineering commission from his political archnemesis. When Margaret's future and Grantham's parliamentary reforms come into conflict, Grantham must use every ounce of charm he possesses--along with his stunning good looks and flawless physique, of course--to win Margaret over to his cause. Facing obstacles seemingly too large to dismantle, will Grantham and Margaret remain forever disconnected or can they find a way to bridge their differences, rekindle the passion of their youth, and construct a love built to last?

*Author info, My rating and review, Favorite Quotes, and Excerpt below the cut.

About the Author:

Photo of Elizabeth Everett from her Goodreads profile

Elizabeth Everett lives in upstate New York with her family. She likes going for long walks or (very) short runs to nearby sites that figure prominently in the history of civil rights and women's suffrage. Her series is inspired by her admiration for rule breakers and belief in the power of love to change the world.

My Rating: ★★★★

My Review:

I loved many things about this novel. First would have to be the characters. It was fun to revisit the characters of Athena's Retreat, and I loved seeing George and Arthur "fighting" (in other words: expressing best-friendship) about George's increasingly ridiculous gifts for Violet & Arthur's baby. I loved George as a character in general - he was so sweet and funny and had an absolute heart of gold. He cared and was trying to do good with the title he'd never wanted. I loved Margaret as well, though she was a bit pricklier and also incredibly stubborn. If she'd let people in and asked for help earlier in the novel I wouldn't have been so frustrated at her decisions… though it also would have meant there would be less story. She is strong and bold and determined and yes, stubborn. I also loved the bit we get of Sam, who I remember loving in the previous book.

This novel really drove home the 'rich and powerful men want to control and dominate women and will do anything to undermine them and keep them from succeeding and keep the status quo' point from previous books -- a point which really hits close to home after watching the events of the past few years unfolding. Much like the real-world events, the events of the novel were infuriating and had me rooting for Maragaret and her friends to prove themselves.

The romance was sweet and one of my favorite kinds -- a second-chance romance between childhood friends / crushes. It was easy to get behind it because George was so very gone on Margaret. He was so in awe of her engineering brain and determined spirit and it was so refreshing, with all the terrible men in the story. They all wanted to crush her beneath their boots for the audacity of being a woman with ideas, and he just wanted to worship her for it. It was clear that Margaret loved him as well -- she just had to get past her stubborn self-reliant independence.

The one thing I could have done without was the sex scenes. There weren't too many -- three, I think? -- but they were very… detailed. Luckily they weren't vital and I could skim them (slowing down to read the dialogue in case it advanced the plot, which it occasionally did). And for me, three sex scenes is three too many. I know I'm in the minority here, and in fact I saw some reviewers lamenting that there weren't enough sex scenes -- which, how? -- so I'm going to chalk it up to just the average romance reader apparently liking to read about sex a lot more than I do and not let it impact my rating.

Margaret also dragged the stubborn independence thing on a liiiiiiittle bit too long, in my opinion, and it bogged down the middle 40% of the book. I think some tightening of the plot there would go a long way toward making this flow better and feel more consistent.

Overall though I really loved it. I love stories with smart women and men with hearts of gold, and this delivered that beautifully.

*Thanks to NetGalley and Berkeley for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

The work came first. She mustn’t ever forget when everyone abandoned her, the work was always there.

---

As the sun battled to punch through the haze of coal smut hanging in the damp London air, Grantham sat in shadows, jealous of the lone shaft of light that fell through the window and landed on Margaret’s left cheek.

---

Everything would be fine if you do the work. Do not aim too high, do not set yourself out to be noticed. If you were a woman in a man’s world, moving forward meant bending to their desires or just doing the work.

---

Yes, and imagine what they would think if Margaret failed? If they learned she spent every day unsure of her talents and worried about exposure? Shouldn’t she feel like a role model if she was going to be one?

---

“I have always loved her,” he said. “I breathe her and bleed her, and if you open me up, my heart is the shape of Margaret Gault. I have loved her from the moment she knocked me to the ground; a blow from which I have never tried to recover. Of course I love her.”

---

Whether that step leads you to where you were always meant to be depends on how you define courage. Is it the tenacity to forge ahead no matter the obstacles, or the ability to ask for help when those obstacles seem insurmountable? Or is it both?

Excerpt:

A LOVE BY DESIGN by Elizabeth Everett

Berkley Romance Trade Paperback Original | On sale January 17, 2023

Excerpt

Maggie had returned. Of course, she was now known as Madame Margaret Gault. Try as he might, Grantham could never twist his tongue around the name. Almost his whole life, he'd called her Maggie. His Maggie. From upside down, he watched as she turned the corner of the carriage house, the wind unfurling the hem of her simple bronze pelisse. A brown capelet hung about her shoulders, and a matching muff hid her hands. Catching sight of him, she paused, tilting her head so he caught a glimpse of lush auburn curls peeking out from beneath her tea-colored bonnet trimmed with bright red berries. Margaret's fair skin showed no hint of the freckles that had once plagued her every summer, and thick brown lashes shielded her hazel eyes. She was unusually tall for a woman; nevertheless, she moved with effortless grace, and not even the blazing clash of colors adorning Violet next to her could detract from her beauty. For she was a beauty, Margaret Gault. Once wild and graceless, she'd bloomed into a woman of elegant refinement. A woman who was more than met the eye. A woman who would rather feast on glass than give him the time of day. For eleven years, the first day of summer meant Margaret would be waiting for him beneath the willow where they first met. She and Violet attended the Yorkshire Academy for the Education of Exceptional Young Women together. While Violet came home to her large, affectionate-and very loud-family, Margaret had no one waiting for her at home. Her father had died of a stroke when she was ten and her mother had little interest in Margaret's whereabouts or well-being. Violet and Grantham had been Margaret's family. The three of them had been the best of friends until one hot afternoon when Margaret had smiled a certain way and the ground went out beneath his feet. A year later he was soldiering in Canada and Margaret lived in Paris and their summers together were nothing but a memory he pulled around himself like a blanket on cold lonely nights. "Good afternoon, Grantham," Violet greeted him, seemingly unaffected by his headfirst dive into her rosebushes. She wore a shocking yellow day dress beneath a burgundy velvet paletot and atop her head sat a garish blue bonnet topped with a life-sized stuffed parrot. Swallowing a barrelful of curses, Grantham tried wriggling out of the bushes, every single thorn piercing his flesh a hundredfold as Margaret stared without saying a word. "Ahem." He cleared his throat as he managed to get to his feet despite being trapped in the center of one of the bushes. As he pulled a branch from his hair, a shower of wrinkled brown rose petals drifted down his shoulders. "You are especially . . . vibrant today, Violet. I brought this for Baby Georgie." He thrust the torn, dirtied rabbit at Violet, who received it with a bemused air. One of the buttons had come off and the silk was stained green and brown. "Madame Gault," he said, bowing to Margaret. "So lovely to see you again." No matter how strongly Grantham willed it, Margaret did not speak to him in return. Instead, she bent her knee a scant inch in a desultory curtsey, her lush mouth twisted like the clasp of a coin purse, no doubt to hold inside the names she was calling him in her head. He had a good idea what some of them were, considering he most likely had taught them to her. Grantham hadn't seen Margaret for thirteen years until their reunion-if one could call it that-a year and a half ago in the small parlor of Athena's Retreat. He hadn't exactly met the moment then, either-although to be fair, there'd been a hedgehog involved. The handful of times he encountered her since, she'd avoided meeting his eyes with her own, as though he were an inconsequential shadow cast by their past. Someone to be dismissed. Someone who had broken her heart and whom she would never forgive. "See who is come to live in England for good." Violet linked her arm with Margaret's and beamed at her friend. This was news.

When Margaret had come to stay at Athena's Retreat a year and half ago to complete an engineering project for her father-in-law's firm, Grantham had hoped she'd stay but she returned to Paris after three months. He'd asked Violet if Margaret might ever return, but Violet had doubted it. "She's one of the only women engineers in Europe with an excellent reputation. Why give up a dream hard fought to come back to England and fight all over again?" Violet had asked. Something had changed, however, and now Margaret was home. His heart leapt in his chest and the bitter orange flavor of hope flooded his mouth. "Clean yourself up and come inside for tea," Violet said to him now. Margaret did not echo the invitation. Instead, she tightened her hold on a stylish carpet bag and accompanied Violet and Arthur into the building. There are moments in life when the world shifts as though a door has opened somewhere out of sight. Whether a person runs toward that opened door or not depends on how fast they're stuck in place. Grantham considered for a moment how painful it would be to get himself unstuck. Although the tangle of branches in front of him twisted menacingly, he pulled a deep breath of resolution into his lungs alongside the scents of rosehips and crushed greenery. Gritting his teeth, he made his way through the thorns toward the open door.

Excerpted from A Love by Design by Elizabeth Everett Copyright © 2023 by Elizabeth Everett. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights reserved. 

[jrueships]

HERE lmao

WE DID IT BOYS (PENGUINS OF MADAGASCAR DICTIONARY DEFINITION TERM OF ENDEARMENT INTENTION)

WE W O N ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️🤩

[please-return-to-villanelle]

Cold Turkey

S3E8 recap

What do you want Villanelle?

I’m looking for a new challenge.

Villanelle tries to retroactively accept Carolyn’s job offer to work for MI6, but with a slight twist. She no longer wants to kill. She is looking to start over. Carolyn isn’t convinced that Villanelle has any useful skills outside of assassinating and turns her offer down. By seeking out Carolyn, Villanelle was taking a real step of her own accord to actively remove herself from the Twelve rather than simply runaway.

I can change.

You’ve infected her with your disgusting lack of ambition.

The Villanelle that Dasha and Konstantin are discussing is the Villanelle of the past. The one whose life was not altered by Eve Polastri. In this conversation, Konstantin chastised Dasha for almost killing Villanelle with her brutal training tactics focused on discipline while Dasha jabs back by blaming Konstantin for giving her no structure. In other words, Villanelle almost died because of Dasha’s method of strict rule while Konstantin made her lazy due to his method of no rules. Neither handler gave Villanelle what she needed and BOTH of them imposed what they wanted upon her. She seems like a disappointment to them now that she is breaking free of her chains and becoming her own person, which is something neither Dasha nor Konstantin is capable of doing.

As I mentioned in my S3E7 recap (post), I think the portrayal of Dasha was meant to depict what Villanelle’s life may have been if she continued working for the Twelve for the rest of her life. This would have been a life of isolation (Winners win alone) with the illusion of freedom to do as she pleases, so long as her bosses are happy.

I wish my son was here.

The death of Dasha is Villanelle’s worst fear, and ironically, the end Dasha predicted for Villanelle; one in which she dies alone and without someone who loves her.

FINALLY, we arrive to the long-anticipated Villanelle and Eve reunion where they both “Wear it down” (post).

What I love most about this whole scene is both Villanelle and Eve have their walls of emotional armor down the entire time. Neither of them entered the ballroom with their masks on. The cheeky and overly confident façade of Villanelle is not there and the delusional MI6 agent façade for Eve is gone.

They came just as they are: Eve and Oksana.

This entire scene looks and feels like the past: the ballroom dancing, the clothing of the dancers and Villanelle’s 60s outfit, the lighting, the music, and the decorum. It’s almost as if this is a fantasy moment where time stands still; and in this moment, Oksana and Eve share a moment of honesty about the past and future.

Do you ever think about the past?

All of the time.

Eve can tell immediately that something is deeply bothering Villanelle and so her offer to dance serves as a temporary distraction but also as an opportunity to find real peace.

I want to feel carefree.

Well dancing will do that.

The freedom they are discussing here is emotional freedom. Both Villanelle and Eve have their own internal demons they are battling and neither have been able to find peace on their own.

Dancing is not my thing.

Mine either, but it’s good to try new things.

The origin of the word dance came from the Latin word saltare which means to “leap with emotion”. What Eve is offering Villanelle is emotional support by “letting it win” in order to quit their self-destructive habits of repressing their feelings around each other. In other words, they are actively giving into their emotions to feel and deal with it together rather than keep it all buried inside.

They both fumble at first, this is something new after all, but then they begin to talk openly with each other as they sway in sync. While staring at a happy elderly couple, Villanelle asks Eve is she wants to be like them. What she is really asking here is: Would a long, normal and carefree life make you happy?

Eve honestly replies no. Why?

We’d never make it that long. We’d consume each other before we hit old age.

Eve’s reply is significant because she envisions her life with Villanelle in it and associates her with happiness. In her brain, she re-framed the question from “Would I be happy” to “Would we be happy?” For Eve, to be happy means to have Villanelle but she recognizes that this situation of teatime dancing in the fantasy ballroom is not sustainable for them. Eve understands that happiness means becoming fully consumed mind, body, and soul by Villanelle which may not allow them to live a long life with the danger and chaos they always find themselves involved in.

I’ve killed a lot of people

Villanelle said these exact words to her mother. In this instance she was rejected, told she had a darkness, and instructed to leave.

With Eve, she was immediately accepted without hesitation and held in a loving embrace.

I know.

When she dances with Eve, she is Oksana. No pretense, no cheeky jokes, no lies. She is just a girl dancing with her wife, because this scene proves they are married, but when Eve leaves and she turns to talk to Rhian, Villanelle the mask is back on. Now she is cheeky, the pretense is back, and the game of lies is on.

Rhian leads Villanelle away to take her to see Helene in order to, once again, play by another handler’s set of rules.

Come a long little sheep.

Villanelle is determined to maintain her autonomy and have the happy life that Eve envisioned for the two of them. Killing Rhian to have her dream life takes its toll since murdering is no longer something she can disassociate from.

I’m sorry.

Villanelle now feels things when she kills. This was the cost of learning what love means and opening herself up emotionally. She is now capable of feeling love and happiness, but this means she can also feel pain and loss. This kill was a milestone for her because we see this balance of Villanelle the assassin and Oksana the woman.

Interestingly, Eve (aka Tallulah Shark) has a similar experience at the betting parlor and with her exchange with Konstantin. She osculates from not a nice lady to innocent and caring throughout both of these scenes.

I think this was significant in depicting how both Eve and Villanelle are capable of attaining balance between their darkness and light. More importantly, they are most at center when they together both emotionally and physically.

Now I know many of you are wondering: What was the point of Geraldine?

I think her point was literally to annoy the emotions out of Carolyn. She was annoying to us because that’s how Carolyn felt also.

Carolyn has been a spy for decades and has learned to separate her work life from her personal life. The death of Kenny was what forever merged these two aspects of her life; but the death of her son alone was not enough of a trauma for Carolyn to willingly “let it win” by succumbing to her guilt in order to feel this great loss. She needed someone to pry these feelings out of her unwillingly.

That’s what you say it’s about, but what’s this really about?

So, in a way, Geraldine is the therapist Carolyn never asked for but desperately needed in order to find peace with the death of Kenny which she achieves in her final scene with provocation from someone else she cares about: Konstantin.

Konstantin has betrayed literally everyone in his life including his own family. What’s interesting about this scene is that Villanelle is watching this whole exchange without any knowledge of Eve and Carolyn’s investigation into Kenny’s death. In fact, she seemed to have no knowledge of Carolyn and Konstantin’s past.

Villanelle is witnessing this relationship for the first time unfold and she realizes that Konstantin, someone she considered a friend/ family, is using Carolyn’s love for him against her. It’s truly a fascinating detail.

I feel like the series has drawn many parallels between Carolyn and Konstantin’s relationship to Eve and Villanelle’s. Both couples are literal enemies to lovers. Much like Dasha, this is a glimpse into what Villanelle and Eve’s future relationship might look like if they continue their current career paths. Their relationship will dissolve into nothing more than transactions and lies all centered around work.

What Villanelle doesn’t know, is that Konstantin has used Carolyn’s feelings against her to save himself before. Let us recall the car driving scene from the previous episode. He flat out lied about what he was discussing with Kenny in order to save himself from Carolyn’s inquisition and reckless driving. Konstantin has no rules set and no set of morals. He just wants to stay alive.

Winners win alone.

Once again, Konstantin shamelessly chooses himself above all others. He plays his last hand by telling Carolyn he loves her to influence her decision making by tugging at her feelings.

In this moment it clicks for Villanelle. This is the type of behavior her mother showed her and her siblings. She manipulated the feelings of those that loved her and used them to manipulate them into doing her bidding or boasting her ego.  With this realization, Villanelle saw that her mother was not her family, and neither is Konstantin.

He only called out to her when he was desperate and blatantly ignored her own calls of desperation throughout their entire relationship. She also witnesses Carolyn spare Konstantin. Instead of killing him out of anger and she let him go out of what little love she still holds for him. I believe this was a parallel to Villanelle shooting Eve in Rome out of anger. I think Villanelle recognized the difficult choice Carolyn made and why it’s so important for her and Eve to walk away from all of this if they want their happy life together.

Cold turkey.

Eve is not fully prepared to let all of this go. To her, fixating on the Twelve means fixating on Villanelle. So in this moment, I think she panicked and fled because she can’t comprehend how to live that life without Villanelle and the Twelve consuming her. She craves the excitement, the darkness, and chaos that comes with Villanelle.

You’re so many things.

Eve comes to a place of acceptance and finally admits to Villanelle that they are the same and that she wanted Villanelle in her life all along. The cost was blowing up her own life; but Eve never truly wanted that life. She only became passionate and fully alive after Villanelle came crashing into her life.

Wear it down.

Since that 30 second meeting in the bathroom, Villanelle and Eve were forever changed. They briefly saw the monsters in each other. Neither recoiled. They continued to pursue each other and are finally at a point where they can fully see one another for exactly who they are. They were both seeking the relationship they now have. It’s not a normal relationship like the couple in the fantasy ballroom, but it’s the real connection they have both been yearning for.

Help me make it stop.

At the end Villanelle offers Eve a solution to stopping all the pain, chaos, and darkness that comes with their unique relationship.

She is suggesting that Eve has to quit her cold turkey.

Villanelle is presenting them both with the opportunity to cut ties with their consuming relationship and attain their individual freedom that they have both been trying to attain throughout this season.

Ultimately, neither one is prepared to quit cold turkey. In the end, they choose to remain tethered by the red string of fate that binds them. They choose to view each other as equals and mutually consume each other to attain their version of love and happiness.

It’s new challenge they willingly face together.

[freifraufischer]

An interesting sports/politics observation:  

I’ve been following the dumpster fire at USAG for quite some time now and became deeply interested in following the sport of gymnastics in more than a 4 year fan way around the time that the Larry Nassar scandal broke.  

The post mortem on the US women’s gymnastics team results in Tokyo was honestly starting around Olympic trials in June.  The US women have never traveled much internationally for decades so they compete less than other international gymnasts.  The argument has been that the travel takes away from valuable training time.  What was little became none because of COVID and the bankruptcy filing of USAG to deal with the lawsuits arising from the abuse scandal.  

It was known that the US women were also being domestically over scored by judges at home.  Domestic overscoring is not unique to the US but most countries that have it also complete internationally so their athletes have a real sense of how international judges will evaluate their routines.  There have been alarm bells for at least three years that the US women were not going to get credit for elements and face deductions in international competition that they weren’t facing at home.  Just this year one of them was literally used in a pictorial example of a international judging document for something that should be deducted--the fact that current athletes are used this way is a whole other horrible kettle of fish.  I should add that the discovery that routines that were being scored highly in the US would fail at the olympics isn’t even new.  Famously the reigning world champion missed out on the all around final at the 2012 games because she wasn’t given credit for connections and series that were overlooked at home.

Now the job of bringing domestic meet scoring into line is on the national team staff and the job of advising and strategizing is that of the “High Performance Director” for the women’s program.  This is the job that was held (under the title National Team Coordinator) by Martha Karolyi with an iron fist before 2016.  She was replaced (after fits and starts) by a man named Tom Forrester.  Forrester’s defining qualities for the job have been that he is nice.  Literally the bar was that low.  He has demonstrated a rather alarming lack of knowledge about what international judges deduct for (after Junior World Championships he expressed surprise that they deducted for dance elements--something that happened again in Tokyo to US gymnasts), did not understand the Olympic selection criteria for individuals, and appeared to have a very very faulty understanding of the rights of athletes with an ongoing abuse complaint (more on that later).

He was relatively removed from the culture of high level elite coaching for the last few decades and the athletes considered him nice.  The last time he had been deeply involved in senior US gymnastics politics was the mid 1990s when several of his gymnasts were passed over for the 1996 Olympic Team because injured athletes were petitioned on to the team over those that competed at trials.  Mind you this was a time when the Olympic team had 7 members and the people petitioned on were the 1992 Olympic Silver Medalist Shannon Miller and 1995 National Champion Dominique Moceanu.  It would have been literally insane not to have them on the Olympic team.  But it has become apparent that Tom Forrester felt a great injustice was done to his athletes and the the worst part of US gymnastics team management was that Martha Karolyi picked favorites.  

This year he denied the petition of a former world champion to Olympic trials (she likely wouldn’t have made the team but her exclusion is... questionable) and after the fact justified it by saying she had failed to meet a criteria for the petition that he never told her existed.  At trials the team was chosen (by a committee that he had essentially full control over) took the top all around finishers in order of how they did at trials (as he would have liked them to have done in 1996).  This was in willful defiance that the format of the olympics now demands not all arounders but strategic use of team building for the best score possible.  The US did not bring the highest potential scoring team to the olympics because of one man’s wounded pride from 25 years ago.

And before you might be tempted to tell yourself he did this because he wanted to support the athletes let me tell you about the fact that he allowed a coach that was under investigation for abuse to come to a camp where one of the athletes that had filed the complaint against her was also in attendance.  His wife, who has a history of unhinged social media rants, claimed he didn’t have the authority to send home an athletes chosen coach.  In reality Louie Hernandez had the legal right not to have to be there with her.  That coach would later be banned for longer than anyone else has ever been banned in USAG history.

So in June anyone following the details of this knew that Tom’s strategy was entirely “we have Simone and so we will win.”  Because that kind of pressure and stress couldn’t possibly have any terrible consequences on an athlete.  Spoiler:  It did.  

People within the sport were warning about this before Simone Biles lost herself in the air during that vault in Tokyo.  The fact that we were all lucky not to watch one of the greatest athletes of a generation break her neck can not be overstated.  It was so scary that one of the most famously bitter angry and terrible human beings of Gymnastics that has been saying awful things about Biles for years kept telling Russian media that she made the right decision to pull out.  That was pigs flying territory.

Forrester left the athletes to face the press alone after the final.

So with that backdrop I want to give this observation:  Dominque Moceanu, an olympic gold medalist who has an abuse story so horrific with villains so cartonishly evil that if it was written as fiction the author would be told it was over the top, wrote a book about the culture of abuse in in the sport and USAG in 2008.  She was called insane, living on another planet, and apparently sent hundreds of emails by those within the sport that she was ungrateful for what her abusers had done for her (emails that she has apparently kept and I’m telling you I’d love to read more then the few I’ve seen).  Moceanu was a figure out of greek legend, Cassandra doomed to tell the truth and be called mad (and attention seeking).  In light of the fall of the Karolyis and the Nassar scandal Moceanu has become a more respected figure as someone that has been speaking out about abuse for a long time.  She has also been someone that other victims went to over the decades to talk to before they could come forward.  A weight that no one should have to bear.  

I had been joking that the only way people would start to trust USAG was honestly trying to reform was if they put someone like Moceanu in charge (Aly Raisman’s name is floated but even she points out that she’s not qualified).  Moceanu is.  But the old guard of the sport have spent two decades telling people that Moceanu is crazy.  I didn’t think she’d take the job and I didn’t think USAG would ever hire her.

But here is the interesting thing .... her social media presence radically changed character in the last three months.  Starting around the time of US Nationals and continuing though trials and the olympics between posts supporting team USA athletes and raising a voice to support Simone Biles and the need for a cultural change in the sport were digs at Tom Forrester and about the need for transparency in that job.  

And this:  “Would someone be kind enough to notify me if the U.S. women’s high performance coordinator position opens up? Asking for a friend.”  (x)  At the same time (literally the same day as one of those tweets) she launched a youtube channel that is essentially a political fluff piece about her as a change agent in gymnastics coaching.

She’s auditioning for that job.

There are a bunch of other interesting elements of her online behavior and some other telling notes about things she’s said ... but it’s interesting to notice something like that unfold.

[artificialqueens]

The Crying Reflex (Rosénali) - SnowBun

A/N: Did I use this to procrastinate from working and finishing I’m Not Into Sometimes? Absolutely. But never fear, I will finish that fic (at some point.) Posted about writing this a few weeks ago and I actually got around to it, what a shock! Idea taken from Rosé posting that Denali’s IG story made her cry.

Thank you to Hollie for always being the most amazing beta. Don’t know what I’d do without you. This is for dawningofdrag and pinkgrapefruit for making me feel like this was worth putting out into the world.

Summary: Denali always makes Rosé cry.

–

Rosé isn’t sure how they become friends. She doesn’t believe in destiny or cosmic jokes. She doesn’t think that there’s a higher being out there that writes a script to the whole universe in the stars.

Being friends with her feels more like a reflex. A meeting of the eyes across the room to stimulate, react with a friendship that feels so real she can almost hold it in the palm of her hand.

Look at me the way you do and that’s it, I’m yours.

“Can we talk?”

There are 11 other drag queens and a small but very present television crew in the room, but there is nothing else in her line of sight but Denali. All she can see is the way she dabs at her eyes and the way that they’re flitting from light bulb to light bulb in an effort to look anywhere that isn’t Rosé.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” She throws out her arms with a little laugh, like she’s about to explain that this all just some ridiculously mean joke that’s unfolding before them. “But I couldn’t even look at you. There’s just something about you.”

“You don’t have to look at me. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re going to have a lot of time to look at me.”

Every word that tumbles out of her mouth is a reaction to a tear that Denali blots away with a balled-up tissue paper in her fist. She encourages, even jokes, until she sees her crack a smile that reminds her of the way the sun breaks through hotel room curtains.

She doesn’t realize she’s holding her hand before her thumb is already stroking skin.

“I need you to do it not just for you, but I need you to do it for me; because I really need you here with me.”

Rosé is many things. She is a queen with unending wit and talent. She is that person who won’t stop toeing the line between hot mess and professional, purely for fun. She is the girl that everyone in the werkroom is eyeing with cautious curiosity.

“I know I can make it to the top.”

One thing she has never been is a crier.

“I know you can too.”

Well, at least she didn’t think she was.

Glass beads form in the corners of her eyes, so unlike the bright plastic ones that Lagoona had bought bags of weeks ago. No, these are Denali’s beads. Crystals of chandeliers draping from ceilings, as clear as the fact that she’s barely holding together.

She’s about to say something, even lets the air pass through her teeth so the words can come out; but then she feels her bottom lip quiver and she buries the reflex with things she prays she can admit to later.

“You know what to do.”

–

Denali shuts her eyes. Well, the non-prosthetic ones at least. Against the stark black of her dress, the orange hue of the setting sun washes her skin a beautiful shade of orange. Her radiance only serves to remind Rosé that she hates the way she looks right now.

“You okay?”

“Just tired.”

They lean against the wall, holding hands as they bathe in the last vestiges of daylight. She hums the disco number that’s been on repeat for the past two days if only to make Denali laugh, all low and breathy. It’s these small quiet moments that make the stamp of ‘you’re safe’ more sweet than bitter.

“You were amazing out there, angel.”

“So were you.” Denali turns her head to look at her and she can’t help herself from laughing when all eight black eyes stare back at her. “Still wasn’t enough for the judges, though.”

“Oh no, baby,” Rosé tuts. “I don’t need the judges to tell me shit. I’ll let my delusion tell me how great I am.”

They look out at the lot, watch crew members bustle about as they keep their distance. It’s simple really, how one person is point A and the other is point B. So easy to model with mathematical functions that distance is proportional to safety.

Even easier to prove that distance is proportional to the loneliness that threatens to swallow her whole when she’s trapped in her hotel room.

The thought of having to return to it in a few hours feels like a punch to the gut, the type that’s so strong that tears form in her eyes. To have thoughts, hopes, fears that she can only voice to a void sends her spiralling down.

She presses the back of her head into the concrete wall so she doesn’t cry. She still has to return to the runway after all. She blinks away her tears like the exhaustion and loneliness will disappear with them.

“Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“Ever want something so bad it hurts?”

She knows Denali is talking about the competition. She knows that she’s talking about hearing, “condrag-ulations,” instead of, “you’re safe,” the next time they step out onto the stage. She knows that she’s talking about the things that they’ve both come here to achieve.

But then she notices that she’s been drawing on the back of Denali’s hand with the pad of her thumb this whole time. She feels the weight of loneliness lift ever so slightly off her shoulders and she knows without giving it any serious thought that she has all she wants right here. At least for now.

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

“Another cocktail.”

“I hate you so much.”

“I love you too.”

She colors those words shades of orange and black, permanent marker and invisible ink just for her.

–

“You’re going to win.”

It’s hard to be sure of things when the world is falling to shit. Being sure of things is reserved for statements like, “the earth isn’t flat,” or, “my dress is definitely a warm yellow and not orange.”

But Denali sounds so sure of it. She sounds like she’s turning theories into laws, like anything else is a deviation from the reality she’s living.

Rosé is holding a cocktail in one hand and Denali’s in the other, and the only thing she can really be sure of is that she isn’t willing to let go of either right now.

“I swear to God, if you’re jinxing this for me–”

“I’m not!”

Thank you.

It’s the first thing she writes on the skin of her hand in a code only they will ever understand. There are ancient languages lost to time, but she knows that when they leave this competition, those words etched into flesh will be a relic only she can read.

“I’m going to sue you for $5000 if I don’t hear RuPaul say, ‘condrag-ulations, Rosé’ by the end of tonight.”

“Shut up.” She giggles. “I promise that you’re going to win this. There is literally no way you won’t.”

Rosé doesn’t have to think too hard to know that Denali is right. In fact, her reflex is to believe her; but if she pauses, lets the lull of laughter set in for too long, then she hears that little voice in the back of her brain, telling her over and over again that it wasn’t good enough.

You’re right.

Of course, she can’t admit it out loud, but she knows whispers of fingertips will be enough for her to understand.

“In case I do win, I’m going to have to ask you to promise me shit like that every week.”

“Mmm, no way.” She pops the plastic straw of her drink out of her mouth, leaving a ring of black staining bright pink. “I have to leave some of those promises for myself. You know, share the love.”

The room is buzzing with nervous energy from the idea of either Kandy, Tina or Symone having to lip sync, but on the couch alone with her, it feels like a bubble. All she can hear is laughter and promises bouncing off fragile walls.

“I’m proud of you, Rosie.”

Her drink is halfway to her mouth when she says it. It takes a moment for her brain to process, but her body reacts right away. The tears in her eyes don’t come from the pain of having just laughed too hard or from the exhaustion that keeps threatening to knock her out.

No, they come from the way Denali looks at her, like her color blindness takes off the green on her face so she can see all the dreams she hides underneath.

I love you.

“Thank you, angel.” She gives her hand a final squeeze before letting go.

–

It doesn’t register that the hand he’s holding isn’t Denali’s.

Most of the queens have fallen asleep, the emotions from the long day leaving them all drained of energy. There are snores and whispers filling up the empty seats of the van, but he doesn’t notice. All he knows is that something is wrong, something he can’t quite place.

The way he writes it’s okay is more than just a habit that he’s acquired over the past few weeks. It’s become a reflex, no different to breathing. The words he writes need no introduction or conclusion. It’s something he knew how to do before he learned he was doing it.

When he turns his head, he’s almost surprised to find that it’s actually Olivia, hiding half his face in the sleeve of a baggy sweatshirt so no one can hear him sniffling. One look at him and everything comes rushing back.

Denali is gone and no one can understand the words now.

He isn’t angry at him, couldn’t be even if he tried. He sees the bloodshot eyes when they pass under a streetlamp and he knows the way it feels. He knows how it feels because all he can think about is how Denali used to sit there, buzzing with the idea of making his dream come true.

“Sorry, Liv.”

Rosé isn’t sorry that he can’t let go of his hand or that he’s caught him crying. If he’s honest, he isn’t really sure what he’s sorry for. It just seems like the right words to say to tell him he’s not suffering alone.

Is this what it feels like to lose half of something that’s still whole? Things won’t fall apart now that he’s gone. He’ll still push to get to that finish line until his lungs give out and breathing turns into a sting in his chest.

But how he wishes he could get there holding his hand.

“Me too.”

Olivia lets out a shaky breath before leaning against him. Rosé is thankful that he can’t see his face. All the easier to hide the tears that threaten to pour out of him.

–

The hotel door shuts behind him, the sound reverberating all throughout his mind, soul and body until all that’s left in his brain is a single thought:

I did it.

His reflex is to belt, “The winner is Rosé!” to his hotel room. Then he looks around, sees the grand emptiness of it all, and lets the pain in his chest shock his body, a billion volts to the parts of him that even he can’t see.

The void pokes, prods, stimulates, and his body’s first response is to turn and look for Denali. He knows that the doors are locked, that telling him he’s in the top four is nothing short of impossible when he’s probably already hundreds of miles away.

What would it be like if he’d been there?

What would it be like to see him wipe off the makeup, revealing nothing but the look of purest joy and pride underneath? What would it be like to hold his hand until the end so he can learn how the words we did it feel on his skin?

What would it be like if the vision of him that still lives in his mind actually paid its three weeks long overdue rent?

What happens when he comes home? What happens when he has to tell him that he’s achieved something that they both deserved to have?

Questions, questions, and more questions. They occupy his brain and it spins the way he does across the stage. There’s a hurricane in the room, tearing everything apart, and he can’t find his way into its eye.

For the first and last time during the entire competition, he lets himself cry. It is free, messy, ugly with its heaving sobs that wrack through his whole body. It’s the type of crying that would be a meme tomorrow if it had gotten caught on the set of Drag Race.

He isn’t sure why he cries, not when his dreams are literally coming true. He’s always known that things will never be as he sees it in his head, but he never imagined that the pleasure would come with a pain he can’t even understand.

It takes a moment for the hurricane to pass. It leaves him drained of emotions he didn’t know he had, but he’s alive and it’s all he really cares about. He lifts up the covers of his bed and crawls in, hoping that he’ll forget the complex cocktail of emotions that he’s just unearthed when he wakes up the next day.

Before he falls asleep, he rehearses his script in his head.

Hey, D. You were right, I did it.

–

It’s in the last few seconds before falling asleep and in the pauses while finishing his makeup that he spends thinking of what he’ll say to him when he gets home. When he finally gets a chance, none of what he plans ever gets said.

The first thing he does when he gets home from Drag Race is to collapse onto his bed. He fills his senses with the smell of his sheets. It’s a familiar embrace that pulls him into the deepest, most comfortable sleep he’s had in months.

When he wakes up, the room is so dark that he can’t tell he’s even opened his eyes. He drinks in the idea that he can leave it behind, that there is light beyond these walls and he can touch it with his bare hands again.

Instead, he grabs his phone off the nightstand. He forgets what he’s meant to do in the first place, but his fingers are already searching for the message that Denali sent as soon as he got home to Chicago. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing until the words are jumping out of the screen at him, breaking him until he smiles.

Denali: hi rosie! Idk when you’ll be back but since you’ll probably make it to the finale, that might be a while. Ilysm and i’m already so proud of you. Call me when you get back, miss you!

Denali: PS it’s all your fault that i keep singing pretty witty fashion clown, i hate you

The picture of Denali sitting on his couch, typing out something so incredibly sweet then following it up with his own brand of ridiculous, is so vivid in his mind that he can’t stop himself from laughing. Otherwise, he might start screaming about how the feeling of the bones caging his poor heart are breaking.

“Hello?”

“Rosie!”

Nightmares start where dreams end, and this one had started the moment she’d walked off the stage, leaving her hopes at Rosé’s feet, clad in chunky Tina Burner heels. He wakes up when he hears him say his name, even if it isn’t the real thing.

“Oh my god, you just got back. Does this mean I was right?”

“Why do you sound like you were doubting me, baby?”

If he’s honest, he’d been scared of this moment. It was an unspoken contract: we’ll be there together. It felt like breaking his end of the promise, even if it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

“I knew it!” He paints the dark of the room with the joy in his voice and Rosé watches all the colors she’s ever worn on runways tint the bare walls. “I swear Rosie, I knew from the day I met you that you’d make it there.”

I thought the same about you.

He bites back the words, swallows them like a bitter pill.

“Aww, you’re so sweet, D.”

“God, I miss you so much.”

The pill gets stuck in his throat, making his eyes water. He knows he’s been missed and he knows he’s missed him too, but to hear the words burst into a flash of light that fills up the darkened corners of his room makes him remember that everything they have is more than just an intersection of a dream and a nightmare.

What they had in quiet conversations on van rides and tipsy chats in the werkroom was real, and he had come home to it, even if it’s just a phone call that will never be enough.

“I miss you too.”

–

It doesn’t hit him how lonely he’s felt for months until he isn’t alone anymore.

After his third glass of wine, he settles on the edge of Symone’s bed. He watches his sisters talk about nothing and everything all at once. He tries to cut in every once in a while with a song or a joke or his usual mixture of both, but he’s perfectly content just to see all of them together again.

Days, weeks, months have passed and not all of them are spent alone, but loneliness still mars every interaction he has. In the middle of a world that’s going forward and nowhere all at once, he can’t help but feel like he’s in the middle of the ocean with water filling his lungs.

Then he hears them all laugh and he rises to the surface with a breath of fresh air and the sun shining down on his face.

“Rosita!”

Denali whines and immediately plops down beside him, laying his head in his lap. Rosé knows that he’s drunk or at least close to it, but he’s almost certain that he’d do this to him completely sober too.

It’s been four hours since they’ve reunited after months apart, but how they are hasn’t changed. The safety that he’d thought had just been there to shield him from the impending doom in a bright pink box is still there.

He won’t admit it to anyone, least of all to himself, but as he runs his fingers through his hair, he knows that he’s missed this the most.

“I’m going to fall asleep if you keep doing that.”

“Are you a fucking cat?”

“I’m a pussy, sweetie.”

He looks around the room again and it sinks in how lucky he is to have this. In a universe that he believes is constantly on the brink of implosion, he’s found people like them to hold on to. They didn’t know it at the time, but all the sacrifices they’ve made have led them to this.

Most of all, he’s found the living embodiment of growth and joy, and he has strands of his hair slipping between his fingers. He blames the fact that he almost cries on how Denali won’t stop making feminine moaning noises, causing everyone in the room to break into laughter.

Soon, he will have to go home to empty spaces. He will return to the loneliness, but the dullness of its knife will have faded. When it comes to him in the night, making the world stop again, he will greet it with this memory of contentment.

–

There are millions of things that she’s willing to do to make it stop. He could turn the universe upside down, inside out for him. He could yell at the top of her lungs for highways and mountains to move for him. He could fly a damn plane to Chicago for him.

Nothing is too much to stop being a helpless soul, watching him cry over Facetime calls.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid.”

“Your feelings will never be stupid, angel.”

Denali tries to laugh, but it doesn’t come out quite right. It is too full of tears and fears, too loaded with emotions that Rosé begs to understand. It is the saddest sound she’s ever heard and shards of glass appear where her heart used to be.

“Everyone loves me now.” He says as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, because your lipsync was that fucking good, diva.”

“And what happens when I disappoint them?”

Rosé takes a deep breath, lets it settle where shattered glass lies. After a long night alone, he’d once seen a video where they turn the pieces into the most beautiful new figures. He wonders if he’ll know he’s turning his heart into something new for him.

“Listen to me, Denali. You are not and will never be a disappointment to anyone.”

“What happens when I’m eliminated? What happens when people figure out that I’m not as good as they thought I was?”

They’ve only talked about it once before, while drunk in his room after a long day of promo. If the others noticed that Denali was talking to him in whispers and holding his hand too tight, they didn’t mention it.

Does he know that he cuts her fingers when he tries to pick up the pieces for him? Does he know that he believes that nothing in the world could ever be so wrong? Does he know that he loves him too much to ever think of him the way he thinks of himself?

Months ago, he’d questioned how he could ever be so sure of anything. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Yes, you will.” He doesn’t know how he manages to keep his voice steady for him. “One bad day won’t change how much people love you. You’re a fabulous performer and an even more fabulous friend. Don’t ever doubt it for one minute, bitch.”

“But–”

“No buts here, baby. The only acceptable one is the fat ass you’re sitting on.”

It’s only when Denali laughs that he realizes he’s been crying too. How could he not when nothing in the world could be as clear? To love him is a reflex and to stop is in the realm of impossibility.

“I’m sorry I ruined your makeup, Rosie.”

“Don’t worry about it.” It’s easy to brush off, especially when it comes to him. “Maybe the people that booked Cameos are into the smudged mascara look.”

People never told him he could love someone’s laugh so much before.

–

Denali makes him realize what it means to daydream. One minute, he’s out of his own body, watching them dance in a whirlwind of giggling grace together. He spins across the dance studio and when he opens his eyes, they’re suddenly drunk off of bad cocktails in his living room, trying to do the choreography to Phenomenon.

“Wait, no!”  He almost falls over when he throws his arms over his head. “We really have to put our whole body into the wiggle. Like this.” It takes a single demonstration for Denali to crash onto the couch, burying his face into a cushion to hide his scream from Rosé’s neighbors.

“I’m just trying to be accurate here.” He says when he plops down beside him. “Utica said wiggle to the top, so I’m wiggling to the fucking top, baby.”

“You can’t make a top out of a bottom, Rosie.”

“Well, I made it to the top four, didn’t I?”

They’re both laughing so hard it hurts. It’s the type of laughing that makes their eyes tear up and their vision blur. It’s the type of laughing that makes them struggle for breath until they can’t tell if it’s them or the room that’s spinning.

The cocktail of alcohol and absurdity settles at the bottom of his stomach and he lets the laughter die. He reaches out for his hand, writes down words from memory to flesh.

Thank you.

You’re right.

I love you.

He wonders how many new words he’ll learn during his stay in New York.

Denali writes something back and it’s all Rosé could have ever hoped for. It’s not that he didn’t know it before, but having the words burned on the back of his hand is still the sweetest sensation he’s ever felt.

It happens so quickly that he doesn’t know where it starts and ends. All he knows for sure is that Denali kissed him, a peck on his lips that feels like the quick burst of a bubble.

When he wakes from this dream tomorrow, he’s not sure he’ll even remember what it felt like. All he’ll think of is the way Denali presses into his side, like none of it ever happened.

“Maybe you really are a cat.”

“Just go to sleep.”

Rosé doesn’t find trouble shutting his eyes. He doesn’t need to see him to know he won’t leave.

–

Maybe it’s the power of TV magic or maybe it’s the wall of makeup that Tina had plastered onto his face that makes it look like he isn’t holding back a gallon of tears. Instead, he looks as happy as he always does, bouncing across the runway like seeing Denali leave didn’t break his heart right in two.

The thought of having to act happy feels ridiculous now that they’re both sobbing silently over the phone. Neither of them have said anything since Ru told him to sashay away and as Untucked starts to play, they remember that they have to breathe again.

“Are you okay?”

Denali is almost uncomfortably quiet. The streaks of foundation missing from his face tell Rosé all he really needs to know but he asks anyway, if only to make sure that he doesn’t get trapped in his own head. Beautiful minds make the ugliest nightmares, after all.

“Why do you always dance like that during lipsyncs?”

He stares at him in open-mouthed shock. After the emotional ringer that they’ve both just been pulled through, all he can focus on is the fact that only his knees move when he’s dancing in the background?

“Are you fucking kidding me, Denali?”

“This episode is way too tragic.” He’s brushing it off so easily that the concern Rosé feels grows with each passing second. “My elimination, your makeup, your weird dad dancing. We have to address those things one at a time.”

“And can that first thing be your elimination?”

Denali quits rambling when he says it. They listen to the synced buzz of their TVs, watch as Rosé writes it’ll be okay on her hand. He wonders if the words are still there, wonders if he can still feel them when he needs them the most.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for it yet.”

To love him is to accept it.

Tonight won’t be the night for them to talk about it. It probably won’t even be tomorrow; but when he’s ready, Rosé will keep his end of the promise. There will be other times to love him in the ways he knows how.

“Why won’t people just leave my dad dancing alone?”

“Oh, Rosie,” he giggles and Rosé thinks it might be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “I think it’s adorable.”

–

Denali: have you seen the response online omg

Rosé: I told u so

Denali: what

Rosé: told u they’d love u as much as i do

[toplinetommy]

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part One) - Tyson Jost

gif by @pavszacha​

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Word Count: 3.5k

series playlist

January 2017 – University of North Dakota

It was your senior year at NoDak, and you couldn’t believe that you had somehow made it through nearly four years of school already. You of course had the help from your roommates who doubled as your best friends, and the hockey team to keep you sane from everything that comes with being a student studying purchasing management. If you were told freshman year you would be buddy-buddy with any D1 sports team, you would’ve laughed.

That’s kind of how you ended up where you were today: a student-athlete tutor. You were a marketing major, loving it so much and needing some extra money, you had decided to tutor the first level econ and marketing classes when you were a second-semester sophomore.

You were in the middle of tutoring a few of the guys that were all enrolled in Intro to Economics when a guy you had never seen came barreling in the room.

“Hey, Boes, do you know when the bus leaves tomorrow? I didn’t write it down and no one sent it in the group chat.” The curly headed brunette spoke. You figured he was on the team with what he said combined with the green UND hockey shirt he wore.

“Uhh 10:30, and don’t be late you saw what happened to Cam last week.” The blonde in front of you chirped. The brunette scoffed as he rolled his eyes, exiting the room just as quickly as he entered.

“Who was that?” you ask the guys surrounding you, bringing your Yeti to your lips for a sip of water.

“Why, you think he’s cute?” Brock smirked, causing both Tucker and Andrew to laugh. He was one of the guys you had been tutoring since freshman year, so you had a closer bond to him then some of the other guys on the team.

His chirp had you choking on the last bit of water in your mouth, “What! I can’t just ask who a guy I’ve never seen before is?”

“Name’s Tyson, he’s a freshman from Canada.” You nodded, noticing the slight accent he had when he spoke earlier. “I think he’s only here for the year though, he was a top 10 pick in the  draft.”

At that, the boys all went back to taking their notes and working on their case studies as the new boy’s face stuck in your mind for a few more minutes.

“By the way, are you coming to our next home game? It’s next Friday.” Tucker said as he put his laptop into his backpack. “I’ll even let you wear my alternate jersey.”

You laughed at this, the boys always making jokes on who’s jersey you got to wear whenever you went to games. “Only if you finish your econ stuff before then.” He agrees, and you and the boys all make your way out of the common room.

-

A knock on your front door startles you as you eat your sandwich, and before you can get up to go see who it is, Tucker is walking into your apartment, green sweater in hand.

“Okay, so I might not have washed my jerseys still, so here’s a different one.” He admits, tossing the sweater in your general direction. You unfold the jersey seeing the number 17 stitched onto the sleeves and the name Jost on the back.

“Tuck, I literally have no idea who’s jersey this is?”

“Oh! It’s Josty’s, the freshman. We’re also playing a prank on all the new guys tonight so we stole all of their green jerseys so they think they're missing.” The brunette in front of you laughs to himself. You agree to wear it, only because you don’t really have anything else to wear and you’d thought entertaining this so-called prank would do no harm.

It’s a few hours later and the mystery-man’s jersey looks like it was made to fit you with how it drapes over your shoulders. You’re sitting with two of your roommates that you had to drag along as well as one of their boyfriend’s. One of the many perks about going to a school like North Dakota was that there was one sport everyone bonded over: ice hockey.

Warmups had just started and you finally spot #17 on the ice and that’s when it hits you. Jost. Tyson Jost. Number 17. The freshman, the guy that you had met for the first time just a few days prior. The guy that you thought was kind of cute. No scratch that, not kind of, but definitely cute.

“Dude, Allison,” You nudge your roommates shoulder. “I don’t think the team is playing a prank on the freshies, I think Tuck is playing a prank on me.”

Allison quirks her eyebrows in confusion, urging you to keep talking. “If they were gonna steal their jerseys why would they hand them out to people and not just hide them?” You groan, and Allison doesn’t think too much of it, not knowing the ins and outs of the team like you do.

The game ends with a win, the arena shaking with excitement. You knew the boys would be excited with the win, especially coming after a tough loss earlier in the week.

You and your friends make your way back home and you text the group chat you’re in with the guys you tutor letting them know they played great.

Dumb Jocks + 1 Y/N: great game guys 🤩 *Brock loved the message* Andrew: thanks y/n! Andrew: also party at the house 10pm Y/N: might drag the roomies and make an appearance. and tuck, im ripping you a new one when i see you Tucky: just for that i decided its going to be a jersey party 😈 *Brock laughed at the message*

It’s two hours later when you walk through the front door of the NoDak hockey house. You were probably one of the handful of people there that actually spend time there both sober and when the sun is shining. This gives you much more confidence navigating your way through to the back of the living room, finding the small group of guys you actually know on the team.

The group consisting of Tucker, Andrew, Brock, and Johnny, cheers as you approach them. You walk straight up to Tucker, giving him a hard clap on the shoulder to say hi to him. “Hey, Tucky, you gotta real nice jersey on you there.” You chirp, gesturing to his Drew Doughty jersey. “It’s almost like you play hockey or something.”

Tucker shakes your hand that’s still resting on his shoulder off and points it back towards you. “I think the real story here, bud, is the jersey you’re rocking tonight.” You hadn’t bothered changing out of the green sweater between the game and now, opting to show school spirit. Besides, how often did you get to wear a player’s jersey, right?

You roll your eyes as the other boys look to see the commotion between you and Tucker. The boys snicker at the sight of you two upon seeing the green #17 sweater still adorning your body.

“Tucky, I didn’t know you actually got her to wear it!” Brock emphasized, going into to dap up his teammate. Your head snapped towards the blonde, shooting him, as well as the other boys all a glare.

“Anyways, I’m here to get drunk and win some flip cup, not be patronized by a bunch of dumb jocks.” You joke, looking over your shoulder to see where your other friends went. You say your goodbyes, letting them know you’ll see them around throughout the night.

You’re standing near the staircase with your friends, about halfway done with your third drink when the freshman brunette walks up to your group.

“So that’s where my alternate jersey went, eh?”

You scoffed into your cup, your friends laughing at the confrontation. “Yeah, I guess so.”

An awkward silence falls over your small group, the unintended snarkiness of your tone being felt by everyone. Your few friends leave the two of you, mentioning that they needed refills.

“Sorry about the jersey. I can wash it tomorrow and bring it the next time I tutor the guys.”

Tyson leans against the wall across from you, “It’s no problem. I don’t think we wear them again until next month anyways.”

Silence falls between the two of you again, the one common denominator between the two of you being the jersey hanging over your shoulders.

“So, uh, what do you tutor the guys in?” Tyson pipes up, hiding his expression behind the Bud Light in his hand, bringing it to his lips for a swig.

“Mainly econ, but I help some of the guys in specific classes depending on their major. Like, Johnny and Tucker, for example. They’re both in finance and econ, and I’ve taken a lot of those classes.”

“You’re an econ major then?”

“Oh, no,” you laugh. “My minor is econ, but I’m a marketing major. What about you? Have you decided on a major yet?”

The question pulls a laugh out of Tyson, confusing you. “Yeah, I’m pre-athletic training, but I don’t see myself finishing that out.”

You swallow the rest of your drink and decide to chirp him a bit, “What? Too big of some hockey hot-shot to get a degree?”

That comment elicits another laugh from the Canadian in front of you, and that’s when you decide you could definitely get used to hearing that sound.

He gets ready to answer when Tucker yells at the both of you from the kitchen, “Josty! y/n! We’re about to start flip cup, let’s go!”

Tyson chugs the rest of his beer before setting it on a nearby table and grabbing another one from the case in the fridge. He takes a spot across from you on the other side of the table as you guys jump into the game.

As the games continue, your level of sobriety starts to deteriorate and a light dizziness falls over your body. The current game of flip cup being played is elimination style and your team had lost, the other team electing to have you kicked off your team.

You move to the side, leaning against the kitchen counter to continue watching the game unfold in front of you. You pulled out your phone, trying to figure out where some of your group had disappeared to, seeing that one of them had already left to go hookup with one of her usual hookups.

You start to type back to her, letting her know that you’ll text her when you’re home when you feel a presence next to you. Turning your head to the side you see Tyson reappearing next to you.

He notices the mix of drunkness and tiredness on your face, asking if you were all good. You nod your head, going to scratch the discomfort you feel at the back of your left elbow. “I think I’m getting ready to go home soon, just trying to make sure my friends and I all leave at the same time.”

Tyson nods, tight-lipped, and offers to help you find them. As you walk around the house gathering your friends, the discomfort on your elbow only grows.

April 2017 – University of North Dakota

You’re standing in your apartment, waiting around on Tucker and Brock to come pick you up before the banquet, staring yourself down in the mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You get dressed up often, but never quite this dressed up and your nerves are getting the best of you. You don’t think anything can prepare yourself for the dinner you’re about to go to: the North Dakota men’s hockey senior banquet.

As you put your earrings in, you hear a knock on the front door and the boys shouting that they were here. You yell back that you were coming, heading to the kitchen to grab your flask and purse.

“You excited for your first hockey banquet?” Tucker yelled into the kitchen. You had known him for the past two years, regularly tutoring him, and over the course of those years he had somehow become one of your best friends.

Walking out into the living room, where the two boys were sitting, you let them know that you were excited and ready to go.

“Damn, y/n, didn’t know you were such a rocket.” Brock whistles. You roll your eyes at them, but specifically him, and gesture towards the door.

You sit with Tucker and some of the other guys you know from tutoring, and get through dinner barely speaking a word due to all of the speeches being made. The dinner was good, it was a nice break from your cooking and the fast-food you were used to eating on a regular basis.

You got more involved in the conversations as the seniors got to make speeches, asking Tucker what some of the inside jokes and chirps were all about. Lots of laughter and snuck-in alcohol later, the boys and their dates were ready for their bar crawl.

Your large group walks into to the first bar, the boys going straight up to the bar to get drinks as no-one really pregamed. The group ends up all back together for the first bit, taking over one of the front corners of the balcony that overlooks the rest of the bar. You guys were clearly over dressed for the dive bar located right off of campus with all the guys in suits and ties and the girls in dresses and heels, whereas everyone else was dressed for the cold April weather.

Tucker finally makes his way back to you, two drinks in his hand, as he hands one over to you. You thank him loudly and quickly jump into conversation.

“You sad I’m leaving you guys soon?” You yell, with a wide smile on your face. Tucker, Andrew, Brock and Johnny all laugh at you. You were the oldest of the group, as everyone else was either a junior or younger.

“I’ll be sad not being here, but I won’t be sad that I’m finally done with school.” Brock admits, to which he earns a few eye rolls from the other guys. Both Andrew and Johnny weren’t really on a clear cut path to the NHL, instead just playing for the fun of it at this level.

The conversations start to slow down in the group as the music gets louder and more drinks are consumed. Tucker and Brock get pulled away by some of the other guys for a little bit, leaving you alone with some of the girls as well as Andrew and Johnny.

You’re in the middle of a story being told when you hear Brock and Tucker’s booming laughter not too far away from you. When you turn to look at them, they’re standing with Tyson, who looks as if he’s speaking into both of their ears so they can hear him properly. Tucker is grasping his chest as he spots you looking at him, causing him to only laugh harder.

A light flush falls on your cheeks, confused as to why the sight of you makes him laugh more. You put your straw in your mouth, biting down on it as a nervous habit, and look down at your dress making sure nothing was spilled on you.

When you look up again, Tucker is no longer where he was standing and his voice startles you as he appears next to you. “You will never believe what just happened,” he starts, a hint of laughter still laced in his tone. “Tyson just asked me if we were together.”

The accusation makes you laugh, too, the both of you starting to lose your breath at the crazy thought. The both of you had become such good friends over the past 18 months that he was more like a brother than anything else.

The laughter dies down, and a realization hits you. “Why the fuck did he want to know if we’re dating?”

“I think the kid thinks you’re cute.” Tucker smirks, raising his eyebrows before downing the rest of his drink.

Your face flushes again, and as you finally go to respond to the statement you see the culprit of the previous conversation heading your way. Turning to your friend for an escape, you see that he has made himself seemingly disappear into the crowd. By the time you spot the tall brunette he’s out on the dancefloor talking to some girl.

You turn back around, trying to find someone new to start a conversation with when there’s a tap on your shoulder. Looking over your shoulder, you see that Tyson finally made his way over to you.

In light of the new information Tucker has given you, you sheepishly greet the freshman in front of you. His just as shy response gives you a little boost of confidence and you decide to mess with him a little. “Aren’t you a little too young to get into American bars?”

“Perks of my status, I guess.” He shrugs with a hint of cockiness in his tone, a new found confidence showing on his face.

“Oh, the big-shot Canadian hockey player status?”

He laughs pointedly “that’s the one.”

You were trying to figure out how to articulate your words about what he was laughing about with Tucker earlier in the night, when a wet substance pours down your back. Your jaw drops open, shoulders shrugging in both shock and discomfort. The back of your light blue dress is completely and noticeably soaking wet.

Tyson watches everything unfold in front of him. He watches your bright eyes and smiling cheeks do a complete 180 into a scowl. You whip around to whoever spilled their drink on you, ready to give them a piece of your mind. As you open your mouth, getting ready to tell the guy off that he hadn't noticed what he had just done, a large hand wraps around your stomach pulling you back.

“Hey, it’s not a big deal. He’s probably plastered and didn’t mean to spill.” Tyson assures lowly into your ear, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand straight up. The hand not holding your drink goes to hold where Tyson’s hand is placed on your stomach, using his warmth to bring you back down to earth.

You take a deep breath and try to swallow your embarrassment before turning back towards him. You rest wrap your hands around his biceps as he continues to rest his free hand on the small of your back. Looking back up at him only makes you feel embarrassed again, realizing he’s touching the gross substance that was dumped all over you.

“I want to leave.” You let out in a whisper.

“You sure? We can find the other guys and stay if you want and try to have a good rest of the night. I don’t think anyone will care.” Tyson says, caution laced in his soft tone.

Shutting your eyes and tightening your grip on him, you continue, “I care and I just want to go home and shower.” You turn out of his grip for a moment to try and spot either Tucker or Brock in the crowd. You find them rather quickly, both with girls, causing you to sign heavily. “I’m going to call an Uber.”

You start to walk away towards the door but Tyson catches up to you quickly. Grabbing your hand he pulls you back into him slightly. “I had two beers, y/n, I can drive you back.”

You nod your head and thank him for the offer, leading him out of the bar and towards the parking lot. You follow him to his car and as you get to your door, he opens it for you. You thank him and he runs over to the driver’s side, jumps into the driver’s seat, starts the car, and turns the radio down.

His car finally pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, and you lift your head from the car window to turn to him. “Thank you for driving me, I really appreciate it. Sorry you had to miss out on the senior bar crawl for this.”

“It’s no problem, at all. I would’ve wanted to leave under those circumstances, too.” He admits. You give him an awkward tight lipped smile to say goodbye as you hop out of the car. As you open your front door you turn back to wave at him, yelling another thank you.

When you’re in the shower a little while later, you can’t seem to shake the comfort you felt when he pulled you away from the guy that had spilled his drink on you. Smiling to yourself, you turn the water off, dry off and put lotion on your elbows noticing how dry and itchy they both were towards the end of the night.

[princessofgayskull]

somehow I’ll still love you more (kitra fic sneak peak)

so this is a scene from my upcoming fic somehow I’ll still love you more, which at is core is going to be a kitra/baby fic. However, there’s a lot I want to say about this (you know me, can’t keep that word count down) so this fic will be nothing if not a full course meal.

The fic is told in a nonlinear fashion. This particular scene I wanted to share with you guys because I believe it touches on a lot of what the fic is going to be about. It’s set between the episodes White Out and Light Spinner in Season 2. Enjoy! (this has not been beta’d yet)

“Scorpia,”

“Hmm- huh?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop doing what?”

Pulling up the hand brake, Catra stopped the speeder in its tracks before whirling around, her left eye twitching like the movement was the only thing keeping her eyeball in place. “That- that thing you’re doing with your mouth. That noise you’re making under your breath.”

“Singing?” Scorpia raised an eyebrow. 

“You call that singing?” Catra scoffed at her inferior. Look, Catra got that growing up in the Horde meant there weren’t any private music lessons (even if that was in Shadow Weaver’s job description she’d just relegate that responsibility off to some tone deaf Force Captain so she’d have more time to make Catra’s life a living hell and dote on Adora on the side) that all those half-witted princesses definitely got growing up, but it was like Scorpia was trying for the same sound her pincers made when she dragged them down slabs of concrete. 

Catra’s hand squeezed the brake handle until the pressure hurt the bones in her hand, her left eye still twitching. It was like Scorpia was trying to tank Catra’s recent promotion as Hordak’s second in command by being as annoying as she could on purpose. But who wasn’t trying to derail all of Catra’s hard earned progress these days?

“Oh um, I could stop. If you want.” Scorpia muttered, her face falling into an expression that gave Catra the urge to both scream, puke, cry, and beg for forgiveness at the same time. And lately, every action, every word, every little breath that any took in her direct vicinity set off a domino effect of violent emotions in Catra, every single one too enormous and too consuming for her body. 

Good thing Catra didn’t have time for any of that. 

“Just-” Catra’s breath faltered when Scorpia refused to look at her (what? Now she was the bad guy just because she needed focus or Hordak would have her sent to Beast Island? Or worse?!), “- just don’t do it right now, okay?”

This earned Catra an enthusiastic nod, and she was too fucking tired to do anything but figure that was going to have to do, given the time crunch, and not mention, the insane amount of pressure she was running under. Clicking the brake, Catra pushed the handle down, fucking ecstatic to be driving the speeder the rest of the way in peace and quiet. Finally. Scorpia didn’t say another word, didn’t make another noise, until Catra was pulling up to the edge of Dawn’s Pass and activating the brake again.

That was good enough for Catra.

Just as Catra moved up to the edge to take a watchful stance of the town, Scorpia opened her big mouth. “Uh, boss? Not that I don’t love these recon missions with you lately, but I gotta ask: why are we staking out this village again? The Horde’s occupied this place for the last twelve years, and this isn’t exactly what I pictured when you said we were going to start hanging out over work? I mean, unless Dawn’s Pass has a mean bowling alley. Does- does it?”

“No,” Catra’s tail twitched in irritation. 

“Oh.” 

A cadet, waving his baton in a steady motions, stood at the broad brick wall that blocked off the town as his shift replacement approached from the west, whistling a tune through their helmet so ear shattering it put Scorpia’s new little song to shame. Keeping her eyes trained on the two of them, Catra braced herself for the metallic scent of magic to hit her nose. There was the quick swish of her claws unsheathing, and then, a pregnant silence. 

If they’re going to strike, Sparkles and Rainbow and- and Adora, or any of the other dopey Princesses- are going to strike now.

But Catra watched unfold was a typical exchange between Horde Cadets: a simple salute, a complaint about standing for ten hours, and a wish for good luck during the dull, boring night shift. No Princesses. No magic. No threats anywhere in sight.

Nothing. Just like Dawn’s Pass went from being a primary target to just another boring occupied village and Catra’s paranoia had wasted another night. Grimacing, her claws digging into her forehead, Catra actually found herself hoping Hordak would be too busy wasting pleasantry on the Princess who sat at (or on it, literally, because Entrapta just thought she was the shit and that she could waltz into any room) his throne to speak with her tonight. Her lengthy string of failures was getting harder and harder to choke her way through excusing.

“So um,” Scorpia started up again, sending Catra’s ears laying flat up against her head. She exhaled a hot and irritated sigh, but the Horde’s hostage/princess stayed true to her inability to take a fucking hint, “when you said we were going to start hanging out after we came back with all that tech from the the Northern Reach, I just- I just didn’t picture us, you know patrolling.”

An angry pulse ran up Catra’s back at the mention of their tech victory- Entrapta’s tech victory- back in that shitty winter wasteland she almost froze her tail off in. “Scorpia,” her voice was thin, “I told you a thousand times, I don’t have time. Just take what you’re given and try not to complain.”

Wow, did she just sound like Shadow Weaver right then. Whatever, Catra turned her head away from Scorpia, in no mood to deal with the fallout of seeing her sort-of-friend’s expression, maybe the Old Crone was right about some things in the end.

“Can I ask why we’re here? Like here, here? What makes a place with no bowling alley so interesting?” The second Scorpia let up, Catra let her forehead hit the rim of the speeder and didn’t even blink at the ringing pain. Ugh, Scorpia just never gave up. How many times did Catra have to ask for some damn silence so she could think? 

Running her claws down her face- again- Catra grunted, “Dawn’s Pass can’t fall into the hands’ of the Rebellion. If we lose it, or if they’re conspiring with the Princesses, we’re going to lose the Horde’s longest occupied village and we’ll be giving up the tactical advantage it gives us against that flower Princess’s kingdom.” And I will have another failure under my badge. If I lose another town, I can basically kiss my Force Captain badge goodbye. And maybe my life.

“Ohhhh…” Scorpia trailed off. At this point Catra was going to end up with a bitch of headache just from rolling her eyes at the other Force Captain. “Yeah, that makes sense. This’ll be fun! Patrolling the occupied territories with my bestie!”

Catra made a noise of disgust, but it wasn’t enough to stop Scorpia from pushing herself onto the front seat and almost pushing Catra out of it. Leaning the exoskeleton covered parts of her elbows onto the rim, Scorpia let out a contented sigh, her ditzy gaze trained on the town as Catra struggled- yipping and yelping to no end and scratching up the dinged up leather of the seat- to get her tail out from under the other woman’s butt. 

Do the words “personal space” just mean absolutely jackshit to her? Catra, gripping her freed tail, growled under her breath and turned away from Scorpia. The seat was practically hers now! Looks like kneeling on the floor would have to do! It’s like I’m wearing a sign on my forehead that reads “what’s mine is yours, including the air I breathe!” Ugh, of course Hordak doesn’t listen to me, nobody does! Not even Scorpia! Everyone is too busy with their own heads up their asses to see what I’m trying to accomplish, or to give me enough space to let me do it! And she wonders why I don’t wanna “hang out after work,” or whatever.

Maybe bringing Scorpia as her backup belonged up there with some of Catra’s worst ideas; not like she didn’t have a pretty impressive tab of those wracked up already. Whatever, the universe wasn’t exactly open to responding to any of Catra’s actions with anything other than another round of punishment, so it wasn’t like acting on her impulsive or emotional notions were really going to be her undoing. Not with Hordak out for her neck, her badge no longer wielding the protective force that came with having real authority. 

Catra was an idiot to think that power would’ve actually lasted her longer than a week, that now that she’d taken out Shadow Weaver and left her to her rotting self in a cell that there wouldn’t be another player on the board that could take her shield of Second in Command away from her. Well, that’s what she got for letting Entrapta into their vents. Helping them win the war or not, Horde or not, their resident techwhiz was still a Princess.

And princesses weren’t good for anything other than being annoyances that stood in Catra’s way.

“Are you seriously humming again, Scorpia?!” Catra yelped out, the volume of her voice loud enough to scare several birds from off the town’s wall. Her split eyes had been trained on the town as she crouched at the bottom of the speeder, the only entertainment the angry spiral echoing in her brain, tailing the action of a family and their wagon of sparse supplies as they approached the gate when the grating sound smacked her upside the head. The resulting intensity of her fury was almost enough to give Catra the strength to put her fist through the wall of the speeder.

Scorpia retreated into herself. “Sorry.”

Holding back a response, Catra just scoffed again and turned back to the previous subject of her attention. Watching one of the men of the family reach the gate and request entrance into his town was better than directing a full on meltdown at her inferior, kicking her out of the speeder, and forcing her to walk her way back to the Fright Zone. Catra wasn’t so far drowning her rage to something that idiotic, yet.

It was big yet. Catra knew that as she tried to shift her position, rolling her head on her shoulders and squeezing her fists, breathing only through her nostrils despite understanding that there was no sitting with an anger this encompassing. The feeling pushed and pushed and pushed at her physical walls until it was practically promising that Catra’s building fury would end one mesmerizing explosion, one that would take her, Scorpia, the family, the Horde Cadet, the entire town, all of it, out with a bang. 

Now if only Scorpia had the brains to know that when she started her singing up again.

Catra peeled her blue eye open. The sun was beginning to set, and it had bathed the surrounding forest in shades of soft pink and orange, a scene so painfully ordinary it meant they couldn’t be anywhere else other than reality. Underneath the shadow cast by the stone wall, Catra took in a breath as she watched the first man continue to negotiate his family’s entrance into their own town.

Okay, so she’d hadn’t blown them all to fiery simtheriens- not the speeder, not the wall, not the little girl watched over by another man stumbling barefoot in the grass, letting out happy babbles as she pulled out clumps of grass and started sticking them in her cloth diaper until her father got down on his knees just to get her to stop. Guess Catra could count that as victory that her emotions hadn’t ended in an explosion that ended a child, a baby. Catra figured that given the fact that each step the little girl took on those chubby little legs of hers was a leap of faith that she probably wasn’t even a year and a half old.

The other man, the one that had chosen to forgo the customary negotiation in favor of watching the little girl experiment with walking near their wagon, moved from his kneeling position to pick her up. Something about the way the villager held her with a grip firm enough to keep his child from falling, yet not with so much strength that he hurt left a series of psychosomatic bruises up and down Catra’s ribs. She watched as the man ran a hand bigger than his daughter’s entire head through her soft and downy mauve hair, careful to avoid the tiny stumps in her head that would eventually become long enough and pronounced enough to match the horns of her father’s head. Catra let out a breath she was holding just to suck in another.

“Dada!” Even from the faraway vantage of the speeder Catra’s ears still picked up on the sound of the little girl recognizing her father. Because the universe was both impartial and cruel. Right as Catra realized she had stuck one set of claws in her mouth and she was chewing on them- who was she?! Adora?! Out her biting her freaking nails ‘cause something had the nerve to make her uncomfortable?- the baby stuck her tiny, chubby little hand into her father’s bright orange beard and yanked without mercy.

Now that guy’s screams scared the rest of the birds away.

As the family’s head negotiator rushed away from the Horde Cadet to tend to his husband’s facial hair, their daughter laughing up a riot at their combined reactions, Scorpia leaned over to where Catra sat on the floor, her tail twitching back and forth. “Uh boss?” she started but Catra didn’t turn away, her hand clutched into the fabric that rested above her sternum and not on her Force Captain badge for once. “Should we do something about these guys?”

“Why? They’re not Princesses.” They’re just a normal family trying to get into the place they live, so they can take their daughter home and have a dinner together that’s not mush, and then tuck their daughter in, tell her bedtime stories, be there in the night in case she has nightmares and needs them.

The fathers joined in on their daughter’s laughter.

“Well, that is true.”

A new feeling crept up Catra’s spine, but this time around the discomfort didn’t bring to her the edge of explosion. Implosion, actually. It was the same heaviness that settled in her lungs and crawled up to her throat, a slow and destructive effective infection of Catra’s self, when Hordak shut down her ideas to let Entrapta speak. When the Princesses left a trail of glitter behind running, tripping over themselves to follow She Ra’s lead. When Shadow Weaver cupped Adora’s face and showed her with praise for the simplest fucking task. 

Yeah, Catra knew it made her the world’s biggest idiot to keep her eyes on the seemingly indifferent family and the happiness that radiated off them. She was aware of the damage she brought on herself by not turning away, the risk she ran by letting her emotions run her. So why couldn’t she look somewhere else, anywhere else?

“I can’t wait to be a mom.” Scorpia said out of nowhere. Ears flying straight up, Catra blinked before turning to gawk at her. 

“Wait, really?” A mom mom, as in a  person who takes care of and looks after her children? 

“Yeah, I mean, it’s something I’ve always wanted.” Scorpia shrugged, somehow rubbing her neck with those big pincers of hers. “Why, do you think that’s a bad idea?”

“Scorpia, we’re in the middle of a war,” and that was putting it bluntly, “Besides, Hordak doesn’t even allow fraternization between his soldiers, much less-” her sputtering stops, Catra’s brain still tripping over the word fraternization, “having a family!”

“Well, we’re not going to be at war for the rest of our lives, Catra. Once we get the rebellion to surrender, I kinda wanted to set down roots, do something other than be a Force Captain, not that I don’t love doing that. I’m sure Hordak will loosen up about the whole fraternization thing as soon as we win! I mean, you’ve seen how he was with Entrapta!”

At her words, Catra came close to all out hurling over the speeder’s edge. It was crappy enough of Scorpia to bring up how Entrapta and Hordak were getting closer every day and shoving Catra out of the position she worked her ass off for, but then she had to go and frame it like that? 

Look, Catra got that Entrapta wasn’t the most socially aware princess, but yikes. That didn’t mean she didn’t have some sort of standard.

“What about you, Catra?” Scorpia continued, “What do you- um, what do you see yourself doing after the war?”

Catra met Scorpia’s eyes, only to regret it. “I- I-” she stuttered, looking away and forcing her eyes closed. Pfft, after the war? After the war? How the hell was Catra supposed to picture an after when her entire life, her entire purpose, every goal she’d ever had, was only because there was a war to begin with? 

The Horde conquers the rest of the planet, sends the Princesses running, puts She Ra in the ground, and what, Catra was just supposed to have a plan for after that? What… what was Catra supposed to do when they did win, when the Horde pulled off everything she worked for?

Even though she was expecting to find an emptiness, a blank space, a new start for the after the war when she tried imagining it, all Catra could picture was blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail, melodic laughter accented by brief snorts ringing in her, the bluest eyes cutting through the longing. The same longing that plagued Catra when she forced her eyes open and saw the two fathers talking to their daughter in gentle yet bright voices, explaining to her that the soldiers had processed their papers and they could go home now.

“I don’t know.” was Catra’s quiet response. 

There wasn’t any promise Hordak would keep her alive that long anyway, or if there would be anything left to live for by the time Catra got Adora down her knees and ended it all- by giving into that implosion that lived deep down in her core, letting it rip right through her and seeing to it that her love for Adora severed the universe in two, creating black hole that would suck them all in eventually- right then and there. Like it always promised to.

A part of Catra tried to push beyond that implosion, tried to picture the future Scorpia envisioned in her mind of setting down roots and birthing legacies. Was there a part of her, beyond the pain and the brokenness, that wanted what Scorpia wanted, too?

Watching that family tonight had been the only part of her mission that hadn’t felt the same as downing a vat of acid down her throat. And as hell bent as Catra was on obliterating any princess that dared to mess with this town’s occupation, there was no animosity in her heart towards that little girl.

She was kinda cute, in the mischievous, funny kind of way. And almost fun- for a baby, that is.

But when Catra closed her eyes once more to picture that little girl and her happy, innocent smile, all that was waiting for her was the image of a shriveled shadow, locked and rotting away back in the Fright Zone.  

[kicksaddictny]

How Nike’s Turning Play Into a Lifestyle for Kids

According to NIKE

Jumping rope with a garden hose. Holding a squat while you create a secret handshake with your bestie. Hanging from monkey bars as you see LeBron James get quizzed on his second best sport.

You must be watching Playlist.

The episodic Nike YouTube series, now entering its ninth season, launched two years ago with one clear goal: “We wanted to show kids that sport, at its core, is all about play,” says Jessa Moon, Global Brand Director for Nike Kids. “It doesn't have to be soccer or football or traditional sports — it can be a mash-up or something totally wild and different. We wanted to inspire kids to think about moving their bodies in all kinds of ways and having it be about joy as opposed to winning or competition.”

Hosted by kid athletes like 13-year-old skateboarder Sky Brown and her 9-year-old brother, Ocean, a typical Playlist episode takes kids through fun and funny movement challenges, ratchets up the silliness with sound effects and slapstick gags, and includes appearances from star athletes like Russell Wilson, Mo Farah, Bebe Vio and the aforementioned King James — all of whom are game to be goofy and show off their inner kid on-screen.

Season after season, the series has grown its presence and audience, fine-tuning on its primary channel, YouTube, and streaming across Instagram, TikTok and Snapchat. Playlist has also found its place in the Nike digital ecosystem, alongside its adult counterparts like the Nike Run Club and Nike Training Club apps, proving that Nike offers not just product, but also day-to-day service and benefits to all its consumers.

The constant throughout, says Moon, is that all Playlist episodes are rooted in fun, because when kids are having fun, they’ll be naturally motivated to move.

For parents, inspiring kids to want to move is more important — and harder — than ever. Today, only one in five kids get the physical activity they need to be healthy and successful. Parents also have even more on their plates, often acting as a child’s cook, chauffeur, stylist, teacher and coach within the course of day. Playlist is one way Nike sought to help solve this universal problem by providing resources that get kids and their families to enjoy movement together, improving the relationship and bond between grown-up and kid, and setting kids up for a lifetime of healthy habits and movement that they could one day pass on to the next generation.

Doing that meant understanding that the words “play sport” have tension built into them, says Rami Jabaji, VP of Kids Global Brand Management. To today’s kids, explains Jabaji, sport can feel too structured, too competitive — high stakes, yelling coaches, parents pushing them into it. “They feel disconnected from its benefits, from its joy,” says Jabaji. There’s another kind of tension too: Gen Alpha is the most dedicated to activism, yet the least physically active. That’s partly because they don’t fully resonate with today's definition of traditional sport, says Jabaji. “While young kids naturally enjoy movement and play, it’s the moment when sport takes a turn — when it becomes too structured and rule-bound, not based in freedom and discovery — that kids start to opt out, and they trade physical activity for sedentary screen time,” he says. “The screen provides them with a tool that fulfills their needs in a deeper way than sport does.”

How do you solve for that?

“Our answer was, ‘We have to make sport fun again,’” says Jabaji. “We have to anchor it in play and get back to why kids fell in love with sport in the first place.”

More Ways Nike Serves Kids

Cool Gear, Just for Them Listening to what kids need to move and play and solving kid-specific challenges are hallmarks of Nike Kids product design. That’s reflected in extended sizing, gender-inclusive apparel lines, and gender-inclusive shoes like the new Nike Air Zoom Crossover. The kid-informed basketball shoe features a last with room in the toe box for growing feet, a snug fit and support around the ankle, and a playful “Game Mode” written on the tongue.

Coaches Who Make a Difference Sport is uniquely positioned to help kids handle stress and thrive when the environment is fun, inclusive, and served up by caring and trained coaches. That’s why Nike partnered with ICOACHKIDS to create an accessible, approachable series of coaching essentials that preps anyone to be a volunteer youth coach. The ICOACHKIDS coaching essentials are free and available on the Nike Training Club App and Nike Run Club App in Europe, the Middle East and Africa; if you already have one of the apps on your phone, click here to check out the essentials now.

Nike is also the founding partner of The Center for Healing and Justice in Sport (CHJS), a nonprofit organization fueling a movement to bring research-backed, healing-centered sport training to youth coaches across North America. “A lot of young people who show up to sport experiences may be treading water in other parts of their lives,” says CHJS founder Megan Bartlett. “We prepare a coach to create an environment in which kids can feel like they belong, feel seen and feel safe.” Nike is training its store employees who serve as Nike Community Ambassadors to coach kids in their communities and offering the training to its North America Made to Play partners, Nike employees and consumers. Learn how to get involved here.

That began with putting the kid at the center of every decision, a foundational part of Nike’s new approach to its kids business. Jabaji’s team dubs it “kidvision,” or the idea that kids see the world not as it is, but as it could be. “It’s an innovative lens, a creative lens, a more inclusive and accessible lens,” he says.

Take a screen, for example. Look at it through the eyes of a kid, and they don’t see a negative device. They see a portal into a world where they can be anything they want to be. And that’s where Nike saw opportunity, says Jabaji. “We can meet kids where they are and convert that time into healthy and purposeful movement and activity, and ultimately create a deeper connection with sport.”

 Evolving with the World

Playlist was an instant hit on YouTube, notching millions of views. When the pandemic hit, the team knew their series had to step up. “We were in the middle of our third season, and we thought, ‘We know this content is critical for kids, now more than ever, but how do we bring it to them in a way that resonates with what they’re going through?’” says Moon. They found the unlock in shifting the entire show to an at-home model, with kid athletes like Brown leading a new content pillar called “Shake-Ups,” creative home-based challenges that throw a zany twist into traditional exercises like planks or squats.

Since then, the team’s moved to an entirely remote-capture model, asking kid hosts and pro athletes to film themselves in their homes, where you inevitably see their kitchens, pets and real-life snafus and interruptions. “It feels more raw and personal, and it’s allowed us to expand globally; recently we’ve included kids in Barcelona, Chengdu and Guadalajara.”

The most rewarding part for Moon has been seeing the social element of Playlist unfold. “We’ve found that most kids are watching it with their siblings or their families. They tell us, ‘Hey, I watched Playlist with my sister, and then we went on and made our own secret handshake,’ or ‘I watched it with my mom and we went out to the backyard and tried to jump rope.’” That aim to strengthen the familial bond and inspire everyone to move? As a Playlist host would say, “Knocked it outta the paaark!”

 Doubling Down on the Future

Kids will continue to fuel creativity within the brand when, later this year, Nike introduces the Nike Play Council, a group of young athletes and creators who all share a passion for making sport more fun, accessible and inclusive, and who will help bring Gen Alpha’s vision of sport to life. “It's our opportunity to literally give kids a seat at the table and co-create the future of sport with them,” says Jabaji. The confirmed council members: Sky and Ocean Brown, Brazilian kid skateboarder Rayssa Leal, kid football player Lorenzo Greer (aka Tekkerz Kid), and kid drummer Nandi Bushell (aka “the Most Badass Drummer in the World,” according to drummer Dave Grohl). Each member of the Play Council will consult and collaborate directly with Nike and also help inform and expand the future of the group. While Nike has always been committed to listening to the voice of the athlete*, the Play Council ensures that young athletes’ voices are heard loud and clear.

According to Jabaji, channeling that voice has been Nike’s greatest win in its new approach to its kids business. “If you look at the world through the eyes of a kid and put them at the center of your work, he says, “the potential of what it can unlock is limitless.”

*If you have a body, you are an athlete.

[atopearth]

Higurashi When They Cry Part 8 - Ch 8 Matsuribayashi-hen

So, the reason Takano is obsessed with the Hinamizawa disease is because she wants to prove her grandpa's theory that there are parasites in our brains affecting our emotions and thoughts, and the different parasites in different areas etc are what causes cultural differences and clashes in thoughts across the world? And it's these parasites that "control" humans. It's saddening to think about the idea of orphanages that operated as a way to claim money "for the children" rather than actually taking care of the children. Like, I can understand being overworked and unappreciated considering the amount of war orphans and others like that, but the thought that people could take advantage of these children to get money and just treat them like prisoners to be beaten or punished when they don't act the way they want them to is just terrible... I guess the fact that the Takano back then who ran away from the orphanage and even bit off the finger of her pursuer to escape shows how bad the place was and how desperate she was to leave. It probably was literally a do or die situation to her.

It's kinda interesting to think that the reason why Takano's grandfather's research was ignored wasn't because it was useless, but because it might have actually been credible in a sense. Due to a war that had erupted because of the mystery behind whether a soldier from Hinamizawa shot the other side or not, this caused a neutral pact to fall through and make the two parties go to war. In the end, since Japan insisted that they weren't at fault and China insisted the same, if Takano's grandfather's research were to come to light, then the fault could be insinuated to be from the Hinamizawa soldier and therefore Japan's fault, and that's why the research was unsupported. I guess it's nice for Takano that her research is getting sponsored properly, by the SDF even since they would probably want to use it as a weapon if the research comes to fruition properly. On the other hand, child Takano got caught huh? Even though Dr Takano saved her later, I'm sure her trauma is something difficult to come to terms with. Personal note, I have to admit, I don't really care for Takano though haha, but I understand why her story is necessary to unfold now. It's saddening to watch how excited Dr Takano was over presenting his research to potential sponsors and then having it all shattered with their cruel allegations that it's all his own delusion and that he was so consumed with the research that he's just making it seem as if it's credible because he wants it to be and not because there's enough evidence or whatever. It's terrible to hear people say something like that for something you sacrificed your whole life to research..and imagine taking those doubts to the grave, like maybe he was delusional blah blah, that's crappy... Psychosurgery is something I never really thought about though! The idea of severing certain connections between the frontal lobe and the rest of the brain sounds really interesting yet dangerous, I can see why it was ethically challenged later on and even caused Dr Irie to kinda be cast aside from the industry considering his persistence on it when they're trying to swerve away from it. At least he sticks to his beliefs I guess haha.

The connecting fragments thing is rather interesting, I like getting more information on what exactly happened behind the scenes with all the discussions they had and everything. It's quite sad and sweet to see how Rika's conviction towards saving Satoko allowed her to accept the idea of people researching her brain or whatever since she's the "parasite leader". It's also saddening to see Hanyuu heartbroken over everyone fighting because of the dam project. Seeing Tomitake smitten with Takano is rather saddening too. Anyway, for context, connecting the fragments is to make way to the ultimate "ending" where they can win against Takano (since Takano has accumulated a lot of support from organisations such as the SDF and has "won" in every world before this because of it + her indomitable will to spread her grandfather's research making way for it to be "fate" I guess). Although it should have been expected that Ooishi has a particular reason to be so adamant about finding out the mystery and murders in Hinamizawa, I don't know why but I actually found his reason to be rather contrived when it was revealed that the dismembered dam construction head guy was someone he sort of respected as a second father after he lost his real one. I guess it's kinda because at this point, I've forgotten how I felt about Ooishi haha, and also because it's just a short segment I guess so it's hard to feel much for it. 

As someone whose not a big fan of Satoko (blasphemy, I know right haha), I definitely relate to Satoshi's situation much more and I always wanted more insight into his feelings. It's actually really sad to think about his situation. He loves Satoko, but he's also super tired, he'll always try to protect her whether it be from his stepfathers or his aunt and uncle, but regardless of whose fault it is, anyone will get tired of having to do this all the time. It was heartbreaking to hear that he hated himself for wanting Satoko to stay at the clinic longer just so he could have some peace away from his aunt and Satoko arguing all the time. As someone who also hates the sounds of arguing, I can understand a little bit of that and just how stressful it can be. I...wonder how Satoshi would react if he knew Satoko pushed her parents off the cliff on that trip. Like yeah, she was affected by the Hinamizawa Syndrome and that caused her to kinda go crazy from paranoia, but Satoshi was sane, he knew his parents really wanted to make amends, even the stepfather took courses to try and fix their relationship and Satoshi saw that, so I feel like if Satoshi found that out, he would break. Anyway, I'm not sure how I feel like the story is painting the Hinamizawa Syndrome. On one hand, I understand that yes, if it's caused by a medical condition exacerbating emotions that they can't control, it can't be helped that so many worlds turned out the way it did, but at the same time, it feels like a lot of it tries to apportion all the blame to the Hinamizawa Syndrome as if it never existed, then everything would be fine? Maybe I'm interpreting it wrong, but it makes me feel like that which I don't agree with, since I feel that even if things wouldn't have turned out so drastic with the clawing of the necks etc, I still think that with the way a lot of characters were treated and how they felt, things were inevitable whether the syndrome was there or not.

It's sweet to know that Tomitake was sincere with Takano and really tried his best to be her ally, it's just that even though he knew her, he couldn't really help her, and I guess that's something a lot of us struggle with. No matter how well we can know the people close to us, it's not necessarily true that we can "heal" them. Of course we still try, but as it was with Satoko, if they don't help themselves, then outside help can never truly help them. On the other hand, it's interesting that Keiichi's father was able to see Hanyuu and Rika play together when he first visited Hinamizawa hoping to change his life and environment for Keiichi. He's right though, as we grow older, I feel like we do slowly lose our "innocence" as we know more things and "sin", so when we look at children, we always think back and look fondly to that and to them as representative of what we lost and what we hope we still had. I guess it's kinda amusing to say that Takano had a strong will when she nearly gave up and drank her sorrows away after Koizumi (main backer who was friends with her grandpa) died and she couldn't convince the new people to believe in her research until some people under Koizumi's faction came along to "help" her. In a sense, Takano is just trying her best to make sure to tell everyone and her grandfather that he didn't waste away his whole life on useless research, but at the same time it's unsettling to watch her be so consumed by it. Anyway, as I said, it's amusing that Takano is considered to have a strong will, when in a sense I feel like Rika being able to live through all those worlds again and again should be "stronger" but at the same time more weary I assume haha. Regardless, I guess what Rika lacked was concrete support, since even if Takano is being used, she still has support, whereas Rika was always by herself with Hanyuu who doesn't really encourage her since she doesn't believe that fate will change and I guess that didn't help Rika haha.

Akasaka becoming super capable after his wife's death is interesting, like will he be able to reach the same heights in martial prowess if his wife doesn't end up dying? On the other hand, Hanyuu can transfer in as a normal kid?! Cuteee. It was so cute how Hanyuu tried so hard to tell them that she wanted to join their club, and I loved how Rika refused to say it for her, and told Hanyuu that if she wanted it, she had to say it herself. Believing in something is like a gamble huh? When you think about it like that, I guess in a sense, it is. Our beliefs are beliefs because it's not a fact or the "truth" after all, it's basically what we have chosen to think "exists" after we thought about it. The sad thing though is that what we believe in isn't always the "right" thing, but I guess that's fine since we chose to believe in it? Not gonna lie, when they were talking about how they "sacrificed" Hanyuu and her mother(?) back in the day to like cleanse their sins, all I could think about was Jesus, so now I'm just thinking about Rika's ancestor being Jesus and now she's met her in the flesh lol.

Anyway, I love how Hanyuu and Rika pitched their whole situation to Keiichi and them like it's a manga. I think it was really cool to see the whole group bounce ideas off each other with Rika piping in trying to get them to figure out what she couldn't about the whole situation. I really liked it since I feel like the biggest reason Rika is unable to find a way out of this a lot of the time is because she's the one experiencing it, and she's experienced it many times, so it's difficult for her to think outside the box when she feels like she's done that. So I think it's great to see her give the group details to try and see from their perspective what the reason could be for Takano to destroy Hinamizawa, and well as expected, she's most likely being used by the higher ups as she gets revenge by killing Rika and the village. It also feels so great to see Ooishi, Akasaka, Tomitake and Irie get to talk everything out and try to solve things, everything just feels like dang, we've really come such a long way for the final world! Btw lmao at Hanyuu teasing Rika about not trusting her friends enough, it's time for Hanyuu's revenge on Rika!! Or not, lmao at Rika making spicy food (Hanyuu hates it lol) and dumping the cream puffs lolll. On the other hand, omg I love the group's strategic meeting, Hanyuu fits in so well hahaha. I love the 48 hour strategy though, I didn't get it (just like Rena and Rika) initially, but once they explained it, I was like whoa, that is actually a great idea to blow away the presumption that everyone in the village goes crazy in 48 hours! If Rika's corpse appears and is proven that she had been dead for more than 48 hours and yet no one had gone crazy in that time, then their hypothesis about the queen carrier causing them to go crazy would be wrong and everything could sail much smoother, it's nice!

I guess it's really interesting how in the end, many people in Hinamizawa actually do understand and think that the dam construction war is over now and that things should start facing forward and moving properly again; whether this be Oryou or Mion and Shion's mother Akane, they're all tired of being stuck in the past and want to move beyond that, so it's nice to see that Akane and Shion actually visited the dam construction leader guy's grave every year (just like Ooishi) as a way to remind themselves but also tell him that the past is the past and they hope he rests in peace. I quite like Akane and Ooishi, I found it hilarious when Ohtaka was trying to get info about whether Rika was really dead and pretended he knew Sonozaki Saburou (higher up representative) right when he and Akane came in to the police station lol. On the other hand, I want to feel sorry for Takano, but whenever I think about how she was willing to sacrifice Tomitake in every world for her revenge, I don't really pity her lol. Honestly, it was only a matter of time until Tomitake would get captured since everyone knows how important he is, but I was so worried for Irie. No one needs to worry about Akasaka because he's obviously too strong haha. I didn't expect Shion to pick Irie up when he was injured, I was so relieved! But I will be so sad if she and Kasai die. It's nice to know Shion's true feelings and that even though Mion feels bad that she took Shion's place as the older sister, Shion also felt bad for taking Mion's place as the younger sister. Despite everything, they both know how hard it is to be in either place because of the burdens they have. Honestly, I nearly cried when Akasaka came to save the day, he really is Rika's hero, the one who will finally save her after regretting leaving her to die in so many worlds, it was so heartwarming to see. He's ridiculously OP but I guess that's what happens when you train for so long haha.

Satoshi being alive and in the basement if the clinic undergoing treatment is nice for Irie, Satoko and Shion. I personally think it fits the story better if he's dead, but if we want a true happy ending, then he needs to be there so that Satoko can truly apologise to him, Shion can properly tell him how much she cares and Irie can feel less guilt over having to kill or use terminal patients. The mountain fight between the kids club and the Mountain Dogs was pretty fun but expected, I still think in terms of excitement it pales in comparison to their usual games haha, but Mion as commander is always such a highlight, I love seeing how confident she is. It was nice to have the group pitted against Takano as a last battle kinda thing, but I do admit that when Takano was the "main loser" out of all this, I was like, can this really be a happy ending if they characterised her so much but gave only her a bad ending? So yeah even though Tomitake is too good for her, I was happy that he came back to save her, since he's just that kind of person. Honestly, whether Takano has the Hinamizawa Syndrome is something to think about since scratching herself could be stress too imo, but I guess it doesn't matter anymore. Anyway, I honestly wanted Takano to be a much more formidable opponent for them, but I guess not lol. What I really enjoyed though was Rika calling Akasaka "papa" at the festival and his wife was about to kill him over it🤣 and I'm glad that Hanyuu got to stay and play with them since she's part of the group after all. The possibilities of forever where Ryukishi07 talks about how we as readers could create our own abundance of fragments and stories etc was interesting I guess haha, I do wonder though, how would Takano's life have been if she went with her parents to the mall and they didn't end up dying? Wouldn't that be nice? But I wonder what would have happened with the Hinamizawa Syndrome like that.

Overall, the last chapter was as I expected? Honestly, I took a long time to read it because I knew it wouldn’t be my favourite or as enjoyable as the others so it was difficult to “end” my journey with Higurashi but yeah I still liked it regardless I guess haha. Anyway, yeah, I knew it wouldn't be as fun and interesting to me as the other chapters, especially since Keiichi and the others aren't as prominent here due to the adults helping out to obtaining the good ending with all of them. But I did enjoy Akasaka and everyone working their hardest in their own way to save the people important to them. I kinda thought Ooishi would have a better role but I guess it's okay that he and Akane are pretty funny together lol. However, I do think that Okonogi of the Mountain Dogs was more lacklustre(?) than I thought? I think he could have been pretty cool, but I guess they spent more time humanising Takano haha. The battles weren't as exciting as Keiichi's club battles but I guess that's because Keiichi is a funny and cool guy haha. And I think I just didn't care for all the god stuff with Hanyuu and everything, so I think it would have been better for me if everything was solved by everyone uniting together without the need of supernatural stuff but that's just me. I'm just glad that we got to see the fruits of all their efforts and see everyone believe in the miracle that they could win. It was really satisfying to see everything come into place.

Overall review

Higurashi is a solid VN. Honestly, when I first read Onikakushi, I wasn't sure if I would like it or not even though I was intrigued, but it was crazy how much I loved Watanagashi and the others. The way they set out the mystery, how they had the staff room talks to discuss with you the possibilities and everything, it was just so much fun. I loved the endless possibilities of each different world and how it showed really well how living in your own bubble, not trusting your friends and not communicating with others could make things go so wrong. Of course a lot of it was attributed to the Hinamizawa Syndrome, but at the same time there were a lot of real problems that each character had to go through in order to grow, and I think I personally loved Rena's arc the most. I think her emotions were portrayed so well, and I loved how everyone in the group united with her in Meakashi. I loved how the theme of friendship felt so real, and I think going through the various chapters really helped to build that. Honestly, the slice of life parts used to be so long and annoying for me in the first two chapters, but it eventually became the highlight for me, and it was better than the mystery itself haha. Overall, I think I would give the whole story (all the chapters) an 8.5/10 and would definitely recommend it over the anime (the new one at least haha, I haven’t watched the old one), I think what makes Higurashi so good is how detailed it goes into a lot of the feelings and actions of our main characters and I feel like a lot of that is lost in the anime. Anyway people say the PS3 sprites and voice patches are needed to enjoy this, but I played it like the original sound novel it was and I still loved it. I think it's actually kinda crazy how music and character sprites can enhance the experience of reading a novel so much haha. So yeah, I don't doubt that maybe the patch could make it even better (I guess I can try it in the future haha, since I do think I would like to read it again) but I think it's fine either way. I also bought it in Japanese for the switch so maybe I'll read it in Japanese one day!😆

[winterromanov]

Maybe a college Bucky one where he’s being playing games out of town, and trying to study for exams and he’s just so tired but trying to keep going and reader makes him nap and relax and it’s just very Soft ☺️

pairing: bucky x reader (set in the same universe as this fic)

Trying to play football and also be a competent college student is an Incredibly Difficult Feat. You know this, because watching Bucky vault himself from away games to home games to mid terms to finals is about the most exhausting thing you’ve ever seen. If he’s not studying he’s at practice, and if he’s not playing he’s in an exam. It’s like watching a manic, sleep-deprived whirlwind, living almost entirely off coffee and takeout noodles.

He’s not taking care of himself. He’s pushing and pushing and pushing, trying not to let anybody down--as if he could ever do that.

“You don’t have anything to prove,” you say, as he crashes face-down on the bed in your dorm, the night before he leaves to play a game at Harvard and minutes after his Cold War history deadline. You’ve not seen him eat anything the last twenty-four hours. “Look--you won the last game. Steve said you could sit this one out.”

A vague mumbling comes from your bed. His face is smothered by the pillow and he’s too exhausted to even turn over, so you poke his ass with your foot. His hand reaches out, reflexes still ridiculously quick, pulling you onto the bed with him.

“Sorry, love,” you smirk, curling as close to him as your tiny mattress will allow. His arm pulls you close to his waist, palm splayed across your back. His heartbeat is unrelenting beneath his shirt, thudding between you. “Didn’t quite hear that one.”

His head shifts so you’re basically nose-to-nose, his grin sleepy and delirious. He’s gonna pass out any second. You’ve seen it many, many times before in the last hectic few weeks--you’re probably gonna see it a few more. “I’ll be fine after nap. Promise.”

“Don’t you dare fall asleep before I can force a pizza down you,” you warn, and he laughs, deliberately snuggling into the pillow and letting his eyes flicker closed. You can’t resist--running your hand through his hair, along his face. Kiss his forehead. “Goddamn it, Buck. You’re making it very difficult for me to look after you.”

“You being here is enough,” he says softly and before you have chance to reply he’s gone, lost in some dream. You slowly creep out of his embrace, making the pizza for him anyway. By the time you wake up the next day his body is a phantom shape in your bed but the pizza is gone--he’s left you a bright pink post-it note on the plate. Scribbled in his usual scrawl are the words thank you always favourite girl.

-

we won!!! harvard ain’t better than us at FOOTBALL

wish u could have been there

renaissance lit is being a bitch :(( well done you STAR. miss you more every moment so get back quick

should i hijack the bus and speed down the freeway

if you must

consider it done

love you

love you more than anything

-

The next game is thankfully a home one against Yale so you can at least keep an eye on him--you’re just protective, that’s all, not wanting him to burn out in front of you. There’s a lot of gym sessions and library cramming and a grand total of one dinner date at his apartment, where you made a pasta dish with as many vegetables as you could think of in as possible (his mom had sent you a message afterwards with immense gratitude because her son needed his greens, damn it). The following evening you’d wrapped yourself in one of his jerseys and sat in the bleachers alongside an injured Sam--injured and bitter about it--and waited in the lights and the noise for the game to begin.

“Bucky tells me you’re worried about him,” Sam interjects rather suddenly and when you blink back, he shrugs his non-injured shoulder nonchalantly. “Not that I blame you. That dude just doesn’t let up, does he?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shivering a little. The November air is cold, even wearing Bucky’s sweater. “He keeps telling me the season will be over before long, but I...I don’t want that to be a couple of weeks too much for him, you know?”

Sam hums thoughtfully. Around you, the crowd practically fizzes with excitement, covered with facepaint and aggressively chanting team songs at the opposing side. You’d never been to a college football game before you started dating one of the team’s star players, but you have to admit, the atmosphere is kinda addictive. Watching Bucky play is kinda addictive.

“If I know Bucky, and boy do I know him,” Sam eventually replies, squeezing up closer to you as more people gather into your stand. A girl is openly staring at you both--it doesn’t happen that often, but more so at games. People know Bucky, and Sam, so people know you. “He’ll get through this all okay. He always does, (Y/N). I’d been pretty damn surprised if he doesn’t make captain next year.”

You stare at the bright, clean grass of the field, and think of a boy so fucking exhausted from trying to balance his life that he can barely function half the time. Bucky would be an awesome captain. You just don’t want him to become a dead firework because of it.

-

The game ends up being pretty close but Yale just snatch the victory. It doesn’t mean that they can’t win the season, but. Bucky makes his way over to your stand at the end of the game like he always does, taking off his helmet and mouthguard. He also looks extremely deflated, like he always does when they lose.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking his face in your hands. He looks angry at himself. And you know what he’s thinking. I should have pushed harder. “Shit happens. You were still amazing.”

He kisses you over the barrier in a display of affection you were once too shy to give away in public, but you need him as much as he needs you. When you break apart you plant a chaste, gentle peck on his jawline, running your thumb over the shadow. 

“You two make me sick,” Sam interrupts the moment, arms folded. Bucky flips him off while smiling sweetly and you can’t help but laugh. “Honestly. Didn’t ask to be violated, but here we are.”

“Payback for every single time I’ve walked in on you doing unspeakable things with the girl from the top floor on our kitchen counter.” Bucky snaps back teasingly. You like watching the banter unfold between the two of them. You’d be worried if Bucky and Sam weren’t taking the piss at every given opportunity.

Sam gestures pointedly at his injured right shoulder. “I cannot believe you’d treat a fallen comrade like that. I’m disgusted.”

“And so was I when I saw the state of the kitchen counter.” Bucky gives you one last kiss, clutching your hand. “See you after I hit the showers, yeah?”

“I’ll be waiting.” Your promise him, and his eyes glow just a little brighter.

-

When Bucky facetimes you from Brown the very next week, he looks like he hasn’t slept for at least three days. His Ancient Chinese history exam is literally a day after he arrives back from the trip and he’s frantically cramming in his hotel room in Rhode Island, while also trying not to fuck up the team’s chances of winning the season.

“Just one more game after this,” his grainy voice says on the other end of the video feed, head lolling against the headboard of his Holiday Inn bed. You wish he was in your bed. God, you wish he was in your bed. “And the season is over and I don’t have to be away from you ever again.”

“I don’t think your mom would like it if I stole you away for Thanksgiving.” You joke, tongue poking between your teeth. His lips curve, half a laugh escaping from his chest.

“That’s why she personally invited you to stay with us for the holidays. She’s worried you might sneak in there first and drag me to Virginia. She already knows I’d go wherever you go.”

Your smile is kinda wistful. “Except when you go to Rhode Island.”

“Except when I go to Rhode Island.” He repeats, sighing dramatically. He rubs one of his tired eyes. “Ugh. Who thought coinciding pre-Thanksgiving exams and football season was a good idea, huh?”

“I have no idea, but I’m prepared to have words with them.” You tilt your head. “Don’t work too hard, yeah? It’s one exam. It’ll all be okay in the end.”

“I know, I know.”

You want to keep talking, on and on until the early hours like you do sometimes, because time is apparently not real when you and Bucky are on the phone together. But he needs sleep, and you need sleep, and occasionally you’ll do things for the greater good. “Good luck for tomorrow. Brown won’t know what’s hit ‘em.”

“They better not,” he jokes, “Will you be live-streaming the game?”

As if you wouldn’t. You can’t pretend that you always know what’s going on or any of the rules, but you always try to watch him if you can. He’d do the same for you, over and over and over. “Already got the tab open on my laptop and everything.”

Bucky’s grin is near effervescent, even through your patchy wifi connection. “I love you more than anything, you know that?”

“I may have had an inkling.”

-

hello y/n 

HELLLOOOOO

u know brown are the best losers because they lose and give you TEQUILA

omg are you drunk

never been DRUNK IN MY LIFE!!!! but im at this cool party and stEv e has found a girl and i miss u

i miss u so much . and like i just do generally 

whenever ur not ar oUnd 

oh sweet boy. you are very drunk.

im serious though

sometimes i think about how much i love you and it scares me

because then i th ink what it would be like if you wreent there 

and that makes me so fucking sad i cant breathe

y/n

y/n ???????????????

hellooo 

have u gone to bed

no, just messaging steve to make sure he gets you back safe. im not going anywhere. just please please look after yourself. love you always

-

“I’m sorry about those messages I sent you last night.”

You grab him in the tightest hug possible, his hold all still hanging off his arm, rain spattering down from dark clouds outside his apartment block. You hold him for at least ten years, you reckon, because the thought of him being so fucking sad he can’t breathe makes you so fucking sad you can’t breathe.

“You’re a terrible drunk who says things that make me emotional.” You laugh tearfully into his sweater and he grips you even harder, if possible. The shards of glass jabbed between your ribs start to dissolve as you inhale every single part of him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “I know.”

-

His last game is the day of your renaissance literature exam and for once you’ve been the one not eating and relying on caffeine, anxiety lingering round your jittery bones like an irritating ghost. Your interactions with Bucky are a battle between you wishing him aggressive luck for what could be the winning game while he equally aggressively says your exam will go fine, they always go fine, it’s an easy A for sure. 

Your exam isn’t until the afternoon so you spend the morning pacing about your bedroom looking at a sporadic mess of post-it notes on your wall declaring quotes and context that you hope will just stick in your brain. When Lizzie from down the hall says there’s a package for you you don’t actually think much of it, too busy to deal with something you’ve probably forgotten you ordered from Amazon--but she makes some comment about how fancy it is, wrapped up in striped paper.

Your name is in print across the front so it doesn’t leave a clue on the sender, but as soon as you rip into it and find a bundle of things nestled between tissue paper, you know instantly. It’s kind of embarrassing you didn’t click sooner. 

Dear Y/N - you’ll ace it, favourite gal. 

You try not to break down in sleep-deprived and emotional tears as you pull out a brand new sweater in your favourite shade of burgundy, a vintage copy of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, three different kind of Hershey’s bars and a dumb little teddy bear wearing your college jersey. He’s sent you a fucking care package. He’s away at Princeton, and he’s sent you a care package, because exams drive you crazy and he’s just... Well, he’s Bucky.

-

i got your present

have i ever mentioned that i love you

i may have had an inkling

-

He doesn’t really leave you a choice, does he? Besides, the game is only at Princeton, and if you catch the train the moment you escape the uneasy warmth of a crowded exam hall you should be able to get there in time. 

You’ve never been to Princeton stadium before, but you grab one of the last tickets available and rush onto their crowded bleachers just before the game is about to begin. The lights are heady, the atmosphere is electric, and you’re about to watch the man you lovingly, completely, unrelentingly call your own play the game he loves almost as much as you at a stadium forty miles from home. 

hey steve, you text his closest friend, hoping he’ll see it, get buck to look at the front of the stairs near block d when you come out

y/n if this is what i think it means he’s going to lose his goddamn mind

:)

When the team runs out you notice the number five on his jersey straight away, a constant fleeting image in your head from the countless games you’ve seen him play. Even from a distance, Steve’s eyes catch your own and his arm starts gesturing violently in your direction, Bucky taking a couple of moments to catch on.

It’s a good job the game isn’t due to start for a few more minutes, because absolutely nothing can stop him from automatically sprinting to your side of the field and kissing you senseless, cameras and crowds be damned.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he says on a dizzy outtake of breath.

“Couldn’t miss the last game of the season, could I?” You gently push his chest, urging him to go back to his team. “And neither can you. Go back to them. I’ll be waiting.”

He steals your lips for one more second, giddy and pumped full of adrenaline. “I really lucked out the day I met you, didn’t I?”

His mouth is hot. Hot. Unmistakable. Real. Always, always real. “Not as lucky as me.”

my masterlist

send me a request

[cloudyfm]

ok yes i’m here with lilia’s info ur resident demon have fun pals<3

family background - yes this is copy pasted myob<3

ya’ll ever read one of those drug ring ao3 fanfics where y/n is dating the sexy drug cartel leader? well that’s their family!

generational family blood money because that’s how cartels work i think. started running + dealing three generations back with their great-grandparents in order for them to make a living. it wasn’t until the so-called business was handed down to their grandparents that they wanted to expand and generate more money. the big pharma cover was created in order for them to manufacture, distribute, and supply at a larger scale. present day, their family name has notoriety with other cartel and mafia families.

basically avery was supposed to take over because he was the oldest right, but lilia did not want that at all. their parents started favoring avery and schmoozing up to him a little bit to get him to say yes (even though avery was fully prepared to give lilia the position) and lilia was like! what the fuck! so she told their parents about this one time that avery accidentally blabbed the family secret to a stranger at a party which broke their one rule of keeping it a secret. their parents wanted nothing to do with him anymore and completely cut avery off and kicked him out of the family.

everyone knows that avery and lilia are siblings, even though they don’t really know the actual details about their past together because avery doesn’t say anything about his family and the cartel is a secret. now that they are both at yale and in the elites together they are just kinda like haha awkward <3 they basically would just tell everyone that they grew apart if other characters tried to pry but also lilia is now telling people that avery fucked up a business decision which is why he left the family and avery is like alright but good luck trying to get other info out of them! xo, the jeongs

personal background

a legacy and a member of the yale's elite, they're twenty-one and a junior undergrad student majoring in pharmacology. they are as zealous as they are vain.

blackmails: and yes ik we only needed 2 i got pressed and stubborn (drugs tw):

blackmailing vanity fair to keep them from speaking negatively about her and her family by dealing to their reporters. she’s more so doing this to protect herself and her brother than her parents.

is aware of annie and violet’s work arrangements with her family’s drug business. she refuses to involve herself by mentioning that the family they work for is hers and is currently turning a blind eye to the questionable tasks that are asked of them.

purposely sent an ex boyfriend to prison when she was 18 due to her being tired of being in a consistently toxic relationship. she set him up to be found with various bags of illicit drugs (of which were owned by her family) and framed him with possession with intent to distribute and supply to garner a felony charge as an adult.

ok moving to present day stuff<3

ever since avery left the family, her parents have basically put immense pressure on her to fill his spot - the spot she wanted, and since her loyalty is with them and herself, she accepted it and did whatever had to be done. she was 16 when it became her job to take over, so whatever parts of her childhood she had left kind of just left when they began to prime her.

at 18, her mom finally revealed to her that avery had the intentions to give her control of the family when she came of age - something that she didn’t know until 2 years after she fucked up ! her guilt eats her alive to this day, but rather than mending her relationship with him personally, she sends him money anonymously through shorting her parents. 

she actually loves being in the elites ... it gives her such a sense of importance whether or not she is considered a legacy. was kind of excited to join actually and frankly that bit her in the ass with the blackmailer out here but its fine.

her college years have frankly been quiet like .. she’s studious to the point she needs to be but she really is not a partier, doesn’t do drugs because she’s seen first hand the shit that her parents are involved in, and barely drinks. when she does she literally doesn’t know how to handle it and fears losing control. literally if you wanna manipulate her this is how u do it lmao.

this is mentioned in the personality section but yes she is in the classics book club at yale ... she loves her classics</3

she’s actually easy to get along with ok just don’t cross her i promise my god im going to lose it

i don’t know im blanking so bad and this is alrdy almost 1500 words i cant do this anymore. UGHGHH more of her personal stuff is in the personality section im heaving

personality

ridiculously cut throat and has no issues stepping on people to get to where she needs to be. like if it came down to saving herself or saving someone else who she doesn’t have a close connection to? she will always pick herself. 

makes a game out of other people one - upping her<3 if she knows she can win, and sometimes even when she can’t, she will purposely cause a problem just to see them fall and grow her own ego.

also will start problems casually and then just sit back and watch them unfold while drinking wine out a mug.

literally ... and i mean literally obsessed with being perceived as beautiful and pretty. she’s so mf vain that it’s actually a problem, and i can promise you if you call her ugly miss girl will cry. this mostly has to do with her self esteem issues and the pressure put onto her by her parents after avery left. yes she did this to herself dni.

loyal only to those who she cares about otherwise they can frankly rot<3 and there are times where she will break that loyalty if it benefits her.

ik this may not be believable but she actually is extremely insecure and anxious deep down lmao like she has such an obsession with proving that she’s the best to her peers and her family that it flat out consumes her consistently. this is what causes her to act out most of the time and if someone was to become close to her it would be plainly evident. yes - she can be soft.

has an overt persona of positivity and carries herself as someone who doesn’t have negative intentions and sometimes makes it hard to believe that she’s actually capable of doing the things that people accuse her of.

yes she is calculating and manipulative and miss girly will look for faults only to make them worse.

she literally wasn’t always like this but when her and avery’s relationship started to fracture, she kind of let her own selfishness consume her.

she plays stupid a lot KLNDFKNDLKFSD  will pretend to be interested in random men in her classes so they will baby her and do shit for her that she could have easily done herself. it’s not that she’s lazy but she’s only studying pharma because of her family. she has an obsession with classical lit and would have rather majored in that if given the chance. 

has a fear of emotional intimacy </3 went through a really toxic relationship from the ages of 16-18 that was basically more done to bring her family and another together for a business deal and it just ... did not end well for her and basically she was treated like shit. literally the only way she could get out of it was to frame him and then bribe people to make sure the felony charge wasn’t dropped. her family doesn’t know she did this so<33333 

statistics

full name: lilia iris jung.

nicknames: lili or lia.

age: 21.

date of birth: august 02, 1999.

siblings: avery ( older brother ).

birthplace: new york city, new york, united states.

current location: new haven, connecticut, united states.

astrological sign: leo sun / capricorn moon / virgo rising.

gender: cis female.

pronouns: she / her / hers.

height: 5′1″.

sexuality: bisexual.

religion: atheist.

piercings: double lobe on her right ear, triple lobe on her left ear, tragus on her right ear, and a helix on both her left and right and ears.

tattoos: this on her inner, right bicep, and this behind her left ear.

haircolor: brunette.

literally for wanted connections i want 2 things: (1) someone to rock her shit bc that is deserved, and (2) idk she’s wearing a mask like 80% of the time so someone who she is close enough to actual b real with :\ if this doesn’t make sense myob im taking a nap

[p-and-p-admin]

Interview given to The Severus Snape and Hermione Granger Shipping Fan Group.  (sharing here Admin approved)

https://www.facebook.com/groups/199718373383293/

Hello Ciule and welcome to Behind the Quill, thank-you for sitting down with us for a chat.

SS/HG readers might be familiar with your stories “Awkward” and “Headmaster’s Wife”. 

Okay, let’s jump right in. What's the story behind your pen name? Well, I sort of took one of my real names, swirled the letters around in the air with my imaginary wand, and I ended up with this. Can’t begin to imagine where I got the idea from... ;-) Later on, I realized that Ciule is actually a name in Romania. I had no idea, but there are people out there carrying this name for real. I guess I’m #sorrynotsorry?   Which Harry Potter character do you identify with the most? To be quite frank: No one, really. This is more about the characters I like, than truly identifying with them. I can relate to parts of some of them, but not the whole package. Primarily, I write about Hermione, Voldemort and Severus, and the one common thread between those three is the search for knowledge. That’s a trait I can identify with, but I’m neither an evil bastard, a grumpy protector nor a fretting, intelligent activist. I am, however, a swot. If you had asked who I’d want to be, the answer is clear. I want to be Albus Dumbledore. Though I can’t agree with the things he did, I feel absolutely certain that he’s the one who has the most fun during the books. I want to have that twinkling fun in face of absolute chaos.   Do you have a favourite genre to read (not in fic, just in general)? Fantasy! Definitely fantasy. While growing up, I read ‘everything’ in every genre, and in my twenties, I decided I’d spend my time reading what I loved the most. So, fantasy it is. Do you have a favourite "classic" novel? You landed me in an existential crisis right there. I mean, there’s so many to choose from! ‘Wuthering Heights’, I think. It hurts so good. Or maybe ‘Rebecca’, at least, I loved that when I was younger. Or the fairly obscure ‘Lorna Doone.’ When I was a kid, I wanted to be a film director, shooting Lorna Doone into an epic film. Oh well, there might be a theme in this selection of books which reflects in my writing… At what age did you start writing? The creative process has gone on since forever. I’ve told myself thousands of stories in my head, but rarely written anything down. At the age of ten, I had a co-writing project with one of my friends. We created this secret room in her basement, and painstakingly wrote a ‘novel’. It was fun, though the writing ended as it became too cold down in the basement during winter. How did you get into writing fanfiction? In 2009, I became completely obsessed with a TV-show in the last episode. I was watching the entire series, casually enjoying the murder mystery, and in the last episode, the villain said: “I can do the math,” and I was literally gone. That obsession sparked writing my first fanfic stories. Those stories are still on FFnet, but they aren’t any good. *shrugs* What's the best theme you've ever come across in a fic? Is it a theme represented in your own works? Compromise. The world isn’t a perfect place, and will never be. You can, however, make it more to your liking. It may not be perfect, but if you play the cards you are dealt, you might improve something. In Robert Jordan’s “the Wheel of Time”-series, one of the characters goes through a test in a parallel universe of sorts, and she thinks: “The world was not what she wanted, not anywhere near it.” I loved that: trying your best to make things as you want them to be in the face of dangers and difficulties.   And then there’s time travel! I love messing with time, and there are so many great Time-travelling fics. Plus, I have to say I have a certain love for the villains...   What fandoms are you involved in other than Harry Potter? Currently, I’m not writing for any other fandoms. I read Star Wars, GoT, POTO and LOTR, and in the past I read Smallville. Though it’s more of a type of ship for me, because I only read Reylo, SanSan, Erik/ Christine, Lex/Lana and ….drum roll… the extremely small and quite oddball ship of Eowyn/ Grìma Wormtongue. If you’ve never tried the last one, go search for the fantastic stories by auri_mynonys. If you could make one change to canon, what would it be? Do you have a favourite piece of fanon? One change: duh, that’s easy, isn’t it? Severus lives. Or, maybe Dumbledore acting more rational, not keeping so many secrets. Maybe telling McGonagall that Severus is on the Order’s side… (Interviewer is laughing - ”NOT so easy”) I do write Voldemort wins AUs, but I wouldn’t want canon Voldemort to win. I prefer him to be more sane than in canon. My absolute favourite piece of fanon has to be the Black library. I thought it was canon, but it’s not. This is a thing that really, really should exist in canon! Do you listen to music when you write or do you prefer quiet? I’m very much inspired by music, and sometimes I listen as I write, but not always. Some fics are heavily inspired by music, such as ‘Absence’ and the last epilogue to ‘The Manipulation of Time and Matter’. What are your favourite fanfictions of all time? Definitely ‘Two Steps from Hell,’ by the amazing Ssserpensssotia, but that’s a Volmione. This was such a wild ride, I felt like I was on the edge of my seat, holding my breath the entire time. Those twists and turns were so unpredictable and … Well, I’m in awe. The SS/HG fandom is so massive, there’s a plethora of great stories out there. The unfinished ‘Self-Slain Gods on Strange Altars’ is a wonderful story by scumblackentropy, and I love Slytherpoufs stories, especially the wip ‘Ghosts’, but also ‘Angels to Fly’. And then there’s the one that got away - it means, I can’t find it. In this story, Severus watches the thestrals, befriending one of them, I think, but they’re unpredictable and maybe even dangerous. He’s heartbroken, and knows how it all will go down, having bitterly accepted his role. It made me cry. And then there’s the works by Aurette, and lena1987, Subversa, Kittenshift… Are you a plotter or a pantser? How does that affect your writing process? I need (strike that: want) to draft the entire story before I post, to have some idea on how it goes. That makes it easier to write, but if it’s a long story, I’m happy as long as I know the general direction. This year, I finished a story that was on an unintended hiatus for two years, and I think part of my problem on getting back into writing it up was a too vague idea for the ending.   What is your writing genre of choice? Uh. I don’t know? Basically, you could argue that I’m a porn writer, or at least it’s fuelled by sexual tension and angst. So, romance or drama, bordering on erotica might be correct. To be frank, I haven’t really thought about categories after I started posting on AO3. Which of your stories are you most proud of? Why? Hard to say. I might go with “the Manipulation of Time and Matter,” because I think it’s the best plot I’ve created. Besides, I managed to write Hermione having a relationship with both Severus and Voldemort in the same fic. My favourite “clean” SSHG would be the short story ‘Grimmauld’. Did it unfold as you imagined it or did you find the unexpected cropped up as you wrote? What did you learn from writing it? In Grimmauld, the house became a character. That was unexpected, and not something I had planned from the beginning. So the lesson would be “don’t start posting until you know what’s going to happen.” Or else, this story might have turned out very much different. I had to throw in a little made-up lore on how you set blood wards on a house too to make it sentient. That proved to be a quite chilling piece of magic.   How personal is the story to you, and do you think that made it harder or easier to write? I love old houses. Exploring abandoned houses, going inside to see what remains of furniture, tapestries and everything is so exciting. (It can also be dangerous, but that’s another matter). Such houses makes me feel .. nostalgic, plus I get those nice little shivers down your spine that is a little like a horror story. So, I wanted to use Grimmauld as a setting to explore that in a fic, to really dig into the aching loneliness of a lost house. The story came very quickly to me, so I guess that helped me.   What books or authors have influenced you? How do you think that shows in your writing? Big question there. Hmm, I think … it’s hard to say. I’m a reader, really, and I couldn’t easily pick apart any influences. Though I have to say that one of the things I enjoyed when reading ‘Two Steps From Hell’ was the attention to magic. I think it’s important to include spells, rituals and the use of magic in my fics, because that’s what sets it apart from a Muggle AU, for example. That’s an important part of the world-building.   Do people in your everyday life know you write fanfiction? My significant other knows. I didn’t tell him, but he found out for himself, probably by spying on me. When he told me, I almost couldn’t stop laughing, because he… erm, he said he had thought about reenacting a scene in my PWP ‘Twenty Points to Gryffindor’, where Severus shouts the title as he… well… you get the gist. If he had done that, I’d have had a heart attack. I would literally be dead. Instead, I laughed non stop for an hour.   How true for you is the notion of "writing for yourself"? Haha, so true. You spend all those hours in front of your laptop - and if I wasn't motivated by doing it for myself, I can’t even see how I’d force myself through all those hours. It’s fun, though. I do this because I love it.   How important is it for you to interact with your audience? How do you engage with them? Just at the point of publishing? Through social media? Very important. I'm on the publishing sites (visible interaction is why I prefer AO3 instead of FFnet) and on Facebook, mainly. I love feedback (as all authors do), and when people form theories or make comments, I get an insight into my own writing. I know how it’s going to pan out, but the audience doesn’t, and how they perceive things might be different from how I think it is. At times, it influences how I go forward, mostly because I need to add things, to explain what’s going on. What is the best advice you've received about writing? Don’t post until you know the ending, and remember: the devil on your left shoulder will be at war with the angel on the right side. Listen to the angel telling you to wait a little longer, and not to the devil chanting: ‘Post, post, post!’ In the end, of course, you’ll give in to the devil, regretting it until you’re done. What do you do when you hit writer's block? Read. Read a lot. And read some more. Has anything in real life trickled down into your writing? Certainly. I’m a foodie. For example, everything that Voldemort eats is stuff I love. His food habits are primarily mine, and I love cooking.   Do you have any stories in the works? Can you give us a teaser? It’s a short piece, maybe three or four chapters, with the title ‘Transference’. The point of departure from canon is during their time in the tent at DH. Hermione wakes up in a bed, in a room she doesn’t recognize, having no idea where she is, but she spots a large, moving picture on the drawer:  Feeling panic rising, she stared hard at the moving and smiling pictures, and her heart leapt into her throat, pulse hammering as she recognized herself in the largest picture. A slightly older Hermione, in a white wedding dress, kissing and laughing at someone who simply had to be a much younger Severus Snape. It had to be him: Long black hair, hooked nose, sallow skin - but then he looked so young, carefree and happy - expressions she had never seen on her dour Professor's face. Beside the picture, there were numerous cards, greetings and well-wishings for their wedding - the date an impossible 21 August 1982, and amongst the cards, the largest one stood out, the black ink showing an elegant handwriting: “Dear Hermione and Severus! Best wishes for your wedding, Lord Voldemort.” Any words of encouragement to other writers? Read and write, in that order. Don’t worry about trolls, because when you contribute something that you created, it makes you so much more than people spending their time just raining on anyone’s parade. You brought something new to the world, they’re just reacting to things. If someone accuses you of a self-insert, go ahead and lecture them on the intentional fallacy. I promise, you won’t regret looking it up. ;-)   And please, mind the normal physical limits when you’re writing smut. Unless you give the male a stamina potion or put him under the Imperius, it’s unlikely that his refractory period allows him to come five times in one hour. Realistic smut is so much more sexy, lol. Thanks again for speaking with us Ciule.

[theculturedmarxist]

Bryan Fogel’s “The Dissident” was too hot to handle.

The documentary about the murder of Jamal Khashoggi, the journalist and political activist who was allegedly killed in 2018 on the orders of the Saudi Royal Family, was one of the hottest films at last year’s Sundance. It had glowing reviews, a ripped from the headlines subject, and a big-name director in Fogel, fresh off the Oscar-winning “Icarus,” a penetrating look at Russian doping that got the country banned from the Olympics.

And yet, Netflix, which had previously released “Icarus,” and other streaming services such as Apple and Amazon steered clear of “The Dissident.” Without any interested buyers, the film languished until last fall. That’s when Briarcliff Entertainment, an obscure distributor run by former Open Road CEO Tom Ortenberg, announced it would release the movie on-demand.

Fogel thinks the subject matter was too explosive for bigger companies, which have financial ties to Saudi Arabia or are looking to access the country’s massive population of well-to-do consumers. Using interviews with Khashoggi’s fiancee Hatice Cengiz, as well as friends and fellow activists, Fogel creates a damning portrait of Crown Prince Mohammed Bin Salman’s apparent involvement in brutally silencing the writer and thinker and the country’s crackdown on free speech. Thanks to previously unreleased audio recordings, “The Dissident” draws a direct line between Khashoggi’s assassination at the Saudi embassy in Turkey and the Saudi government’s anger over his outspoken criticism of the country’s human rights abuses and mismanagement.

“The Dissident” is currently available on-demand, but its rather muted release isn’t the way Fogel had dreamed of provoking a larger conversation around Khashoggi’s murder. He spoke to Variety about the difficulty of making “The Dissident” and then getting it seen and why he thinks his new movie had the major streamers running scared.

Why did you want to make “The Dissident”?

After the success of “Icarus,” I felt a great burden and social responsibility to make a worthy follow-up. I was looking for a story regarding human rights, regarding freedom of speech, freedom of press, journalism. I also wanted a story that had real world implications that could create real world change through social action or political action.

As the investigation into the murder of Jamal unfolded, my ears perked up and I immediately started reading more about this man. I hadn’t heard of him, but I found out how trusted and regarded he was as a voice on the Middle East. He was also being presented in many media circles as a terrorist sympathizer or member of the Muslim Brotherhood or a friend of Bin Laden. This was not true. He was a moderate, who was fighting for free speech for his country and believed women should have rights. He believed Mohammed Bin Salman’s policies were putting the country on the wrong direction.

Was it difficult to get his friends and fiancee and family to speak to you?

It was very very difficult. This is where the accolades and recognition of “Icarus” and the Academy Award really changed the conversation. In those weeks following his death every journalist was after Hatice. As I approached her and other people, they were able to see my prior work. Hatice invited me about a month after his murder to come and meet with her in Istanbul. I didn’t bring a film crew. I spent the next five weeks there just building trust. It was a harrowing time in her life and I just kept explaining that I was not there for a day or a week or a month. I told her: if we do this, we’re going to go on this journey together. I promised that if she let me into her life, I was going to protect Jamal.

At the Sundance premiere, you challenged distributors to “…not be fearful and give this the global release that this deserves.” How did that turn out?

[Netflix CEO] Reed Hastings was there that day and so was Hillary Clinton. We had a standing ovation. People were wiping tears from their eyes as Hatice took the stage. It was the same scene at each one of our screenings. We were blessed with incredible reviews from all of the trades. In any normal circumstance, you’d think of course this film is going to be acquired and distributed. And yet not only was it not acquired and distributed, there was universal silence. Not a single offer. Not for one dollar or not 12 million dollars, which was what was paid for another documentary title at the festival. Nothing. It was literally as if nobody knew me. It was that startling and that shocking.

Six months later Tom Ortenberg and Briarcliff Entertainment stepped forward and said, hey we want to distribute this film. That’s wonderful. People will be able to rent this film on-demand. But what I wanted was for this film to be streaming into 200 million households around the world. I wanted people to have easy access to it. Instead we pieced together global distribution here and there.

Will this have a chilling effect on movies that want to tackle these kinds of controversial subjects?

This is a depressing and eye-opening moment that any filmmaker that wishes to tell a story like this needs to pay attention to. These global media conglomerates are aiding and abetting and silencing films that take on subject matter like this despite the fact their audiences want content like this. I was told that “Icarus” has had somewhere in the neighborhood of 700 million views. I don’t know if that’s accurate, but I know it was substantial. The decision not to acquire “The Dissident” had nothing to do with its critical reviews, had nothing to do with a global audience’s appetite to watch a docu-thriller, but had everything to do with business interests and politics and, who knows, perhaps pressure from the Saudi government. Netflix did remove Hasan Minhaj’s episode of “Patriot Act” [at the Saudi government’s request] in 2019 and defended that decision by saying, “we’re not a truth to power company. We’re an entertainment company.” It has been a struggle to get this film into the world and to shine a light on the human rights abuses that are happening in that kingdom. These companies, that have chosen not to distribute this film, in my opinion, are complicit.

Have you had conversations with these companies about why they didn’t want to release “The Dissident”? If so what has been their response?

It has been to not respond.

Is this about money? Are they wary of angering the Saudi Royal Family because they have money from Saudi Arabia or want to access their market?

My guess is both. Decisions are being made that it’s better to keep our doors open to Saudi business and Saudi money than it is to do anything to anger the kingdom. Netflix released a statement regarding Black Lives Matter that is in direct contrast to their statement regarding Hasan Minahaj. One stands behind truth to power and the other says we’re not a truth to power company, so it appears they are a truth to power company when it is convenient. But when their business doesn’t align with that or it might impact their subscriber growth, they’re not. The same can be said for all the streaming companies. In the film, there’s Jeff Bezos on the stage with Hatice. Jamal worked for Jeff Bezos [at the Washington Post, which Bezos owns]. So the same can be said of Amazon. I don’t want to point a finger at anyone because it’s all of them. This is a situation where business, subscriber growth, investment was more important than human rights. There’s got to be greater accountability. Not just on a business level, but on a political level. Trump vetoed the desire of both the House and the Senate to hold Saudi Arabia accountable for this crime. He continued to sell them weapons. He’s trying to get the Justice Department to grant Mohammed Bin Salman immunity from prosecution.

Would you still work for Netflix or the other streamers who declined to release “The Dissident”?

Listen, this is my career. This is my work. I’m sure that I will have other projects that might not take on subject matter like this and are not at odds with their business interests. When those projects come along, I will be glad to work with any of these companies. Look, I love Netflix. I really, really do. I’m so grateful to them because without Netflix, “Icarus” would not have become what it became. I’m not insulted by this. I’m not personally offended. I don’t view anything that is happening as personal. I just view it as business. I can understand it on a business level. I don’t agree with it, but I get it. I’m not mad. I’m disappointed.

What message do you want viewers will take away from the film?

There’s a hashtag #JusticeForJamal and the question has to become what does justice mean? We know that Mohammed Bin Salman will not stand trial for this murder. We know that the henchmen he sent are unlikely to truly stand trial. We have to look to the future. So what I hope people will take from the film is knowledge, because knowledge is power. Just like “Icarus” or “Blackfish” or “The Cove,” I hope this film has the ability to change hearts and minds. As more and more people come to “The Dissident,” I hope there’s a call to action. I hope that takes place on social media or through writing letters to congressmen or senators. The first thing I hope is people will spread the word. The second thing is I hope they will use the power of free speech that we have in this country and are so blessed to have to change the narrative. The Arab Spring happened because of Twitter, the Black Lives Matter and #MeToo movements took hold because of social media. We’ve seen that through combined action, change can come.

Disclosure: SRMG, a Saudi publishing and media company which is publicly traded, remains a minority investor in PMC, Variety’s parent company.

[sqewed0722]

I have a confession to make:  I was one of those who gladly anticipated the drama “Crash Landing On You” and looked forward to seeing Hyun Bin and Son Ye Jin in the series. I liked the premise and thought it would be interesting to watch the romance unfolding between a loyal, North Korean soldier and a pampered South Korean heiress.  

I tried to watch it as it aired but things got in the way and I ended up watching it in spurts after the drama had already ended. I liked it well enough, but not enough for it to actually make a lasting impression on me.  I loved the gorgeous location and cinematography was top-notch. Hyun Bin was both funny and charismatic as Captain Ri Jeong Hyeok, his comrades as equally funny in their attempts to understand Son Ye Jin’s Yoon Se Ri, this strange creature from the other side of the border who spoke in a strange accent and acted so differently from the women of the North.  Son Ye Jin was beautiful and the epitome of style as the heiress from Seoul who fell in love not just with Captain Ri but with his comrades as well, and learned to somehow appreciate the beauty in the simplicity of their lives.  

Yet despite the fact that CLOY had all the factors of the kind of drama that I would love, and Hyun Bin and Son Ye Jin had the chemistry for it, it wasn’t their story that made a deep impression on me. Rather, it was the secondary female character, Seo Dan, played by Seo Ji Hye, an actress I’ve never heard of.    

Seo Dan is the fiancée of Captain Ri, and they were betrothed by their parents when they were still in high school.  Seo Dan has always been in love with Jeong Hyeok, but he doesn’t care for her and only sees her as an obligation to his family.  Seo Dan is a cellist and loves classical music, like Jeong Hyeok, but somehow it never brought them closer.  

At first glance, Dan comes off as cold, aloof and arrogant, and so she is.  She is, after all, an heiress of the largest department store in Pyongyang, wealthy in a nation where most of the people do not own much in terms of personal wealth. Yet her cold exterior hides a vulnerable and insecure side. Seo Dan longs to be loved and accepted by Jyeong Hyeok and she has spent half of her life trying her best to win his heart.  

In the course of the story, she meets Gu Seung Jun (alias Alberto Gu), a con man who had once been engaged to Yoon Se Ri until Se Ri found out his real motives behind his desire to marry her and she terminated the engagement.  Seung Jun had used money he had stolen to flee and hide in North Korea.  His life gets entangled with Seo Dan because of their connection to Se Ri and Captain Ri.  In the process, Seung Jun falls in love with Dan and, though reluctantly at first, she learns to love him too.  But fate isn’t on their side, and just when Dan realizes her feelings for Seung Jun, he gets killed trying to save her.  

In the end, Dan decides to end her engagement to Captain Ri and live her life alone as an independent woman since she had lost the man she loved, who loved her in return.

Unlike most CLOY viewers and fans, I really didn’t care much for Gu Seung Jun’s character.  He was funny and could be charming, annoying at times, but to me, his importance lay in the fact that he awakened a side of Seo Dan that would have lain dormant if he hadn’t come into her life.  He made her realize how it felt to actually be loved by someone for herself and not for what she could give (money) or what she represented (power and influence).  He made her feel wanted and appreciated for who she was.  I wasn’t so much into their relationship, but I appreciated it for what it did for her.  Seung Jun was a catalyst for Seo Dan’s character growth.  I think, more than anything, he taught her how to love and appreciate a person in spite of them.  After all, Gu Seung Jun was everything that would have gone against Seo Dan’s values and upbringing.  

Seo Ji Hye actually made Seo Dan a very sympathetic character.  In the hands of lesser actresses, Seo Dan would have just been another villainess, a second lead competing for the affections of the male lead with the female lead.  She would have been deemed evil and inferior in all aspects by the viewers, no matter how beautiful or accomplished she may be.  But with Seo Ji Hye, Seo Dan wasn’t a caricature.  She was human.      

I think that was a major factor that made Seo Dan and Gu Seung Jun’s romance almost as compelling and interesting to the CLOY viewers. Its tragedy was juxtaposed with the happy-ever-after of Captain Ri and Yoon Se Ri, and to them it was just as unforgettable. (Of course, this being Kdrama, there has to be the token tragedy inserted into all the romcom sweetness and since that can’t come from the main leads, it was supplied by the secondary leads.)

In “Dinner Mate”, though, we see a totally different Seo Ji Hye as mobile content producer Woo Do-hee.  She’s still beautiful and statuesque, but where Seo Dan was all cold elegance and grace, Woo Do-hee is a bundle of energetic quirkiness and warmth. Gone are the fashionable trench coats, scarves and distinctly styled and colorful dresses of Seo Dan.  What we see now are jeans, slacks, and peasant blouses under vests, topped by coats and blazers.  And her hair is no longer immaculately combed and held back by jeweled barrettes and her makeup is no longer strong.  Do-hee’s naturally made-up face is framed by soft bangs and slightly wavy long hair that’s either held in a half-pony or full-ponytail. There are no barrettes to be seen anywhere.        

And Woo Do-hee smiles and laughs more readily than Seo Dan.  And she tends to make faces or pouts when she’s displeased.  Dan would never do that.  She’s very much in control of her emotions, down to the way they’re expressed on her face.  At most, she would have made a small moue of displeasure if annoyed or a close-lipped smile when pleased.  Do-hee, on the other hand, would either screech in indignation or smile up to her eyes.

But one thing that I’ve liked about how Seo Ji Hye portrays her roles is that she does them with such genuineness.    Regardless if she’s Seo Dan or Woo Do-hee, the sincerity of her character always comes across.  I especially notice this when she cries in her dramas.   Unlike other actresses who, even when they cry, still give off a feeling of detachment (as if their tears are merely superficial), Seo Ji Hye weeps with such deep-felt emotion.  Her pain and sorrow are just so palpable.  Her face literally crumples into tears.  (Well, she still looks gorgeous even after weeping but then, she’s just one of the lucky ones who couldn’t ugly-cry even if they tried.)

I remember feeling so bad for her as Seo Dan when she screamed and cried after Seung Jun died, and I felt just as bad for her when she wept when she was talking to Ah-young about the futility of pursuing her feelings for her dinner-mate, Kim Hae-kyung.    Something in the way she looks and the expression in her eyes make me feel that she’s no longer acting.  She seems to totally inhabit her character.

Another thing that I found wonderful about her is that, because she has this natural presence and charisma, she is able to establish chemistry with her co-stars, whether they be her love interest in the drama or just another character that her own character acts with.  I think that was the reason a lot of viewers got sold on the idea of the romance between Seo Dan and Gu Seung Jun.  She and Kim Jung Hyun made them a viable pairing. And now with “Dinner Mate’, she looks wonderful with Song Seung Heon and they work so well together.  Yet amazingly enough, she also looks great with Lee Ji Hoon. (Some viewers even jokingly said that since she also has great onscreen chemistry with APink member Son Na-eun who plays Song Seung Heon’s former lover, maybe there will be a plot twist and their characters end up together instead.  Ha-ha.)  

That’s why I find it strange that she doesn’t seem to be well-known as a lead actress, although she seems to have done her share of lead drama roles early in her career.  But then I’m not surprised.  She probably prefers doing character roles to lead female roles and that’s probably to her advantage artistically.  Supporting character roles would allow her to stretch her acting chops and give her greater flexibility and range.  And although she’s physically gorgeous, she does give this air of aloofness and strength, as well as cool elegance and grace.  Coupled with her low, husky voice, what comes across is the image of an independent woman who lives life on her own terms and can easily tell anyone to f*** off.  Not quite typical KDrama female heroine material.

In any case, I think she’s now one of my favorite Korean actresses and I do look forward to her next projects.  I hope she gets to do film projects or dramas at the level of my KDrama standard, “My Ahjussi”.  But I will always keep my fingers crossed that she reunites with Song Seung Heon.  They’re just magical together on and offscreen and I’d love to see them again in the future.  

[benperorsolo]

How has TROS impacted your experience in fandom and your perspective towards the ST as a whole? Do you look back on the last four years differently?

If you’re asking if I regret it, no. 

At their core, stories are only as good as the change they inspire in the people who read and watch them. I’m used to getting most of my dramatic sustenance, as it were, from transformative fandom instead of the exact text of canon itself– or with original stories that I’ve written. My first major ship was zutara, which meant I lived off of fanfiction, and my next major ship was built in a fandom that altogether probably numbered fifty people, with a ship fandom of maybe five (two of whom became good friends). We lived off our own hcs and AUs and fanart and it was…amazing. The fandom as a whole totally pretended an entire season of the show didn’t exist. It was great.

Yes, reylo and bendemption are both canon– but for four years, I interacted with this fandom with no technical guarantee that they were. I was enjoying my time in the fandom because it was something I loved, not a battle I had to win. I have always been a heavy proponent of bendemption because redemption itself is an idea that is important to me. Whether Ben Solo had been redeemed or not (thank God, at least, he was), that will always be important to me.

In fact, this was the first fandom I’ve ever been in as the story itself was unfolding. All of the others, I got into after the fact, knowing what was or wasn’t canon and that the ship I loved wasn’t. It didn’t make that time a waste or invalid. 

Yes, TROS is garbage, and it destroys my faith in the canonical saga and the ability of its creators to follow through on the story’s ethos. But all of us who habitually participate in transformative fandom should, unfortunately, be used to creators disappointing us. I am used to analyzing and critiquing a thing on its own merits, and then picking and choosing what I want to take into transformative fandom. Bendemption and reylo speak to me; they did before they were canon, they do now, and the living Ben who lives in my head is a more positive impact on my life than the dead Ben on the page, so the living Ben is the one I’m going to take with me.

Because loving Ben for the past four years has been nothing but a positive impact on my life. Being touched so deeply by my belief in a character’s ability to change for the better, and arguing so often for why redemption is real and necessary, was a good headspace to be in. It forced me to put those concepts into practice in my own life moreso than if I had never ended up being such an outspoken apologist for them on someone else’s behalf.

In the end, it doesn’t matter if none of that was “canon” (even though it was), or how well executed the canon ended up being. Canon is not a virtue in itself. All stories, even the “canon” ones, are made up in the final analysis. We interact with them, knowing they’re made up. The truth of all stories, of any story, is not literal, but emotional and existential. What you take away from the stories you make up yourself is just as valid as the “official story”, or perhaps even more so, if it touches you and speaks to you. That’s the whole point of fandom. The whole point of art. It’s to be spoken to.