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84reedsy · 4 years ago

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A Reunion

Rating: E- Explicit Characters: Severus Snape/Hermione Granger, Various other characters Summary: A Hogwarts reunion leads two former Hogwarts students to an unexpected evening. Setting: Post 2nd Wizarding War, Snape Lives AU Warnings: Smut, drunkeness

The same faces year after year had lost their allure. Some had aged ever so gracefully while some seemed to speed along the path of degradation. It was to be expected; some had darker demons than others. The war had left its mark on almost every person in this room. But the camaraderie that had existed in the aftermath had ebbed and people had fallen back into somewhat predictable comfort zones of their inner circles. And to say her inner circle had been reduced was an understatement.

She’d rather sit at her home and read through yet another text. The company of books had always been more enjoyable to Hermione than people...at least most of them.

Hermione was by no means anti-social, but there were many times where she was intimidated by the prospect of socialization, especially at these Hogwarts reunions where the attendance spanned every age.

She still saw Ron and Harry on occasion, but they never made it to these things. Harry had tired of the hero’s role and what came with it. He was content to hide away. Ron seemed to regress not long after they’d been able to complete their 7th year o.w.l.s. He longed for the careless childhood of which he claimed to have been robbed of. To say it strained their relationship was an understatement. Being the proactivist that she was, Hermione parted ways before things worsened, remaining amicable friends for the last 10 years.

That was her in a nutshell - a proactive realist. And a lonely one at that. Sitting at the bar, her half empty glass of merlot seemed to magnify that reality. People spoke to her, yes, but no one seemed to hold a conversation with her for any length of time. She wasn’t upset about that for the most part; the conversations only went one of a few ways. Either they asked about Harry, errantly assumed she was still with Ron, or asked details of the war that she didn’t feel like repeating in light-hearted company. She may not have been the poster-boy that Harry was, but she felt like a martyr in her own right.

She grinned politely and waved at George from across Hog’s Head. He stood with other wizards from his year, each holding a pint and laughing. He got along as well as one could expect, but even from a distance you could tell when someone mentioned Fred - there was a sadness to his smile and a far away look in his eyes. She supposed twins would have a more difficult time being separated by death than most, but remarkably, George had held up well all things considered.

“Another glass?” The barkeep tended the counter while the bottle of merlot hovered over her glass, just short of pouring, “This one’s compliments of the ginger bloke standing over near ‘is lads,” Hermione glanced at George once again, smiling as he lifted his pint towards her. She nodded towards the barkeep and the bottle titled as her glass floated from the bar top.

The truth was, Hermione wanted conversation. She wanted to reconnect with people from her youth. But, she’d always been bored by her own peers. They lacked a certain...something. It was hard to put her finger on it as she tipped her wine glass back and surveyed the room. The crowd was slowly thinning, people had lives to return to. Children, careers, some seeking one night of companionship with an old (maybe even a new) flame. Some bid her farewell as they departed, others were too inebriated to abide by any social niceties.

This was the after-party of the reunion, moving from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade. A fine dance had been held in the Great Hall. Hermione had been treated to moments of fond memories of the Yule Ball from her Fourth Year. She, Pavarti and a Ravenclaw a few years their senior had spent most of that sitting around a table attempting to catch up, but mostly commenting on the myriad of fashions chosen for the evening. They ranged from elegant to extremely gaudy, Luna sporting something near the latter of that spectrum. Neville in his dashing suit couldn’t have looked more proud to have the odd, but loyal lady on his arm.

It was the solid black of his wardrobe that stood out first as the din of the ballroom had lessened. No one had ever expected Severus Snape to make an appearance even though an invitation was extended every year. To say he had become a hermit underemphasized the lonely existence he kept. It had not taken long for word to spread about his covert involvement that, many agreed, was the only reason the Second Wizarding War was ever winnable. His short temper and penchant for insults still left a sour reputation among the wizarding community but their gratitude was evident by leaving him be - just as he wished.

Hermione had felt then that she should make an effort to speak with him. Perhaps his loneliness had reached a point he could no longer endure. Though as an instructor he’d never offered her any sort of compassion or understanding, she felt compelled to provide both those things to him - especially with the way he spent most of the evening void of everything but uneasy glances.

She should get home. It was very late in the evening and more wine was only going to make her sleepier. She slid from her stool, balancing the stem of her glass between her fingers. She would bid George and his mates good night and be on her way. Just as she turned, her eyes were drawn to the shadowy corner nearly vacated.

Dressed still in solid black sat Severus Snape, a small glass of fire whiskey sat in front of him with his fingers lazily wrapped around it. The two gazes connected across the room and both knew they were equally as seen by the other. He’d noticed her at the ball and he’d settled in this quiet, hidden nook of a booth early enough to see her arrive here as well. As they stared, he had not a clue what they had to speak to the other about, but he found himself curious enough to invite her company.

“Miss Granger,” he slid from the booth, but stood still, not approaching her.

“Professor Snape,” She acknowledged him back, nodding slightly. She was only slightly aware that her grip tightened around her glass.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to company,” It was the closest to an invitation he could muster. In his years of solitude his grasp of social graces had deteriorated a bit, not that they were ever that well-honed in the first place. He was relieved, but did not show it when she smiled politely and nodded.

Hermione looked around as if she needed to tread carefully. Old habits must die hard; she was an adult - her school mates would not look on in shock if she were to associate with her former Potions and Dark Arts Professor. She approached the booth and slid in the side opposite him. She sat a napkin down before placing her wine glass on top of it. His curious look made her nervous.

“Muggle custom,” She mumbled. Mentioning the word muggle may have been a grave mistake as an awkwardness surrounded them. Years of memories both flooded their minds - the existence of muggles in the magical world is what nearly tore it apart. She worried that the slip of her tongue may have ended this conversation before it began. She chewed her lip and looked downward and Severus was surprised to find himself amused. It was the same motion she used to make when he called her out in class for her know-it-all conduct.

“Miss Granger, if I may,” He spoke first, knowing she was likely about to excuse herself, “I taught at Hogwarts for many years and saw thousands of witches and wizards with varying levels of magical genealogy. As much as it pains me to admit, and I’ll deny it if ever asked again, I never once came across one that matched your brilliance or hunger for knowledge.”

Hermione had to wet her mouth with more wine, dried in shock of such a compliment from this particular source.

“Professor,” She had to struggle with an appropriate response, “I dare say that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,”

“I suppose I’m getting soft in my old age,” He lifted his fire whiskey and just before it tipped back over his lips, there was an ever so subtle wink of his eye.

“It can be difficult to let your guard down,” Hermione glanced around the room before returning her attention to Severus, still somewhat mired in shadow, “It’s hard to know who to trust, or who’s just out to get something from you.”

“I have more experience with the latter - which should easily explain my absence from such….festivities.” He glanced toward the lively, drunken bunches near the front of the bar.

“So why now? Why this year, Professor?” Hermione’s curiosity subdued her hesitance.

Severus swirled the base of his glass along the table top. His face was obstructed only by the long locks of lanky black hair that had surprisingly few greys among them. His sharp nose was still as prominent as ever, though his face wasn’t pursed nearly as much as it used to be. Perhaps his years of seclusion had brought him some peace.

“Curiosity, Miss Granger,” He motioned towards the barkeep as Hermione had nearly drained her glass, “Curiosity to see Hogwarts again, to see what’s become of my students,”

“Curiosity?” Hermione couldn’t helped but be amused at the thought of simple curiosity bringing him out into the public eye, “Congratulations, Professor, that’s a new one to me”

“Are you calling me a liar?” He questioned as their glasses were filled. From a glance she could see a facetious nature to his query.

“Not at all, Professor,” Another sip added to the ones before were calming (or numbing) her nerves, “Just...surprised,”

“I wasn’t sure you’d accept my invitation, so considered us both surprised by the other.” He lifted his glass slightly, awaiting her to return the gesture.

“Do you take me for someone that rude?” She returned in a subdued jest, only pausing shortly before clinking her glass to his, “What are we drinking to?”

“New surprises from old acquaintances,” He answered after a short pause, “And not rude...perhaps forthright.”

“That I am guilty of without question.” She sipped the fresh glass.

“Oh I remember you, quiet well Granger.” Even if she hadn’t been the ever present partner of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, Severus imagined she still would have stuck out from her lack of shyness and her vigor for learning.

"You rarely missed an opportunity to call me out on it," her hand around her glass pointed a finger at him as she found herself falling into an oddly natural repartee. Odd, especially considering there was a time in her life where she viewed him as the enemy.

"It didn't appear to deter you," he noticed that his whiskey seemed to be going down much smoother in the company of someone. Perhaps this was a benefit of not drinking alone. Seveus found it difficult not to be amused as he cheeks stretched in a smile though he could tell she was trying to fight it.

“I suppose not, Professor.” She still had that know-it-all look in her eye and though she knew the criticism when intended to inspire or shame her into subduing it, she still felt somewhat prideful in her acquisition of knowledge. His mouth crooked into a half smile of amusement. It was odd to be having a conversation as adults without the construct of student/teacher.

“It has been many years since I have entered a classroom, Miss Granger. I haven’t been your instructor for an even longer period. I believe at the present time, you are no longer obligated to address me as your superior.” He drawled, speaking over the top of his glass.

“Old habits die hard,” She swallowed back the address of sir or professor, “That’s the only way I’ve ever known to address you. It definitely wouldn’t have done to address you so informally before. I don’t doubt you would have been pleased with the lot of us Gryffindors referring to you as Sev or mate.” She joked, wondering if she could turn that half a grin into a whole one.

“You’re absolutely correct, Miss Granger,” He swirled the spicy libation in his mouth, “I would have been rather displeased.

“I do have a first name too, you can address me by it if I’m allowed to address you by yours.” Hermione leaned forward a little, squinting her eyes with a peculiar amusement. She needed to see if he was game for such familiarity.

Severus sat in silence for a moment, resting his hand on the table as he sized her up in his mind. She was no longer the mousey, fresh faced child and student he’d first met. She was clearly a woman. The war and subsequent years had aged her as it had everyone else, but she did not fare as poorly as some. If anything she’d acquired beauty in her physical maturity. While her hair was still curly, she tamed it better now. She did not paint her face with anything too obtuse. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the edge of the table.

“Very well, Hermione,” Severus had to admit to himself that it felt odd saying her name out loud.

“That’s better, Severus,” Though in private, she and her friends had referred to him as Snape since nearly the moment they met him, there was a certain comfort she found in calling him by his name. Perhaps it was relief that she could view them as equitable instead of existing on two different planes.

Severus couldn’t help the quick, fleeting smirk on his lips, amused by her ability to change a pattern so easily. He decided not to let the moment linger. He was in need of any conversation outside of the internal dialogue that had been such a constant companion.

“So speaking of...Gryffindors…” He still grimaced, though Hermione found it comical, “How are those friends of yours?” His dark eyes were trained on her as he sipped again.

“We still leave that bad of a taste in your mouth?” She questioned, chuckling behind closed lips at his incredulous look, “I guess Slytherin’s and Gryffidor’s are just not made to see eye to eye?”

“In my experience, most of my interactions have been….unpleasant - current company excluded,” He was slow to the save, humored by the way her eyebrows lifted as if he would leave the insult as his last word.

“Nice save Prof- Severus,” She nodded, “I have to admit, I have occasionally thought of you over the years,” She hiccuped a little, “That is, wondering what you did to occupy your time.” She recovered quickly.

“Have you now?” Of all the people she’d known, he would have thought given the circumstances that most of them rarely, if ever, thought of him, “After so many years playing a double agent and spending my career in the view of so many, I find that I prefer my privacy. I stay in my home, reading, writing, documenting,”

“Documenting?” She leaned her cheek into her palm, looking interested.

“Yes. Though it was not my preferred subject, I did have a rather well adapted aptitude for potion-making. I developed many unique and novel substances even back to my own days at Hogwarts. I plan to release the formulas for a reasonable premium.”

“Reasonable? But you’re Severus Snape; the man who lied bold faced to -Voldemort-” Hermione felt odd saying the name out loud, she hadn’t had to in so long, “Harry may have been the poster boy, but many see you as much of a hero as they do him.” She said matter-of-factly.

“That bold tone, that’s the girl I remember, Hermione.” He caught himself from referring to her as Miss Granger, “And I prefer not to label myself as such. I believe there are many that still despise me,” He took another sip and for a moment Hermione felt some pity for him, but mostly warm from his first chiding remark.

“Well, regardless, I appreciate what you did. And you deserve a well earned drink on me,” She peered at his empty glass, not letting him refute her offer. She motioned towards the bar as a decanter floated their way and refilled his glass, “I insist,”

“I’m not sure that’s appropriate, you buying me a drink. After all I’m an old man,” he eyed the drink, his mouth thirsting for another taste.

“You’re not that old,” She leaned forward as she spoke a little quieter, “In fact it looks like you’ve barely aged,” She noted his appearance, the last decade had been devoid of most of the stresses that had strained him so much before.

“You’re attempting to flatter me, Hermione. I can’t on earth imagine why,” He toyed with her a bit, finally sipping his fresh fire whiskey.

“I resent the accusation that my politeness is anything but,” She was quick to match his wit, but there was also a teasing, sarcastic suggestion. Surely it was the wine speaking for her or at least prodding her in such a flirtatious direction.

“I believe you’ve had too much wine, Hermione,” He noted her once again empty glass.

She smirked holding it up in the air to the side, not breaking her gaze from his. It refilled from the bottle, this time settling itself on the table rather than behind the bar.

“Am I of age, Severus?” She challenged his assessment coyly.

“Yes, I believe you are,” His eyes couldn’t help but look her over and confirm for himself that his thoughts were well founded.

“Then let me worry about my own levels of intoxication. After all have you ever know me to be *hiccup* irresponsible?” Her words and her behavior seemed to be sending two very distinct but different signals. He lifted his brow in a moment of question, but he was feeling rather warm and fuzzy himself. What harm could it do to let a bit of his guard down around someone who seemed so interested in his company.

“I cannot recall such a time, but perhaps you should put a little more in your stomach,” He pushed a plate of bread and cheese he’d barely touched towards her, “How is Potter these days?” He wanted to change the subject until her obvious buzz was a little more subdued.

“You really want to know about Harry?” She looked somewhat surprised, but continued without his confirmation, “He’s alright I suppose. Still with Ginny Weasley, they have Lupin’s boy and one of their own. He turns down public appearances on an hourly basis. Tough to be treated fairly when everyone either wants something from you or to treat you like a god.”

“I know about the former, not so much the latter,” He pursed his lips as he heard the name of Harry’s wife, “I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised he stayed with that girl. She was the least insufferable of the lot, in my experience. How about your Weasley. The daft one.”

“Ohhh, I can tell you’ve been sitting on that question for a moment, haven’t you?” Hermione noticed that he seemed compelled to ask it more than willful, “We didn’t last long at all - after school. We went our separate ways and I don’t see much of him at all. I keep in contact with his mum more than any of them.” She watched as he took a drink, but through the arc of the glass, she could see him conceal and satisfactory smirk.

“What I shame, you two seemed to compliment each other well,” He offered with little conviction.

“Ha, you don’t believe that for a moment, Severus,” She chortled a bit, “we had a history, but in the end he turned out to be very wrong for me. I need someone with more, with more…” She struggled to describe what was missing.

“Maturity,” Severus answered with a slow enunciation, not at all questioning.

Hermione glanced at him again, but the shared gaze had a different energy to it, “Yes. That’s exactly it,”

Though a silence passed between them, it felt as if they were wordlessly communicating. There was no awkward air between them.

“So, there’s been no one else to fill the,” his eyes flickered down as if in the subtlest of suggestions, “void?”

Hermione nibbled a bit of bread, wiping a cumb from her lip before shaking her head slightly. She struggled to speak for a few moments, resisting the urge to suppress her impulse.

“No. No one has filled that void in ages...Severus,” She said suggestively, but felt an intense nervousness as she waited with baited breath for his reply.

“That’s quite a shame,” He replied after a brief pause. Either an awkwardness would follow or she might-

“Yes, it is,” She looked at him with determination and agenda. Though the conversation had been finding its way to this point, it still surprised him that she was this bold.

“Being alone does have its disadvantages,” He set his glass down, no longer interested in being satiated by a substance.

“Perhaps tonight,” She ran her nail along a ridge in the wood grain on the table before looking back up at him, “We throw our cautions to the wind and give this whole ‘not being alone’ a go,”

She had no doubt that snogging in public was something Severus was very much against, so taking the initiative she stood from the quiet booth, noting that the bar was nearly empty. She walked with some stealth but still a natural gate to a wooden door that led behind the bar. She opened it slightly, enough only to slip past the gap and keep the old rusty hinges from screeching. She looked back towards him in a silent invitation.

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Hermione waited in the room filled with wooden casks and crates of bottles, stacked upon wooden shelves that stretched from floor to ceiling. She leaned her back against one such post, the anticipation did the job of sobering her a bit. At least if she was rejected, it wouldn’t be with an audience. Only a short time had passed (though it felt like eons) when she was startled by the door pushing open. Severus also passed through a gap only large enough for him to float through, still sporting the black robes she remembered over the black suit.

They did not need to speak. Each knew why they were there.

Hermione did not move from her spot, but her spine arched every so slightly that her chest jutted forward as the room echoed his footsteps and her controlled breath. He approached, standing mere inches from her, making it no secret that his eyes were taking in her form.

She was the first to break the barrier of touch, her curious core aching for a reprieve of its neglect. Her palm rested against his chest, sliding upwards over his collar. Her fingers slid without pause over the lingering scars on his neck that his cloak normally concealed. She did not let it deter her and he returned the gesture with one of appreciation.

The first kiss was soft as if gently testing the waters.

“Severus…” She whispered feeling his breath rolling across her tempted lips.

The confirmation of her desire saw his return kiss much more feverish and impassioned. As if seduction had evaded him so long that he dared not let it slip between his fingers. She arched more as his hands passed around her waist to her back, pressing her body into his. Her arms were around his broad shoulders. The kiss was not sloppy, but not at all contained. The only parting was out of the shear need for air.

“Let’s not waste time, Severus,” She slid her hands to her blouse, yanking it open so the buttons scattered across the room. Her chest heaved, only contained by her lacy brassiere.

“You witches and your frivolous underthings,” He paused to look into her eyes only a moment before both hands grasped her breasts, squeezing and lifting them as she struggled between a groan and a gasp. Their lips were quick to meet again as he tugged the lace cups down roughly, exposing her breasts directly to his greedy grasp, “Its a shame to cover these at all,”

Severus pulled his lips from hers to let his eyes absorb the visual of her toplessness into his memory. They were perky, their containment unneeded. He lifted one swell to meet his descending mouth, his tongue impatient for the taste of her firm nipples.

“Holy Merlin’s fuck!” Hermione let her fingers grip his signature black tresses. She didn’t pull them either which way, more or less just holding on to him, “Severus, you devil,”

“On the contrary, Hermione,” He rose up, stopping a maddening inch from her face, “I believe you’re the devil in this scenario.” Still holding her attention, his hand reached for hers and pressed it firmly against the evidence of her perverse inspiration. She gripped around the rigid shaft, still encompassed by his trousers, but the rush of arousal between her own legs almost left her dizzy. She was thankful for the sturdy post behind her or she’d likely have fallen off balance.

“What torture for you, you poor thing,” She squeezed and palmed his member. She grinned while gnawing her lip, lowering herself by sliding down the post. She knelt her splayed legs at his feet, her hand moving to unfaster his trousers while her humored gaze peered back up at his still serious countenance.

His angular jaw clenched and shifted as she revealed him, her hand almost surprisingly warm as it wrapped around his vein-laced, pulsing shaft. He noticed her eyes fell upon her prey and she studied it as she stimulated it as if applying a science to extracting his pleasurable nuances. Ever the scholarly approach, typical Hermione.

“It won’t bite, Hermione,” He teased with a taunting chuckle. His fingers were unable to grip into her hair, partially impaired from Nagini’s venom. Instead, his hand slid over the top of her head, gently pushing it back so it rested against the wooden pillar. He stepped closer as her lips lazily lay agape, her chin tilted slightly upward. Her eyes followed the tip of his cock as it prodded against her lips, tainting them with a sticky string of precum before slipping between them.

Severus’s breath shuddered as he struggled to acclimate to the warmth of her willing mouth. He moved slowly, keeping a shallow depth as she kept submissively still.

“What a good little witch,” He growled.

Hermione’s now free hands allowed her the freedom to stimulate herself; reaching between her splayed thighs, her skirt allowed her quick access. She couldn’t resist the throb of her own sex, keeping her touch gentle to keep from cumming too quickly. She was desperate for an orgasm, but would rather the first explosion be at the mercy of his penetration.

As his eyes closed and his head tilted back, Hermione took more of an active roll. Her lips tightened around his cock, her tongue wiggled in a slow, purposeful massage. She was thrilled to earn the groan that rumbled in his throat soon after. She gagged but did not relent as his hips pushed him a little beyond her tolerance.

“Hungry little thing, aren’t you?” He tried not to wheeze, but the invigoration of her oral stimulation was nearly impossible to overcome. His balls ached and twitched a little as he pulled himself away, her eager mouth fighting his retreat, “I’d toss those knickers if I were you.”

Hermione was eager to work the stretched garment down her thighs and let them fall the rest of the way to the floor as she stood again, her hand too covetous to leave his member untouched.

“Get that cock inside me, Severus, now,” She coolly demanded, her leg lifted, her thigh resting on his hip as her other hand pulled him closer by his collar. His dexterity may have deteriorated, but his own therapies had regained his strength. She giggled a little in surprise as he lifted her other leg, letting them grip around his waist tightly. She was trapped between him and the post as his shaft nestled itself between the lips of her dampened sex, “Severus!” she gasped impatiently.

Hermione groaned a moment later when his swollen glans slipped inside of her, the tip a temporary tease. Severus watched her face intently as he let her weight sink her helplessly. Though she stretched to accommodate him and her cheeks reddened from resisting the urge to cry out louder, he did not allow her more time to acclimate. He flexed his hips, the movement thrusting her upwards only so gravity could force her full of him again, the pleasurable dive escalating now with matching force.

She balled up her fists full of his shirt, her thighs gripping his waist with a surprising strength. Her sex ached from his invasion, but it was a delicious ache that stole her breath from her lungs and made her wish it would never end.

Severus quickened his thrusts into a satisfying rhythm. It was paced enough to keep her sex constantly roused with pleasure, but not so quickly that it lacked apparent skill.

“Sev,” Hermione’s eyes fluttered closed as she gasped, then bit the tip of her tongue, “That cock...is fucking magnificent,”

He felt a tingle in his core, he hadn’t been called ‘Sev’ in years, but something about her husky tone made it a treat to his ear.

“I was just about to say the same thing about this juicy cunt of yours, Hermione,” He seethed, his thrusts absorbed by her impaled sex. The post behind her did not cushion any of his plunging campaign. She was glad for it, she wanted to feel the entirety of his talent.

They only paused for a moment as the door opened, their drunken state a mix of alcohol and lustful intoxication. The barkeep paused in his tracks, carrying a crate of empty bottles.

“For fucks sake get lost,” Hermione slurred, her cunt completely full of his cock at the moment, “can’t you see someone’s shagging in here??” She barked at the shocked man, who quickly departed with a slightly frightened look on his face.

“Such a feisty thing,” He was humored by her audaciousness, rewarding her with several quick strokes that pummeled her sex and drew a quivering release from her. She called his name in a raspy plea, slickening his cock so that it slid even more easily and quickly into her.

Severus felt an overwhelming pleasure that his body had been devoid of for far too long and though he would have preferred to let it linger for hours, the time and place did not allow for such a reality. Perhaps his choice of partner added to his perversion. He leaned into her, pinning her tightly as his mouth latched on to her exposed neck. He suckled and nipped at the flushed flesh, crushing her breasts under the weight of his chest.

Hermione wiggled her hips, trying to match his movement. She tried to satiate the recurring tickle that burned inside of her sex. She chased the impending release with fervor, feeling his movements become more instinctual and primal. His breaths labored into almost gravely moans that matched his pace.

“Severus….Severus!” She gasped as her release teetered on the edge, “Fuck...fuck! I’m cumming!” She finally exclaimed as the heated explosion swelled her core, making the pusing eruptions of his cumming cock even more pronounced and gratifying.

Severus felt light-headed as his body’s concentration was on the orgasm that engulfed his being. Her cunt gripped his invading member with a possessive hold, still trembling with aftershocks.

The room was filled with only the sound of weathered, heaving breaths, desperate to fill their lungs and restore their senses.There was a silent stare between them as her shaking legs released him and he helped her feet back under her. She straightened her skirt and brassiere, noticing a disappointed scowl as she covered her breasts. She only smirked, reaching for her wand as she repaired the buttons on her shirt.

The bar was empty as they left, save for the barkeep who kept his gaze downturned as they passed. They parted ways with cordial ‘nice to see you again’s’, neither wanting to make awkward their peculiar evening.

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The interaction did not leave either of their minds, though they continued about their individual lives as normal. Hermione continued her work alongside the department of International Magical Cooperation, travelling abroad to lands and sights that were thrilling and exciting. But even with her busy occupation, the moment of secret passion wove its way to the front of her thoughts often.

One particular evening when the draw of self-indulgent pleasure was too prominent to resist, Hermione used that motivation to extend a greeting. She wrote a letter with careful intent and included an enchanted photograph as she folded and sealed it. She entrusted its delivery with a jet-black owl and set it off into the dark night.

The letter was delivered to its intended recipient as he continued his solitary work. His name scrawled in a feminine penmanship is what caught his attention first. When he flipped it over, Hermione’s initials impressed in the wax seal made excitement well up in his belly, though his exterior remained reserved.

Severus,

I very much enjoyed the chance to be in your company the other evening. And what exhilarating company it was. I hope my letter finds you well and please accept this photograph as a token of my admiration.

I look forward with a great deal of interest in our next ‘reunion’.

Warmest Regards,

Hermione

Severus smirked at the simple, concise letter. The smirk faded only slightly as he watched the enchanted photograph move before his very eyes. Though the border provided only a neck down view, the unbuttoning blouse slowly revealing a familiar lace and cleavage made no mystery of its subject.

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jostenneil · 4 years ago

Note

do you have shounen recs too? other than naruto and fma lol

naruto and fma are like decade long infections that have refused to leave me djdbkdn but yes, i do! i’ll apply the same logic here as i did in the other post where i include some seinen too bc ultimately the distinction is just an age demographic

sket dance (manga) - this is one of my favorite manga of all time! it centers on a group of three friends—bossun, himeko, and switch—who start a student support group at their high school for anyone to come to with their everyday problems. the clientele and their problems are varied in a pretty humorous way, and in the beginning it almost feels like the series is set up to be purely comedic, but as you get further into the series you learn just why the main characters started the club, which is the winning point for me. these characters are so fleshed out and so much of their individual trauma gives insight as to why they’re intent to help and befriend others, especially on bossun’s part. he is probably one of my favorite shounen protagonists period. his character propagates a really wonderful message of how people don’t need to be fixed in order to solve their problems, just listened to and supported, and i adore the series for its exploration of that concept. the mangaka was also an assistant to sorachi on gintama, so i think fans of gintama will rly enjoy it in the sense that both series share similar values, messages, and humor! there’s a few crossovers between the two, iirc. also! i don’t particularly mind the anime and it has a banger soundtrack but just imo the emotional beats hit harder in the manga

silver spoon (anime/manga) - this is the series hiromu arakawa wrote after finishing fma, and i would actually argue that it’s her better work of the two! it centers on a boy named hachiken, who spontaneously decides to enroll at an agricultural high school to get away from his stressful family life in the city, and obviously, it’s a huge reality check for him. he’s dropped into this school where every other student has farming-related ambitions in the long run, while he has no ambitions at all and simply used enrollment as an excuse to get away from his problems. the series is a masterclass in learning about the worth in hard work, camaraderie, and why thinking about your future and what you want to do matters, not just from a practical aspect but also in terms of self fulfillment. as expected of arakawa, it boasts endearing humor, a wonderful array of distinct characters, and a really fleshed out portrayal of farm life, made even more enjoyable and genuine by the fact that she’s writing in her element, as she grew up on a farm herself

tsubasa reservoir chronicle (manga) - this is a cult classic within clamp circles, but outside of that fandom it’s more known as the intimidating clamp series most ppl wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole. and i get that! the fact that it crosses over with some other clamp series makes it pretty confusing to parse through at times. but i also think that’s the series’ greatest strength, bc when you understand the nature of that crossover, the depth of the storytelling is truly brilliant! at its most basic, trc follows a pair of childhood friends, syaoran and sakura, who live in a desert-like “clow country”. sakura walks into some ruins one day and is spontaneously robbed of all of her memories, which syaoran must then journey across multiple dimensions to recapture, as her memories have been scattered in the form of feathers. the pair also have three traveling companions—kurogane, fai, and mokona—and altogether the group visits multiple dimensions that are loosely inspired by clamp’s other series and characters. obv, as the plot progresses, we discover there’s more to the group’s mission than meets the eye, and it ventures into pretty dark, existential territory, as is the norm for clamp. it also may be unpopular of me to say this, but i actually think it’s a great introduction to clamp (it was mine lol), given there’s so many cameos from their previous series and the series sets up such interesting lore. just be warned that you do have to think while reading this series, as the lore is intense! also, do not watch the anime. at all. it’s the worst adaptation ever

ookiku furikabutte (anime/manga) - popularly called oofuri, this series is in my opinion one of the best sports manga published in the last two decades. it follows a boy named mihashi, a baseball pitcher who refuses to give up the mound and essentially alienates himself from his middle school teammates in the process bc they don’t know how to actually utilize his pitches. he enters high school as a total nervous wreck with little to no confidence in himself bc of this experience, until the catcher, abe, recognizes that he’s actually a really unique pitcher unrecognized for his talents by his old teammates. abe and mihashi basically latch onto each other, with abe believing he can mold mihashi into the best pitcher there is, and mihashi believing abe is the one person capable of making him into a good pitcher. it’s a fascinating take on codependency and building up your self esteem, and i would argue that higuchi asa’s sports psychology background lends itself splendidly to the messages oofuri sends about how to build healthy sportsmanship among teenage boys. overall i think it’s a great series to read if you’re looking for catharsis and comfort, as well as baseball lore!

gangsta. (manga) - this series is the most dark and complicated of the works in this list, just as an advisory. there’s prostitution, gang violence, gore, etc etc. but for the presence of all of that, gangsta. is probably one of the most well rounded series i have read in the last few years. it starts with alex benedetto, a prostitute who ends up as the sole survivor of a mass gang murder propagated by two thugs for hire, worick and nic. the two men take her under their wing as a friend and someone who answers their phone, and the three of them form a unique but really loving partnership with each other. the plot eventually extends into a turf war that plagues the town they live in, ergastulum, on account of a drug trade that allows for the breeding of “twilights”, who are essentially drug enhanced superhumans. it’s hard to explain much more without giving away spoilers, but the series has an incredibly diverse cast, in terms of race, disability, and sexuality, and it manages to tackle really dark subject matter without coming off as too edgy or tragedy porn-seque. the artwork is also absolutely gorgeous and the relationships among various characters are portrayed with such amazing nuance, that i can’t even complain when plot points make me sad beyond belief

this is what i have for now but i may add onto it later! do let me know if you enjoy any of these ❤️

#sket dance #gin no saji #tsubasa reservoir chronicle #oofuri #gangsta.#these are fun to do! i also feel like i rambled so much more here omg #mine:recs

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kkintle · 4 years ago

Text

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy; Quotes

Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.

“I always loved you, and if one loves any one, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be.”

“Is this life? I am not living, but waiting for an event, which is continually put off and put off.”

Then, for the first time, grasping that for every man, and himself too, there was nothing in store but suffering, death, and forgetfulness, he had made up his mind that life was impossible like that, and that he must either interpret life so that it would not present itself to him as the evil jest of some devil, or shoot himself.

“Some think marriage a game; for others it is the most serious business of their lives.”

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone,” (...)

“Vengeance is mine,I will repay.”

“Yes, she won’t forgive me, and she can’t forgive me. And the most awful thing about it is that it’s all my fault—all my fault, though I’m not to blame. That’s the point of the whole situation,” he reflected.

There was no solution, but that universal solution which life gives to all questions, even the most complex and insoluble. That answer is: one must live in the needs of the day—that is, forget oneself.

They were fond of one another in spite of the difference of their characters and tastes, as friends are fond of one another who have been together in early youth.

He had heard that women often did care for ugly and ordinary men, but he did not believe it, for he judged by himself, and he could not himself have loved any but beautiful, mysterious, and exceptional women.

He walked down, for a long while avoiding looking at her as at the sun, but seeing her, as one does the sun, without looking.

“Why, of course,” objected Stepan Arkadyevitch. “But that’s just the aim of civilization—to make everything a source of enjoyment.”

Stepan Arkadyevitch smiled. He so well knew that feeling of Levin’s, that for him all the girls in the world were divided into two classes: one class—all the girls in the world except her, and those girls with all sorts of human weaknesses, and very ordinary girls: the other class—she alone, having no weaknesses of any sort and higher than all humanity.

‘Forgive me not according to my unworthiness, but according to Thy loving-kindness.’

“All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.”

There are people who, on meeting a successful rival, no matter in what, are at once disposed to turn their backs on everything good in him, and to see only what is bad. There are people, on the other hand, who desire above all to find in that lucky rival the qualities by which he has outstripped them, and seek with a throbbing ache at heart only what is good.

(...) If one forgives, it must be completely, completely.

Anna was unmistakably admiring her loveliness and her youth: before Kitty knew where she was she found herself not merely under Anna’s sway, but in love with her, as young girls do fall in love with older and married women. Anna was not like a fashionable lady, nor the mother of a boy of eight years old. In the elasticity of her movements, the freshness and the unflagging eagerness which persisted in her face and broke out in her smile and her glance, she would rather have passed for a girl of twenty, had it not been for a serious and at times mournful look in her eyes, which struck and attracted Kitty. Kitty felt that Anna was perfectly simple and was concealing nothing, but that she had another higher world of interests inaccessible to her, complex and poetic.

“So now you know whom you’ve got to do with. And if you think you’re lowering yourself, well, here’s the floor, there’s the door.”

“With friends, one is well; but at home, one is better,” (...)

“Well, there’s nothing to be done. . . . It’s not my fault. But now everything shall go on in a new way. It’s nonsense to pretend that life won’t let one, that the past won’t let one. One must struggle to live better, much better.”

“Every heart has its own skeletons, as the English say.”

She had no need to ask why he had come. She knew as certainly as if he had told her that he was here to be where she was.

As though tears were the indispensable oil, without which the machinery of mutual confidence could not run smoothly between the two sisters, the sisters after their tears talked, not of what was uppermost in their minds, but, though they talked of outside matters, they understood each other.

“ (...) ‘No one is satisfied with his fortune, and every one is satisfied with his wit.’ ” The attaché repeated the French saying.

He felt what a murderer must feel, when he sees the body he has robbed of life. That body, robbed by him of life, was their love, the first stage of their love. There was something awful and revolting in the memory of what had been bought at this fearful price of shame. Shame at their spiritual nakedness crushed her and infected him. But in spite of all the murderer’s horror before the body of his victim, he must hack it to pieces, hide the body, must use what he has gained by his murder.

“ (...) There, do you see, you know the type of Ossian’s women . . . Women, such as one sees in dreams . . . Well, these women are sometimes to be met in reality . . . and these women are terrible. Woman, don’t you know, is such a subject that however much you study it, it’s always perfectly new.” “Well, then, it would be better not to study it.” “No. Some mathematician has said that enjoyment lies in the search for truth, not in the finding it.”

In the pauses of complete stillness there came the rustle of last year’s leaves, stirred by the thawing of the earth and the growth of the grass. “Imagine! One can hear and see the grass growing!”

“Count the sands of the sea, number the stars. (...)”

“The great thing’s to keep quiet before a race,” said he; “don’t get out of temper or upset about anything.”

He was angry with all of them for their interference just because he felt in his soul that they, all these people, were right.

This child’s presence called up both in Vronsky and in Anna a feeling akin to the feeling of a sailor who sees by the compass that the direction in which he is swiftly moving is far from the right one, but that to arrest his motion is not in his power, that every instant is carrying him farther and farther away, and that to admit to himself his deviation from the right direction is the same as admitting his certain ruin.

(...) like a man who, after vainly attempting to extinguish a fire, should fly in a rage with his vain efforts and say, “Oh, very well then! you shall burn for this!”

(...) “we mustn’t forget that those who are taking part in the race are military men, who have chosen that career, and one must allow that every calling has its disagreeable side. It forms an integral part of the duties of an officer. Low sports, such as prize-fighting or Spanish bull-fights, are a sign of barbarity. But specialized trials of skill are a sign of development.”

“Who are you? What are you? Are you really the exquisite creature I imagine you to be? But for goodness’ sake don’t suppose,” her eyes added, “that I would force my acquaintance on you, I simply admire you and like you.” “I like you too, and you’re very, very sweet. And I should like you better still, if I had time,” answered the eyes of the unknown girl.

“Perhaps so,” said the prince, squeezing her hand with his elbow; “but it’s better when one does good so that you may ask every one and no one knows.”

“But time’s money, you forget that,” said the colonel. “Time, indeed, that depends! Why, there’s time one would give a month of for sixpence, and time you wouldn’t give half an hour of for any money.

“ (...) I’ll be bad; but anyway not a liar, a cheat.”

“(...) while you have at your disposal a means of helping them, and don’t help them because to your mind it’s of no importance.” And Sergey Ivanovitch put before him the alternative: either you are so undeveloped that you can’t see all that you can do, or you won’t sacrifice your ease, your vanity, or whatever it is, to do it.

“I imagine,” he said, “that no sort of activity is likely to be lasting if it is not founded on self-interest, that’s a universal principle, a philosophical principle,” (...)

Those joys were so small that they passed unnoticed, like gold in sand, and at bad moments she could see nothing but the pain, nothing but sand; but there were good moments too when she saw nothing but the joy, nothing but gold.

Hypocrisy in anything whatever may deceive the cleverest and most penetrating man, but the least wide-awake of children recognizes it, and is revolted by it, however ingeniously it may be disguised.

“No,” he said to himself, “however good that life of simplicity and toil may be, I cannot go back to it. I love her.”

He experienced the sensations of a man who has had a tooth out after suffering long from toothache. After a fearful agony and a sense of something huge, bigger than the head itself, being torn out of his jaw, the sufferer, hardly able to believe in his own good luck, feels all at once that what has so long poisoned his existence and enchained his attention, exists no longer, and that he can live and think again, and take interest in other things besides his tooth.

“It is a misfortune which may befall any one. And this misfortune has befallen me. The only thing to be done is to make the best of the position.”

And it was not the necessity of concealment, not the aim with which the concealment was contrived, but the process of concealment itself which attracted her.

“To sleep well one ought to work, and to enjoy oneself one ought to work too.”

Every man who knows to the minutest details all the complexity of the conditions surrounding him, cannot help imagining that the complexity of these conditions, and the difficulty of making them clear, is something exceptional and personal, peculiar to himself, and never supposes that others are surrounded by just as complicated an array of personal affairs as he is.

“The manner of life you have chosen is reflected, I suppose, in your ideas.”

When Sviazhsky had finished, Levin could not help asking: “Well, and what then?” But there was nothing to follow. It was simply interesting that it had been proved to be so and so. But Sviazhsky did not explain, and saw no need to explain why it was interesting to him.

“I work, I want to do something, but I had forgotten it must all end; I had forgotten—death.”

The position was one of misery for all three; and not one of them would have been equal to enduring this position for a single day, if it had not been for the expectation that it would change, that it was merely a temporary painful ordeal which would pass over.

By gymnastics and careful attention to his health he had brought himself to such a point that in spite of his excess in pleasure he looked as fresh as a big glossy green Dutch cucumber.

She laid her two hands on his shoulders, and looked a long while at him with a profound, passionate, and at the same time searching look. She was studying his face to make up for the time she had not seen him. She was, every time she saw him, making the picture of him in her imagination (incomparably superior, impossible in reality) fit with him as he really was.

Then he had thought himself unhappy, but happiness was before him; now he felt that the best happiness was already left behind.

He looked at her as a man looks at a faded flower he has gathered, with difficulty recognizing in it the beauty for which he picked and ruined it. And in spite of this he felt that then, when his love was stronger, he could, if he had greatly wished it, have torn that love out of his heart; but now, when as at that moment it seemed to him he felt no love for her, he knew that what bound him to her could not be broken.

“It is old; but do you know, when you grasp this fully, then somehow everything becomes of no consequence. When you understand that you will die to-morrow, if not to-day, and nothing will be left, then everything is so unimportant!

(...) no difference is less easily overcome than the difference of opinion about semi-abstract questions, (...)

“What is horrible in a trouble of this kind is that one cannot, as in any other—in loss, in death—bear one’s trouble in peace, but that one must act,” said he, as though guessing her thought. “One must get out of the humiliating position in which one is placed; one can’t live á trois.”

“One may save any one who does not want to be ruined; but if the whole nature is so corrupt, so depraved, that ruin itself seems to her salvation, what’s to be done?”

“What do they want to argue for? No one ever convinces any one, you know.” “Yes; that’s true,” said Levin; “it generally happens that one argues warmly simply because one can’t make out what one’s opponent wants to prove.”

(...) he had firmly decided in his heart; but he could not tear out of his heart his regret at the loss of her love, he could not erase from his memory those moments of happiness that he had so little prized at the time, and that haunted him in all their charm.

“Doubt is natural to the weakness of mankind,” (...)

“There’s some sense in this custom of saying good-bye to bachelor life,” said Sergey Ivanovitch. “However happy you may be, you must regret your freedom.”

In reality, those who in Vronsky’s opinion had the “proper” view had no sort of view at all, but behaved in general as well-bred persons do behave in regard to all the complex and insoluble problems with which life is encompassed on all sides; they behaved with propriety, avoiding allusions and unpleasant questions. They assumed an air of fully comprehending the import and force of the situation, of accepting and even approving of it, but of considering it superfluous and uncalled for to put all this into words.

The thought of the harm caused to her husband aroused in her a feeling like repulsion, and akin to what a drowning man might feel who has shaken off another man clinging to him. That man did drown. It was an evil action, of course, but it was the sole means of escape, and better not to brood over these fearful facts.

Never did he work with such fervor and success as when things went ill with him, (...)

And the most experienced and adroit painter could not by mere mechanical facility paint anything if the lines of the subject were not revealed to him first.

He knew that Vronsky could not be prevented from amusing himself with painting; he knew that he and all dilettanti had a perfect right to paint what they liked, but it was distasteful to him. A man could not be prevented from making himself a big wax doll, and kissing it. But if the man were to come with the doll and sit before a man in love, and begin caressing his doll as the lover caressed the woman he loved, it would be distasteful to the lover. Just such a distasteful sensation was what Mihailov felt at the sight of Vronsky’s painting: he felt it both ludicrous and irritating, both pitiable and offensive.

At every step he experienced what a man would experience who, after admiring the smooth, happy course of a little boat on a lake, should get himself into that little boat. He saw that it was not all sitting still, floating smoothly; that one had to think too, not for an instant to forget where one was floating; and that there was water under one, and that one must row; and that his unaccustomed hands would be sore; and that it was only to look at it that was easy; but that doing it, though very delightful, was very difficult.

But it is hard for anyone who is dissatisfied not to blame some one else, and especially the person nearest of all to him, for the ground of his dissatisfaction

“He’s just one of those people of whom they say they’re not for this world.”

He was nine years old; he was a child; but he knew his own soul, it was precious to him, he guarded it as the eyelid guards the eye, and without the key of love he let no one into his soul.

One may sit for several hours at a stretch with one’s legs crossed in the same position, if one knows that there’s nothing to prevent one’s changing one’s position; but if a man knows that he must remain sitting so with crossed legs, then cramps come on, the legs begin to twitch and to strain towards the spot to which one would like to draw them.

She had prepared everything but the words she should say to her son. Often as she had dreamed of it, she could never think of anything.

(...) and slightly turning, was saying something to Yashvin. The setting of her head on her handsome, broad shoulders, and the restrained excitement and brilliance of her eyes and her whole face reminded him of her just as he had seen her at the ball in Moscow. But he felt utterly different towards her beauty now. In his feeling for her now there was no element of mystery, and so her beauty, though it attracted him even more intensely than before, gave him now a sense of injury.

“You think he can’t fall in love,” said Kitty, translating into her own language. “It’s not so much that he can’t fall in love,” Levin said, smiling, “but he has not the weakness necessary.... I’ve always envied him, and even now, when I’m so happy, I still envy him.” “You envy him for not being able to fall in love?” “I envy him for being better than I,” said Levin. “He does not live for himself. His whole life is subordinated to his duty. And that’s why he can be calm and contented.”

“I don’t think anything,” she said, “but I always loved you, and if one loves any one, one loves the whole person, just as they are and not as one would like them to be....”

“It’s our Russian apathy,” said Vronsky, pouring water from an iced decanter into a delicate glass on a high stem; “we’ve no sense of the duties our privileges impose upon us, and so we refuse to recognize these duties.”

But her chief thought was still of herself—how far she was dear to Vronsky, how far she could make up to him for all he had given up. Vronsky appreciated this desire not only to please, but to serve him, which had become the sole aim of her existence, but at the same time he wearied of the loving snares in which she tried to hold him fast. As time went on, and he saw himself more and more often held fast in these snares, he had an ever-growing desire, not so much to escape from them, as to try whether they hindered his freedom.

“But you say it’s an institution that’s served its time.” “That it may be, but still it ought to be treated a little more respectfully. Snetkov, now ... We may be of use, or we may not, but we’re the growth of a thousand years. If we’re laying out a garden, planning one before the house, you know, and there you’ve a tree that’s stood for centuries in the very spot... Old and gnarled it may be, and yet you don’t cut down the old fellow to make room for the flowerbeds, but lay out your beds so as to take advantage of the tree. You won’t grow him again in a year,” (...)

But, as he told her, the more he did nothing, the less time he had to do anything.

“If you look for perfection, you will never be satisfied. And it’s true, as papa says,—that when we were brought up there was one extreme—we were kept in the basement, while our parents lived in the best rooms; now it’s just the other way—the parents are in the wash-house, while the children are in the best rooms. Parents now are not expected to live at all, but to exist altogether for their children.” “Well, what if they like it better?”

(...) felt a great weariness from the fruitless strain on his attention.

Anna had come from behind the treillage to meet him, and Levin saw in the dim light of the study the very woman of the portrait, in a dark blue shot gown, not in the same position nor with the same expression, but with the same perfection of beauty which the artist had caught in the portrait. She was less dazzling in reality, but, on the other hand, there was something fresh and seductive in the living woman which was not in the portrait.

Anna talked not merely naturally and cleverly, but cleverly and carelessly, attaching no value to her own ideas and giving great weight to the ideas of the person she was talking to.

If you knew how I feel on the brink of calamity at this instant, how afraid I am of myself!”

There are no conditions to which a man cannot become used, especially if he sees that all around him are living in the same way.

Yet that grief and this joy were alike outside all the ordinary conditions of life; they were loopholes, as it were, in that ordinary life through which there came glimpses of something sublime. And in the contemplation of this sublime something the soul was exalted to inconceivable heights of which it had before had no conception, while reason lagged behind, unable to keep up with it.

But as he looked at her, he saw again that help was impossible, and he was filled with terror and prayed: “Lord, have mercy on us, and help us!” And as time went on, both these conditions became more intense; the calmer he became away from her, completely forgetting her, the more agonizing became both her sufferings and his feeling of helplessness before them. He jumped up, would have liked to run away, but ran to her. Sometimes, when again and again she called upon him, he blamed her; but seeing her patient, smiling face, and hearing the words, “I am worrying you,” he threw the blame on God; but thinking of God, at once he fell to beseeching God to forgive him and have mercy.

In order to carry through any undertaking in family life, there must necessarily be either complete division between the husband and wife, or loving agreement. When the relations of a couple are vacillating and neither one thing nor the other, no sort of enterprise can be undertaken.

She was jealous not of any particular woman but of the decrease of his love. Not having got an object for her jealousy, she was on the lookout for it. At the slightest hint she transferred her jealousy from one object to another.

This irritated Anna. She saw in this a contemptuous reference to her occupations. And she bethought her of a phrase to pay him back for the pain he had given her. “I don’t expect you to understand me, my feelings, as any one who loved me might, but simple delicacy I did expect,” she said.

For an instant she had a clear vision of what she was doing, and was horrified at how she had fallen away from her resolution. But even though she knew it was her own ruin, she could not restrain herself, could not keep herself from proving to him that he was wrong, could not give way to him.

“(...) What’s so awful is that one can’t tear up the past by its roots. One can’t tear it out, but one can hide one’s memory of it. And I’ll hide it.”

“He thought he knew me. Well, he knows me as well as any one in the world knows me. I don’t know myself.”

“We all want what is sweet and nice. If not sweetmeats, then a dirty ice.”

“Yes, of what Yashvin says, the struggle for existence and hatred is the one thing that holds men together. No, it’s a useless journey you’re making,” she said, mentally addressing a party in a coach and four, evidently going for an excursion into the country. “And the dog you’re taking with you will be no help to you. You can’t get away from yourselves.”

Then she thought that life might still be happy, and how miserably she loved and hated him, and how fearfully her heart was beating.

“Yes, I’m very much worried, and that’s what reason was given me for, to escape; so then one must escape: why not put out the light when there’s nothing more to look at, when it’s sickening to look at it all? But how?”

“There’s no one I should less dislike seeing than you,” said Vronsky. “Excuse me; and there’s nothing in life for me to like.”

And all at once a different pain, not an ache, but an inner trouble, that set his whole being in anguish, made him for an instant forget his toothache.

And he tried to think of her as she was when he met her the first time, at a railway-station too, mysterious, exquisite, loving, seeking and giving happiness, and not cruelly revengeful as he remembered her on that last moment. He tried to recall his best moments with her, but those moments were poisoned forever. He could only think of her as triumphant, successful in her menace of a wholly useless remorse never to be effaced. He lost all consciousness of toothache, and his face worked with sobs.

Levin felt suddenly like a man who has changed his warm fur cloak for a muslin garment, and going for the first time into the frost is immediately convinced, not by reason, but by his whole nature that he is as good as naked, and that he must infallibly perish miserably.

(...) something had happened that seemed extraordinary to him. He, an unbeliever, had fallen into praying, and at the moment he prayed, he believed. But that moment had passed, and he could not make his state of mind at that moment fit into the rest of his life. He could not admit that at that moment he knew the truth, and that now he was wrong; for as soon as he began thinking calmly about it, it all fell to pieces. He could not admit that he was mistaken then, for his spiritual condition then was precious to him, and to admit that it was a proof of weakness would have been to desecrate those moments. He was miserably divided against himself, and strained all his spiritual forces to the utmost to escape from this condition.

“Without knowing what I am and why I am here, life’s impossible; and that I can’t know, and so I can’t live,” Levin said to himself. “In infinite time, in infinite matter, in infinite space, is formed a bubble-organism, and that bubble lasts a while and bursts, and that bubble is Me.” It was an agonizing error, but it was the sole logical result of ages of human thought in that direction. This was the ultimate belief on which all the systems elaborated by human thought in almost all their ramifications rested. It was the prevalent conviction, and of all other explanations Levin had unconsciously, not knowing when or how, chosen it, as any way the clearest, and made it his own. But it was not merely a falsehood, it was the cruel jeer of some wicked power, some evil, hateful power, to whom one could not submit. He must escape from this power. And the means of escape every man had in his own hands. He had but to cut short this dependence on evil. And there was one means—death.

Whether he were acting rightly or wrongly he did not know, and far from trying to prove that he was, nowadays he avoided all thought or talk about it. Reasoning had brought him to doubt, and prevented him from seeing what he ought to do and what he ought not. When he did not think, but simply lived, he was continually aware of the presence of an infallible judge in his soul, determining which of two possible courses of action was the better and which was the worse, and as soon as he did not act rightly, he was at once aware of it. So he lived, not knowing and not seeing any chance of knowing what he was and what he was living for, and harassed at this lack of knowledge to such a point that he was afraid of suicide, and yet firmly laying down his own individual definite path in life.

“Then she recovered, but to-day or to-morrow or in ten years she won’t; they’ll bury her, and nothing will be left either of her or of that smart girl in the red jacket, who with that skilful, soft action shakes the ears out of their husks. They’ll bury her and this piebald horse, and very soon too,”

“Yes, all the newspapers do say the same thing,” said the prince. “That’s true. But so it is the same thing that all the frogs croak before a storm. One can hear nothing for them.”

“The people make sacrifices and are ready to make sacrifices for their soul, but not for murder,”

“Were you very much frightened?” she said. “So was I too, but I feel it more now that it’s over. (...)”

“What is it? you’re not worried about anything?” she said, looking intently at his face in the starlight. But she could not have seen his face if a flash of lightning had not hidden the stars and revealed it. In that flash she saw his face distinctly, and seeing him calm and happy, she smiled at him.

“No, I’d better not speak of it,” he thought, when she had gone in before him. “It is a secret for me alone, of vital importance for me, and not to be put into words. “This new feeling has not changed me, has not made me happy and enlightened all of a sudden, as I had dreamed, just like the feeling for my child. There was no surprise in this either. Faith—or not faith—I don’t know what it is—but this feeling has come just as imperceptibly through suffering, and has taken firm root in my soul. “I shall go on in the same way, losing my temper with Ivan the coachman, falling into angry discussions, expressing my opinions tactlessly; there will be still the same wall between the holy of holies of my soul and other people, even my wife; I shall still go on scolding her for my own terror, and being remorseful for it; I shall still be as unable to understand with my reason why I pray, and I shall still go on praying; but my life now, my whole life apart from anything that can happen to me, every minute of it is no more meaningless, as it was before, but it has the positive meaning of goodness, which I have the power to put into it.”

#Anna karenina #Leo tolstoy #classic fiction #fiction #quotes #literature

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bitter69uk · 5 years ago

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Satan in High Heels (1962). Tagline: “They all went where the heat was hottest!” I’m using this period of enforced social isolation to explore the weirder corners of YouTube for long forgotten and obscure movies. (My boyfriend Pal is accompanying me only semi-willingly). Hard-boiled and stylish, Satan in High Heels represents the acme of early sixties sexploitation not made by Russ Meyer. Characterized by exceptionally good acting, noir-ish and atmospheric black-and-white cinematography and an urgent jazz soundtrack, Satan was filmed in just 21 days with an estimated budget of less than $100,000 – and is a taut 89-minute journey into deep sleaze.

The plot offers the same essential premise as an earlier b-movie I recently raved about, Wicked Woman (1953) starring Beverly Michaels: a disreputable trampy woman washes-up in a new town and proceeds to stir-up trouble. In this case, it’s scheming, manipulative and utterly amoral fairground burlesque dancer Stacey Kane (played by 1950s chanteuse and pin-up queen Meg Myles). Weary of her hard-scrabble two-bit existence bumping-and-grinding in the carnival, Stacey robs her useless heroin addict husband of $900 and flees to New York to re-invent herself as a singer. Cynically using sex and a smile, the redheaded vixen inveigles her way into a gig crooning at the upscale Greenwich Village nightclub managed by fiercely chic and jaded lesbian proprietress Pepe (the reliably-intense Grayson Hall, in a role anticipating Elaine Stritch in Who Killed Teddy Bear? (1965)). Stacey promptly becomes the mistress of wealthy married businessman Arnold Kenyon, but – to considerably complicate things – she also pursues Kenyon’s feckless beatnik son Laurence. (Within the context of the film, we’re presumably meant to think young Laurence is the “appropriate” love interest, but the actor who plays Arnold is significantly more appealing – he’s a suave silver-haired DILF in the tradition of Roger Sterling in Mad Men).

Aside from some fleeting glimpses of side boob in a gratuitous skinny-dipping scene, no actual nudity is on display. But Satan’s producer Leonard Burtman’s background was in the realm of fetish porn magazines (his specialist titles included Bizarre Life, Exotique and High Heels), and that sensibility is amply reflected onscreen in the emphasis on Stacey’s spike-heeled Spring-o-Lator mules (her footwear is by Sydney’s of Hollywood) and especially the kinky black leather dominatrix ensemble she wears (complete with jodhpurs and riding crop) growling the climactic musical number “The Female of the Species” (sample lyric: "I'm the kind of woman/ Not hard to understand / I'm the kind that cracks the whip /And takes the upper hand". At points you can audibly hear the leather creaking as Stacy moves). Everyone snarls their tough-as-nails dialogue, chain-smokes and knocks-back hard liquor. (You could play a fun drinking game taking a sip every time a character onscreen does, but it would risk projectile vomiting).

Sporting an impressive lacquered beehive, Meg Myles is wholly commanding as bitch goddess extraordinaire Stacey. She radiates bad girl anti-charm, and she’s got a sultry way of delivering a jazz ballad, too. Satan is at its most campily enjoyable in the scenes of Stacey and stern task mistress Pepe sparring (the club’s handsome gay pianist Paul – played by Del Tenney – sometimes joins in). “I’m not upset. I’m tired,” Stacy complains at one point. “T-I-R-E-D!” "You'll EAT and DRINK what I SAY until you lose five pounds IN THE PLACES WHERE!" Pepe fires back. “I don’t care if you can breathe or not – you’ll wear a girdle and smile!” With her butch tailored suits and long cigarette holder, Grayson Hall is a consummate scene stealer and a great LGBTQ role model! (Inexplicably, Hall hated this film and used to deny appearing in it). Watch also for simpering ultra-kitsch sex bomb Sabrina (the British Jayne Mansfield) as Stacey’s bitter rival. She’s gloriously awful! Link to watch film.

Let’s face it: the puritanical, hypocritical and homophobic hellsite Tumblr has become a dying platform since it banned adult content in December 2018. I post here less and less. Follow me instead on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook or on my blog. Fuck Tumblr!

#satan in high heels #meg myles #grayson hall #sexploitation #vintage sleaze #b-movie #burlesque #lobotomy room #lobotomy room club #bad girl #kitsch #retro #atomic era #sexploitation cinema

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redemptionbaby · 5 years ago

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The Altar is Calling

Pairing: Demon!Low Honor?Arthur/Noble!Reader

Summary: Practicing your vows for an arranged marriage, you’ve accidentally performed them atop an ancient ruined alter, and bound yourself to Arthur

Words: 1240

Author’s note: This is probably kinda bad lmao I’m rusty and tired and Arthur is just whoever I want him to be at this point

The forest has always been a place of serenity, finding sacredness in its lack of change. There’s a spiritual connection to be found when stepping on stones carved long before even your grandparents were born, since eroded and reclaimed by nature. Their markings are faded in clarity and in the memories of generations, once meaningful but now unintelligible.

You find yourself upon this hallowed ground not in search of spiritual clarity, or reflection, but memory. The truth isn’t simply that you’re a spoiled noble girl with nothing better to do than rehearse vows for an arranged marriage, though you look upon it with a sense of complacent dread. The truth is that you’re not allowed to do much of anything else.

“With this hand I will… I will…” Your forgetfulness beckoned you into your own wandering thoughts. Was this family crest little but a burden cast upon you at birth? To be free of the troubles of survival, and robbed of choice in recompense? You tried to continue despite not finishing the first line.

“Love and something something, I promise to be your… wife? No, that sounds stupid. Even for a wedding.” To be completely honest, you paid much more attention to the pleasant sound of your heels clacking against stones than to your recitation. And who wouldn’t? Everyone loves a good heel clack.

“Give me peace and retrospection. Maybe?” The woods echoed with the sounds of your indifference and melancholy. No birds, no rustling leaves.

“And you will be my knight. That part, I know!” you cheered inwardly without much thought, and plopped down onto an area of mossy cobble, with an exasperated sigh escaping you. Did you truly have no talents? Charm, agency, not even memory? That couldn’t be. You were sure you could remember if you really tried. Rehearsal be damned, you had something to prove to yourself.

“With this hand, I will guide you through the darkness

With love and generosity, I promise to be your light

Give me peace and protection

And you will be my knight”

To say you were pleased with yourself was the understatement of the year. But if you were to refuse yourself such simple pleasures as that, you’d scarcely find any enjoyment in life. You were pulled from your contentment by a hand reaching around your waist. A big hand. The warmed, biggest hand you’d ever felt. Not that you were some sort of serial hand-toucher or anything.

Curiosity overpowered what little sense of self-preservation you had. With guidance from the aforementioned hand and the arm attached to it, presumably the rest of the body as well, you spun around to find yourself in the arms of someone you’d never seen before. Someone or something not of this world.

Normally you would not so hastily draw such conclusions, or course. You weren’t judgemental or anything. But the signs were there, in the form of one strikingly handsome man, tall and well built, sporting a pair of curled black horns, a matching black tail, and cloven feet. And yes, his legs were like, kinda hairy, but people sometimes said the same about you. Everything about him expressed his being able to snap you like a twig, but the way he held you somehow told you better. It was a snug and tender hold, not uncomfortable, but precisely the way someone very insecure and simultaneously excited holds something. You were broken away from your thoughts yet again, and like, talk about rude, by a voice. His voice. Low down, drawling, a touch of gruffness, but gentle beneath it all.

“Couldn’ta said it better myself, sweetheart.” The adoration behind his words and his eyes, which you’d now met, was overwhelming. The kiss he planted on your lips was just the same. Suffice to say, you were too dumbstruck with confusion to retaliate. You didn’t know where to start with all this.

“Who are you?” panic, though not evident in your voice, was starting to creep into your chest from your diaphragm like a worm through an apple. If worms actually did that, you’ve never actually seen it, but you’d always wanted to. He had the nerve to laugh in a non committal way.

“Yer husband, as of about two minutes ago.” And also a huge clown, he forgot to say.

“Rather, um, why?” He sighed a little, a mix of both dreamy and relenting, as he saw you clearly didn’t know a damned thing about what happened and you weren’t just gonna make it easy for him by rolling with the punches. But love ain’t supposed to be easy, he remembers.

“Y’said those vows on my altar, darlin’. Though ya might not have guessed it, from the state of things ‘round here.” He gestured to the floor of carved stones, runes just barely aglow with his presence. “Contract’s a contract. And you wouldn’t believe how long I been waitin’ to hear words like those, sweet pea. Never woulda believed they’d come from someone as cute as you. Never thought they’d sound quite that lovely, either.” His expression grows softer, and quite honestly, way harder to refuse as he speaks. With the thought of your former betrothed, whose face you can barely recall now, you can’t say you’re not warming up to the idea of being married to like, a goat-man-spirit or whatever. Just a little.

“You just married yourself a demon, pretty lady. But I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll make ya happy, protect you ‘n all the other stuff good husbands are ‘spposed to do. Arthur Morgan, at your service.” The last part sounds like an afterthought, but you can’t fight your polite upbringing and introduce yourself in turn while he smiles like an idiot, unbeknownst to him.

“That’s a fine name. Real pretty.”

------

Before you know it, for hours you’ve been sat on the stony ground chatting up your ‘husband’. Every so often he tried to inch a little closer to you, and half the time you indulge him, the other half you scoot away and tease him. And Arthur is surprised. You’ve got way more questions about matrimony than you do the whole demon thing. No askin’ about living in hell, or bearing the antichrist. Your most recent question was about if you had to take his last name.

“I don’t expect you to or nothin’, it ain’t exactly interesting, Morgan. Hell, I think I forget it sometimes. Demons don’t tend to care about that sorta thing anyhow.”

His more sadistic, “stereotypical demon” personality starts shining through when he talks about how a lot of demons brand their partners instead. You can see him delight in the apprehension and worry on your face.

“Don’t worry babygirl, I ain’t gonna subject you to anythin’ like that. Not yet, anyways.” Careful, Arthur. Your unmarriageable clown is showing.

A call through the forest interrupts your arguably pleasant chit-chat. Your name. It’s one of the servants. Dusk is fast approaching the horizon, and the scheduled time for your wedding rehearsal must be near.

“Got somewhere to be, little lady?”

“You could say that. There’s something you should know about me, Arthur. I’m betrothed.”

The momentary delight at hearing his own name from your lips is cut short with a simmering jealous annoyance. He quiets it down. You’re not ready to see him like that yet, but someday he’ll be able to bear his soul to you, he can feel it.

“Well. Nobody’s perfect.”

#drabble #writing #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 x reader #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #demon au #au

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jj-lynn21 · 5 years ago

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The Calling ch 5

Warnings: SMUT, drinking, outcome is readers preference.

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4

The email for your next day of filming calls for an 80s look. Somehow you found just the look and a few other outfits just in case. They also sent a message looking for sports cars from 1984 and before that could be used in a street race scene. Your car isn’t brand new but its not that old.

You go through the usual process checking in when you get to holding. You even help some others that are there for the first time. It is a huge seen. One hundred people in an auditorium to get clothing checked. Some are going to play other street gang members in this street race. You are there to be a spectator to the whole thing. None of the usual suspects you hang with are there so other than Dan, the P.A. and Shelly who signed you in, you don’t recognize anyone. You sit in the auditorium and chat with some people that ask you questions about your other experiences.

After everyone is checked in and they have on what they need to be wearing for the scene everyone goes to the regular holding area where breakfast burritos are waiting. There is also pastries, donuts, bagels, fruit, juice, milk, pop, tea and coffee with creamers. You sit with the few people you started talking to in the auditorium. Hours pass with no word of when your scene will be shot. Lunch burritos are severed with French fries for lunch. The people around you start asking about when you think filming will start.

“They will come get us when they are ready,” You tell them. “We get paid for sitting here chatting and playing games on our phones so it’s probably the easiest ten dollars an hour you will ever make.”

You see dusk fall out the window. Dan walks in with a clip board and goes over to Shelly and talks to her for a few minutes. A few people walk up to them to ask about filming. Dan gets a call on the walkie.

“Ok everyone please follow me outside.” Dan said. “It’s a warm evening so no jackets. We want to see those 80s looks.”

He leads everyone down the stairs. Through the back of the building. And outside to wear several cars sit. A buzz comes over the crowd as you see Robert Pattinson leaning again a red Toyota Supra.

“Those here with there to be gang members go talk to Harry holding the white flag.” Dan said. “The rest of you follow me. Remember you have to stay quiet during shooting.”

He lines everyone up three people deep on either side of the race path.

“All you do is cheer as loud as you can when you here action,” Dan said.

“Action,” you here.

You scream and holler as the cars get pulled down the race path through the street by contraptions that hold cameras that capture the actors inside. They aren’t going fast by any stretch of the imagination, but it is interesting to watch and react to. That is filmed a dozen times or more. Before Robert switches places with his body double stunt man. The contraption is taken off the car. The real race begins as the stunt drivers spreed around the area. Screeching tires and smoke fill your senses.

Your eyes are red and watery as the director and others scream, “IT’S A WRAP!”

Everyone is escorted back to holding to sign out. You sign out, grab your bag and head to the bathroom to freshen up for the wrap party if you can find it at twelve-thirty in the morning. You put on one of the less over the top 80s outfits you brought. A form fitted pair of dark blue jegging with a hot pink baby doll style top that shows just a bit of cleavage.

You put the address in your gps to find your way. Its easy to spot right as you make the last turn. The sign says, closed for private party. A DJ is playing some top forty hit as you walk inside and look around. There is a guy a few steps inside making sure no random people get in.

“Sorry Miss,” he said stopping you with his hand. “Private event tonight.”

“I worked on the movie,” You said.

He smirks, “Got some proof of that darlin’?”

“I can show you my…” you look through your small purse that was in your overnight bag with your cloths for the day to find your pay slip.

“Hey Charlie, she’s cool,” You look up to see your favorite actor with their favorite drink in hand. “Let me buy you a drink.”

You gather yourself upright as you walk over to them. “Thanks,” You smile. Your person smiles back at you.

“Anything she wants Tony,” they tell the bar tender.

You order your favorite drink. You see mostly crew people chatting at tables. Drinking the workday away. Your favorite actor puts their hand on your back.

“Come on, we are all over on the couches.” They say and you walk along.

“Hey,” They all say in unison as you walk over. They hold their drinks in the air. All smiling with that little bit of tipsiness already gleaming in their eyes.

“Hi,” You say as your favorite person pulls you down to sit with them.

“Has anyone figured out what this bloody movie is truly about yet?” Tom asked the group. “They never sent me a full script or told me more than my specific part. I had a good time filming with you though.” He looks to you and winks. You blush and take a drink.

“Of course, they aren’t going to tell you anything, Tom.” Sebastian laughed. “The only one worse than you at keeping movie secrets is Mark. How about shots all around?”

He snaps his fingers. A bouncy red head in a black dress comes over to ask what we all need. He orders a round of Jägermeister shots for everyone which includes you, Tom Holland, Sebastian Stan, Bill Skarsgard, Alex Skarsgard, Anna Paquin, Stephen Moyer and Robert Pattinson.

You are sitting, chatting, drinking, doing shots with all these people because you must have own some lottery you have no clue you even entered you think to yourself as you listen to them chat about traveling here and other more interesting things about life and past acting experiences. Your head spins as you get more intoxicated along with everyone else. How the Hell did you even get to this point you think to yourself but then you decide to add to the conversation about work history when someone bring up the vampire topic.

“Other than four vampires here. There are also five superheroes.” You laugh.

Bill said, “Pattinson doesn’t count as a Vampire and I was an umpire. Completely different species.”

“It does count,” He looks to you for confirmation. “Just ask her.”

Maybe you completely agree with him that his version of a vampire in current society was indeed a perfectly sexy depiction.

Maybe you don’t agree with him. Instead going towards a thought of a more brutal, crazed, bi-sexual, sensual monster.

Bill said, “Roman wasn’t bi-sexual not that there would have been anything wrong with that.”

“Roman totally wanted to fuck Peter,” You blurted out. “Check the on-line fanbase Bill.”

He chuckles, “Are those the same people that want to bang the clown?”

“No, that’s a completely different group but there is probably a group within both those fan groups that think Peter and Roman were in love and also want to bang Pennywise.” You laugh. “If you only knew.”

“Oh, I know.” He grins.

“Ok, fangbangers, clownfuckers aside, I only count three superheroes here,” Anna said.

Tom said, “And I only count two. So, how is your count five, love? Maybe you had one to many shots?”

“I’m great.” You slightly slurred your words which everyone else was doing. “Not sure about takin an Uber all the way home and getting back to pick my car up but that’s future me’s problem.” You laughed “Anyway, Tom and Sebastian are avengers. Anna is part of the X-Men. Bill was part of X-force. And Rob is filming Batman shortly, correct?”

“That’s correct,” Robert said. “Because the world needs more batman movies” He chuckles.

Everyone laughs.

Your person whispers to you, “No need to take an uber all the way home Sweetie. You can spend the night with me(us). I’ll have someone get your car to hotel. If you really want to that is?”

You just nod yes. The sun is coming up by the time you stumble out of the club with your favorite person(s). You make out like crazy in the back of the car as soon as the door shuts. Its sweaty messy slobbery kisses and groping, heavy breathing since you were holding back so much inside the club and you are both drunk. But you would be doing this with this person(s) sober.

The morning is a blur of body parts slapping, multiple orgasms and pure enjoyment from what you could remember when you woke to an empty hotel room. There were flowers, breakfast and a note on a table in the room. You read the note.

Sorry, I had to catch a flight (home or) to my next production before you woke. I’m so glad I (we) met you love. I hope to get back here again. Feel free to text me. 555-657-5544 talk to you soon. You have the room the rest of the day so no need to rush yourself.

Forever always,

Your lover

You just smile to yourself. Eat the breakfast on the table and get ready to go home.

#robert pattinson #tom holland #sebastian stan #bill skarsgard #alex skarsgard #anna paquin #stephen moyer #fanfic #fan fiction #au #extra #x reader #smut #lust #drinking #fantasy

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goatyuzuru · 6 years ago

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Thoughts on 2018/2019 Season

Actually, I am supposed to be on a figure skating fast because I want to take a break, take a step back, and remove my feelings from this sport. It’s helped me a lot this week. But I think before I refast, I want to say I’m just so glad this season is finally over. The way the corruption of this sport escalated was beyond what I even expected. I knew about the corruption, the politicking, the amusement of the way judges score skaters, however, I didn’t think it took less than 1 season for it to get to a new level. I see skaters getting low 80s to mid 90s throughout 1 season. I see robbing everywhere. I see selective calls. I know it will not change even after this season ended, but having this off season will allow me to breathe.

Over the past weeks of grieving about World Championships 2019 Men’s event results, I am now in a mix of stages among bargaining/depression/acceptance. I think I ranted too much on twitter and Planet Hanyu last two weeks that I don’t think I need to talk about my denial or anger stages.

Bargaining

There were many what ifs that went through my mind during these couple of weeks.

“What if Yuzu was never injured? not at cor 2018, not at nhk 2017, or not even his many other injuries that he’s decided to never share with the public? He would probably have been invincible by now.” But that is such an unrealistic and greedy expectation for an elite skater. Also, Yuzu is a human who simply makes the most out of what he has. I don't want to think of him as invincible or superhuman. We are all human who think we are subhuman trying to be superhuman. Yuzu is already inspirational by being his full potential. He allows me to love both the weak Yuzuru and the strong Yuzuru.

“What if I never discovered Yuzu in 2016? What if I never discovered figure skating in 2010? When I first came to know Yuzu I thought because he won so much, the sport actually rewards talent. After a while I slowly discovered the ugly truth that even when he did win a lot in his life, he’s been robbed and underscored chronically. It was he who earned those titles, snatched those scores off from the judges’ dirty hands, challenged the system, and fought his way to be above the scoring corruption and above the sport. So when I found out the truth about what this sport really is, I really wished I never knew about it.” But then to know Yuzu is also one of the best things that happened to me. He inspired me as a person in so many ways. And to know Yuzu means I have known what true figure skating is. There is real figure skating in Yuzuru Hanyu and the figure skating that ISU is promoting.

“What if he never won at PyeongChang? That might have been better for me to quit watching figure skating at that time." But that would be super selfish and stupid. The gold medal is one of the best compensations that happened to Yuzu throughout his competitive life as a skater.

“What if he retired after PC? The sport doesn’t deserve him. Everyone benefited from his presence except the man himself.” But I am not Yuzu and I can’t walk his journey. I can’t feel his pain or happiness so how would I know he won’t still enjoy his difficult road ahead.

“What if Yuzu changes the way he skates? What if he tries to go with Nathan’s or Vincent’s strategy? The system doesn’t judge program components correctly or penalize incorrect techniques, so why bother following the rules when you’re not rewarded? Or "what if he changes his nationality to Canada, Japan doesn’t deserve him anyway?” But I realize from Yuzu’s interviews that while he hates losing the most, he would never change himself in order to win. I realize that it is as hard for Yuzu to empty his program for the jumps as Nathan delivering a complete program. Likewise, it is as hard for Yuzu to cheat his techniques as Vincent trying to correct his. And even if Yuzu did all of these things Nathan or Vincent did, he isn’t an American to get this treatment. Yuzu isn’t the one who should change, should lower his standard. It is the ISU, the judges, the tech panelist, the federations. Yuzu does not need a new passport to win. He did it before to be beyond the corruption, he can possibly do it again.

After bargaining so much, I realized none of the what ifs will do any good for Yuzu, for the other skaters, for the sport, or myself. I was led to a stage of depression.

Depression

I guess to many spectators, the scoring discourses on social media and among fandoms seem very silly or “not that deep”. But as someone who thoroughly invest my time, energy, and emotion as a fan for it, I find the necessity in having these voices so that even if the scores don’t stand or the system collapses, the true figure skaters can be remembered, the message of unfairness can be reached to new fans. Seeing myself, who is this much invested into the sport just as a fan, I wonder how much more the many figure skaters, who’ve gone through such pressure and discipline, financial hardship and injuries, emotional breakdowns and sacrifices, have been robbed of their potential titles/scores/sponsorships.

The problem I’m seeing is not only the skaters who don’t benefit from the corruption are negatively affected, the skaters who benefit from the corruption also get hate from many people. Look, I don’t hate the American skaters like Nathan/Vincent/Bradie or the Russian skaters from Eteri camp/Samarin...etc. When I don’t like someone’s skating I am usually just indifferent to them, meaning I don’t bother following them. That’s simple; if you don’t like something, you stop watching it. The problem is these skaters are being shoved into my faces and the way they are being overscored robbed me of my enjoyment for the sport because I find it unfair. That’s also very simple. So I hate to see people generalizing all of the rants are coming from a place of biasness or antis. That is not true. Also, as soon as you are a fan of certain skater, in my case a Yuzuru Hanyu’s fan, you are automatically being labeled as a sore loser or hater. The thing is, many fans who truly study figure skating would agree that the scores don’t match with what are being seen. But it happens that they might be a smaller part of a fandom and don’t get too vocal about this. So instead of seeing everyone as an obsessive fanyu, perhaps the reason many of them fight so hard is to see someone like Yuzuru Hanyu, who is the epitome of a figure skater, gets rewarded deservedly. Perhaps it’s because we value great technique and great skating and the skaters who won happen to not have those? I think it is fair to say a lot of people would get hurt because their favorite skaters did not win and the initial reaction could be a bit overwhelming. That’s normal. But if what they are witnessing in the sport that led to their criticism are fair, they should have the right to vocalize their criticism in order for justice to be heard, especially the rulebook to back their criticism.

Yet over and over, no matter how reasonable many people have been. No matter how much effort in putting up videos to compare skaters’ programs or to explain the discrepancies in the way the tech panel called or didn’t call certain elements, the ISU and general public decide to be ignorant about it. They create their own narratives or put up media play to benefit themselves. They take down videos to remove the evidences. I even think of proposals on how to change the scoring system/format. Maybe the skaters shouldn’t get the scores right after they skate? Maybe we should only have 1 panel of the same judges? Maybe the judges/tech need more time to review the elements and program components? Maybe ice scopes should be inplemented for all jumps and in all countries. Every single element will be put into video cuts for the judges and tech to review and mark the bullets accordingly so the GOEs will autopopulate? The definitions in the rulebooks need to be given more objective, quantative metrics based on collective data or stats? Maybe the scores should be temporarily announced 2 hours after the competition (if the scores get announced later, the competition will be shortened) and the public can vote for what scores need to be reviewed. They can ask the judges to write a review at the end of the day on why they score the elements/PC and if the public do not agree they judges will get a strike. After 3 strikes in their career, the judges will be banned from judging? If any fed decides to bribe the public, at least someone can report it? I thought about all of these possibilities...

And I realize the products are not going to change as long as the creator isn’t willing. There will always be some loopholes.

Acceptance

I am slowly accepting all of this, what I cannot do and what I can do. Accepting neither means that I am agreeing with the results or scores nor normalizing the way the sport plays out. I only know that I cannot change the way ISU/feds politicking or how the general public’s view about certain skaters/achievement stans bandwagon on the glory of its beneficiaries' achievements. But what I know is I will not give them what they want: my attention/money/support. I don’t want to give attention to the undeserving skaters whom I feel like they try to promote. Rather than giving these skaters attention through my ranting, instead, I can just go back to how I should, which is stop watching them. It will be hard since Yuzu will be competing against some of these skaters and that I will follow his career as long as he allows me to, which makes it inevitable that I would see other skaters somehow. But if I would just really ignore, it would allow me to stop feeding on my hatred/bitterness toward other skaters, who aren’t bad people and are pretty talented per se, and just support Yuzu as his fan. I want to spread the love so that even if he perhaps might not always win or get the highest scores on paper, his greatness could still be felt and seen. Because of the love that is spread for Yuzu on twitter, Olympic Channel acknowledges him as the biggest star. Laureus twitter now actively tweets about him. Figure Skating is such a low profile sport but Yuzu is often compared to other greats like Rogers Federer or Tiger Woods (lol) or even Ronaldo by commentators. That shows how he really beyond this sport.

At the end of the day, I console myself that whatever Yuzu has achieved does not even define everything about how great he is as a skater. So I will just try my best to enjoy his career when I can.

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booksbookandmorebooks · 6 years ago

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Homecoming - The Cinematography.

Hello my lovelies I’m back with my first post of the new year! i thought id start it off with something a little different. When looking at how much I upload and how sporadic my posts seem to be lately I started thinking about what else I do with my time (besides reading) and well, honestly my only other hobby is that I tend to binge watch a lot of shows. In the past month I have binged watched Alias Grace, The OA and shamefully quite a few more including the show I’m here to talk about today, homecoming. So, I thought why not incorporate my passion into my blog. So, from here on out this blog will not only be dedicated to books that I love it will also include my reviews on the recent shows I have been watching. I really hope you enjoy this little change up and enjoy my reviews.

So without further ado let’s get started!

This show is about a young woman known as Heidi (Julia Roberts) who we initially see harassed by a department of defence official. Who is extremely interested in the time she spent employed and head of the project formerly known as home coming. A facility described and branded as a a type of institute focused on helping former soldiers transition back to civilian life after their service and help them adjust. While jumping between the present day and a series of flashbacks we see our characters realise that not only have they been lying to the people around them they have also been lying to themselves and now is the time to face up to the truth and the repercussions of some very questionable choices.

Stats:

Title: Homecoming

Genre: Psychological thriller / Drama

Release date: 02.11.2018

No. of episodes / seasons: 1 Season – 10 Episodes

Episode duration: 25-30 minutes.

Main cast: Julia Roberts, Bobby Cannavale, Stephan James.

Rotten tomatoes rating: 98%

So to start off with this show is not exactly your normal stero-typical show. If anything, the first half of episode one I was unsure if this was something I would actually enjoy. It all seemed a little too out there but I pushed through and once I had finished episode one I was hooked. The main issue I can see people having with it would be the odd shots and the odd pacing. These are one of a few topics I will be discussing and analysing below. While these factors can be a little daunting and seem a little pretentious, when you really look at them, they become so interesting to watch unfold. You can really let your imagination run with this series, it feels more like an art form in some senses than just a show. Instead of it being a throw away show that is trying to appear edgy, it genuinely provides the audience with this feeling of uneasy and eeriness throughout. This series not only stuck with me for the storyline and the shocking twists but also because of the intensity of emotions you feel when watching. When talking about this with a friend I realised that this show is more addictive due to the anticipation of what experimental shot or method we would experience next, more than overall enjoyment of the show.

In this post I will mainly be talking about the methods ,themes and the many approaches the director and producers have used to create this show and how they in turn, translated to me personally.

One of the most common shots we see for the first half of the show are these downward angle shots, now im not massively into my media studies so there are most probably a fast amount of terminologies I am missing but bare with me. These shots tend to make you feel like you are watching an animal in a maze. You get to see the characters from a bird’s eye view and watch them wind their way around their surroundings. When watching this I couldn’t help but feel the characters, any characters involved in this method were puppets being watching and manipulated, Even the bigger characters who we initially believe to have power and control are being used. Almost like animals in a testing lab. This is confirmed for me when in the episode the camera pans out to reveal the design of the building our series mainly takes place in. It is a big building with huge celling to floor walls of glass. Almost like an observatory, furthering my theory of observation through testing, a theme we know towards the end of the series is very important to the story development.

Another very important feature in this series is the change in aspect ratio and how its used to differentiate the two time periods that the show is set in. (past and present) the use of this method while a little jarring at first (it had me checking the tv and the app when I watched it) is so clever because when jumping between two different time periods it is so easy to confuse the audience and risk the chance of the storylines becoming messy and convoluted but with this it was almost impossible not to follow. We see the present depicted with two black sections of either side of the screen and the past in full screen view. Now as I mentioned, this method while clever isn’t something that you would necessarily deem as clever. You may see it like I did at first, something there that has no real meaning, it is just to further the weird feeling this show creates, that is until episode eight. Contained in one scene that I won’t spoil for you; a particular character has a huge revelation and the director not only shows the severity and shocking nature of this through the use of facial expressions and music but the aspect ratio we have been used to seeing in the present is used to demonstrate the character being bought into the light. We see that in her moment the camera shot widens and the present is left in full screen mode. To symbolise that her character is no longer in the dark and she can finally see the bigger picture. Something that when it happened I had to take a minute to appreciate it. It blew my mind that how such a simple change can really impact the feeling that you have when watching a show like this.

While on the subject of time differences I want to also mention a more common method but one that proved just as effective. In the shots of the past the colours are all desaturated and have this sad melancholy feel to them which really do help show the vast dullness of our main characters present life. Especially when compared to the flashbacks. The bright lights, the white walls and open nature of the building our main character is working in, the fake over the top smiles everyone sports, the over helpfulness of Heidi when compared to the reclusive and reluctant (almost isolated) whisper of a person we now see. Simple yet, very very effective.

Now as I mentioned, after to talking to some friends that have watched this show the biggest problem most people seemed to share was the pacing. I often heard it referred to as an issue and while I can understand it from their point of view I have to very strongly disagree. This was not an issue for me, this show was not meant to be rushed. It was supposed to burn slowly and gradually to help you grow as a viewer alongside the characters. If this show was rushed the audience would most definitely feel robbed. A piece of art like this is not something to be watched flippantly in one sitting and be disregarded upon a pile of throw away trash tv. This is really something.

I feel the shows pacing is intentionally slow because it mirrors the story and the story telling method. The relationships are gradually built through therapy sessions, a method of help that is used to slowly help the victim. All those subtle sighs, glances and twitches that help define a character are lost if not handled with care and time. You’re not only watching these people, you’re growing with them. It’s a way to engage the audience without them knowing it. Hooking and drawing you in. it captivates you and on reflection once I finished this show, I was fascinated by how it managed to do such an amazing job at that.

Not only that, but at this pace you are provided with enough time to form your own opinions and feelings towards these people, their choices and their pasts, instead of being provided with a set narrative. This way your feelings are not dictated to you, you’re not presented with the black and white ideal of good and bad, in fact this show often tends to blur those lines. Making peoples seemingly bad decisions almost justifiable. We are provided with on numerous occasions scenarios that show not only the redeeming qualities of a person but their flaws and we are able to form our own views on them in our own time. Something that wouldn’t be possible without a slow burner.

I really could continue analysing this show because there are just so many amazing factors. From music to the close-up face shots or the intensity of the volume that changes so frequently but I will stop, I have to at some point. All my friends are bored of me talking this show up, so I suggest you go and watch it yourself. You can only learn so much from a review after all. But if you are looking for something that will leave you speechless and stay with you for weeks after, I can’t recommend this highly enough, if that’s not enough the amazing talent of Julia Roberts should at least tempt you a little. I really hope you enjoy the show and can start looking for your own explanations and feelings towards this alien methodology! Until next time have a great week!

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letterboxdisdown · 3 years ago

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The Longest Yard (2005)

12/01/2022

Dir. Peter Segal

This is definitely not the worst Adam Sandler movie and I would imagine this is the type of Adam Sandler movie his fans want: sports, masculine energy, and stereotypes. Adam Sandler gives it his 50%, Paul Crewe is just boring. At first he is kind of an asshole, like most Sandler characters, but he does not have much personality otherwise. I am not sure why he gave it his all for his team; he has no incentive. If I remember correctly he just wanted to get out of solitary but then he suddenly really cares about putting a good team together.

Character motivations aside, I do like how he puts his pride on the line to rally the prisoners. The way he manages to pull everyone together and unite them against the guards is admirable. I found out this was actually a remake, but the premise is engaging nonetheless. I enjoyed that these people are allowed to fight against their oppressors, and somehow even the privileged asshole is on their side. From other reviews, everyone just compares this to the original, but since I have not seen that, I can only say I do enjoy this one, even if most of the good ideas are lifted from its source material. I was wondering how they managed to get Burt Reynolds then I found out he is here for his remake check.

I really enjoyed the pickup basketball game. I liked Nelly's character.

The number of minstrel characters in this movie was a bit unsettling. Switowski was stereotypical and offensive, Tracy Morgan's take of a trans woman was stereotypical and offensive, and Terry Crews as a walking billboard for McD*nald's really got on my nerves. Who am I to say this is racist, but it definitely did not sit well with me. And why did Sandler choose to wear that stupid beanie the whole time he looked so dumb. Also, stop trying to convince us Adam Sandler is hot. I am glad they did not slap him with a hot female lead as if he could pull like his other movies. Knauer is set up as the movie's secondary antagonist, but after the first act I lost him in the sea of guards and is not too menacing. Burt Reynolds just kind of shows up out of nowhere and becomes a main character. Ugh Rob Schneider is in this -4 points for that. Overall, I might have given this movie a few chuckles but it really relied on stereotypes like most Sandler movies.

All in all, this movie's theme and premise are quite enjoyable, but it might be due to its source material. Otherwise, though it captured the sports drama pretty well, it is nothing to write home about. It is a pretty good Sandler movie though. If I ever watch the original I might adjust my score but for now...

Rating: 5/10

#the longest yard #meh #adam sandler

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anastassiyav · 4 years ago

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Week 3 + Reading General design principles

Game mechanics and how they connect to the concepts of challenge, skill and chance.

Some of the concepts of this weeks lecture I had already wrote about during last weeks reading entry.

Game State

Game contrantly chances state - as a process of communication between the player and the game. Game state can change on different factors, such as the player advancing it or something more simple, like time.

Game state can be changes with power ups, entering combat, invinscibilty state, entering prison in monopoly, playing mini games within a bigger game.

Feedback

Feedback to players actions can enccreare the level of dopamine in the players brain - and make them addicted to playing the games and getting the feedback-reward. However it needs encreaced feedback which leads to encreaced challenge othweriwse the action in the game gets boring.

Skill

SKILL Whenever it’s measurable, it’s probably skill.

Chance

Randomness, unpredictability. Everything that is not measurable because doesn’t depend on something controllable.

SKILL GAMES CREATE HIERARCHIES LUCK GAMES REDISTRIBUTE POWER.

Ambuigulity

Being free of social norms is a social norm. You can not take things that you did in the game outsidethe game, therefor those actions excist only in the ga,e, making it a space where you can do things that are normally not done.

Liminal and liminoid

LIMINAL Reaffirming and consolidating a social structure through a rite of passage.

Rite of Passage. Linear narration. Structured Play.

LIMINOID Progressive questioning and subversion of the standing order.

Protest - distrapt - etc. Unstructured play.

Readings:

Game, Design, Play - Chapter 3

Kinds of Play

This chapter breaks down and analyses various basic types of play.

Competitive Play

A kind of play where the some players win and some loose. Most likely the most common type of play.

Usually includes sport and most multiplayer games. Includes measuring each players skill against each other, with a goal of doing something better or lasting longer than the opponent.

Interesting concept that the chapter covers is something called Yomi – or knowing a mind of the opponent. I would describe it as a mixture of reading body language and analyzing the strategy your opponent is using to create a counter strategy as well taking advantage of their weaknesses.

Competition can be symmetrical and asymmetrical, one where player have the same abilities and a common goal, and a play where players have a different objectives and abilities (for example Among Us).

Cooperative Play

A game where players work together to achieve a goal, for example, escape rooms.

Cooperation can be symmetrical – all players have the same actions and basic attributes. Cooperation can be asymmetrical – each player will have a predetermined role but they have to cooperate in order to achieve the goal.

Another type of cooperative play is symbiotic – a type of play where players are reliant on each other and cannot complete the game without each other.

Skill-based Play

Game that uses skill development to achieve foals.

Skill can be active – precise movement, precise timing, for example, jumping in the Super Mario.

Skill can be also mental – this involves games such as puzzles, where one has to rely on memory.

Games like Portal combine both active and mental skills.

Experience Based Play

Game of explorations, unfolding story, communal engagement. This type of Play can involve no skill at all, and would just involve exploring a virtual space to unfold a story, for example.

Games of chance and uncertainly

Games that require strategies, games that remove decision making.

Perfect example would be a gambling game, such as poker or gwent.

Whimsical Play

Game that emphasis silly actions, unexpected results, play that you need to feel to understand.

Amusement park rides, rolling downhill, spinning around – - all are form of whimsical play. This kind of play is often about physical silliness. I might be wrong, but for me a video game example of a whimsical game would be something like Octodad, because it is much unexpected and sabots physical silliness of controlling an octopus.

Role-Playing

Players have to take on certain roles and follow loose rules, usually the game play is only limited by imagination. Role-playing is closely related to storytelling and a way of experience the story.

I think various adventure games, where you play as a certain character, like cyberpunk, Red dead redemption or Witcher can be considered role-playing games.

Performative Play

Theatrical form of play, includes improvisation.

Those types of games are fun to watch and to play. Various dancing games, or games like charades fit int his type of play.

Expressive Play

A form of play that subverts player choice in effort to express and share an experience.

This can be intended by the designer or derived from the player. Usually this form of play is used in music and TV, but it can be found in games, too, for example in various text based games.

Simulation Based Play

Play that models a real-worlds system and presents a point of view.

Simulation games can be in a top perspective or in the eye view perspective, they can be limited and simple, like Papers Please or massive, like SimCity, where you have to control whole city.

Those types of play can and should be combined in order to create new play experiences.

Instead of thinking about an experience, game designer should think what created that experience and translate it into a game form.

Exercises

1. Choose a game and describe it using one or more of the kinds of play described.

The Sims – Role-playing Simulator with a bit of whimsical, if you consider how silly the Sims act and the gibberish they speak.

The Sims is clearly a Simulator, but considering that you also play as the character you create it I also has a lot, if not more, role-playing elements to it.

2. Take the game above and apply another kind of play to it. What happens?

I always had craved the Sims to be a little bit edgier, either by adding more character interactions to the game, for example removing the censorship and allow Sims to fight, rob and murder each other, which can and an element of skill or chance to the game. My another idea is to add more storytelling and mysteries to the game, that you can explore while role-playing as your Sim, turning it an experience type of game.

3. Turn a competitive game into a cooperation one.

It would be quite fun to turn a game such as Fall Guys into a cooperation Game – you will only pass the level if all 50 of you can finish the finish line, so you would need to actively help each to pass obstacles.

A Gameful World - pages 0-23

Reach of games design and game art happened in late 2000.

Gamification started by an app called Foursquare, which would give users awards and achievement badges for visiting certain types of places and even rewards, such as discounts. The app used leader boards and mayor ships to make the users compete with each other. I find it amusing as I have been using and am still suing this app and I have to admit that it did became boring since the app lost its popularity and stopped actually being competitive – I am a mayor practically everywhere I go. I dint however knew that they were among the first apps to use gamification – today it’s so common, almost every app I use have this kinds of achievements and rewards.

Gamification is used in health and wellness, for example in Nike running app.

Users of fitness app can set goals and participate in social competitions, for example who walked the most steps per month mount the participants. You can also see you score against all the competitors and measure you fitness level against others.

Similar system is used in online educational platforms, where you can earn rewards by learning. Some universities have achievement system for non curriculum activities. Even my boarding school had a reward system for getting As, our headmaster would give away mars bars for that, but I do not know if that was really a gamification – our dining hall was really bad, and those mars bars were essential to good nutrition.

Lots of people resist gamification – game designers and academia members argue that forcibly gamified products will never be as engaging as well designed games. I agree, but I think those products are doing a good job at motivation and keeping track of things, which is a big plus for people who are obsessed with data and keeping some kind of score – I have this app that lets me keep track of my birth control and cycle, and to be honest I am a bit sad it does just that, there are no rewards or achievements. I kind of wish to get a badge, like, 100 pills taken on time, etc.

It is argues that this type of gamification only frames ply as a pursuit of goals – while play and games crucially depend on..playfulness and enjoyment. Gamification in examples above is used to organize, analyze, provide structure, but playing I often a disruptive activity, used to break patterns and take a break from norms.

Being playful is the engine of innovation.

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junker-town · 5 years ago

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What is the world’s best soccer rivalry?

Photo via Getty Images / Illustrated by Karyim Carreia

We discussed our favorite rivalries from best ever to most underreated.

While rivalries are a staple of literally every sport, a solid argument can be made that no group of fans has embraced them quite like soccer. There are, of course, plenty of local “derbies” around the globe, but what differentiates soccer is how many of the rivalries are international.

In honor of Rivalry Week, we recently assembled some of the greatest soccer minds from around SB Nation to discuss their favorites.

Here is who participated: Donald Wine II, Stars and Stripes FC Gill Clark, Barca Blaugranes Kudzi Musarurwa, Dirty South Soccer Rob Usry, Dirty South Soccer Mark Kastner, Sounder at Heart and Liverpool Offside Eugene Rupinski, FMF State of Mind Aaron Lerner, The Short Fuse Tito Kohout, (Viola Nation) Brent Maximin (The Busby Babe)

El Clásico might be the best rivalry overall but does it ever live up to the hype?

Donald Wine II: The history between Real Madrid and Barcelona is off the charts, and it, to me, is the biggest and best in the world. Each match is epic, features some of the world’s greatest players, and is never short of drama. What other match have people scrambling to find out how to obtain beIN Sports for one day?!

Gill Clark: The thing is it very, very rarely fails to deliver. There are almost always goals (this season’s 0-0 was the first since 2002 — almost 20 years) and usually a red card or two and sometimes even a pig’s head chucked from the stands.

Donald Wine II: When you think about some of the world’s greatest players of all time, many of them have played in this rivalry: Leo Messi, Cristiano Ronaldo, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Figo, Samuel Eto’o. I remember a few weeks ago we were doing that game of name a starting XI with greats that didn’t play for the same club, and Real and Barca blew everyone’s starting XIs up, lol.

Eugene Rupinski: For people who swear sports aren’t political, they should look into the history of Barça-Real Madrid. It’s part of what makes it such a big deal.

Aaron Lerner: Yeah — there are big time politics wrapped up in El Clásico, and that gets pretty ugly. Catalan separatism versus Francoist-influenced Spanish nationalism is still very much alive and kicking.

Donald Wine II: Hell, the 0-0 draw that was mentioned was postponed from its original date because of Catalan protests that threatened the security of the stadium. It ended up being played in December instead of October. They’re also two of the richest clubs in the world, and they consistently earn the most revenue.

On an internal SB Nation survey Boca-River showed up a lot, even though it’s probably a rivalry that a lot of general sports fans don’t know about. Anyone want to explain what makes it special?

Kudzi Musarurwa: The passion from the fans and the players is something that’s barely replicated anywhere else in the world. When people say football can be life or death, I always think of this rivalry and agree.

Rob Usry: There’s no doubt that Boca-River is a fantastic rivalry, but at what point can a rivalry be too intense? I feel like if there’s a legitimate threat of someone dying anytime the two teams play then it might be too out of control.

Aaron Lerner: The level of hatred between Boca-River and their fans is off the charts. Not to glorify supporter clashes in any way, but that derby led to wide-scale riots and a match being moved literally out of the country.

Photo by Marcelo Endelli/Getty Images

Mark Kastner: Didn’t they have to move the final between them to Madrid last year?

Aaron Lerner: Yes. They moved it across a literal ocean.

Donald Wine II: Boca-River is INTENSE as hell. You can feel the passion in any stadium. It may be too intense. It’s because of these matches that Argentina banned fans at away matches nationwide. But, that passion can be felt in your soul through your TV set or computer.

Eugene Rupinski: CABJ vs. River is probably the biggest rivalry on this side of the planet. It’s gotten very ugly at times, but it is an unfortunate reflection of the passion and intensity of the fans. Everyone knows the weight of those games; the players, fans, hinchas, fans across the globe and casual observers. You know how much that game means when it comes around.

Aaron Lerner: River Plate-Boca Juniors is intertwined with soccer identity in Argentina. You may have your own team, but you’re for one or the other. It touches politics, economics; that derby has tendrils wrapped up in everything in the country.

Donald Wine II: Also, I think sometimes the stadiums and atmosphere can help make a rivalry. When someone asks for a list of stadiums they most want to see a match in, La Bombonera is on just about everyone’s list. When someone asks for a list of stadiums they most want to die in, is at the top of everyone’s list.

Brent Maximin: Boca vs. River is the derby that is on most football fan’s bucket list. The history of the fixture, the relative quality of both teams over the years, and of course the fan experience.

What are the best rivalries on the women’s side either on the international or club level?

Donald Wine II: The USWNT’s biggest rivalry is Canada, then Mexico. But lately they haven’t been great rivals because they get smoked all the time. I will say, budding rivalries are forming with England and France, though.

Eugene Rupinski: The thing with international women’s soccer is that the US has almost always been the top dog and there’s been a rotating cast trying to knock them off but no one has been able to sustain it.

I think one to watch will be the US vs. Mexico. The US is unquestionably the best in the world and it’s not really close. Mexico though has put a lot of money and time and effort into growing and professionalizing the women’s game and it’s starting to pay off. Players are going to Europe to play and Mexico has also utilized the US collegiate system and dual nationals to bolster the program.

Aaron Lerner: It’s more of a past rivalry now, but on the women’s side, I’d shoutout Norway-U.S.A. Norway handed the USWNT their first big defeat on the international stage (and went on to win that ‘95 Women’s World Cup). For a few years, they were a bonafide rival to our women, and that rivalry served as my introduction to women’s international soccer.

Kudzi Musarurwa: During the Pia days, the USWNT’s rivals were Sweden. That rivalry lasted until last year to be honest.

Rob Usry: France/USWNT is my personal favorite. Feel like every game between them is top quality. But I can’t justify it as the best since it’s still fledgling.

Or USWNT vs. US Soccer.

Donald Wine II: LOL, he’s right though.

Tito Kohout: To piggyback on Rob, really any women’s team against the absurd levels of incompetent sexism rampant throughout the sport.

For the women in Serie A, I’ll submit Fiorentina-Juventus. The men’s side carried over, plus there’s the fact that Fiorentina had the first pro(-ish because Italy) women’s team attached to a men’s club and won a bunch of trophies before Juve added one of their own, outspent them, and have become the best team on the peninsula.

Donald Wine II: Real Madrid just picked up a women’s team last year, and it was officially renamed Real Madrid last week. When I last spoke with club president Florentino Perez last summer, he said the club’s intent was to put €20 million into salaries for the women’s team in an effort to be on the level of Barca and Atletico Madrid immediately. So, look for those rivalries to grow in intensity.

Eugene Rupinski: I think Tigres vs. Monterrey is probably the best though. They average a crazy amount of fans, and have won more stars than other team in Liga MX Femenil.

Photo by Andrea Jimenez/Jam Media/Getty Images

Mark Kastner: Liverpool Women vs. Fenway Sports Group (the club’s owner).

Aaron Lerner: Michelle Akers vs. anybody who tried to come through the center of the U.S. formation.

What are your favorite international rivalries?

Mark Kastner: Messi-era Argentina vs. trying to win a big tournament has been very enjoyable. It always starts with promise but ends up in crushing defeat

Tito Kohout: Most of the South American ones feel really intense to me, especially the ones involving Argentina and Brazil.

Brent Maximin: Argentina-Brazil. Even if it very often failed to live up the hype, those two nations live and breathe football and for decades each has claimed to have THE best player of all time. THE number 10.

Donald Wine II: US-Mexico is my favorite, but other great ones are Argentina-Brazil and England-Germany, though with England-Germany, we don’t get it as often.

Gill Clark: I go with Netherlands vs. Germany because they really can’t stand each other.

Ronald Koeman wipes his bum with Olaf Thon's West Germany shirt at Euro ’88.. IMAGINE THAT HAPPENED THESE DAYS pic.twitter.com/tcX8iqtBiA

— Footy Accumulators (@FootyAccums) June 10, 2016

Rob Usry: I tried to think of one that isn’t obviously biased. But couldn’t come up with one. Mexico-USA is always high stakes and intense (unless it’s a cash-grab friendly). The bragging rights for each set of fan bases is precious. Surely there are better quality rivalries in Europe and Brazil-Argentina is great. But Mexico-USA is just a step below the World Cup as far as importance goes.

Tito Kohout: I think that all of the ones that involve crazy non-sports relationships (USA-Mexico, Ireland-Northern Ireland, DPRK-South Korea, Greece-Turkey, etc.) are probably the craziest to me just because of all the off-field stuff that gets packed in too.

Feel like any UEFA matches involving England could get really weird after Brexit, too.

Gill Clark: England vs. Argentina is probably worth a shout. There’s the Maradona handball, the Beckham sending off, Michael Owen’s goal (22 years ago today!) and obviously the history between with two countries.

Tito Kohout: I think part of it is that internationals are less common and that the quality of play is frequently lower because they don’t have as much time to train together, too. Seems like it leads to a lot of really tense, ugly games. Not sure if those result in more fan badness than really “good” games, but that’d be sort of interesting to look at.

Kudzi Musarurwa: Ooo, I just remembered a major international one-two: Egypt vs. Algeria or Egypt vs. Tunisia. I remember the AFCON held in Egypt (iirc) and it was the fiercest international rivalry I’d seen in a long time. Those countries hate each other

Donald Wine II: The North African ones are great. Throw in the Nigeria-Ghana-Ivory Coast-Cameroon battles that have been around forever. Ghana, FWIW, might be America’s second rival if you poll fans.

Australia-New Zealand back in the day when they both ruled Oceania.

What are some other rivalries we love?

Liverpool vs. Manchester United

Mark Kastner: Liverpool vs. Manchester United is a derby that transcends just football. It’s two cities that have a lot in common but have some very distinct differences in their approaches to life and football. Both teams have dominated English football during different decades, defining what we think about the game. The matches themselves are always really tense and full of passion. It’s wild that we’ve only ever had one title race between the two teams.

Liga MX’s América vs. Chivas

Eugene Rupinski: For me, it’s Liga MX’s América vs. Chivas. The two clubs who have more stars on their shirt than anyone else. The two most watched clubs in North America. It’s the cultural rivalry between Mexico City and Guadalajara and the rivalry of a diverse lineup against one made entirely of Mexican players with the pageantry of the American Super Bowl (at least) twice a year. Is it the fiercest in the world? No. Is it the most hyped? No. But it is the one that to me is the best because of what it means to so many in both the US and Mexico.

What about some underrated rivalries?

Donald Wine II: For an underrated rivalry, gimme the Soweto Derby (South Africa’s Kaizer Chiefs vs. Orlando Pirates). Kaizer Chiefs is a team with American roots (the founder named it after the Atlanta Chiefs, who he left Orlando Pirates to play for before returning to South Africa to start the Chiefs) and each match is fierce on the field and in the stands.

Mark Kastner: Notable shout for Portland vs. Seattle in MLS. Any time you have a player rip up a referee’s notebook IN A GAME, the rivalry must be intense.

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Tell us about your favorite rivalries in the comments below!

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allenmendezsr · 5 years ago

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The Massage Therapists Survival Guide

New Post has been published on https://autotraffixpro.app/allenmendezsr/the-massage-therapists-survival-guide/

The Massage Therapists Survival Guide

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Testimonials

Nice work. It seems to sum up some very important facts that you just don’t learn about in your ‘schooling years’. I think only years of clinical and top level treatment teams could pass this on!Soft Tissue Therapist James Barker Canberra

I have seen several books on this topic over the last 17 years, but none as comprehensive as this. Most useful summaries of treatment techniques for effective patient treatment and minimisation of undue stress upon the therapist.Of course your techniques work for me, as I have been using them since my first course with you around 14 years ago and I have been able to pass on your good advice to several other therapists over the years.Your book goes well beyond the purely mechanical aspects of caring for ourselves, as indeed we need to go beyond being just body mechanics by creating confidence in our patients by our whole approach to our learning and to individual patient care. Such aspects are also well addressed in your book.

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Just read your e book …..Congratulations! I found chapter 3 regarding thoracic, elbow and scapula posture particularly helpful. I’m always fine tuning my treatment posture and it was great to have some clearly stated angles to stabilise the glenohumeral joint that I can now work with.You also nailed chapter 2 in outlining the importance of establishing a strong belief and value in your profession. This is the most important factor for me as I believe if you hold your profession in high regard the rest (ie. satisfaction, success, motivation) can only but follow.I could go on but there are too many little gems in the book to mention. I hope that this is the first of many more books, the way in which you write is really informative but also really inspiring, motivating and uplifting.

Myotherapist Moyan Phillips Melbourne

Who is the author Robert Granter?

Rob has an Advanced Diploma of Remedial Massage (Myotherapy) from RMIT University, Melbourne and has 23 years experience in Soft Tissue Therapy within the Australian Sports Medicine Multidisciplinary Model. Since 1992, he has delivered over 30 conference presentations within Australia, the UK, and New Zealand.

Rob was a contributor to the textbook Clinical Sports Medicine by Dr. P. Brukner and Dr. K. Khan, which is now in its 3rd revised edition and has sold over 40,000 copies worldwide. He is co-founder of the Australasian College of Soft Tissue Therapy and is the only Soft Tissue Therapist on the editorial board of the British Journal of Sports Medicine.

Rob is based in Melbourne, Australia, and has been head of Massage Therapy/Soft Tissue Therapy/Myotherapy for:

Australian Olympic teams for Atlanta 1996 and Sydney 2000

Victorian Institute of Sport (10 years)

2006 Commonwealth Games, Melbourne

The Sports Medicine Centres of Victoria group practice (5 years)

Olympic Park Sports Medicine Centre (6 years)

Essendon, Australian Football League Football club (7 years)

Australian Commonwealth Games team Kuala Lumpur 1998

Rob was also a member of the Australian Olympic team for the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona, Spain, as a Massage Therapist. He is currently in private practice in Melbourne and is a teacher in the Myotherapy Department at the Royal Melbourne Institute of Technology University.

I am small in physical size but I was able to work full time in this industry for over 20 years and generate a 6 figure business for most of those years.

I travelled to England, USA, New Zealand, Spain, Malaysia and to most states of Australia either treating or teaching.

I have worked with so many wonderful people from multiple Olympic gold medalists and world champions (able bodied and disabled alike) to inspirational mums and dads who devote their lives to caring for others even when suffering themselves from significant physical impairments.

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Seek Strong and Effective Guidance: Find a Mentor Who Has Already Achieved What You Strive to Achieve

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Learn the Key criteria you should apply to your prospective teachers and mentors in general

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Learn how to establish a strong belief that what you are doing is of profound importance, this is vital to your success

Chapter 3

Optimize Your Technique—Optimize Your Results: Use Your Body for a Change

“Optimizing your technique will improve your efficiency, drastically reduce your risk of injury, and reduce excessive load on your body”

Many self-help books for therapists focus mainly on flexibility. The maintenance of ideal flexibility is important; however, consider that you may be getting tight through:

incorrect technique,

incorrect posture, and

insufficient strength and stability of your joints.

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We will go through each of the major joints that are vulnerable to overload and learn to minimise the stress though ideal joint posture and efficiency of technique.

You will learn to be alert for early warning signs of excessive intensity at all times and you will be encouraged to stop immediately and examine what you are doing and plan a better strategy.

Chapter 4

Position Your Patients to Maximize Your Treatment Efficiency

“Do you want to: reduce injury, increase work enjoyment, and maximize your output–your efficiency?”

There is simply no point in resolving someone’s problem if it comes at a cost—specifically an injury—to you.

Too many therapists place their own welfare too far down on the list of importance.

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You will learn simple and effective patient positional methods to achieve change with minimal effort on you the therapist. The interscapular region, the pectoralis minor and major, the tensor fascia lata and anterior hip fascia, the distal vastus lateralis and iliotibial band, the hamstring group and the adductor longus and the adductor fascia will all be covered in detail.

Chapter 5

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This is such an important component of your survival that it deserves a great deal of attention.

You will benefit so much, in many different ways, if you get a regular treatment from other skilled therapists. If you are not doing this you are missing a massive opportunity to learn so many treatment and practice building skills

Chapter 6

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Are you a bit stuck in the “I must use my hands only” mind-set?

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The life of a therapist can be an isolated one. How do you manage to stay happy and healthy while maintaining a high workload level (50+ patients per week or whatever your load is)?

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How many new patients are coming into the practice?

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Who do I need to speak to, to give me guidance in this area?

Completion of the “PRACTICE ANALYSIS DATA SHEET” can help to take a snapshot of where your business is at the moment and steer it where you would like it to go in the future.

You will learn my top 10 ways to maintain motivation as a therapist.

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“Health Insurance is not a waste; it gives you options and solutions when you are most in need”

I hope you stay wonderfully healthy through your entire professional career. However, if you ever need help when you are injured or sick, taking action on the advice in this next chapter will give you and your family more peace of mind.

Format: The ebook is in Portable Document Format (PDF). You will need a reader such as Adobe Acrobat available as a FREE download fromAdobe.com

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gyrlversion · 6 years ago

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Baseball’s Latest Identity Crisis

Vladimir Guerrero Jr. during the Home Run Derby on Monday. Photo: Adam Glanzman/MLB Photos via Getty Images

When was the last time baseball transcended its fan base and broke into the broader culture? For my money, it has happened only once since the season began back in March: at last week’s Home Run Derby. On Monday night, the day before the annual MLB All-Star Game, Vladimir Guerrero Jr., the son of one of the most purely enjoyable baseball players of the last 20 years, went full-on maniac on batting-practice fastballs, hitting an absurd 29 home runs in four minutes and 30 seconds, one home run every nine seconds. It’s something that’s never even come close to being accomplished before, and Vlad Jr. did it with considerable panache, his hair flapping like it was holding on for dear life. It was an incredible physical achievement from an incredible physical athlete. It was why we watch sports.

Vlad Guerrero Jr set a Home Run Derby record with 29 home runs in a single round

pic.twitter.com/twUE8fLaF5

— Baseball Lifestyle

(@BsbLifestyle__) July 9, 2019

The Home Run Derby, after years of Chris Berman–induced fatigue, has had a resurgence of popularity in recent years, thanks largely to a rule change a few years ago that turned the event into a timed sprint rather than an endless dirge. And it is now arguably just as popular, if not more so, than the All-Star Game itself, which had record-low ratings this year. Those ratings were still higher than the Derby ratings, but only barely, and certainly only because the Derby was on cable while the All-Star Game remains on Fox broadcast television. Television ratings for sports, especially baseball, should always be taken with a bit of sodium; ratings are a snapshot to gauge how many people tuned in, but they are an unreliable measure of how popular or significant an event was. This is particularly true for an event with the regional relevance and ubiquity of baseball. But you can’t help but notice: Casual fans increasingly seem more interested in baseball when it has less, you know, baseball in it. Fans love homers. Fans love to watch baseballs be hit a long way. As the old, now-sorta-cringey Nike commercial went, chicks dig the long ball.

This is, suffice it to say, not the current conversation among baseball enthusiasts. Baseball is going through one of its seemingly regular identity crises. Past crises include “steroids,” “gambling scandals,” and “apocalyptic labor disputes” (look for the return of last one coming your way in the next couple of years), but the crisis du jour is a strange one: Players are hitting too many home runs. Major League Baseball set a record for the number of home runs in 2017 with 6,105, but that number is on pace to be shattered in 2019, with 6,591 expected. April featured the most home runs ever in that month, and May featured the most home runs ever in any month, and June had an even higher homer rate than that. Half the teams in baseball will hit more home runs than any time in their history this year. All-Star Game starting pitcher Justin Verlander, one of the game’s most beloved, outspoken figures, said that during the game’s signature week that MLB was “turning the game into a joke.” The game has turned into the Moneyball-esque Three True Outcomes efficiency nightmare: Players are homering, they’re walking, or they’re striking out. Here’s a wild stat: There are now more strikeouts in baseball than there are hits. That happened last year for the first time in baseball history, and it’s happening this year too.

There are many theories as to why this is occurring. The “launch angle” revolution — selling out for home runs and not sweating small-ball techniques of bunting and stealing bases — has players swinging freely and for the fences; home runs look a lot better for a player going into salary arbitration than moving runners over into scoring position. Increased pitch velocity is making hitting so difficult that your only real option is swinging as hard as you can and just hoping you make contact. But the simplest answer is probably what makes the most sense: The balls are juiced. FiveThirtyEight’s Rob Arthur has been on the juiced-ball beat for years now, and the evidence is overwhelming that balls are simply traveling farther than they ever have before. (This off-season, Triple-A teams started using MLB balls … and home runs are up 50 percent.) MLB commissioner Rob Manfred insists there’s nothing nefarious, that he hasn’t told anyone to pump up the balls, and said he will be looking into the issue, which observers believe results mostly from tighter seams. Whether or not you believe Manfred that the league had nothing to do with it, something is obviously up.

But is this really a problem for baseball? Are too many dunks bad for basketball? Sure, it might be a problem for Generation-X fans who grew up watching the Whitey Herzog Royals and Cardinals teams of the ’80s that got by with speed and AstroTurf defense. But baseball is constantly changing, and older fans who grew up with the game being played a certain way are constantly complaining about it: Grousing about how the game isn’t the way it used to be is as much a baseball tradition as spitting and adjusting your cup. But if baseball is going to evolve into something new and different, during a time when young fans have been turning away from the game, one has to admit there are worse ways for it to evolve than into an all-time increase in the most exciting play in the whole sport. If baseball had a sudden increase in weak ground balls to the second-baseman or pitchers falling asleep on the mound, I’d be more concerned.

Whether or not juicing the ball is intentional, it’s difficult to agree with the “traditionalists” that this sort of home-run happiness is “bad for baseball.” People love homers! There is a cathartic thrill in watching someone like Vlad Jr. or the Mets’ Pete Alonso, huge men launching baseballs deep into the endless night. You’re going to tell me this isn’t more fun, more viscerally appealing, than a well-placed sacrifice fly? Really?

This view of Vlad Guerrero Jr warming up in incredible #HomeRunDerby pic.twitter.com/4aKjb4n7Fw

— Bleacher Preacher / Sports (@BleachrPreachr) July 9, 2019

Baseball is not going to get back to its peak popularity of the mid-to-late-20th century. (Though even that can be overstated: Look how empty the stands were when Roger Maris hit his record-breaking 61st home run.) The culture is too fragmented, attention spans are shorter, and there are simply too many entertainment options. All of the major American sports face the same challenge, of course, but it’s baseball that always seems to be entrapped by its past, by the perpetual lingering sensation that somehow things used to be better, even if they weren’t. I write a regular series for MLB.com about this soon-to-end decade of baseball, and I’ve realized that there are ways in which baseball has become entirely unrecognizable as compared to 2010 — and I’ll be saying the same thing in 2029 when I compare it to right now. Baseball will change again, into whatever direction trends and science and style pull it, and everyone who falls in love with it now will complain about all the changes, and on and on it will go. But if baseball has to change … an unprecedented number of shockingly mammoth dingers doesn’t seem like the worst way to go, no?

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sarahifox · 8 years ago

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Disney/ Pixar’s ‘Cars 3’ is a Treasure Trove that Offers many Pearls of Wisdom for People of All Ages

By: Sarah Fox

I recently had the pleasure of seeing “Cars 3” in the theater with my younger sister and I have to say that it was a very enjoyable experience. My anticipation for this movie grew as the months passed by. I kept up to date with all the teasers, clips, and speculation videos, attended the Road to the Races event in May, stocked up on various Cars 3 merchandise, and even bought my tickets online before the movie came out! When the day finally arrived for me to see this spectacle, I was one satisfied customer.

While I was overjoyed at the film’s debut, many critics gave the movie mixed reviews (including a 67% on Rotten Tomatoes and a 59% on Metacritic). I personally believe that the movie contains many riches hidden behind the animated style of talking cars with eyes and mouths. Brian Fee’s “Cars 3” centers around seven time Piston Cup Champion, Lightning McQueen (voiced by Owen Wilson) and his internal struggle in facing the challenges that come with old age. The main plot summary of the movie states:

“Blindsided by a new generation of blazing-fast cars, the legendary Lightning McQueen finds himself pushed out of the sport that he loves. Hoping to get back in the game, he turns to Cruz Ramirez (voiced by Cristela Alonzo), an eager young technician who has her own plans for winning. With inspiration from the Fabulous Hudson Hornet and a few unexpected turns, No. 95 prepares to compete on Piston Cup Racing’s biggest stage.”

The Cars franchise was always considered the “black sheep” of the Pixar family. Not only did the first Cars film receive a passive response from both critics and audiences after its 2006 release, “Cars 2” also lowered the bar for Pixar films after unanimously gaining the title of the worst Pixar film to date. Even the two spin off films, “Planes” and “Planes: Fire and Rescue,” didn’t come off as a hit with audiences. The third installment of the franchise aims to redeem the Cars reputation and explore a deeper concept in learning how to deal with a person’s ever changing career.

Before I dive into the nuggets of truth that the movie presents us with, I must address the various qualms I had with the film (the following list may contain spoilers): (1) The film’s pacing felt a bit rushed. Every scene in the first act zooms past the viewers, giving them little time to immerse themselves in the protagonist’s struggle. Although the first half of the movie had a hurried pace and dull tone, it gets better in the second half with the colorful explosions in the Demolition Derby scene, reliving the Glory Days with past racing legends, and the budding relationship between Lightning McQueen and Cruz Ramirez.

(2) The humor was dry and repetitive. Many of the jokes in this movie were hit or miss. There was a “life’s a beach” reference and a scene with Cal Weather’s bad comebacks repeating itself one time too many.

(3) The final act of this movie didn’t feel like a proper send off for Lighting McQueen. With all the persistent attacks on his character during the movie, I felt Lightning deserved to demolish his opponent Jackson Storm (voiced by Armie Hammer) and prove that passion will always supersede statistics when it comes to the heart of racing. Instead of letting Lightning cross the finish line and claim the victory, it was pawned off on Cruz, making the two have a joint win. I felt like this ending downplayed Lightning’s struggle in making a comeback story for the ages.

Now with all my complaints aside, it is time to uncover the treasures that are present within Cars 3. As the movie unfolds its valuable life lessons, I found that there are also many biblical truths within these morals. (This list will contain spoilers).

1. Self Doubt is the biggest obstacle when it comes to pursuing your dreams. One of the many themes in Cars 3 comes from exploring the dangers of self doubt. Although Lightning suffered the effects of self doubt after his crash, Cruz Ramirez was another character who allowed her doubts to rob her of the opportunity at becoming a racer. In a heated exchange between her and McQueen, Cruz (in a moment of vulnerability) expressed her desire for becoming a racer due to seeing Lightning race on television. She explained that her family always told her to “dream small or not at all” in an attempt to protect her from shattered expectations. This caused her to persevere in achieving her dream despite her family’s doubts. When she arrived at her first race, her doubts began to strip her of her confidence as she compared herself to the other competitors. She claims that they were bigger and stronger and had better engines, and she knew that she would never measure up to their level of boldness.

I admire the connection that Cruz and Lightning shared in that moment. They each had an internal battle with self doubt and the impact that those doubts had on their future. As their relationship progressed, I found myself staring into a mirror. I too, struggle with self doubt. There are many moments in my life where I get into the habit of doubting myself and comparing myself with others: “I’ll never be able to write like her.” “I don’t look like anyone in this room. How can I make a positive impact when I’m always the odd man out?” “My waistline will never be as small as hers.” “I bet her relationship with God is way better than mine.” The doubts keep replaying in my mind. Even in the midst of my doubts, God reminds me that his perfect love casts out all my fears (1 John 4:18). If I place my trust in His strength rather than my own, the lies that Satan throws at me won’t be able to hinder me from the plan that God has for my life (Jeremiah 29:11). I can be confident that God’s grace will always be sufficient in working through my flaws (2 Corinthians 12:9).

2. You can have a profound influence in someone’s life and not even realize it. Another central theme in Cars 3 is the importance of mentorship. One of the most profound scenes in the movie was when Doc’s teacher, Smokey (voiced by Chris Cooper) took Lightning into his garage to show him the letters that Doc sent over the past few years. After the Fabulous Hudson Hornet (also known as Doc Hudson) suffered a career ending crash, he was forced to give up on his love for the sport of racing. Lightning explained to Smokey that he didn’t want to end up surrendering his career under the same circumstances as Doc did. As Lightning began to see the various newspaper clippings of his racing legacy, he began to realize (as Smokey pointed out) that racing wasn’t the only thing that mattered to Doc. Without being aware of it, Lightning had made a major impression on his mentor. The connection that he and Doc shared was a powerful bond. Smokey continued to tell Lightning that “Doc saw something in him that he didn’t see in himself.”

Sometimes I get into the habit of questioning the value that I bring to others. I often get a bit melodramatic in thinking that my worth depends on the amount of likes I receive on a post or how often my articles get read or shared. The truth is, God didn’t place me on this earth to receive validation from others. He wants my life to reflect his love. He created me to be a light that shines brightly for him so that others will see my good works and glorify my Father in Heaven (Matthew 5:14-16). I might be making a difference in someone’s life without even realizing it. Sometimes it takes an extra set of eyes to see the potential that you never knew you had.

3. In order to keep the flame going, you need to ignite that spark in someone else. Although I didn’t appreciate Lightning McQueen sharing his win, I have to say that there is yet another gem within this scene as well. During the Florida 500 race, a huge crash took place causing all the racers to go to the pits. McQueen decided to have Cruz replace him in the second half of the race. Being reluctant at first, Cruz wasn’t sure if she should ruin Lightning’s last chance at winning. He told her that “this was his last chance to give Cruz, her first chance.” This scene stood out to me because it highlights the importance of passing on the mantle to the younger generation.

Someone once told me that passing the mantle to younger generations is a biblical command. In Titus chapter 2, the Apostle Paul encouraged churches to allow the older men to teach the younger men and the older women to teach the younger women. One of the goals that I hope to achieve comes from my desire to make a difference in the lives of others, especially younger children. Since I aspire to be a Juvenile Delinquency Attorney, I pray that God would give me an opportunity to pass on wisdom and truth to underprivileged children in the criminal justice system. I appreciate Cars 3 for bringing that message to light through Lightning passing on the torch to Cruz.

While there are many other lessons to be learned from Cars 3, I wanted to highlight those specific instances which stood out to me. Although critics didn’t receive the movie in a positive light, I adored the sweet story that was presented in the film. With brilliant cinematography and lovable characters, Cars 3 is a treasure trove full of many gems for people of all ages.

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