#Best Things to do Minsk

[strawberrychampagneglass]

Roses - pt. 1

Paige x Azzi

CW: cursing, implications of domestic violence (ONLY AT THE END), angst, maybe some fluff?, pining

9.3k words DAMN

A/N: holy shit guys I did not think I could pull this off and to think that this is gonna be a series is wild to me. Jokes aside, this took me about 2.5 weeks so expect (somewhat) infrequent updates due to school work and all that. Ik y'all have been waiting so I'll drop the first chapter. Something to be mindful of: initially this thing was in GSV then I changed it to LA last minute and then I changed Nika to Cam and Gabby to Dearica because Gabby and Nika didn't make sense to me at all so yea enjoy AND PLEASE DO GIVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I appreciate it a lot I WILL ADD A MASTERLIST WHEN MY HEART COMPELS ME TO

October 15th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

“Azzi,” her urgent voice calls out to the dark. She nearly trips over the entrance mat as she enters her apartment in the early morning hours. She drunkenly yells for her again as she stumbles towards her bedroom. 

The only response she gets is an echo of her voice.

She lands in her bed with a soft thud, her hand searching for the familiar warmth of another body. When she feels the cold bed sheet under her hand instead, the only thing she can hear is the hammering inside of her head while her heart throbs, threatening to pry itself out of its cage. Tears well in her eyes as she falls asleep. 

When she wakes up and checks her phone, she has one notification: a text message from Curt Miller. While it makes her heart palpitate as she remembers the happy memories, alarms blare in her head, reminding her of the bad that outweighed the good. 

Her excitement quickly turns to bitterness. Paige doesn’t want to play on the same team as Azzi. Not after the incident in her redshirt senior year. Not after their catastrophic argument at the 2025 WNBA draft. Not after she saw a new person with her Azzi. Not after she saw the diamond-studded ring on her fourth finger. 

Most of all, not after she built a stronghold with the most formidable defenses around her heart. 

July 29th, 2018

Minsk, Belarus 

The Belarusian crowd roars during the FIBA U17 Women’s Basketball World Cup final, drowning out the melody created by a screeching flute and deep, dulcet drum. With a very comfortable 32 point lead against the French in the middle of the fourth quarter, Paige is subbed out. She accepts the high-fives from her teammates before taking a seat at the end of the bench. Cheers flood the bench while they watch the clock wind down intently, waiting to relish in the intoxicating adrenaline following the victory. 

The blonde raps her foot against the floor anxiously; her jaw propped up by her clenched fists. From the point of view of her teammates, she is engaged in the game. However, inside of her mind, a storm brews.  She thinks of her best friend, the brunette girl with the number 6 on her back who is sat two seats to her left. Paige indulges in the memory of her fingers lingering on Azzi’s for that extra second after a high-five, their intertwined hands during the national anthem, and even when their shoulders brushed together in the team huddles and neither of them moved.

Her mind continues to wander until the bench unexpectedly explodes with chants of “USA” as the clock winds down into the last minute of the game. Paige springs from her seat on the bench, hollering as the adrenaline pumps through every vein in her body. When the final buzzer sounds, she shakes hands with the opposing team before hurling herself into the sea of navy jerseys. 

The rest goes by in a blur, her adrenaline depletes rapidly. The energetic girl is uncharacteristically quiet during their team dinner and even on the bus ride home where she opts to sit alone in the back, leaning her head against the cool window that soothed her aching head. 

As the bus pulls up to the hotel, Paige and Azzi lock eyes from opposing ends of the bus. The fatigue she once felt is quickly replaced with delight when Azzi gives her a tired smile with softened eyes, making her heart beat erratically. It’s still early in the evening, but the team agrees to celebrate in Cameron Brink’s room, without the coaches’ knowledge. While the team shuffles off the bus in a single-file line, Paige pushes through the never-ending hoard of her teammates until her eyes rest on a familiar brunette. She puts her hand on the brunette’s cold shoulder, catching her attention as she leaned into the warmth of Paige’s hand. Azzi chooses to ignore the pink that rose to the older girl’s cheeks and smiles at her. 

“Are you going to Cam’s?” Paige asks sheepishly, trying to hide her smile. Azzi chuckles before responding with a nod. 

“She is my roommate, so I guess I’m obligated to go.” Paige grins from ear-to-ear as they chat until they reach their respective hotel rooms. She changes into sweatpants and opts for a Hopkins Basketball hoodie. Although it's the middle of summer, the temperatures in Minsk are frigid compared to the Minnesota heat. 

Furtively leaving her hotel room, she spots her teammate, Zia Cooke, attempting to sneak several bottles of cheap vodka into Cam’s room, her shoulders are tense and eyes rove across the empty hallway. Paige giggles before walking over to the shorter girl to offer a hand. When her teammate’s eyes land on her friendly face, the muscles in her shoulders loosen.

“Paige, thank god,” she breathes, relieved. “I was so scared that Carla or Stephen would jump out of their rooms.” Paige laughs at the image of Coach Berube catching Zia while looking like a deer in headlights, juggling 5 bottles of vodka. Feeling bad for her teammate, she takes three bottles from her arms and opens the door to Cam’s room. The two girls are met with 10 pairs of curious eyes who cheer at the sight of the vodka bottles.

***

An hour later, the potent odor of vodka floods the room. Most of her teammates gossip about their crushes back home; others watch the late-night shows on the Belarusian TV channels, a few are even snoring obnoxiously on Azzi’s bed. Paige, who is completely sober, feels irritated from her spot on the floor as she watches the dramatic show that is being projected on the TV. She isn’t sure if it was the lack of alcohol, or if it was the sight of her best friend who presses her body against Hailey Van Lith while an arm that wasn’t hers is strung around the brunette’s waist and resting on her toned abdominal muscles. 

When Azzi notices the blonde’s glare at Hailey, she walks off the bed and carefully treads towards the table of alcohol, pouring a full glass of vodka. Her eyes flick to Paige, who stares at the glass of vodka in her hand. Unamused and frustrated, Paige returns her attention to the show on the TV until she feels a warm hand tilt her chin back. Azzi looks at her, emotionless, as she stands behind her. They stare at each other wordlessly before the older head lands on a soft, toned leg. Her lower lip meets the cool rim of the glass that Azzi filled with vodka.

The brunette moves her face closer before she tips the glass upward while noticing a light streak of red across Paige’s cheeks. “Drink,” she whispers, and Paige complies. She feels the alcohol burn her esophagus as she swallows the oily and bitter liquid. Their faces linger in the close proximity as they breathe in synchronization. It takes every ounce of self control in Paige’s body to not close the distance between their lips. 

“You look pretty,” Paige smiles, hoping for a laugh and a friendly slap across the shoulder from her friend. Instead, Azzi returns a frown with furrowed eyebrows, moving her head away. 

“Paige, I can’t enjoy my evening when you’re glaring at everyone I’m sitting with,” Azzi huffs with an edge to her voice. “Go get drunk and leave me alone.” Paige scowls; she knows that Azzi isn’t exclusive to her, but she wants some exclusivity. At the end of the day, they’re just best friends, nothing more. Nevertheless, the thought of another girl’s body pressing her body flush against Azzi infuriates her. From her spot on the floor, she feels the warmth of her friend’s body disappear as she walks back to her spot next to Hailey. 

She grabs her wallet and phone and leaves the room. 

***

When she returns to her hotel room hours later, she slams the newly-bought bottle of vodka on her nightstand, shaking the entire room. It isn’t a big bottle; it’s around the size of a Gatorade bottle. The cashier at the convenience store didn’t bother checking the 16-year-old’s ID, assuming she was of legal drinking age. She popped the cap off the bottle and brought it to her mouth. Her lips begin to form a suction around the opening as she tilts her head back, swallowing the searing liquid. She throws the rest of the liquid down her throat when the thought of Azzi’s words cross her mind. She tightens her grip on the bottle and her tongue scours for the last few drops of the liquid, hungry for the feeling of the alcohol. She sits on her bed in silence, staring at her feet until she feels the effects of the alcohol course through her veins. Her vision begins to blur and the entire room begins to swirl. Through her blurred vision, she still manages to identify the lamp that sits perfectly still on the nightstand. Her free hand reaches for the dangling chain that serves as a lever for the light. Giving it a slight tug, the light flickers briefly before illuminating the entire room. To her shock, a familiar brunette girl with bronze skin sits across from her.

“Are you done being an alcoholic so we can talk?”

“Azzi, what the fuck?” the blonde stammers, frustrated. She sets the bottle down and stares at her friend in disbelief. When Paige gets no response from her, she stands up and starts stumbling towards the door, nearly tripping over herself.

“Paige, wait,” Azzi catches the blonde, observing the older girl’s cloudy eyes. Even while drunk, her blue eyes remind her of her lake house; her second home. The thought makes her heart flutter despite the agonized look painted across her best friend’s entire face. “I’m sorry, we can talk about this if you want. I know I hurt you, and I take full accountability for it.” 

Paige knows she is in damage control mode, but she has a soft spot for the girl; a part that is willing to forgive her and move on. 

She chooses to ignore it and let her irritation control her words. “You didn’t want to talk before, so you don’t get to talk now,” she hisses. Azzi flinches, unaccustomed to her hostility. “You told me to leave you alone, and now you’re in my room, begging for forgiveness. I don’t understand you.” Her arms fly erratically before reaching the collar of her hoodie, tugging it down to ease her tense muscles.“For god’s sake, we’re best friends. Sure, best friends tell each other everything, but my best friend doesn’t get to tell me to leave her alone and show up in my hotel room 2 fucking hours later.”

“I’m not yours, Paige. You don’t have any right to control my actions.” The retort makes Paige wince. “If I want to be with Hailey, you have to respect that. I have a right to be frustrated because I don’t belong to you.” 

“Okay, how about a heads up next time instead of you getting cozy with someone else in front of your best fucking friend. I thought we agreed that we would ‘see each other later’” 

“She was drunk and she came up to me, and we did see each other. There was nothing binding about that agreement. I can be friends with other people and you can too, unless I’m your only friend.” Azzi’s anger rises as well as she picks at her cuticles. 

“You’re an asshole.” Paige breathes, releasing the hoodie. “You tried to get me drunk while trying to seduce me.” The other girl’s mouth opens before getting cut off. “Then, you went back over and cuddled up to her. I don’t have a problem with you seeing people, but even a short-term notice would’ve been nice. It’s fucking awkward when I’m sitting there–surrounded by drunk people who are all passed out on the damn floor–and my best friend is cuddling up to a person we barely even know.” 

“You know what? You sound really fucking insecure right now. Maybe you should go book a flight back to fucking Minnesota and we’ll never have to see each other again. You’ll never get jealous over me when I go on dates with other people.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes that she can take them back and shove them down her throat. Paige stares at her, emotionless. After a few minutes, Azzi’s voice cuts through the thick air. “Say something, please. You’re freaking me out.” 

“I wish I was yours, Azzi,” Paige whispers softly, so softly that Azzi thinks she mishears. She scowls, but her heart flutters from the confession.

“I need you to tell me that when you’re completely sober. I can’t trust you when you’re drunk.” she sighs, looking at the blonde who has tears brimming in her eyes. However, she can’t shake the warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart from her words. She can’t describe the feelings, and the thought of treading into unexplored emotional territory makes her queasy. 

“I wish I was yours,” Paige urges, with genuine sincerity in her tone despite the alcohol.

“Paige–”

Before she could finish her sentence, Paige grabs her wrist and pulls the younger girl into her. The blonde drags her along a premeditated route, stumbling several times. Biting the nails on her free hand, Azzi’s mind swarms with endless possibilities of danger; they could be kidnapped by random Belarusians, the coaches could catch them while getting a midnight snack, or they could get lost and never see their families again. But Paige was Paige, guiding her to their destination. The warmth radiating from the other girl’s body hypnotized her. It felt safe. Too safe. 

Paige leads her through the maze of the city until they reach the edge of a river. Even under the late-night sky, airplanes weave between silhouettes of clouds; their green and red lights blink, bringing life to the sky. The city is calm and serene at this hour, with the occasional passer-byer that ignores the two girls. The solitude is disrupted by cars gliding across the bustling road across the river bank with horns that blare occasionally. Street lights hug the river bank; streaks of yellow and orange rippled back and forth on the water. The breeze is soft, like a baby’s blanket. It carries the occasional, faint scent of cigarette smoke which is unexpectedly comforting. 

The two sit in mutual silence, away from each other. They both avoided the topic of the prior conversation. Paige hums softly, her body warm from the alcohol. “I didn’t know they had fireworks this late at night.” Her speech is slurred, yet Azzi still laughs in response. The sound of her laugh is like a piece of music written by Beethoven to her; a sound that can be played over and over without getting old. 

“They’re not fireworks, they’re street lights reflecting off the water.” The blonde squints, squatting on the large cement block that she had been sitting on. As she cranes her head closer, nearly falling off the block, Azzi scrambles to catch the blonde as she reflexively yanks her waist backwards. They laugh before Paige puts her hand on hers. 

“You’re acting really sober,” Paige declares while studying Azzi’s facial features. 

“I am sober, so I think it’s a good thing that I’m acting sober.” The younger girl chuckles, punching her friend’s arm lightly with her free hand. Flustered, Paige averts her gaze to the shimmering undulations on the surface of the water. Unsure of whether it was the alcohol that was twisting her mind, or if it was the dim, golden lighting that lights up the left side of Azzi’s face, all she can think about is that her best friend is beautiful.  It drives Paige insane; her bronze skin gleams and her umber eyes light up and become a light, almost golden shade of brown. 

“Sometimes I wish that you could be in Minnesota with me all the time.” 

“Well, you could come to Virginia and stay with me…” Azzi proposes before smiling at Paige, but she doesn't meet her eyes. The blonde is scrunching her face with her attention on Azzi’s arms, and not her face. “What’s wrong? Paige?”

“You’re cold,” Paige whispers, shifting her weight so she and Azzi sit facing each other. Trailing her hand up the other girl’s arm, her fingertips dance along the mountain ranges of goosebumps on her tender skin. Paige’s warm touch makes her feel something. Their eyes clash, uncertainty swarming in both pairs. “I meant what I said earlier,” Paige glances at her lips, breaking the eye contact. “I wish I was yours.” Her hand reaches for Azzi’s cheek, cupping it lightly, and the brunette melts into her touch.

Panic rises as a lump in her throat. They’re young–too young. Azzi’s feelings are new and confusing. She doesn’t know what love feels like and it scares her. As a kid, she was told that “love” was when two people cared for each other a lot. It was obvious that they care for each other a lot. They talk for hours, each word flowing effortlessly while they howl in laughter about something that the other said. Every touch they share is electric: sparks fly erratically through every vein of their bodies. After every argument, Paige is the first to apologize because she knows that Azzi overthinks. 

She moves her face closer and drapes her hands on the blonde’s nape. Paige takes the bait.

Her slightly-parted lips meet Azzi’s warm and soft lips. She closes her eyes, pulling the younger girl’s face in before pulling away after several seconds. The kiss is short, but sweet. Azzi looks at her hands, not wanting to meet the blue eyes knowing that she made a mistake, and the kiss shouldn’t have happened. The once well-established boundaries of their friendship are permanently breached. Yet her cheeks flush and she misses the warmth provided by the close proximity of Paige’s body.

“Raise your arms,” Paige mutters shyly as Azzi is enveloped in the warmth of a thick hoodie. Paige’s hoodie. The scent of Paige’s rosy perfume encases her and a contented sigh escapes her lips. 

“Are you cold?” Azzi observed her best friend’s exposed arms. 

“Nah, I’m alright. You can keep that by the way,” she motions to the hoodie that hugged Azzi’s torso. “It can be a souvenir from Belarus from me. Something that can remind you of tonight forever.” The brunette smiles and wraps her arms around the blonde; she is the clay that Paige can shape into anything she wants. They just fit together. 

The girls dance through the city and totter unsteadily to the hotel, where they collapse in the comfort of Paige’s bed, satisfied laughs slipping out of their mouths after sneaking past the rooms of their teammates. 

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room, Madame Fudd?” Paige teases before a pillow slams into her face. “Hey! Azzi!” She shrieks, scrambling to grab another pillow before falling flat on her face. Azzi laughs hysterically for a few moments until the room stills into an unsettling quiet. 

“You’re so chivalrous, Bueckers.” Azzi looks around her room, fidgeting with her fingers. “But, uh, since there’s a few drunk bodies on my bed,” The blonde cocks her head at her and smirks; the simple motion makes her heart lurch. “And also because you also don’t have a roommate and I thought that you might be a little lonely tonight, especially because you’ll be hungover in the morning, I was wondering if I could stay here tonight.” Paige breaks out into an ear-to-ear grin and tackles her in a bear hug, shoving them to the bed where their bodies melded into each other. 

Amongst the clamor, there is an uneasy feeling in Paige’s gut that she can’t shake, but she chooses to ignore the feeling as she lets her body intertwine with the younger girl’s. 

October 19th, 2028

New York City, New York

Azzi is selfish. 

Anything she gets her hands on, she wants to keep for herself. She is a hoarder who wants to keep everything that she loves forever. 

Unfortunately, when you fall in love with everything, you can’t have it all.

She paces back and forth at the gate, biting her nails and avoiding the gaze of her fiancé. Tugging the collar of her hoodie from her high school days over her head, she allows a satisfied sigh to escape her mouth as she is cloaked with a comforting rose scent. It was nostalgic; it held so many memories that felt so important and so irrelevant at the same time. But the scent made her feel hopeful of something she couldn’t place. 

“Is everything okay, babe?” startled, she drops the hoodie to smile weakly at her fiancé.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little tired. The thought of everything scares me a little.” Azzi chuckles. Instead of a friendly smile from her fiancé, she notices his scowl at the text on her hoodie. Her heart drops into her stomach, knowing that this would prompt an argument from him over a certain college teammate. 

“I’m so happy you finally chose to leave the cesspool of New York,” her fiancé sneers, “and, I’m so excited to soak up the LA sun.” Azzi doesn’t react to his comments, avoiding an argument at all costs. He came to all her games and cheered her on, but he always hated New York City. It was either too cold or too hot, too rainy or too sunny and never the perfect balance between the two. 

As long as he’s happy, I am too. 

Los Angeles, California

Paige is protective. 

She loves her possessions and hates it when people take them. She wants to shield everything she loves from hurt and pain. 

Orange and pink rays of sunlight stream through the tall glass panes by Paige’s bedside, bathing her bedroom in a warm glow. She stirs awake, her sore body begging for 15 extra minutes of sleep. Her throat feels raw and her eyelids are weighted. Instead of fighting against the weight, Paige lets her eyes close while thinking about the consequences of not showing up to Azzi’s welcome party. When she first caught wind of the news, she called Cameron Brink to come to her apartment. She complained to her for hours while blackout drunk before inevitably passing out. When she woke up the next morning to dozens of angry texts from Cam, she apologized profusely, showing up to her apartment with the shoes that her friend had been eyeing for months and bags of Sour Patch Kids.

It was safe to say that Paige wasn’t allowed anywhere near alcohol tonight if she chose to go. At least, not under Cam’s watch. 

The Sparks had an extremely successful campaign last year and capped off the season with a championship title along with Paige’s first league MVP and finals MVP awards. The feeling is still surreal, and the thought of it pumps more adrenaline through her body. Even though the season was extremely successful, the threat of injuries plagued the guards last year. Also, the Sparks were in desperate need of a guard with the ability to knock down shots and step into the role of a strong playmaker.

Was she expecting Azzi to join the Sparks? Eventually, yes. She is desperate for a championship run. 

Did she want to celebrate a piece of her past she let go before her birthday? No. 

Is she happy about it? Absolutely not. 

Her phone began to vibrate violently under her pillow, prying her from her thoughts. She rolls over to scrutinize the contact name with a groan. Her blood runs cold and she taps the green phone icon on the 4th ring.

“Paige! Thank god I got in contact with you.” Katie Fudd exhales. Paige feels the weight of her panic that reciprocates her own through the phone. “I know we haven’t really talked in about, um, three years,” she pauses, unsure of how to continue when she hears Paige’s sharp inhale, “but, have you heard from Azzi recently? She’s supposed to be arriving in LA today, at least that’s what the media says.” 

“No, I…I haven’t heard anything, Katie,” she rasps, her throat ablaze. Her lips run dry. The media?

Paige makes small talk with Katie, catching up on major events in their life while both of them try to avoid the topic of Azzi. It was brought up once and Paige could barely perceive the muffled, yet pained sobs on the other end of the phone.

“I know you have your Unrivaled league coming up in the new year, but it would be great if you could come visit us during Thanksgiving or even Christmas,” Katie proposes as they near the end of their conversation. 

“I’ll take a look at my schedule and try to pull some strings, but no promises. I have plans to visit my dad and Drew over the Thanksgiving weekend in Maryland, so we’ll see what happens.” Paige replies, acknowledging the piece of her that wants to let the past go. The part where she was too close to Azzi and her family. She knows that visiting them means treading into foreign territory. 

“We miss you, Paige. Jon and Jose miss their ‘son’ too,” Katie laughs, relieving Paige of a heavy, bone-crushing weight on her heart. “Happy early birthday too, we could never forget. We love you, you’re still family to us.”

Paige smiles, a genuine ear-to-ear grin. “Love you too, Kaite. Tell the brothers and Tim I say hi as well.” She says before hanging up. 

“You’re still family to us.” The words rang in her head, warming her frozen heart. It wasn’t enough to thaw it, but it was enough to invoke thoughts of hope. She was torn from her reverie by a knock at her door. Humming to herself as she sauntered out of her bedroom, she opened the door to her apartment.

“Woah, I never thought I’d see you smiling like you’re on Disney Channel,” the blonde at the door laughs, surprised. Paige scowls at her words which prompts Cam to laugh harder. “I did bring breakfast though, knowing your current mental state. You look like shit, Paige.” She sets two paper bags on Paige’s kitchen island. They sit across each other on the spinning bar stools Cam loves. 

The two chat buoyantly; Cam tells her stories about her boyfriend, Ben, and his new obsession with cars or whatever. Paige doesn’t really pay attention to her rambling because of a painful ache in her heart. Even though it had been a year since Cam moved to Los Angeles, the two still learn new details about Over the past year, Cam used the fact that the shorter woman struggled to maintain a relationship for more than a few weeks as the butt of all her jokes. Despite being annoyed at first, Paige was quite amused with herself.

“Azzi’s mom called me earlier,” Paige abruptly says, interrupting Cam in her spiel about her brother’s recent breakup.

“...is that why you were smiling earlier? Paige, not even 5 days ago you made me-”

“From what I’ve…figured out, they haven’t been able to get in contact with Azzi. Katie seemed distraught when she accidentally brought her up.” 

“Are you implying that she got kidnapped?” Cam laughs uncomfortably, trying to avoid the weight of the situation. 

“It’s a possibility.” Paige mutters. Cam stops laughing and an uneasy silence drapes the room like a heavy curtain.

“I guess we’ll find out later, but don’t stress about it. You could be overthinking the entire situation. Don’t make that face, I know that you don’t want to go, but out of respect for your future teammate, you need to.” Cam sighs while rubbing circles on her temples. “I’m going to pick her and her supposed fiancé up at the airport. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Thanks for breakfast, Cam. Drive safe,” she calls out as the door to her apartment shuts. And suddenly, her mind is thrown back 5 years to the keychain that Azzi bought them in their early 20s as a gift. Drive safe, I need you here with me. I love you. 

***

“Azzi Fudd! This is Kendra Andrews with ESPN. What are your thoughts on the Sparks franchise?” 

“What prompted the move from New York to LA?” 

“How do you plan to integrate yourself into the team?” 

“What excites you the most about the LA Sparks franchise?”

Dozens of reporters and journalists surround her. They fight amongst each other to thrust microphones into her face. Sweat beads down the back of Azzi’s neck as she tries to answer as many questions as she can while being mindful of her fiancé’s limited patience. He had gone on his phone, ignoring Azzi as she drowns in a sea of cheap cologne and felt-tipped microphones. She quickly interrupts the reporters after 10 minutes and bid a polite farewell. Her heart stings with a bit of remorse when some of the reporters in the crowd express their frustration through whisper-shouts to their colleagues because they got a different answer than what they would’ve hoped. As she makes her way to her fiancé, her head hanging low, she mentally prepares herself for the incoming argument. 

“You’re a piece of shit,” her fiancé hisses, “you took ten fucking minutes to talk to some fans.”

“Please, not here. Not while the reporters are still around,” Azzi whispers, frantically scouting for reporters. 

“Save your bullshit for later. Call an Uber and get me out of here.” While leading her fiancé towards the airport exit, Azzi picks at her cuticles. “Oh, and next time,” her fiancé continues, “don’t be a pussy-sucking people pleaser and just give them an autograph. I don’t have the time for this, there are better things I should be doing that does not include waiting for you.” Tears begin to well but she blinks them back, trying to put up a facade for the public as she smiles half-heartedly for selfies. The lump in her throat threatens to roll out of her mouth. The thought of a night in the hotel sends a cold bead of sweat down her back. She doesn’t want to be left alone with her fiancé. She doesn’t trust him. 

A firm hand grabs Azzi’s wrist, pulling her back into the present. She rips her hand away reflexively before processing the familiar face that belonged to her temporary roommate in Belarus. For the first time since she left New York, Azzi breaks out in a full-faced smile and throws herself into Cam’s open arms.

Her mind wanders to the other future WNBA teammate, who she had not seen since the 2025 WNBA draft. The thought of her quickened her heart, but the feeling sours when she becomes aware of her fiancé by her side. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, oh my god,” Cam laughs, punching Azzi’s arm lightly, a gesture from her USA basketball days when Coach Berube made an off-handed comment. She flinches in response, which Cam chooses to ignore. “Oh, and you must be Azzi’s fiancé. I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Cam,” the blonde chirps, turning her attention to Azzi’s fiancé, offering a friendly smile and a hand. “I don’t think I ever got your name.” Her fiancé remains silent, but his jaw muscles tighten and his cold, green eyes look at her with animosity and spite. Not wanting to raise suspicion, Cam plasters a smile and leads them to her car.

Cam makes a mental note to tell Paige about their interaction with an emphasis on the flinch. 

“...This is the Uber you ordered?” her fiancé snarls when the other woman is out of earshot. 

“You need to calm down. She’s my teammate, and this is a thoughtful gesture,” Azzi retorts before covering her mouth. Her breathing becomes shallow and her face pales as her fiancé inches his face closer to her ear until his hot, rancid breath drowns out her awareness of everything around her. The hustling environment of the airport disappears and her world is engulfed in silence until four words snap her out of her trance. 

“Drop this shit, now.” 

***

The ride to the hotel where the two would be temporarily staying was brisk, although Azzi wished it would have lasted longer. The brunettes reminisced on their college days while laughing hysterically. 

“Have you talked to Geno after he finally retired?” Cam asks playfully, making eye contact with Azzi through the rear-view mirror. Instead of Azzi’s warm brown eyes, she meets her fiancé’s swampy green eyes. The blonde feels a chill run down her spine, unable to detect any emotion on the fiancé’s face. 

“Nope, not at all.” Cam raises her eyebrows, clearly amused. 

“Wow, it’s been two years since he retired. He even went to the draft to support you and, um, nevermind.” The blonde shakes her head, cursing to herself. Azzi laughs awkwardly, trying to lift the guilt off her friend’s shoulders, but her fiancé is unamused. “About time though, I thought that he nearly got a heart attack during the March Madness championship in 2025.” The two erupt in laughter, tears falling from their eyes. Her fiancé glares at Cam through the mirror, prompting her to awkwardly change the topic to the Sparks and their team culture. Azzi ignores the glare and continues her conversation with her friend. 

Her fiancé isn’t completely out of the loop despite his apathy towards Azzi’s WNBA career. He knows who Paige Bueckers is, the national championship they won in 2025, but he only vaguely knows about the relationship that she and Azzi shared during their collegiate campaigns. If their relationship was an iceberg, her fiancé only sees the tip of the iceberg, the visible part that the media shared, the two in a million SLAM cover, their rise to stardom in USA U16 basketball, and most importantly, their adversities through injury together. What she doesn’t know is the true depth and complexity of their relationship, veiled beneath a thick layer of dark, murky water that neither she nor Paige are ready to uncover. As their lives began to diverge, so did the currents in the water; they pushed and pushed on their relationship until it came crumbling down, splitting the iceberg into two parts that are now just Azzi and just Paige. 

Thanking Cam as they slip out of the car, Azzi checks into the hotel room where she and her fiancé sit on opposite sides of the king-sized bed. Her head hangs and she looks at her hands before her fiancé breaks the silence first.

“Hey,” he sighs, walking over to Azzi. When she lifts her head to meet her fiancé’s eyes, branches of tears stream from her eyes and down her cheeks, splitting into multitudes of different directions. 

“Am I not good enough for you? One moment you hate me, and the next you’re suddenly in love with me again.” Azzi sobs, pulling her hair in frustration. “I’m trying my hardest, and it hurts when you don’t reciprocate the feelings.” She wipes her eyes while her fiancé stares at her in disbelief, masking his anger. He paces to the door before walking back to Azzi, feigning an empathetic look. 

“No, baby, you’re perfect.” Her fiancé mutters , pulling the brunette’s head to his chest as he kisses her forehead softly while wiping her tears. “I love you so much. I appreciate everything you do.” Azzi could feel that his words felt wrong and uncomfortable coming out of his mouth. 

“Love you too”

***

Paige walks in circles around her room while Cam summarizes the airport pickup, sprawled out on the blonde’s bed. “You didn’t even get his name. Damn.” Paige’s voice is laced with worry. 

“All you need to know is that her fiancé is fucking weird. He was like ‘I’m so sick of this bullshit’ the whole time without speaking a single word. I introduced myself to him like a normal fucking person and he stood there and stared me down, as if I was competition or something.” Cam breathes, putting her face in her hands. Paige feels the same, unable to piece together the puzzling situation. “This whole situation is  crazy. I was talking about Geno’s retirement and she hasn’t talked to him in years. Isn’t that weird? I feel like he’s also the jealous type. She wore your Hopkins hoodie and her fiancé kept eyeing it the whole time.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat at her words. Her Hopkins hoodie. The one from the night in Belarus: even though it had been over 10 years, Paige remembers it clearly. It was the first time she was in love. “That’s weird. You picked them up from the airport, and he was glaring at you the entire time in the car. Then, you- like, jokingly punched her. How hard was this punch?”

“KK-punching-Ice-after-losing-a-bet-about-your-life hard.” 

“Okay, so not that hard.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard her fiancé call her a stuck-up pussy eater while they argued about the reporters before I picked them up.” Paige raises an eyebrow at the statement before coughing awkwardly, mumbling under her breath.

“Just– be careful Paige. She isn’t yours anymore. I know you’re still not over her,” She winces at her friend’s words, “and it’s the harsh truth, but I seriously think that you need to find someone else to distract you.” 

“We both know that finding someone else hasn’t worked for me either. I’m worried about her. She’s my best friend, my ride or die.”

“She betrayed you. You need to move on. Best friends don’t betray each other like… that.”

***

Flanked by her fiancé, Azzi walks through the large, wooden doors of the restaurant next to her hotel. It was a short walk, but she took in the salty smell of the city. The breeze was sharp and it nipped her exposed arms. She was shivering and rubbing her hands up and down her arms. 

“You must be Ms. Fudd,” the waitress waiting for her arrival smiles at her, “your table is over here, please follow me.”  The short walk through the labyrinth of tables set with velvety red cloths that had a golden trim on its edges was interrupted by a crimson-colored curtain. The chatter behind the curtains feels daunting, and she wants to turn around and run back to Arlington. The waitress pulls the curtain to the side to reveal a table full with people, her teammates, laughing and talking boisterously amongst themselves. The first person to stand up is Cam, who embraces her in a loose hug. Seconds later, nearly all of her new teammates have thrown themselves into her arms.

The last person to stand up is the blonde. Her wavy, blonde hair, lighter from the Californian sun, is tucked behind her ears and falls down her back like a loose shawl. Her skin glows gold against the yellow lighting of the dining room. She wears a freshly ironed button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose her toned forearms. Only the right side of her shirt was tucked into her brown trousers that hang loosely from her hip, ghosting her ankles. A beige bomber jacket that matches her pants is slung around her shoulders and a watercolor-patterned scarf is draped around her neck. The gold studs and helix ring on her left ear reflect the light of the chandelier that hangs from chains above the dining table. When their eyes meet, Azzi searches her eyes for a sense of comfort in her familiar blue eyes that her dark mascara emphasizes. Instead, she finds nothing in her cold and emotionless eyes. Paige embraces her new teammate in a stiff and loose hug, her muscles tense when Azzi’s hands roam her back. Immediately, she is engulfed in her rosy perfume, the same scent that she finds solace and comfort in. Her stomach churns, yet there is a certain warmth that flickers in her heart. Everything about the blonde screamed Paige, and Paige is beautiful. 

“Welcome to LA,” she says while pulling out of the hug. Refusing to look at her, she turns to the man looming in the corner while offering a hand. At the table, Cam sucks a sharp breath in, casting a warning glance at Paige which is ignored. Azzi stiffens and her heart hammers. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Paige, and you are?”

“I’m Charles,” he murmurs, accepting the handshake and offering a small, sly smile. Azzi’s eyes widen. Her fiancé is rarely friendly, especially not to Paige. They glare at each other for a brief moment before she takes a seat next to Cam. 

Her fiancé and her sit side-by-side at the table, across from Paige and Cam. Charles slides his hand into Azzi’s under the table, squeezing it softly. The small gesture makes Azzi smile as she leans into her fiancé, enjoying his comforting presence. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to take her mind off of the blonde sitting directly across from her, laughing with her WNBA teammates. It annoys her.

Azzi is selfish. 

***

The entire table has some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hands or in their stomachs. Paige sits awkwardly, sipping a Shirley Temple whose sugary and overly sweet grenadine has become bitter on her tongue. Nausea seeps into the edges of her head and begins to spread like wildfire and she finds herself rubbing circles on her forehead. She can’t stand the sound of Azzi’s bubbly laughter across the table. The sound that threatened to burn a hole through her heart. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” Dijonai Carrington cocks an eyebrow at the couple while swirling her cocktail in her cup. 

A brief panicked look flashes across Azzi’s face before Charles cuts in. “We met in college.” His answer is curt and dry, yet polite. Several of her teammates cooed at his response, gushing over the couple. The two women jump into a conversation about their college lovers. 

That should’ve been me.

“What a fucking people pleaser.” Paige snickers to Cam while blinking back the unwelcome moisture that began to form under her eyes. She throws back the rest of her drink before dropping her head into her arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want any alcohol? Like, a thousand percent positive?” Dearica Hamby, the star forward of the Valkyries asks Paige while rubbing the taller woman’s back. Through the seemingly innocent image of the question, she notices genuine concern painted in the woman’s softened eyes.

“She’s alright without it,” Cam answers before she could open her mouth. “We made an agreement that she would have no alcohol tonight because I had to clean up after her last time.” The entire table howls in laughter, and Paige joins them with a half-hearted smile while heart fractures. 

If her smile didn’t split into a frown at the corners of her mouth or her chin didn’t wrinkle, Azzi’s heart wouldn’t have stopped and she would’ve been laughing with her teammates. 

“Yeah, I had to show up to her apartment with shoes and a shit load of candy because I felt so guilty.” She sneaks a glance at the brunette sitting across from her. Instead of laughing with the team, she was engaged in a conversation with her fiancé, prompting her to avert her gaze. It takes every piece of her dignity not to stare at the brunette. Her dark, curly hair is braided and hangs just above her shoulders; the same hairstyle that she jokingly called a bob back in their college days. She wears a baby blue knitted tank that reveals her muscular arms and white, flowy linen pants that hug her hips. 

However, when Paige’s eyes pass by the soon-to-be married couple, searching for something, they follow the pattern of their intertwined arms and hands hidden under the table. Looking at Cam, she whispers, “I need to get out of here.” the taller woman waves a hand at her, signaling for her to go ahead. She files through her wallet and grabs a few hundred-dollar bills and hands them to Cam, which she graciously accepts. Dearica flashes her a sympathetic look before returning to her drinking game. 

“I got a call from my mom and I gotta take it. I’ll be right back.” Announcing to the table, she grabs her phone and stands up, stepping over her drunk and overly rowdy teammates. When she finally slips behind the thick velvet curtain, she finally feels as if she can breathe. The curtain has become a barrier between her and a certain pair of brown eyes that burns holes through the back of her head. She knows that man. The blur of dark curls and olive and brown skin became too vivid. She needs to get out. It hurts her. 

Paige is protective. 

*** 

The neat blonde bun disappears behind the curtain with a soft, almost inaudible swoosh. She tries to talk with her teammates, laughing at their jokes, but everything feels forced. The image of Paige's stiff posture and the death grip she had on her phone haunts her. All of a sudden, her fiancé’s once soft hand feels heavy and scratchy against her skin.

“I need some air. I’ll be right back,” She announces as she gets up, dropping her fiancé’s hand. Cam and Dearica pause their argument over their stupid drinking game and stare at her with their mouths agape. There is undeniable panic swirling in both pairs of wide-open eyes, but Cam gives a hesitant nod.  

“Is everything alright babe?” Charles’s voice is soft but urgent. “I can come with you.” Azzi looks at him with a warm smile before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

As she exits the restaurant, she is met with an intricate spectacle of orange, pink, and blue. The light of the day quickly disappears, but she discerns a hunched silhouette on the beach that glows under the golden light. Her attention shifts to the orange circle that barely peeks out through the edge of the horizon as it slowly sinks underneath the water, leaving a trail of orange and pink light rippling across the surface of the water. Waves crash loudly against the shore before they are drawn back to the ocean while laughter and joyful screams from children join the peaceful ambience. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or do you wanna sit?” A tired voice rips her out of her thoughts as she tears her gaze from the astonishing scene in front of her. She glances at the woman sitting next to her who has her knees up to her chest and her head resting on her forearms. Azzi decides to sit a few feet away from her. For a split second, it feels like their fragmented friendship could be salvaged again. 

She slips her sandals off and lets her feet absorb the texture of the flaky sand while shivering when a gust of wind hits her skin. Instead of ignoring the mechanical sound of teeth chattering, Paige shakes the jacket off her shoulders and hands it to her which Azzi graciously accepts. When she wraps it around her shoulders, she is engulfed in the aroma of roses again. 

“I thought you had a call to take,” Azzi remarks, her voice soft. Veins snake down the woman’s arms and hands until they disappear behind her knuckles. Her pale skin had become golden and her biceps protrude from the rest of her arm. The neat braids in her hair are now ruffled and frizzy, and small wisps of hair dance with the breeze. On her wrist is a beaded bracelet that reads “RESILIENCE.” The bracelet from her camp before their explosive argument. The sight of it makes her heart flutter, but when she reaches her face, a cold wave of dread washes over her as she notices the smeared mascara and faint patches of salty skin on her cheeks. 

“Yeah, I did.” Paige answers bluntly, her voice cracking slightly. An uncomfortable silence falls upon them; the air heavy from their unspoken words. Azzi’s heart throbs at her cold tone. “What brings you out here?” she asks after a few moments. 

“I felt nauseous.” Paige scoffs at her response, shaking her head. 

“Bullshit.” 

“Paige, why are you so fucking blunt?” Azzi exasperates, throwing her hands up in the air in surrender. “You hugged me earlier and that whole time, you were stiff as a rock. It’s been 3 fucking years, it’s time to grow the fuck up.” When Paige says nothing in response, Azzi continues. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here and you’re being unfair. I told you that we can stay friends and then you fucking gho-”

“Your fiancé,” the blonde sneers, tearing Azzi out of her rant. Her voice is shaky and dangerously close to breaking. Through the golden light, she can see the tears brimming behind her smudged eyelashes. “He’s the one that you met at Ted’s, right?” Azzi stays silent, giving Paige the confirmation she needed. “You’re not being the bigger person, not at all. You’re only talking to me because you want something out of me. Azzi, you’re being selfish.”  The last word hits Azzi like a cold bucket of water. 

“You’re being unfair,” Azzi says shakily, refusing to meet the blonde’s eyes. 

Paige lets out a strangled sputter before opening her mouth. “I’m being unfair? Me being mad over you getting cozy with another man after our natty suddenly means that I’m being unfair?” 

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re being unfair because you’re hurting him with your comments. Do you think I can’t hear the derogatory names you’ve called him tonight?” Azzi scrunches her face and turns to the blonde, whose attention is on the sand that snakes between her toes. 

“Are you happy?” the older woman finally asks after a period of silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?” Her blue eyes dart towards hers. 

“P.” Paige freezes at the use of her nickname, “I miss you. My offer still stands. We can go back to our friendship.” The last words are quiet, almost as if they aren’t supposed to be spoken. Memories of what they were rush through both of their minds. The women have something unreadable in both of their eyes as they stare at each other. 

“No, we.. we can’t.” Paige finally speaks, tearing her gaze away from her, letting out a shaky breath and gets up to leave, but before she can take a step forward, she feels a forceful hand clasp around her wrist that prompts a wave of panic to flood through her. “Azzi, let me go. You can’t do this. You’re getting married soon for god’s sake.”  

“Our last night in Belarus, I know you remember it. You wear the same perfume, you even gave me your hoodie. Shit, Paige, that was the time I knew that I fell in love with you. Every little thing you did for me felt like you were giving me your entire world. You fell in love with me too. Every argument we had, we made up, and we can make up from this too. I’m asking you to believe in us again. I won’t leave you.” For a split second, Paige’s eyes soften and she lets her walls down. She desperately wants to let go of her "tough guy" facade and let herself taste Azzi's lips again.

“No. You don’t get to say that now. Not when you have a fiancé waiting for you in the restaurant.” The vulnerability that Paige showed is once again blocked by the ramparts of her castle. The remembrance of Charles’s presence hits Azzi like an 18-wheeler. “It’s evident that you can’t own up to any of the mistakes that you made.” 

“You’re not taking any accountability for it either! Do you think I haven’t tried?” Paige flinches, backing away from Azzi who is now screaming. “You had to address it at the fucking draft. For fuck’s sake, let me explain my side of the story.” 

“I tried to give you space because clearly, you wanted to fuck around with him. You don’t get to explain your side of the story. It was the night of the March Madness championship and you ch-”

“Oh, shit.” A new voice joins their argument. Paige whips her head around and sees Dearica and Cameron looking at them with wide eyes. “Azzi, I don’t think you should-” 

“No it’s okay,” Paige feigns a smile before pulling out of Azzi’s grip. “Welcome to the City of Dreams, Azzi. I’m sorry for having to leave so abruptly.” 

And she’s gone. Packed away in the backseat of an Uber. It hurts Azzi more than it should. The doors to Paige’s heart that used to be held open for Azzi are now barricaded off, isolating her. 

“What the fuck happened?” The blonde turns to Azzi with an edge of hostility in her tone. Dearica glares at her, and Azzi’s heart free-falls into her stomach. 

“Azzi?!” Charles’s deep voice calls out, and Azzi is grateful to be saved from the awkward confrontation. When his eyes land on her, they soften and he wraps her into a tight embrace. Every piece of contact between them feels scratchy and uncomfortable, especially in Paige’s jacket. “Don’t fucking leave me again.” He snarls into her ear before glaring at her jacket. 

The other women turn to leave before exchanging an uncomfortable look with each other. 

***

An empty bottle of tequila is the only company Paige has on her bar table. Right as she lets the effects of the alcohol take her consciousness, her front door flies open. Every muscle in her body tenses and she buries her head into her arms in hopes that she will disappear. 

“P?” It’s Cam. Her body relaxes. 

A second pair of heavy footsteps make their way to the table. She stiffens again.

“It’s me, don’t worry. You’re alright” The other voice belongs to Dearica. She exhales and looks up. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the empty bottle of tequila and a heavy breath falls out of her mouth. 

“Again? Seriously, Paige?” When Paige puts her head back down into her arms, Cam’s hands rub her back. 

“Yeah. Again.” Sobs begin to wreck the blonde’s body and she shakes violently. Dearica and Cam exchange a panicked look before embracing their teammate. 

“I’m sorry, Paige. What she did is fucked up” Dearica’s voice is soft and reassuring. “We tried to talk to her but, her, um, we were interrupted.” She and Cam are walking on thin ice; one bad step and their teammate will plunge in the freezing cold water.

“Let’s get you to bed. You have a big day tomorrow, so let’s make the most out of it.” Cam and Dearica carry their teammate, whose body is shaking violently while sobbing to bed.

For the 5th night in a row, she cries herself to sleep. 

I need you.

***

“Charles, why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I love you baby, and I want to spend every second of my life with you. With us.”

“...Okay.”

“I promise I’ll never hurt you. I’ll be the one to protect you forever.” 

“Azzi Fudd. What the fuck was that?” Charles sneers. His emerald eyes are alive, burning with acrimony. She doesn’t look up from her phone screen where her fingers shakily hover over the call button under Paige’s name. 

“I’m sorry? I told you I was getting some air and I ran into Paige.” Her tone is surprisingly even and steady despite her trembling body. When a dark look falls across his face, she shudders. Suddenly, her phone is ripped from her hands and shattered against the wall with a loud smash that rings in her ears.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me. You saw what happened to your phone, and I know that you don’t want to be next.” He slams the door of their hotel room and stomps down the hall. When she doesn't hear the obnoxiously loud footsteps anymore, she allows her body to collapse and cries into her pillow while she thinks about the promises that they made on their engagement night.

I need you.

[brunhielda]

Because this is becoming THAT blog-

The one where I review old movies we all have already seen, but I personally, have not seen for years until recently.

I just watched “An American Tale.”

If you were a child of the 90s, you just thought- “There are No Cats in America 🎶? THAT American Tale?”

Yes.

If you had that thought, you likely already know. If you have not had the absolute joy- buckle up. I am going to rant about a classic.

First of all- This is Don Bluth.

His movies do not get worse with age.

They get BETTER.

And American Tale is example number ONE.

No, it is not fond memories or nostalgia glasses, you can breath, and then go treat yourself to a viewing.

Secondly- the man did not dumb down or sanitize his history.

He said “I’m going to tell the immigrant story” and then opened with a fucking ethnic cleansing.

I said what I said.

The movie is set in the early Russian Empire, a time full of anti-Semitic sentiment and enforced laws, also seen in “Fiddler on the Roof.” Fiddler on the roof might actually be tamer on the subject.

Every other historical note in this movie is on point and easy enough to look up in a history book, if you have the common sense to realize that names have been altered.

The Statue of Liberty was not built by a pigeon, for example. It was built by a Frenchman. (Frederic Auguste Bartholdi).

I don’t know of an “honest John,” but I did guffaw out loud when he started taking names of the dead at funerals to add to his vote count. Ghost votes were very real, one of the reasons people are still so twitchy about voter fraud today.

I do not recall a moment in 1886 when the minorities of New York managed to run off prominate members of authority… but with how on point everything else is? It would not shock me.

Thirdly- Bluth DID NOT FLINCH

I don’t remember who said it first, but both Bluth and Spielberg had a belief that you could put very sad and scary things in children’s films, as long as the ending was happy.

This movie has multiple nightmare moments. Cats, monster waves, more cats, bugs and fish, and of course, the horrifying “Mouse of Minsk” (iykyk).

The thing is, it’s not even how they are drawn. Like, yes, the image is scary, but it’s the storytelling around it. It’s the lighting change. The soundtrack. The horrific sound effects. Seriously- whoever did foley on this film deserves all the awards- you make me scared of the kitty kats, and I LOVE cats. 🐈

Some people will question whether or not it is appropriate for small children. I would say maybe wait until they are six, and watch it with them, but they should watch scary things if they can. Being scared in appropriately safe space teaches you how to react to fear and handle moments when you are scared in real life. It is my major argument for Halloween. But each parent has to do as they think is best for each individual child. In any case, watch this one first before showing it to your kids- definitely more scary than you remember.

Finally- the animation on this film is a national treasure. I honestly hope this film is in the Library of Congress collection.

There are animation techniques here that don’t exist anymore.

Sparks. Sparkles. Glimmers. Stars in the Night Sky. Smoke billows.

Actually, I almost paused the film on a smoke billow. Sony is doing some things in the recent “Spiderverse” trilogy that are insane- and part of it is their mixed animation.

All the smoke billows? Hand drawn.

They look the same as Bluth’s smoke in this film, which is making me wonder if one of their artists studied under him. Maybe not- maybe they just did their homework on good hand drawn cloud formations. Either way, realizing how close they got to the master work in this film made me appreciate them even more.

Speaking of insane animation-

I don’t know WHO Bluth felt he had to show off to, but this man could DRAW WATER and he fucking knew it.

Like water is hard to do, ok? Like hands, Da Vinci had notebooks full of sketches of the substance, proving it to be the bane of the artistic existence.

Most water in hand drawn animation comes in two forms-

Flat water color with pretty things floating in it to distract you-

Or drawn over a live video of water that they spliced into the image.

Even that was hard to do, and they used a technology no longer available to us. It looks pretty cool honestly.

But no, not DON fucking BLUTH.

Not only can this man hand draw water without the underlying video, but he draws it moving in multiple different ways. He shows it from the top, side, and sinking underneath (with moving bubbles and shifting light, no flat blue for him).

He turns it into a NIGHTMARE FUEL WAVE MONSTER.

He ADDS it to SCENES it DIDNT HAVE TO BE IN!

The more I watched this film, the more I realized that if Milt Kahl had the head swaggle, Don Bluth had water, and by God was he going to use it.

He wrote plots AROUND the idea of water, so he could showcase it in every scene. “Rock-a-doodle,” and “Pebble and the Penguin” come to mind. “Anastasia,” “Thumbelina” and “All Dogs Go to Heaven” all feature action scenes in water. Heck- the one in “All Dogs Go To Heaven” came out of no where, and makes so much more sense if it was just Bluth wanting to show off.

“An American Tale” had the travel by boat sequence and our main hero being thrown over board. He could have left it there. NOPE. There were puddles and sewers and fire hoses and action scenes at the docks.

And the few scenes without water? Let’s throw some scary sparks in there. Maybe some smoke billowing. For funzies.

Also- we’re going to have a Love Song with the most incredible Night Sky you have ever seen and a Comedic song featuring fun house mirror distorted reflections because WHY NOT???

I think he was trying to make sure Disney regretted him leaving, the way you dress up when you know your toxic ex will be there, and I love that for him. 🩷

Also- the backgrounds are all beautiful water color. I love a good water color.

Also- yeah, the sound track holds up. The songs are just as catchy as they ever were- if you have ever seen this movie you WILL find yourself singing along.

As previously mentioned, when it comes to the scary parts, the composer UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT and the music easily fits into a good horror film.

And finally- the music at the finale when everything is made right, and the happy ending is finally here, is the most heart breaking thing you will ever hear. You will cry. Watch the movie, but bring the tissues. 🤧

This movie is definitely worth a watch.

This movie is more than worth a watch, it should be mandatory for elementary history and college animation classes alike.

But also it’s just fun. 🤩

[avengerscompound]

The Interview - Chapter 17

The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic

Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Rating:  E

Warnings: recreational drug use

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes

Word Count: 2346

Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.

Chapter 17

Melody was restless.

She still had her column to write and there was some online content to approve.  Not to mention they were doing another vintage food interview at the end of the week and she still needed to track down two more recipes to be made for it.  There were plenty of things to take her mind off the fact that Steve had now been away on a mission for over a week without a single word from him, and yet her brain was refusing to be distracted.

As soon as her fingers paused on the keyboard to try and work out the word she wanted to use, the thought that maybe Steve was in serious danger would pop into her head.  When she went to Google recipe homemaking magazines from 1981, as the page loaded, she’d become certain that he’d been killed and that no one had found his body yet.  It was becoming a serious problem, and not just because she wasn’t getting any work done, but because the more time passed, the more likely one of those terrible thoughts might not be her imagination getting the best of her, but something that had happened.

She wasn’t sure when the full-blown panic she was feeling set in.  Steve had had to go on plenty of missions since they’d started dating.  It was his job after all, and it was something he took seriously.  Every time he went on one, she worried.  It was hard knowing the person you loved was out there risking their life like that.  It was harder still when there was no contact for a week.  She didn’t like it, but she understood and it was something she’d been coming to terms with.  This was something new.  He’d never been away so long before without any contact at all.  And he’d never been this late home.  The dread had been building in her gradually, every day that passed it got more and more and tonight she just felt consumed by it.

She wasn’t alone in it.  It was awful to be grateful that she had someone who was in the same situation as she was, and yet, the fact that Bobbi was in the same position Melody was, made her feel like less of a burden.  It wasn’t her just dumping her woes on a friend who would never quite understand how she felt, it was the two of them sharing them and supporting each other.

Bobbi had been pacing a lot this evening.  She’d tried distracting herself by watching TV, and then by sewing.  Nothing seemed to be able to distract her.  Melody understood.  Even journaling her feelings hadn’t helped Melody.

When the music started playing, Melody stood up from her laptop and headed out into the living room to check on her.  Bobbi was standing by the window tapping her fingers against her thigh.  It had been a few years since either of them had smoked weed, but the way Bobbi was tapping her fingers like that, reminded Melody of when Bobbi was in college and dealing with transitioning, her unsupportive parents, and trying to keep on top of her grades so she didn’t lose her scholarship.  There were a lot of nights back then when the two women had used pot to take the edge off their stress, and when they smoked, Bobbi always sat in the window holding the joint against her thigh. 

“How are you doing?” Melody asked, coming over to Bobbi and wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist.

“Fucked,” Bobbi said as her arms circled Melody.  “How about you?”

“Yeah.  Same,” she said.  “Can’t stop thinking something really bad has happened.”

Bobbi frowned.  “I just wish there was some way we could know for sure.  All my Google alerts have been dead since that thing in Minsk.”

“Mine too, and none of my contacts have heard anything,” Melody complained.  “I texted Steve again today.”

“Mel…” Bobbi scolded.  “You know he’ll message you as soon as he can.”

“I know,” she said.  “But I don’t know.  It makes me feel better.”

“Does it?” Bobbi asked.  “Or does it make you watch your phone for ten minutes in the hope that this time he replies?”

Melody pouted.  Sometimes it was hard having a best friend who knew her that well.

Bobbi’s phone chimed in her pocket and she pulled it out.  Melody looked at her expectantly, hoping that this time it might be Bucky who was messaging her.  Bobbi started to reply to whoever it was but looked up at Melody and shook her head.  “It’s Mattie.  Asking if we’d heard anything.” 

Melody rested her head against Bobbi’s chest with a sigh and as Bobbi sent texts back and forth with Matthew, she played with Melody’s hair.  “Need to start a club,” Melody said.

“Oh yeah?” Bobbi chuckled.  “What?  Like an Avengers’ partners’ support group?”

“Yeah.  Exactly.  We can all talk about our feelings and then we can get drunk,” Melody said.

Bobbi laughed.  “Sounds like a good idea.  Maybe I should invite Mattie over now.”

“Yeah, do it,” Melody agreed.  “We can all freak out together.  I’ll order pizza.”

The pizza arrived before Matthew but not by a lot and soon the three were sitting around in the living room with cocktails and pizza feeling sorry for themselves.

“We really need to do something to get our minds off this,” Melody said as she swirled her margarita around in her glass.

“I thought that’s what we were doing,” Matthew said.

“No,” she said.  “We’re moping.  We need to not be moping.  What can we do not to mope?”

Matthew fished into the pocket of his pants.  “I do have weed,” he said, pulling out a baggie.

The image of Bobbi standing by the window smoking a joint popped back into Melody’s head again.  “Yes!” she said.  “Yes, let’s do that.”

“God, it’s been so long,” Bobbi said, getting up and going to the window to open it as Matthew began to roll a joint.  “This is going to go straight to my head.”

“Yours?” Melody teased.  “I was always a lightweight in the first place.”

Matthew finished rolling the joint and put it between his lips.  “Well, this will be distracting anyway.”

He took a deep draw and held it as he offered the joint to Melody.

“You two,” Bobbi scolded.  “Not inside.  We can’t have the place reeking like pot.”

Matthew rose quickly, held his breath, and dashed to the window.  When he reached it he let it out, laughing to the point he started to choke.  Bobbi lost it giggling and patted him on the back.

“Let’s just sit out on the fire escape to do this,” Melody suggested as she came over, pinching the joint between her fingers. 

The trio climbed out of the window and sat side by side passing the joint between them.  The laneway below was fairly quiet, and if they looked to the side they could see past the busy traffic of Central Park West and just into the park.  Even with the sound of the traffic, it was peaceful and Melody began to relax into a soft contentment, her head fuzzy and soft as the joint got smaller and smaller.

“He’s worth it though,” Matthew said.  Both Melody and Bobbi turned slowly to look at him.

“Hmm?” Bobbi hummed.

“Sam.  This is so fucking stressful, but he’s worth it.  I know we haven’t been dating as long as you two, but when we started dating I never considered myself the settling down type.  I had boyfriends and one-night stands.  I didn’t commit.  But if Sam wanted to go exclusive, I’d do it.  He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with that I could see spending a whole life with,” Matthew explained.

“Do you want to be exclusive?” Bobbi asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.  “No.  Yes.  Maybe.”

“Well yes, that’s all the available answers,” Bobbi deadpanned and the three of them broke down into peals of giggles.

When Matthew finally got his laughter under control he had another long drag on the joint.  “I don’t know.  I said I needed to be non-exclusive to start and he was fine with that.  I can’t be the one that turns around and changes the conditions.”

“If you don’t do it, he’s not going to do it,” Melody said.

“Mm… but I also don’t know if it’s really what I want.  I don’t know if it’s something I can even do,” he said.  “But I would try for him if he wanted to.  Maybe what I want is for it not to be casual.”

“Well, you should talk to him,” Bobbi said as Matthew handed her the joint.

“I will if he’s still alive,” Matthew said.  “And he comes home safe.”

That made the three of them sag against the wall again, matching frowns on each of their faces.  Bobbi took a drag and held it, looking over at the park again. She let the smoke out in rings and sighed.  “Bucky’s for sure worth it.  He took a while to open up, there’s a lot of trauma there.  But I can relate to that.  Our trauma is different but it recognizes each other.  And seeing the person he is under that - I feel privileged.  This sucks, but the amount it sucks so outweighs how amazing being a person he trusts with that feels.”

Melody smiled and nudged her. “You’re such a poet,” she said.

Bobbi smiled and leaned her head on Melody’s.  “Steve’s worth it too,” Melody said.  “I feel like on paper we’re so mismatched but he is so kind and respectful and funny and kind of an asshole.  I’ve never met anyone like him and I just love him so much.  I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”

“It’d be cool if we all work out because we’re all friends and they’re all friends.  We’ll get to be playing cribbage on the porches of our houses that we own next to each other,” Bobbi said.

“We might have to learn how to play cribbage first,” Melody said and they all broke down into giggles again.

Melody took another draw of the joint.  “You think they’ll approve of us sitting out here smoking weed?” she asked.

Matthew snorted.  “I’ve smoked with Sam before, I don’t think he’ll care.”

Bobbi shrugged.  “I don’t think Bucky would care either way.”

Melody tipped over sideways groaning and curled into a ball.  “Oh no.  He’s gonna be so disappointed in me.”

“He’s not your dad, Mel!” Bobbi said, laughing loudly.

“I know, but he has a disappointed dad voice!” Melody whined.

Bobbi and Matthew completely lost it, doubling over in peals of laughter as Melody covered her face.  She was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts by the vibrating in her pocket.

“My butt’s vibrating,” she said, sitting up and fumbling her phone from her pocket.  She narrowly avoided dropping it down the fire escape and pressed accept without looking at what was written on the screen.  “Hello?”

“Mel?  I didn’t catch you at a bad time did I?”

It took a moment for her brain to work out what was going on.  She knew it was Steve on the other end of the line, but she couldn’t quite accept that it could actually be him calling.  He sounded exhausted and a little confused.  She held the phone in front of her face and saw his name and quickly slammed the phone back against her ear. 

“Steve?  Is that really you?” she said.

Both Bobbi and Matthew sat up to attention, looking up at her expectantly.

“Yeah, sweetheart.  It’s me.  Are you okay?  You sound funny,” he said.

She burst into tears.  The stress she’d been holding all bubbling up and releasing at once.  “I thought something had happened,” she sobbed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.  “It was complicated, but I’m fine.  Exhausted and a little banged up but fine.”

She took a moment to just sob, and Steve sat quietly letting her cry it out.  She could almost feel the reassuring arm around her shoulders that she knew would be there if he was there beside her.  “Matthew and Bobbi are here,” she hiccuped as she started to get her tears under control. “Are Bucky and Sam okay?”

“Yeah, they’re here, put us on speaker,” he said.

She did as she was told and held the phone out to them.  “Okay.”

“Bobbi!”  Bucky’s voice sounded a little far off, but he didn’t sound as tired as Steve.  “I missed you.”

“Buck!” Bobbi yelped.  “Oh my god.  Babe.  I was so worried.”

“I know.  I missed you so much.  I wanted to call but we weren’t allowed,” he said.  “I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” they all said at once.

There was laughter on the other side of the phone.  “Hey, Matt,” Sam said.  “Missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Matthew said.  “Will I get to see you tomorrow?”

“Are you working?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, but I can get off,” he said.

“I’ll come meet you at work.  We can go home together,” Sam said.

“Will you come see us?” Melody asked Steve.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Steve said.  “We have to debrief when we get back.  But I promise Bucky and I will be at your door as soon as it’s done.”

“I can’t wait.  I’ll have dinner ready,” Melody said, wiping her face.  “I love you so much, Steve.”

Steve laughed softly.  “I love you too.  We’ll be back soon.  And I promise we’re fine.”  There was some noise in the background, and Steve sighed.  “We have to go.  I’ll see you tomorrow, Mel.  Bobbi, can you hug her for me?”

“You got it, Steve,” Bobbi replied as Melody started sobbing again.  “See you soon, Bucky.  Love you.”

“Love you too, Darlin’.  See you tomorrow,” Bucky replied.

“See you tomorrow, Matt,” Sam called out.

The call disconnected and Melody, Bobbi, and Matthew all piled in on each other, hugging, laughing, and crying as relief took them over.

// NEXT

[unovan-gardener]

//heyy I hate to ask this bc it's probably annoying/inconvenient but my brain does this dumb thing where it's like, "you can't interact with that person, you're months out of date with their lore" which is stupid but brains suck sometimes

//so. I hate asking this cause it's probably time consuming but. Could I maybe have a summary (doesn't need to be detailed!!) of unovanra (& possibly joltik guy, since you guys are very connected characters I think) lore? Specifically after minkst went to jail

//I know this would probably take for ever, so if you just give me arc tags or a link to posts with major events that's totally fine too! I don't mind reading through stuff at all and I like your writing! But if I didn't have a starting point / label of "here's what's important" I'd try to Read Everything and get burned out

//Thank you! Sorry! Your characters are cool! AAAAA

//okay!!!

i will do my best!!! it will be under the cut for length!! HEED TAGS SERIOUSLY THIS IS SUPER LONG. ITS FROM LATE NOVEMBER TO NOW. ITS SO LONG. PLEASE.

NOV 24-29: okay so! after Minsk got arrested, CD stayed with their dad for a while, since their dad found out how their face got burned and he did a skin grafting surgery on their wound. CD is scared of catmons after this. While CD is in surgery and recovering, their dad (Atley Deo) takes over the account briefly (his tag is #pater plantarum). He is the head of Deo horticulture, a plant based business. Auzi owes Atley a blood debt. Atley asks about service mon and everyone and their mother suggests a smeargle. It is revealed that CD's mother and Atleys wife died in childbirth. Joltiks boyfriend breaks up with them while CD is out. When they come back they are very woozy.

NOV 30-DEC 1: CD decides to adopt an eevee egg from @/allthatglitterzz, and they receive a smeargle service mon to monitor their heart "arrythmia" , lovingly named Stencil. nobody thinks its an actual arrythmia and also people are even more theorizing that he is a plant. Speaking of that arrythmia, CD has a heart attack while home alone, and Stencil calls Joltik instead of their dad to come help. Their heart had stopped entirely, but a zap from Tik sets it back going again. Joltik calls CD's dad, and then leaves before Atley comes home.

DEC 2-DEC 6 : The eevee egg hatches! She is a beautiful baby girl and her name is Porridge, Pidge for short. CD is diagnosed with the TIsm for plant identification reasons /joke. CD and Joltik watch a lot of competition reality tv shows.

DEC 7-DEC 8: Nothing really important happens

DEC 9- DEC 15 : Joltik asks CD to catch them in a pokeball. CD keeps buying candles and they keep going missing, much to their annoyance. CD catches Joltik and it goes poorly, Joltik gets a bit messed up because of it. His candles continue to go missing, people begin to theorize about litwik. A new problem arises: a resident with a mightyena that is hopped up on X attack is roaming campus. DEC 16- : A candle appears on CD's windowsill, looking a lot like a litwick, although it has no flame. its merged into the windowsill and cannot be moved. It continues to amass more wax. CD names it Kerosene, after being hounded a bit by anons. DEC 17 -18 : Pidge briefly goes being, being found in Joltik's dorm. She knocks over a drawing filled with thunder stones and evolves into a Jolteon. Mightyena guy comes back, CD is on duty and patrols to chase him off. CD runs into him on patrol, and Pidge gets her ear torn off by the mightyena. CD goes offline, and Kerosene takes over the phone. It is implied that Kero evolved into a lanpent and consumes the mightyena to save CD. Kero uses a spirit box to communicate, saying that CD was at a pokecenter, and asking for help as she is lost. Joltik comes to find her. DEC 18 -23 Nothing overly important happens. CD accidentally helps Joltiks eevee Mint evolve into Umbreon.

DEC 23- 26: CD's dad finds out about the mightyena attack, and wants to assign CD a bodyguard which they think is stupid. their dad makes them stay home for a while. Tik comes to visit and watch shows while Atley is out. Atley comes back early, but isnt mad, just starts interrogating Tik a bit.

DEC 27-30 : Christmas present from dad!! It's a sprigatito named trowel!! Technically Juniper's first canon interaction with CD! @/sinnohstruggles

DEC 31: Lucretia Minsk escapes prison

JAN 1: the nuytsia project arc starts. should be tagged #the nuytsia project but is occasionally mispelled as #the nuystia project. Summary: joltik is infected by a parasite that makes them compulsed to protect and take care of CD, CD is revealed to be kept alive by a living plant inside them after being stillborn. Atley gains remote access of CD's phone for a brief takeover to try and explain why he did what he did. Atley then proceeds to let himself be taken to jail without struggle. CD is very very sad and distressed by the events of the arc. ARC OFFICIALLY ENDED JAN 8

JAN 9-12 : not a whole lot of importance here, cd gets sleepy and slow in the cold because plant. Juniper and CD start dating and they are cute lmao JAN 13-20 :CD's granparents get in contact, finally hearing that Atley is in jail. They attempt to get custody of CD, all of the pokemon, and all of Atley's assets. Atley did not get along well with his parents and a Lawyer will be in contact with CD, as they are being taken to court. CD quits their job as an RA and drops out of college due to stress from the oncoming court case. They begin lashing out a bit, because of the stress. CD has an argument with Juniper where Juniper attempts to help them but CD feels like they are being treated like a child. They throw the phone at the wall in frustration and Kero takes over the account. During the court case, CD has a heart attack due to the stress, and their grandparents use that to win the case, gaining custody over CD and all of Atley's assets.

JAN 21-22 : CD is taken to live with their grandparents. Their pokemon are taken from them, leaving them only with Stencil, Trowel, and Pidge (as well as Kerosene who is there secretly). CD is locked in their room at the grandparents house during this period, not allowed to leave. The house is cold and they feel slow and sick, not allowed plants or anything from home. They are fed food that makes them sick. CD begins sending audio messages to their friends, but they are short because they get in trouble when caught. It is revealed that the house is in Icirrus City. Kerosene evolved into a Chandelure in order to melt the window and get CD out of the house. JAN 23-FEB 1 : CD's phone is still broken, so they post audio recordings for a while. While in the Snowy forest, CD finds a eevee named Kiwi in a basket, who becomes very clingy and comes along with. It is revealed that CD has now been declared a missing person by their Grandparents. ALSO JUNIPER AND CD ACTUALLY STARTED DATING THE 28TH I FUCKED UP. Anons start hounding CD to go to moss rock because they think it will activate CD's latent plant powers. CD notably doesnt want Kiwi to evolve and gives kiwi 5 everstones. Kiwi dips once they get to pinwheel and loses all their everstones somehow, evolving into a leafeon, much to cds dismay. CD goes home very grumpy about this.

FEB 2- :Silvervine arc starts. should be tagged #silvervine arc. Summary: kiwi roots into cd, merging into them and making them a leafeon hybrid. minsk kidnaps CD, brainwashing/mindcontrolling them with her control over cat-mon. The hybridization merge makes CD have a rush of endorphins and dopamine to minimize the pain, giving them a floaty fuzzy feeling. cd helps minsk with some gardening ;3 lore is dropped, and CD escapes, fully hybridized, but still somewhat conditioned to listen to certain command phrases told to them by minsk, and feeling floaty fuzzy when they fall into leafeon instincts. THIS ARC ENDED FEB 5TH FEB 5th- Onward: Juniper went to a psych ward after stress from CD not wanting to see him post hybridization, he is still there. CD is briefly blocked by both tik and juniper. CD goes to live in lostlorn for a while. CD kinda breaks up with Juniper??? unclear. CD can now spead to cat mon and understand grass types. they meet a tropius named Yache who joins their team. CD lives with Juniper's pokemon team for a while before an argument happens and they leave again. now theyre kinda homeless! also! they turned into a leafeon for a few days and now they can kinda do that sometimes maybe work in progress I hope this was helpful!!!

[standloser]

Do you have tattoos? If so, what are they, and what do they mean? :)

OH HELL YEAH I HAVE TATTOOS AHAHAHA

they are very random and weird.

TW: suicide mentioned

first of all like a super elite slut I have a tattoo above my ass lmao, lower back. fancy stupid philosophical tattoo. it takes a long time to explain, but to put simply: it’s a skull made of the same thing that you see on graphs with space objects, polygon mesh, and a phrase in latin «the universe is inside you» — «universi intra vos». it's a little displaced due to my anatomy, but it still looks cool.

the second tattoo is a very bad but very important for me — a line from the TØP song Levitate — «you can learn to levitate with just a little help». and a fire symbolizing the bandito camp and the community that saved me. I did it a long time ago, when I was a minor after several serious suicide attempts. lol.

another tattoo is Okuyasu from JJBA. I had a severe special interest in this anime and this manga. this is my favorite jobro and my dad's favorite character. the idea was to get a jobro on one hand and my favorite jojo on the other in the same place. but I haven't done it yet.

and the last LEGENDARY TATTOO ON MY LEG is an eastern european political meme with the president of Belarus — Lukashenko. guys, im a super political person, I have been riding in police cars at demonstrations since childhood, so I needed to leave something as a keepsake after a fucking WAR. like it changed my life completely. this is the best thing that came to my mind — I didn’t want to do putin or Zelensky, so I chose a very funny and memorable version with Lukashenko. + my dad was born in Minsk. you are unlikely to understand this meme if you don’t understand russian, but you can google: «а я сейчас вам покажу, откуда на Беларусь готовилось нападение»

[tsgmain]

Just finished my first campaign of Baldur’s Gate 3… wow. I’m in pieces. My character, Zeryth, nor I, was not ready for how hard the final scenes hit.

This will have minor spoilers, but I’ll keep things mildly vague.

Fuck. I was not ready for the end for Karlach. Zeryth doesn’t have it in him to make someone do something they don’t wanna. So the ‘best’ option wasn’t on the cards. That shit stings so bad.

Astarion getting his weakness to sunlight returned as he’s talking about spending more time with the gang is awful, I feel so bad for him.

Gale left to get the crown, Zeryth tried to stop him, but also hopes he can do it and harness its power. Im glad Gale believes in himself again though!

Wyll had a nice ending, im happy he’s free of the pact, and he and Zeryth will definitely be drinking buddies after a long tenday of adventuring saving the coast.

Lae’zel is off to fight Vlaakith, fuck yeah! Good luck, and Godspeed!

Shadowheart didn’t say much, but it seems she intends to stick around in Zeryth’s party? Either way, good job her, overcoming her abusive goddess.

Honorable mention to Jahiera and Minsk, who I can only assume are going to do the same as Shadowheart and Wyll, joining with Zeryth’s adventuring gang.

In the end, I think I played Zeryth well. He got a happier ending than he would in his original world, so I’m sure he’s happy about that.

[mariacallous]

The collapse in the hitherto close Polish-Hungarian relations has been collateral damage of Russia’s attack on Ukraine. Warsaw expects serious gestures from Budapest to repair ties, but Orban hopes the estrangement is just a temporary blip.

For years, Russia has been the elephant in the room during talks between Poland and Hungary, with both parties keen to sweep any controversies under the rug to concentrate on mutual interests, such as most recently standing up to the European Commission in its attempts to force both populist governments to back down in their attempts to undermine democratic norms.

“Poland has been looking at Russia as a security threat ever since 2008; Hungary, however, still sees it as partner – this is the key difference,” Miklos Mitrovits, an historian and Central Europe expert at Hungary’s University of Public Service, tells BIRN.

But with Russia's invasion of Ukraine in February 2022 that became no longer possible. Hungarian diplomacy missed the momentum to adapt and change tack and, as a result, has put not only the Polish-Hungarian ‘special relationship’ at risk, but also the very future of Visegrad Group (V4) cooperation.

“If we differ on the most existential of issues, it will be hard to cooperate on other fronts,” summarises Andrzej Sadecki, head of the Central Europe team and a Hungary specialist at OSW, the Warsaw-based Center for Eastern Studies.

The “most existential of issues” is clearly the war in Ukraine. While Warsaw has gone all out in supporting Kyiv, including delivering weapons and lobbying other countries to do so, Budapest’s position has been – at best – ambivalent.

Although Hungary has voted for all ten EU sanction packages (some significantly watered down), the country’s prime minister and Putin’s last remaining ally in the EU, Viktor Orban, vocally criticises these measures for “doing more harm to the EU than to Russia”.

Hungary still maintains energy cooperation with Russia’s Gazprom and Rosatom – it has signed an expanded gas supply agreement and officially still insists that Russia will build the Paks 2 nuclear power plant – arguing that it is an “economic necessity”.

At the same time, the Hungarian government remains unwilling to participate in deliveries of weapons to Ukraine or the training of its soldiers, and has a fractious relationship with Kyiv’s leadership. Government trolls openly disseminate Russian propaganda and hold Ukraine at least as responsible as Russia for the war.

The blocking of Russian Orthodox bishop Patriarch Kirill of Moscow (and war supporter) from being added to the EU sanctions list and Foreign Minister Peter Szijjarto’s high-profile visits to Moscow and Minsk were seen – even by many Hungarian diplomatic experts – as unnecessary and provocative steps.

Diverging paths

“In the beginning, people in Poland thought Orban is facing re-election and he can’t admit to having made a mistake by previously investing in the relationship with Russia,” OSW’s Sadecki tells BIRN, referring to the April 2022 Hungarian parliamentary elections won in a landslide by Orban’s Fidesz party. “Many people were waiting, thinking this was a temporary thing.”

“But after the elections, the first thing we saw was that Foreign Minister Szijjarto stayed in his post, and he is the most symbolic figure in terms of Hungarian-Russian ties,” Sadecki says. “And then we gradually understood that our paths are really diverging.”

Bilateral relations hit rock bottom last summer when Polish Prime Minister Mateusz Morawiecki, after Orban had remarked on differences between the two capitals over the war in Ukraine during his key annual speech at Baile Tusnad in Romania, told the press: “I confirm Prime Minister Orban’s words that Poland and Hungary have parted ways.”

Since then, the previously intense rhythm of high-level meetings has given way to a series of low-level meetings mostly between mid-level bureaucrats rather than government politicians.

And it’s not just in political circles that the change is being felt; Polish society, too, has become increasingly disillusioned. In a recent poll by CBOS, the popularity of Hungarians among Poles has plummeted by 21 per cent and is at its lowest level for 30 years, just hovering above that for the Germans.

Sadecki points out that “while Poles and Hungarians always thought of themselves as close, now we’ve had protests in front of the Hungarian embassy, for example.”

The Hungarian government is aware that notable political gestures are needed to restore Polish relations, which are considered crucial for Hungary’s national interests in the EU, especially to block rule-of-law and Article 7 procedures, which seek to suspend funds or certain rights of member states.

The visit of the just-inaugurated Hungarian President Katalin Novak to Warsaw in May or her train journey to Kyiv in November were intended as such, but there was little follow-up. “Warsaw expects major gestures, like Orban visiting Kyiv or Hungary participating in the training of Ukrainian soldiers or sending weapons,” Hungarian expert Mitrovits says. “The very minimum would have been the fast-track approval of Finland and Sweden’s NATO application.”

But even there, Orban managed to sacrifice long-term diplomatic relations for short-term domestic gains. Despite having promised Morawiecki last November that Hungary would ratify the accession of both countries “during the first parliamentary session in 2023 in February”, Finland’s accession was approved only at the end of March, while Sweden is still being kept waiting.

“For Poland, NATO enlargement is a guarantee of regional security,” Mitrovits underlines. “By blocking NATO enlargement, Hungary is damaging vital Polish interests.”

[cleoenfaserum]

SCOTT RITTER’S REBUTTAL TO SEYMOUR HERSH’S ARTICLE: GENERAL TO GENERAL (2023–12–01)

SCOTT RITTER: Sorry but Hersh’s latest article is supposition from a western viewpoint at best & just because someone who’s renowned or admired writes something doesn’t mean it’s true. Especially when advocating in favor of intelligence agencies & constantly only from their perspective. The article states “It is thought that Putin would want to make a deal,” alleging Russian losses were disproportionate.

BEFORE WE READ SCOTT RITTER’S REBUTTAL TO HERSH’S ARTICLE, I FEEL IT IS NECESSARY TO READ & / OR LISTEN TO HERSH’S ARTICLE

CLICK LINK BELOW TO READ (AND / OR LISTEN)

LINK: GENERAL TO GENERAL by SEYMOUR HERSH | by Cleoenfaserem | Dec, 2023 | Medium

SCOTT RITTER CONTINUES HIS REBUTTAL…(TO WHICH I AGREE)

Here’s why I think this is an unlikely scenario: ✍️

1) This is supposition about what the Russian leader might do. And that’s all it is. Intelligence agents, State Dept spooks, constantly & willingly telling only one journalist said information this often, has an agenda. And that’s been clear for months from these anonymous* revelations.

2) Where are they getting this? Ukraine’s losses have been disproportionate. Yes there’s loss of life on both sides. But why would Russia have to prove anything to the west by holding new elections in the way they would want? Why would the need to appease the west? They don’t need them, quite the other way around. Also the source mentions a stalemate. This isn’t a stalemate. Ukraine has essentially lost and refused to admit defeat.

3) If Russia would be this naive to trust anything the west says as we’ve been here before, it would discredit everything they’ve done. Plus it would destroy any purpose that it had in the SMO. Putin would lose so much public support. It makes 0 sense.

4) The Minsk agreements all show the west has 0 intention of respecting anything. To accept Ukraine into NATO would literally violate its own red line. Most of NATO doesn’t even want Ukraine to join it & it’s less of likelihood now that Zelenskyy and other have admitted to the failure of the counteroffensive.

5) Russia is extremely diplomatic yes but things have changed in terms of the point of no return. Peace is possible of course as has been said by both the RFM and the Kremlin, but only if Russia’s demands are meant to ensure this won’t happen again. Yet this entire scenario lays out the foundations for this to continue and for some sort of control by the west to be established.

6) Russia wants the war to end, as do many others and Ukraine is already in bed with NATO, so it’s not even that it’s acceptance would change much outwardly. But in terms of inward actions, in terms of what joining NATO means in the language of war, even beyond article 5, this along with other concessions made by Russia doesn’t seem like a realistic solution they’d want. They understand Ukraine as a proxy will always continue to be used by the west for the final objective: The balkanization of Russia.

From Fiorella in Moscow: I concur.

(SOURCE: Scott Ritter on X: “🚨)

[firelordderpy]

73–178 The deterioration started around the time of Ukraine’s Orange revolution, with Putin’s attempt to join NATO shot down, and Ukraine starting to turn away from Russia, that was the rumblings of a new cold war starting. Everything then has been a cloth slowly tearing apart thread by thread.

Russia made it clear they didn’t want NATO in Georgia or Ukraine, "no country would be happy about a military bloc to which it did not belong approaching its borders" -Medvedev. It was a red line for them,

While nations like Ukraine wanting to be part of NATO is understandable, Russia’s concerns are also understandable, even from a purely practical standpoint, the only time you poke a sleeping bear is if you’re stupid, or have a plan to kill it. We may not agree with Russia’s fears, we may not think they’re valid, but just saying “You don’t need to be afraid” doesn’t usually make people less afraid. Russia’s fears, even if unfounded, were real. And that means working with Russia requires calming those fears.

Putin’s popularity in Russia came from the fact that he turned the utter hellhole Russia was in after the fall of the Soviet Union, into a nation that almost functioned. It was still a mess, but it at least was improving. Putin is probably the best leader Russia has had since Tsar Nicholas the second. Granted, the bar has been set really low, but the point stands. For all his faults, he took over a complete dumpster fire and dramatically improved it. That doesn’t make him a good guy, Hitler did the same thing and he wasn’t a good guy, but the point stands that Russia was in a really bad place when he took power. So it’s not just the Russian government afraid of losing the status they have, the Russian people don’t want to go back to pre-Putin Russia either.

I’ve not heard of a Minsk 3 in that context, but if that was the case where it was suggested as Russian troops started to form on the border, then it sounds to me like a last ditch effort to enter negotiations and avert the war, unfortunately I can only find talk about Minsk 3, being Zelensky saying there wouldn’t be a Minsk 3 in August of 2022.

As for Minsk 2, yes, both sides blame each other repeatedly for it’s failure, and frankly they both likely hold a lot of blame. Zelensky refused to talk to the DNR and LPR leaders, Azov laughed in his face, but the DNR and LPR leaders still wanted to actually join Russia and had been fighting a brutal and likely didn’t want to be part of the same country they had bled fighting.

Minsk 2 was a bandaid solution, and when it wasn’t working that should have been the catalyst for more diplomatic actions, instead it simmered. 

Russia fears Ukraine in NATO, not because of a loss of face, but of a loss of security. Ukraine in NATO is like Mexico being part of the Easter Bloc, it’s seen as a clear and present threat. As mentioned before, even if you think Russia’s fear of NATO is invalid, they don’t believe they can take the risk that NATO isn’t going to launch some attack on Russia in the future by claiming it’s preemptive of something of that nature. If the people two houses away from you started forming a “Defense against Irradiated-Space Club, and then started actively recruiting the people next door to join them, while refusing to let you join, you might start getting concerned about their intentions. But you can at least pack up and move, Russia can’t do that.

The 2008 Georgian war was quite a nasty thing, that’s when I really started studying the situation, I stumbled upon a website talking about it and seeing the horror show, was quite disturbing to young me.

The violence was tit for tat, even as early as April. The regions had been in dispute since the fall of the USSR and had been in limbo, as such they had a joint force of Russian and Georgian peacekeepers.

Saakashvili thought he had a shot to seize the regions, and that his military could deter Russia from rushing to the defense of the regions and not retaliate, he was wrong and killed Russian peacekeepers.

Now, Russia was more than happy to give him the fight, but Georgia played a role in the deterioration of the situation, Georgia had been preparing for the war, and struck hard, To quote the EU commission on the war:

“ The Russian troops were stationed in South Ossetia as a result of a 1992 agreement, binding under international law, between Russia and Georgia. Georgia's attack, Luchterhandt argues, constitutes a breach of this agreement, thereby giving Russia the right to intervene. Nevertheless, he writes, the Kremlin, with its overwhelming intervention in western Georgia, can be accused of "violating the principle of proportionality."

The experts found no evidence to support claims by the Georgian president, which he also mentioned in an interview with SPIEGEL, that a Russian column of 150 tanks had advanced into South Ossetia on the evening of Aug. 7. According to the commission's findings, the Russian army didn't enter South Ossetia until August 8.Commission members note, on the other hand, that Saakashvili had already amassed 12,000 troops and 75 tanks on the border with South Ossetia on the morning of Aug. 7. In their research, they uncovered remarks by the Georgian president that demonstrate that he had long flirted with a military solution to the South Ossetian problem. "If you ask any Georgian soldier why he is serving in the armed forces, each of them will respond: 'To reestablish Georgia's territorial integrity,'" Saakashvili said in a television address on May 25, 2004.”

-https://www.spiegel.de/international/world/a-shattered-dream-in-georgia-eu-probe-creates-burden-for-saakashvili-a-630543.html

Russia did not seize Crimea until after Yanukovich’s government was removed by force, Russian soldiers only deployed 7 days after Yanukovich had been forced to flee.

I will agree that the referendums will be a lot more one sided now that the populations on both sides have had more than enough time to adjust, if they had been attempted in the early days with an unbiased UN contingent, there might have been far more accurate results. But by now, those who are pro-Ukrainian have moved out of Donetsk, and those who are pro-Russian have either moved to the DNR and LPR, or Russia itself.

I would point out that Russia as far as we know has not committed mass slaughter, while there are some war crimes, both known and some which are inevitable and still to be discovered, they are not on a genocidal scale, Bucha, a horrible event where 73–178 civilians were murdered, is a town of 37,000.

It’s more realistic to assume that those who would vote against the occupying army, just would stay silent. But the Russian argument is that it goes the other way as well, no one could vote independence if Ukrainian soldiers were there. It’s an impasse that could have been solved before the 2022 escalation with UN involvement, but now I agree it’s unrealistic. The only way it might work is if Russia AND Ukraine were to both pull back and the lands between the Dnieper and the Russian border be turned over to a UN peacekeeping mission, but that’s rather unlikely.

Russia isn’t a poor little victim, but it is still a victim of brutal invasion within living memory, they’re more suspicious and cautious because of that fact.

There are things Russia could do that would help deescalate, but deescalating requires both sides to actually deescalate, that’s why when we had the conflict over the Berlin wall, both sides pulled their tanks back foot by foot, one going a little back, then other, because if one person puts down their gun, and the other doesn’t, then the person who put down their gun is at quite a loss.

The problem with our sanctions is that they weren’t conditional, they were applied as a weapon, then Russia realized they could shrug them off, and they lost their bite. We offered a stick, but not a carrot, and that only works so long as the stick has a sting.

NATO was formed to protect against Soviet aggression, this is true, but when the Soviets fell, Russia gave up it’s defensive alliance the Eastern Bloc, but we didn’t give up NATO, from Russia’s viewpoint, it set down its gun, then looked up and found NATO advancing on it with its gun still in hand.

Russia didn’t need to conquer, Russia wanted to be western and was rejected, so Russia now wants a moat between it and the west, hence why on the top of the list of peace terms it has offered Ukraine has been military neutrality, because Russia doesn’t want NATO on its borders. Conflict with NATO is the end of Russia, and the closer NATO gets to Russia, and the more it surrounds Russia, the more worried Russia is that NATO will find a reason to end Russia. The best defense is a good offense after all, so NATO being “Defensive” is rather irrelevant.

We spent years arming Ukraine, we spent years ignoring Russia’s concerns, we spent years stepping closer to Russia’s red line on a gamble that Russia wouldn’t actually do anything no matter how much we poked it.

Putin could deescalate, but he’s made it clear, he doesn’t trust the west anymore, especially after Merkel stated that Minsk 2 was an attempt to buy time for Ukraine rather than an actual attempt to resolve the situation.

So the thing which I think puzzles me most about the whole Crimea situation is this: Russia allegedly invaded Crimea in order to gain control of the deepwater port of Sevastopol.

Russia has many miles of coastline on the Black Sea and the Sea of Azov.

Why doesn't Russia simply build its own deepwater port on its own territory, instead of paying leases to Ukraine (before 2014) or provoking international outrage (after 2014)? Surely it is cheaper to dredge and build a new port and associated infrastructure than to — checks notes — receive punishing international sanctions, deplete post-Cold-War military materiel reserves, destroy a whole generation of AMAB citizens, and become a Chinese client state?

[shadow-academic]

Sorting Star Trek: The Next Generation: Part 1

I first discovered the Sorting Hat Chats through @wisteria-lodge’s excellent posts about Elim Garak and Julian Bashir, and they’ve also done a good writeup of The Original Series’s Power Trio (and Scotty), but I haven’t seen anyone do The Next Generation yet, so here I am! I intend to Sort the whole TNG cast, but that’s a lot for one post, so I’m going to split it into multiple parts. 

A more detailed break-down of the system I’m using is right here, but the basics are these:

PRIMARY (ie MOTIVE)

BADGER ~ Loyal to the group.

SNAKE ~ Loyal to yourself and your Important People.

LION ~ Subconscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to feelings and instincts.

BIRD ~ Conscious Idealist. Ideals are linked to built systems and external facts.

SECONDARY (ie METHOD)

BADGER ~ Connect with the group. Make allies, work steadily and well. Be whatever the situation calls for. If you find a locked door, knock.

SNAKE ~ Connect with the environment. Notice things. Tell people what they want to hear. If you find a locked door, get in through the window.

BIRD ~ Collect skills, knowledge, personas, useful friends. If you find a locked door, track down the key or try to pick the lock.

LION ~ Be honest, be direct, speak your truth. Either the obstacle is going down or you are. If you find a locked door, kick it in. 

Worf, Son of Mogh

Worf is perhaps the most straightforward character in the whole show. A Klingon orphan raised on Earth (in Minsk. Minsk.) by adoptive human parents, Worf held onto his Klingon heritage by adopting a Klingon code of honor. Even when he meets other Klingons, almost none of whom take that code quite so seriously, Worf holds himself rigidly to his system, checking every choice he makes to make sure it is honorable. It’s honestly the clearest Bird primary I’ve ever seen.

Worf’s secondary is also very clear. When faced with any problem, his first instinct is to charge in, phasers blazing, mek’leth at the ready. He is unflinchingly honest in all things. He’s got one of the loudest Lion secondaries in the whole franchise.

Lieutenant Commander Data

Bird primaries have a constructed system that they check their decisions against to determine whether something is right or wrong, whether it is constructed by them or something given to them wholesale, and I think Data’s ethical subroutines definitely count as a system that was given to him wholesale. But the ethical subroutines aren’t the whole of Data’s Bird primary. Data is constantly questioning the world around him, trying to understand what humanity is and what it means to be human. He is constantly gathering data (pun not intended) and evolving his system to account for it.

Speaking of gathering data, Data also has a Bird secondary. His knowledge is vast, and on the rare occasions that he lacks an appropriate toolset for a situation, his android brain can learn one very quickly. In short, Data is the Double Bird Spock can only dream of being.

Dr. Katherine Pulaski

Dr. Pulaski doesn’t get nearly as much screentime as her crewmates, only lasting for one season, but I honestly really like her character. She was very obviously conceived as “female Dr. McCoy”: an older down-home Southern doctor who wears her emotions on her sleeve and is brutally honest. But does she house-match him? Well...yeah! Like McCoy, she will go out of her way to help people because they’re people. The best example of this comes in her one and only focus episode, “Unnatural Selection”. (I’m still salty about the fact that not only is Pulaski in only one season, but it’s also the shortest season due to a writer’s strike.) Captain Picard believes the risk of contagion to his crew is too great to help the crew of Darwin Station, but Pulaski refuses to abandon them, because those are people down there. So she ends up beaming one of the patients into a shuttle where the only people aboard are her and Data (because he’s immune to disease) and even though she gets infected and has to be rescued by Chief O’Brien doing some transporter technobabble, she does solve the medical mystery of the day and saves whomever she can.

Speaking of Pulaski and Data, let’s address the elephant in the room. The thing that Katherine Pulaski is most infamous for is her being an enormous dick to Data in her earliest episodes. That’s very much a Badger primary falling into the trap of dehumanization, just like McCoy with Spock, but the big difference in the dynamic is that Data is not Spock. Spock can answer McCoy’s snark with snark and it’s incredibly entertaining to watch, but Data is far too innocent and earnest for that, and it just comes across as Pulaski being mean. But what all those Pulaski-haters pointedly ignore is that Pulaski goes through some really serious character development over her limited screen time. When she gets to know Data, she stops dehumanizing him, and indeed becomes one of his biggest advocates. In the episode “Pen Pals”, when Data has the personal issue of the day, it is Pulaski who argues most fervently in favor of helping him, because Data is their crewmate, he is their friend, he is a person. Pulaski even comes to believe in Data’s personhood in ways that Data himself tends to dehumanize himself. When Data explains how he cannot feel emotions, Pulaski’s like “Really? Because your reaction back there seemed pretty emotional.” Pulaski continues challenging Data throughout her screentime, but she goes from being dismissive of him to asking Data to challenge his limits in ways he hadn’t even considered.

As to Pulaski’s secondary, she has the same uncompromising Lion that McCoy had. She is going to charge in and make sure people get the medical attention they need, and nothing, neither Captain Picard nor getting infected with a fatal illness herself, is going to stop her. (Yes, I’m bringing up “Unnatural Selection” again. It’s just the best Pulaski episode.) At the beginning of “Unnatural Selection”, Counselor Troi even straight-up calls her out as being almost too dedicated to her work as a doctor.

Dr. Beverly Crusher

Speaking of doctors, let’s move on to the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise for the rest of the show. Beverly Crusher is also a Badger primary. Her priority is her patients, and her patients are anyone who is hurt. She doesn’t care about the context; she sees someone hurt, so she charges in to heal them. (That’s her Lion secondary, too.) She’s very straightforward: charge in and heal people, no matter the consequences, which can honestly cause problems, because on multiple occasions, she ends up doing something like violating the Prime Directive, which Picard then has to call her out on.

Crusher: “I couldn’t just leave them there!” Picard: “Why not?”

The fact that this exact quote is an exchange they’ve had multiple times is, I feel, very telling for both of them. Picard knows that the rules exist for a reason, but Beverly’s not gonna let a little thing like rules get in the way of helping people.

Beverly’s also doing a spot of modeling; she’s got a Badger secondary model that comes in the fact that she kind of holds the role of “everybody’s mom.” Beverly is a caring, nurturing, maternal figure not just to Wesley but to the rest of the crew as well. But it is a model; when the chips are down, Beverly’s first move is to Charge.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard

Captain Picard is a phenomenally eloquent man. He’s downright famous for his speeches about how humanity can be better than anyone gives them credit for, about standing firm to ideals in the face of adversity, about never hesitating to do the right thing. This shows that he’s put a lot of thought into his own moral system; I don’t think a Felt primary would feel comfortable putting so much thought into examining their morals just to articulate them better. Picard sees value in the systems of Starfleet and the ideals of what Starfleet is supposed to stand for, and his Bird primary has incorporated them into his own personal system of what is right and wrong.

Like Kirk, and indeed like all Captains, Picard has a solid Lion secondary model; a natural necessity of the job is the skill to make snap decisions and judgment calls in the moment, and he’s quite good at them. But he only uses that model when it’s absolutely necessary. Picard’s preferred method of problem-solving is to trust in his crew. When faced with a problem, Picard will call a meeting of the senior staff and possibly the odd relevant specialist like O’Brien, and ask for their input on the issue at hand. What we’re seeing there is a Badger secondary leaning on the strengths of his community.

I’ve every intention of doing the rest of the crew at a later date, but this post is already very long, and I want to do more research (read: watch more Star Trek) before I tackle the rest of them. So, to sum up:

Worf: Bird/Lion Data: Double Bird Dr. Pulaski: Badger/Lion Dr. Crusher: Badger/Lion (Badger secondary model) Picard: Bird/Badger (Lion secondary model)

[drakonfire12]

If you think Ukraine needs to make concession: watch the above clip. [To see the Tweet click here]

I started the recording at when Alexei Zhuravlyov was doing speaking that whole thing about doing Putin’s order to the letter (essentially). “It’s all written on paper.”

The first person in the clip takes about how Kissinger recommending Kyiv do concessions means that neither Kyiv or the West believes that the Ukrainian army can win.

In the second part, Adalby Shkagoshev essentially that Russia’s slowly but still making process (to be careful of the safety of their soldiers) and that if Ukraine doesn’t make concessions then the west will have problems.

In the 3rd part (where the clip I recorded starts) Zhuravlyov roleplays for the hypotheticals so it gets messy. But here’s my best attempt to directly translate (though the subtitles are fine it might help if you see it all fully written out:

Timestamp: 1:31-3:29

If you think you can give us something {gestures with hands here there} and we’ll be “oh, enough, we’re satisfied” {hands up, gesture for stop}…no, no. We started the special operation for one [goal] only - as our president said - ‘look, our conditions: security {gesture again of hands up as if walls}. If you don’t accept them, there will be a military-technical response.’ {slaps hands together in emphasis} Over there, read the paper, it’s all written there {points for emphasis}. Everything had to be written out there {gestures with one hand for emphasis} If you give us territory, saying you won’t hast over Crimea and that we’ll say {hands up again as if to say enough} “oh excellent” - no, no, no. {finger wagging to say no} No. [they] didn’t get it. They don’t even understand what they’re saying. But now it seems some leaders are starting to see things clearly. Yes, we’re moving slowly, but confidently. And everyone perfectly understands what’s at issue. (Crosstalk: “and everyone knows where we’re going”) Yes, right. Everyone knows where we’re going.(Crosstalk: “[they] guessed.”) They perfectly understand. “Let’s- let’s come up with something like Minsk II, but at least she [Ukraine] stays. She stays, we will load her with weapons this Ukraine, and again we’ll do, after say 5 years, for you some interesting process.” We aren’t as stupid as they imagine. We have entirely different goals. They will reckon with us-. Today, Americans say that ‘our national goals is international law.’ When, how to say, denazification and demilitarized of Ukraine is complete, well then you can regard us however you like. But we explain to you: “return frozen assets, here. Or there’ll be a military-technical response”. (Crosstalk: “Europe-“ )They’ll start to think, ‘maybe truly it will happen? And with them it will be.’ They can’t run away from it, it will happen, they will reckon with us, that’s the issue, it’s our sovereignty.

So in terms of what Zhuravlyov thinks “sovereignty” means is to do what you want (also FYI it’s also part of their list of reasons why they might use nukes, so I’m like pretty he’s threatening with nukes). But essentially the issue is that they could keep pushing till they do what Putin says (though as Timothy Snyder pointed out, Putin can just make up anything and Russia will go along with it).

[bandiera--rossa]

https://www.pressenza.com/2022/04/from-donbass-against-war-and-against-peace/

From Donbass, against war and against peace

by Oleg Yasinsky - Chilenian photoreporter of Ukrainian origin.

If we delve a little deeper into history, we will see in these places the traces of the cavalry of the civil war between the Reds and Whites a little more than a century ago, and going back a little further, we will hear the cries and chants of the Cossacks who, fulfilling the will of Tsarina Catherine the Great, in exchange for her promise of freedom and autonomy, moved from the rebel republic of Zaporozhskaya Sech (now Ukraine) to the North Caucasus to take over the defence of the southern border of the Russian Empire. It was here that the geographical division within the Cossack culture was formed, another example of the enormous closeness between two neighbouring peoples, although those on the Ukrainian side are called “Cossacks” and those on the Russian side “Kashacks”, but they are united by the same words, the same songs and the same memories.

The most recent past of the Donbass, that of the Second World War, which for us will always be the Great Patriotic War, is associated with the history of the “Young Guard”, a clandestine communist youth organisation that resisted the Nazi occupation and at the end of the war was denounced, seized and after brutal torture, shot.

It is an infinite, peaceful, multi-coloured, multi-temperature land, open to the winds, which seems to attract by its richness and its location, it is appetizing for everyone.

Now the word Donbass is repeated in the media, this time as the name of the epicentre of a war in the heart of Europe. The main part of the Donets Basin has belonged to Ukraine. Almost all of its population, however, has been from Russian families or from the area where Ukrainians have always spoken Russian and culturally have little to do with the western regions of the country. When Ukraine was a bilingual and peaceful country, when it was one of the Soviet republics and until the first decades of its independence, no one here bothered to revise maps and historical borders. In the midst of enormous cultural, linguistic and religious diversity within the republics of the former USSR, we all understood that there were many more things that united us and that there were no closer peoples in the world than Russian and Ukrainian, which many considered inseparable parts of the same people. Dondass was the last frontier and the point of confluence between the two.

Everything changed in February 2014. The coup d’état in the Ukrainian capital Kiev, publicised worldwide as the “Maidan Revolution”, brought the forces of the nationalist far right to power. The project of the new authorities was to impose their unique anti-Russian, pro-Western and extremely anti-communist agenda on everyone and at all costs, and anyone who disagreed was declared a traitor, a separatist or an agent of Putin. Faced with the disobedience of the Donbass population to the orders of the new government in Kiev and the massive disregard for its legitimacy, a real civil rebellion (a kind of “anti-Maidan”) ensued. The nationalist government in Kiev, on 14 April 2014, started the “Anti-Terrorist Operation” by attacking the rebel territories with all its military might. The people of Donbass, as best they could, with and without Russian military and logistical assistance, resisted. Two independent people’s republics were proclaimed: Donetsk and Lugansk, named after their municipal capitals. Until 22 February 2022, Russia did not recognise the independence of these republics, giving the Ukrainian government the opportunity to integrate them into the country, in compliance with the Minsk Agreements signed by Ukraine in 2014, which provided for a solution to the armed conflict without losing these territories. The possibility of cultural autonomy was planned, returning Russian to the status of the state language in this region, where it is native to all: Russians, Ukrainians, Jews and dozens of other nationalities.

During almost 8 years of war in Donbass, which had its hot and cold phases, various human rights bodies remained deaf and blind to hundreds of complaints from the rebel republics about the killings and torture of thousands of civilians by the Ukrainian army. And much more than the regular army, the sowers of terror were the paramilitary battalions of the Ukrainian far right: “Azov”, “Aydar”, “Dnepr” and others.

From the street paramilitarism of the Maidan upheaval, they became part of the Ukrainian Ministry of Defence and became the main shock groups of the Ukrainian armed forces in Donbass. In the territories under Ukrainian control they created real concentration camps and torture centres for imprisoned rebels and civilians suspected of sympathising with Russia.

When the fighting in Donbass ended with the Minsk agreements, never honoured by Ukraine, the warring parties reached a line of armed division in the Donetsk and Lugansk region. Although the regional capitals and their surroundings came under rebel control, almost 2/3 of the territory of the Ukrainian Donbass was controlled by the Kiev government and the military forces, supported by the far-right battalions, which were installed there as an army of occupation.

In almost 8 years the independent republics, despite all the support from Russia, which the Ukrainian government always presented as an invasion and interference in their internal affairs, were not politically recognised by any country in the world, many of their inhabitants opted to leave for Ukraine and Russia and those who remained obtained passports that were not valid outside and the economic situation in the region continued to worsen. In recent years, before the recognition of the republics on 22 February, the Russian government facilitated the process of granting Russian citizenship to all interested Donbass residents, provoking a furious reaction from Kiev. Hopes of reintegrating these territories still remained in Ukraine, as the Kiev government had only to start implementing the Minsk agreements. Meanwhile, NATO was stuffing Ukraine with the latest weapons, its trainers were training the army and paramilitaries to kill, and all the media, round the clock, were sowing hatred towards Russia.

In mid-February this year the situation in Donbass changed. Ukrainian artillery opened heavy fire on the rebel territory causing dozens of civilian deaths. Evacuation of children to Russia was declared. Putin recognised the independence of the republics, ending the long wait for the fulfilment of the Minsk agreements, the Russian parliament approved the use of troops abroad. The governments of the rebel republics demanded the immediate withdrawal of Ukrainian troops from the entire territory of Donbass. In the face of the predictable Ukrainian refusal, Russian and Donetsk and Lugansk forces, on the night of 24 February, attacked military installations throughout the territory of Ukraine and ground forces entered, along almost the entire border.

The world’s media immediately mounted an unprecedented anti-Russian campaign. If only all the wars of recent decades had had a tenth of the pacifist fervour of this one. It is the first military operation launched, not by the Western powers, but against their most loyal subject in Europe. It is legitimate to be against war, but one would have to be very naive to believe that the US, Britain and their allies, by applying all kinds of sanctions against Russia and showing the world their version of the tragedy, are really seeking to defend any of the values they have systematically trampled on throughout their history. There is a media campaign prepared with much calculation and in advance, and rather than pacifism, its aim is to dehumanise Russia and everything Russian, preparing the ground in the world’s collective subconscious to do away with this country, seeing it as the source of all problems for “the civilised world”.

The Negro magic of war changes the colours and perceptions of reality. With the first Russian missiles downed in Ukraine, its president – a swindler, criminal, clown and Nazi accomplice – became a national hero. Volodymyr Zelensky finally does the only thing he knows how to do well: act. Media control, multiplied by fear and ignorance, makes people forget everything. And “the civilised world”, as never before, “supportive and pacifist”, is “in solidarity” with Ukraine by sending it tons of arms and ammunition, encouraging more deaths and demonising Chekhov, Tchaikovsky, Gagarin and other “voters” of Putin.

Since the war in Yugoslavia we know that “smart missiles” are never that smart, and yes, many children and civilians have been killed and even the duped Ukrainian military are also victims and that is terrible and understandable. But perhaps the worst lie of the world’s media is to insist that the “Russian aggression is unprovoked”. This war was being sought, provoked and called for every minute since the triumph of the Maidan coup. It was not the dwarf Zelensky and his paramilitary guards, it was the masters of their power, who in their inner circles, taking off their pacifist masks, congratulate themselves on the fulfilment of their great dream: the Slavs killing each other, because to indulge their appetites they must vacate these huge territories, with their immense wealth in order to reach the northern border of China. A big party outside the cameras and their crocodile tears.

Ukrainians to them are the same Russians, just a more tame subspecies. Maybe talking about civilian casualties in Ukraine it would be fair to talk about them all once and for all. Thousands dead in this war and hundreds of thousands dead from the social disaster planned and organised by this government that now lies so much about independence and sovereignty. The systematic destruction of the Ukrainian health care system is just one example of the economic genocide against pensioners, the sick and other “non-productive” sectors under the orders of the IMF.

It was killing how many people a day? How many thousands of kilometres away from Kiev were these decisions taken to impose on the administration of the spoils of war called Ukraine? An award that today raises the flags of patriotism and cries for “defence of its independence” in the face of an “unprovoked attack”.

For some time now, the simplest and most accurate way to explain the realities of Ukraine in Latin America has been to speak of a Colombia in the heart of Europe. A beautiful and very rich country, with an unbeatable strategic location, converted by its sell-out elites into a banana republic of the US, with a formal democracy based on strict control of the media, the dismantling of the state’s social obligations, the destruction of memory, an imposition of a false history and paramilitary groups at the service of power to intimidate and silence the few dissenting voices. Russia – the closest and most culturally, humanly, economically and historically inseparable country to Ukraine – was declared the main enemy of its people.

It is well known that our ideas and convictions are based more than anything else on our emotions. Emotions are a reaction of our consciousness to the signals that come to us from our senses. Approximately 90% of the world’s information we receive through our eyes. Today’s media dictatorship is practically unlimited. In today’s information wars, a direct lie is a tool of the past. A correct distribution and dosage of truths is much more efficient. All those who have had the experience of placing their products in a supermarket know that the price for placing them on certain shelves, where they are better seen, can be several times higher, but economically it is always compensated. On the shelves of today’s media, there is practically everything, but for the most valuable information we always have to go to the dusty back shelves or behind the curtains of other people’s advertising, while all the junk food is always on display for all to see and at a discount. The demand for these important truths is usually quite low, as it implies another level of attention and general education of the citizen-customer, things we are taught everywhere to unlearn. It is our civilised western culture based on drugs, pharmaceuticals and alcohol, which constructs this perception of reality as a comic book or pop music theme, the system cultivates and reproduces its cannon fodder of the highest quality, full of patriotism, national pride and the respective little flags sponsored and handed out by corporations and oligarchs.

The people in Donbass are different. The best achievement of the great Soviet civilisation was the humanity of the people who lived through it. People who are simple, true, close, who do not pretend, who know how to look people in the eye, who do not talk too much and do not pretend to be something they are not. I felt I was among such people only in two places: in Siberia and in Donbass. In Ukrainian nationalist discourse the people of Donbass are derogatorily called “vatnik”. “Vata” is Russian and Ukrainian for cotton, and “vatnik” is a cotton coat, typical simple and coarse clothing of Soviet workers. From the classism and careerism of the Kiev “middle class” that supported nationalism, “Soviet ordinariness” in Donbass was tantamount to backwardness and prevented the country from moving towards “European civilisation”. They are also called “separatists” or “separatists”. It is curious that those who really divided and tore Ukraine apart, making it unlivable for the great cultural diversity that the region always represented, accuse those who rebelled against it of being separatists.

It was strange to see my country as if it had been removed from the chronicles of World War II, but in colour. Endless unplanted fields, stained with craters from mines and tank shells. Tens of kilometres of strips of trees along the roads, their branches, bark and trunks shredded by shrapnel and heavy machinery crashes. The burnt-out tanks, trucks and buses between the military checkpoints and the old signs indicating the distances to different peacetime points, still in Ukrainian.

On 14 March this year, at 11:31, the centre of Donetsk was rocked by an explosion. It was a Ukrainian missile “Point U”, shot down by the Republic’s anti-aircraft defences. These missiles are intended to destroy heavy technology, which does not exist in the centre of Donetsk. According to its calculated trajectory, “Point U” was heading towards a shopping centre, which was crowded at this time of day. The missile debris landed next to the government building near a bank, where a queue of people were waiting for their turn at the cash machine. Twenty-one were killed and more than 30 injured, including several children. Fortunately a playground next door was empty at the time. This is missile number 15, shot down over Donetsk. “Point U” is a cluster weapon. Each missile contains 50 devices, and inside each one are some 316 shrapnel fragments that are dispersed over a radius of up to 400 metres. In this case, happily (if that is the word), only one of these 50 devices was opened. The Kiev authorities claimed that the missile was fired from Russia as a provocation against Ukraine. For the world’s major news outlets, the news went virtually unnoticed.

Gorlovka, a small town near Donetsk, one of the sad symbols of this war that began here in 2014, in the 50th school a little over a month ago a projectile landed in the middle of the working day, killing two teachers who were planning classes. Next to their death, a text of a chronicle in Ukrainian, recalling the importance of the light of the wisdom of books.

Between Donetsk and Mariupol, the important city on the coast of the Sea of Azov, where the heaviest fighting of this war now continues, lies, or rather, was, Volnovaja. In 2014 its population was 23,164.

The official Ukrainian version, which can be found on Wikipedia in English, says that the fighting for Volnovaja started on 25 February and ended on 12 March 2022 and was between the Armed Forces of Ukraine, the Armed Forces of Russia and the “Donbass Separatists” (whose official name is the Army of the People’s Republic of Donbass!). Wikipedia tells us: “During the first days of the Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Russian forces engaged in indiscriminate shelling of Volnovaja and Shchastia, shelling civilian areas. The terrorist shelling of the cities violated international law and echoed tactics Russia had previously used against civilian targets in Syria. Volnovaja was reported to be on the brink of a humanitarian crisis on 28 February, and almost destroyed on 1 March, with around 90% of its buildings damaged or destroyed. Surviving residents were cut off from food, water and electricity After the assault, bodies lay uncollected in the streets.”

Wikipedia lies. We were in Volnovaja a few days afterwards. I don’t know whether 90% of the city was destroyed, as some say, or 85%, as other sources claim, but the city no longer exists. We met dozens of survivors and what they ALL tell us is that it was the Ukrainian army that destroyed Volnovaja. Retreating from the town under pressure from the Russians, they put tanks in front of every building and fired. They destroyed the clinic and the school, looted the houses and shops. The population could not leave because the Ukrainian military would not let anyone leave, using civilians as human shields. The same tactic is now being repeated in Mariupol. That is why the population of Volnovaja, previously divided without major fanaticism between pro-Russian and pro-Ukrainian, now ALL welcomed the Russian army as their liberators. The Russian and Donetsk military hand out food and water, while the people of this ghost town beg them not to abandon them.

From Volnovaja to Mariupol is 66 kilometres. For time and security reasons we could not get to Mariupol, but everyone – civilians and military – kept talking about this, probably to this day the biggest drama of this war. Many people have friends and relatives in Mariupol. Mariupol is one of the main cities in Donbass, it has almost half a million inhabitants and is a port with access to the Mediterranean, so control over this city is key. It is also the largest concentration place in the country of the Azov paramilitary group, which practically controls the Ukrainian army here.

Nobody knows exactly how many there are, but official figures say there are about 700, nobody believes it, and there is talk that in Mariupol alone there may be close to 5 000. It is also known that they are clearly fascists and among them there are several foreign mercenaries, from the USA, Western Europe, Georgia, Russia and elsewhere. They have taken the entire civilian population hostage, they do not let anyone leave and shoot anyone who tries to leave the city. Dozens of civilians are already for weeks in basements, many for a long time without food and water and under collapsed buildings. Casualties may number in the tens of thousands, no one knows. The city is completely surrounded by Russian and Donetsk troops, street fighting continues. The Ukrainian army practically every day is trying to organise rescue of its commanders with helicopters, which are being shot down by Russian fire every time. It is rumoured that they are trying to evacuate American and British military instructors. The world press continues to lie about Russian barbarism.

In the square of the capital of the other rebel republic, Lugansk, there are several points of interest for the visitor: one of them is the government building, which on 2 June 2014 was attacked by two Ukrainian planes. Eight people were killed by the missiles, including the Minister of Culture, and 28 more were wounded. The government representative in Kiev said at the time that it was an “explosion of the air conditioning in the building”. There is also a memorial to Russian journalists killed near Lugansk in 2014, a photo gallery of fallen fighters, defenders of the republic, and the monument to the Ukrainian national poet Taras Shevchenko who seems to look at this madness from another time, almost the only reminder of our great internationalist Soviet past in the midst of today’s mediocrity.

And there is also a small improvised photographic exhibition on the atrocities of the Ukrainian Nazis in Donbass. With the advance of Russian and republican troops into the territory that had recently been under Ukrainian control, new Nazi crimes are uncovered. There is a detailed register of terrible finds, human remains with traces of torture, fascist symbolism and other things that generate so much indifference and distrust among the media of the “democratic world”. It is not about justifying or judging this war, it is about understanding several of its whys and wherefores, what the western press simply hides. It is also to understand, why the inhabitants of Donbass ask the Russian soldiers, please don’t stop.

You have to step on the land of Donbass to feel things that you do not feel from Moscow or from Kiev. To see that fascism is no exaggeration. And being absolutely anti-war, to ask yourself again and again these fucking questions: Would peace really be peace, is peace possible with a government that made all this possible, would there really be another way, … And then to say goodbye with a look at the tanks still advancing towards the West and to take a breath of Donbass air before returning to this other parallel world dominated by the collective Goebbels of the media.

[top-cas-bottom-dean]

The Flower of Belarus

Throughout the course of recent many years, Eastern Europe has opened out a considerable sum, prompting the remainder of the world getting to see significantly find out more here more of the entrancing contrasts between the previous Soviet nations - and Belarus is one of the more intriguing among these.

Because of this turn of events, nations like Belarus with its capital, Minsk, among the primary recipients have become traveler destinations and potential business locations as well.

Assuming you are going to Belarus on business, or know someone who is, then you might be keen on one of the many organizations that presently permit you to send flowers to Belarus - making for an ideal shock gift for your loved one on their appearance.

Additionally to this, there is presently a more open world because of the development in web programs that permit you to converse with people in other nations. Finding love over the web is a seriously typical thing to do nowadays, and it prompts a ton of long-distance relationships.

Belarus flower delivery programs permit you to track down the best bouquet to send to a possible lover in the country whose name deciphers as "White Russia". The chance to send flowers to this nation is an astonishing new turn of events.

Voyaging might be fun, however there is generally a feeling of separation from those to whom you are close, so the chance to remind them you are still there nevertheless care is important. In the event that your loved one receives a bunch of flowers Belarus can feel significantly less remote.

On the off chance that you are searching for the correct method for sending a bouquet to a loved one in Belarus then there are various options, and the web has made it significantly more straightforward to do.

[youngsamberg]

when you get the chance, i would like your in-depth, detailed thoughts on how amy felt during the boyle-linetti wedding seeing jake try and ask jenny out and how she felt going home that night after That moment

i know you sent this like 2 days ago but i wasn’t emotionally ready to go there yet so here goes:

i think amy was really just trying to be a good friend the whole time and wasn’t really thinking about her own feelings. and i think when jake jokingly said “it’s in the past, amy, move on!” she really took that to heart. she’s not one to get overly emotional about things like that so she kinda just steeled herself and tried to ignore her feelings bc it’s not like he’s some random guy she had a crush on, it’s jake, and their friendship is really really important to amy and that was all she cared about. so the whole day amy helps jake try to get with jenny gildenhorn while jake helps amy catch minsk and she uses that to prove to herself that they’re just best friends and that’s all. but then i think even though we didn’t really get to see this, holt’s wedding speech did have an affect on amy and that was a bit of a turning point for her, at least that day. bc they had been through so much that day, supporting each other through what they were each going through, and they still just ended up sitting together at the wedding bc no matter what they’re always pulled back to each other like a magnet. and that’s why she goes up to him at the very end while he’s watching jenny gildenhorn dance with another guy bc that’s what they do, they support each other. and she knows that all jake needs right now is for his spirits to be lifted and even though she Knows that her slow dancing with him would be nice, what he really needs is to laugh and not really think about serious romance; enter gina’s great aunt susan. and those looks at the very end, oh man. those are knowing looks that say “i know you and i love you and now’s not the right time but it will be soon” because they’re best friends and soulmates. and then they went home together bc they drove there together and they hung out together at amy’s apartment maybe watching a james bond movie together and laughing about how jake thinks he’s this suave guy like james bond when he’s actually just a doofus and maybe when the movie is over he asks if he can stay on her couch for the night bc it’s late and he’s tired but it’s also secretly bc he doesn’t really wanna be alone after that day and he just wants to be near amy and she obviously lets him and then the next morning they eat breakfast together just like they’d usually do on a weekend but there’s something a little different about the way they’re looking at each other now, but neither of them notice.

i hope this is what you were looking for now i’m gonna go cry

[bloodfromthethorn]

The past is never dead. It’s not even past

Bozer and Riley knew, logically, that Mac and Jack would share some bad memories. They weren't expecting to stumble across one while they were busy planning some R&R over the Pacific Ocean.

Also on AO3 ->

..

Bozer was still getting used to the idea of going on actual, honest-to-god missions for a US government covert agency, but even he had to admit, this one sounded pretty simple. Mac and Jack apparently had some sort of aversion to the word - the instant Riley had said it earlier, the pair of them had looked a heartbeat away from running for the hills - but all of them had had to agree that being tasked to fly to the other side of the world and sit around surveilling a suspected dead drop was about as plain sailing as it was ever going to get. They didn’t even have to confront anyone who approached said dead drop, just record and report it. 

The result was, unsurprisingly, Riley and Bozer planning what they were going to do with the ample free time they were sure to have. Jack had initially made some attempt at reining them in, reminding them that as easy as it may seem, they were going there to do some actual work, but he’d given up some time ago and now seemed content to listen to them plotting in peace. Amused, Mac had just watched the whole conversation play out without a word. 

It wasn’t until Bozer and Riley had spent a solid ten minutes arguing about the possible pros and cons of a natural mud spa that the blonde figured it was time to intervene. “You two know that at most Matty’s going to give us a few hours of R&R before she calls us home. All of this planning is going to go to waste.”

“If that,” Jack put in with only a touch of sullenness. “Remember that time in Trinidad? We didn’t even get a full ten minutes before we had to be back on the plane.”

Mac wrinkled his nose at the memory. His recollection was foggy given that they had more or less crawled back to the landing strip and then passed out the instant they were off the ground, but then, that was really the point Jack was making. “Right? Just saying you shouldn’t get your hopes too high.”

Bozer scowled at them both. “You two have absolutely no faith. I have no idea why Matty thinks all four of us should be on this mission but I for one fully intend to make the most of it. If you want to sit back and be negative, that’s on you.” He let that indictment hang in the air for a minute, then bumped his shoulder against Mac’s. “'Sides, you’re supposed to be helping! You must know all the best sights, right?”

Unexpectedly, that earned him a confused frown. “Should I? Why? I’ve never even been to Fiji.”

Across from them, sprawled out carelessly against his seat, Jack suddenly went rigid. The change was sharp enough that all three of them picked up on it even though the man hadn’t actually moved, staying exactly where he was like a bug under a microscope. Bozer cast a quick glance at Riley but she looked every bit as lost as he did.

Fortunately, Mac was apparently more clued in. “When was I in Fiji, Jack?” He asked quietly, his voice very gentle. 

For a very long moment there was no response. Bozer considered answering the question - he’d asked Mac about tourist attractions in the first place because he remembered Mac had holidayed in the South Pacific with Nikki three summers ago - but he’d gotten the sense that maybe this wasn’t a conversation he should involve himself with. Jack still hadn’t so much as twitched and he could feel Mac tensing up beside him. 

Eventually, Jack answered with a heavy sigh. “July 2015.”

A short pause. “Ah,” Mac said quietly, his eyes darting to an unremarkable spot on the floor for a second before jumping back to Jack. 

The pair of them fell silent, Jack glaring sharply at the ceiling of the plane cabin while Mac watched him steadily. Evidently something significant had just happened, and Bozer had a sneaking suspicion he was at fault for whatever it was, but he didn’t think he could just leave it there. Apparently, neither could Riley. “What happened in July 2015?”

Predictably there was no response, so Bozer offered her the little that he knew. “Mac went on a ‘work trip’,” he said with quotation marks. “I thought he was in Cleveland. Then just when he was due to come home, Nikki called me. Said they were taking a last minute vacation to Fiji and I shouldn’t expect them back for another two weeks. Ended up being gone most of a month.”

At the time, it hadn’t been that weird. Logically he understood that it might sound strange to most people, but Mac had always been a somewhat inconsistent presence in Bozer’s life, even when they were kids. It was just the way he worked: Mac would go where his brain took him and he wouldn’t stop until he’d achieved whatever it was he was hoping to do. In hindsight, that long standing pattern of behaviour must have been a godsend when Mac had joined DXS and Bozer had become part of his cover.

But that was then. Now, he knew the truth of those strangely frequent, unpredictable work trips - except in all the ways that he didn’t. “I take it you weren’t in Fiji,” he asked slowly. 

Mac didn’t look away from where Jack was still frozen. “No.”

“Where were you?”

He hummed. “Not entirely sure, to be honest. I think I wound up somewhere in the Ural mountains.”

Bozer tried to work out the most delicate way of asking further and found none. The deadened tone of Mac’s voice would have made it very clear it wasn’t a happy memory even if the fact that he apparently hadn’t known where he was hadn’t given it away, and his eyes hadn’t drifted from where Jack was looking more and more strained. 

As Bozer floundered, Riley pressed on. “A mission gone bad?”

“In the worst way,” Mac agreed, then seemed to come awake from some reverie. He blinked, and finally looked away from his partner to take the two of them in. Whatever it was he saw on their faces, he visibly made an effort to make himself smile and relax, shaking off the grim set of his shoulders like an unwanted coat. “We were in Minsk, tasked with surveillance on a human trafficker. Turned out that he was more well-connected than we thought, and some of his friends ended up grabbing me out of our hotel room.” His voice faltered ever so slightly and he bit off whatever he was about to say next. 

Bozer did some quick maths and came up feeling ill. “You were gone for a month.”

“I wasn’t with them the whole time,” Mac hurried to reassure, immediately seeing what Boze was getting at. “Jack caught up with me after about ten days.”

“It was too fucking long,” Jack murmured, the first thing he’d said in over a minute. He still hadn’t moved, but he was wearing one of the darkest expressions Bozer had ever seen on his face. “Should have got there sooner. Should never have let them take you in the first place.”

“It wasn’t your fault Jack,” Mac said with the air of someone who had already said it a thousand times, but was willing to repeat it for as long as necessary. “You were on the other side of the city when they found us. We didn’t even know that they knew we were there.” He glanced back at Bozer to explain, “Someone at the CIA leaked information. The target wasn’t supposed to have any idea there were agents in the city, but somehow his guys knew exactly what hotel room to hit. We didn’t get any warning.”

“I knew something was bogus,” Jack said, more to himself than anything. “I said it felt off, and then I fucked off and left you in that hotel on your own.”

“Instinct isn’t everything. We had no reason to suspect the hotel wasn’t safe.”

Jack shook his head sharply and said nothing more. Mac sighed, but didn’t press. 

Thoroughly thrown for a loop and feeling more than a little bit guilty for inadvertently touching on what was so obviously a sore point, Bozer cast a wild-eyed look at Riley. She looked little better than he felt, pale in the harsh white of the plane’s overhead lighting. They’d both known that, in theory, Mac and Jack both had years of service behind them and that those years were likely to be host to any number of bad memories, but to have the knowledge of that so suddenly and specifically confirmed was a lot to take in.

“If you were- there for ten days,” Boze started slowly, half-knowing the answer and needing to hear it anyway, “Why were you gone for so long?”

Mac glanced back down at the floor, looking distinctly uncomfortable before he settled himself. “I was in medical for a bit. Once I could shake the oxygen mask, I moved into Jack’s apartment for a few weeks. I would have been good to come home but there was- bruising.” He fumbled over the last word, waving a distracted hand at his face as though that explained anything. 

For the first time since they’d broached the topic, Jack moved. He jerked to his feet with a strange lurching step, as though he hadn’t expected to do it himself, then marched towards the back of the plane, shaking his head as he went. Bozer caught the tail end of some dark mutters, but he couldn’t make anything out past the stormcloud of Jack’s expression. Startled, Riley shifted forwards to go after him, but Mac just waved her down, watching Jack’s retreating back with a careful eye before turning back to the two of them. 

“He’s okay,” he said, as though that was in any way believable. “It’s not a great memory, for either of us. Despite what it sounds like, he got the worse end of the deal.”

Riley’s eyebrows rose. “You were in captivity for ten days and he had the hard time?”

“I knew he would come after me. He didn’t know what he would find when he got there,” Mac said with a shrug. He’d said it flippantly, like it was some great truth of the universe that was just the Way Things Were. Maybe to him, it was. “Sure, physically I was a mess, but that stuff heals. If I had the choice again, I wouldn’t have switched places with him for anything.”

Bozer was shaking his head slowly, trying to remember details he had brushed off as unimportant years ago. “I remember you coming home. There were bandages on your arm.” A pause, then, accusingly, “You said you got got by a jellyfish.”

Looking down, Mac tugged self-consciously at the cuff of his rolled-up left sleeve, only managing to draw attention to what he was trying to keep hidden. They were faint - so faint as to be almost invisible against his already pale skin - but for the first time Bozer was able to make out a fine tracery of scars marring the skin of his forearm like a spider’s web, twisting all the way from his wrist to beneath the fabric of his shirt. “Jesus, Mac,” Riley breathed. 

“Electrical burns,” he offered as the explanation they wouldn’t have asked for. Catching their thunderstruck looks, he shifted his expression to what he probably imagined was reassuring. “It looks worse than it was, mostly; being shocked hurts like hell but there’s no real permanent damage to worry about. Honestly, most of it was superficial stuff, scarcely a mark left on me. The only reason I was in medical for as long as I was was because they had to drain my lungs and get me on antibiotics in case of infection. Could have been home within a day otherwise.”

Bozer wasn’t entirely sure what it was about Mac that made him think that explanation would do anything at all to allay their concerns, but he didn’t care for it at all. Worse than any of that though was the dawning realisation in the back of his mind that had been growing steadily ever since Mac mentioned moving into Jack’s place. “Except you couldn’t have come home,” he said quietly, needing to hear it for himself. “Because I was there.”

Mac shuffled in his seat, but held his gaze. “A couple of bruises could probably have been explained away, but I was… kind of a mess. Even if you could have believed I got hit by a car or something, all it would have taken was a few screaming nightmares to give me away. No way it wouldn’t have blown my cover.”

He sounded apologetic even as he said it, bracing himself as though he was expecting Bozer to lash out at him for something that had already been long forgiven. Sure, lying to him for years had been a shitty thing to do, but Boze understood why he had done it now, and he knew that Mac had only ever been trying to keep him safe. It might have been the wrong choice, but it was done for all the right reasons. 

“Mac,” he started, uncertain and wounded and so, so guilty, “Mac, you should have been at home. After whatever it was you went though, you should have been able to recover in your own house.”

Mac blinked at him in clear surprise. Did he really not understand? Boze tried again. “I’m guessing that Jack wasn’t the only one dealing with some shit when you got back to LA and I’m not even going to pretend I can imagine what that was like. You should have been able to come home, come back to the place where you felt safe and cared for and-” He sucked in a hard breath. “And you couldn’t, because of me. I chased you out of your own house when you’d been tortured.”

The blonde was already shaking his head, looking stricken. “That wasn’t on you. Boze, that was never on you.” He finally stopped worrying at his sleeve to grip Bozer’s shoulder, tight and grounding. “I was the one who kept the truth from you. I lied to you, for years, and that’s all on me. I know that if you’d known what had happened you would have been there for me and you only weren’t because I didn’t let you.”

He wasn’t wrong and Bozer knew it, but he wasn’t exactly right either. “I get that. But you do know that you shouldn’t have had to make that choice, right? You should have been able to come home Mac.”

Riley was glancing between the two of them looking utterly lost, and Mac was starting to look not much better, so Boze took a slow breath and tried his best to let it go. He had spent years of his life trying to convince Mac that he should rank his own well-being at least somewhere on his list of priorities, and this was really just another piece of that endless puzzle. There would be time to fight that battle later. “I’m just glad you’re okay man. No lasting damage?”

Thankful for the lifeline being offered, Mac dropped his hand away from Bozer’s shoulder and shrugged lightly. “A few scars, but nothing else. Like I said, I had a surprisingly easy time of it in comparison to Jack.” His eyes darted over to where his partner had hunkered down as far from them as he could get. “And speaking of, give me a minute.”

He was on his feet and gone before either of them could even think about trying to stop him, not that they would have done. Bozer had the sense that this was a conversation they had had before, and he knew that Mac would have it handled. If there was anyone who could convince Jack that he hadn’t somehow apocalyptically failed the man he had dedicated his own life to protecting, it would be the man himself. 

“How many stories do you think they have?” Riley asked quietly, soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear her. “All the years they’ve been doing this… How much is there that we don’t know about?”

Bozer thought about the scars on Mac’s arm that he’d never really seen before, about the number of unannounced work trips he had gone on after he came back from Afghanistan. Thought about the number of times he had heard him moving around the house late at night after a nightmare, or worse, the times he’d woken up crying out in panic. He’d known for years that Jack had a protective streak a mile wide and he’d centered it firmly on Mac; before he’d known about the Phoenix, Bozer had always wondered if the man was going overboard. Now, he knew with certainty that he wasn’t. 

When he met her gaze, there were tears in Riley’s eyes. “Too much.”

[wodstories]

"I kept my job. What would I do without it? Lurk in the shadows all night, with blood being the only thing on my mind? Sounds like a one-way ticket to the dark nowhere. My work keeps me grounded, having less time for stupid ideas helps maintain a clear record. And I get paid. I don't need to pay the rent anymore - feeding landlord my blood was one of the best tips I got early on - so whatever I save on that and food, I use to support my family. Yes, I remain in touch with them, maybe not as often now. I cut the visits once I learned they'd be in serious trouble if anyone found out. But I can't just ghost them. It's my mom, it's my brother. Who would I become if I just left them?" - Learn more about Kindred trying to maintain their former lives in Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition corebook. 📖 📍 Minsk, Belarus 📸 Tima Miroschnichenko