#new balance is the best sponsor right now they always knock it out of the park

[fritzes]

from coco’s instagram

[boyfriend-cal]

Mutual Part 2 – Calum Hood

PART 1 Description: You’re still dealing with your feelings for Calum

Word Count: 2k ish

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+

You let yourself wallow in your apartment for two days. After that, you forgot that night ever happened, and you pushed it away.

 The internal argument going on with yourself was exhausting. Half of you wanted to swallow your pride, walk up to his door, and tell him you lied. The other half of you says there's no way in hell that’s ever going to happen.  

 You’d met Calum in college, but it wasn’t until after you both graduated that you’d started the relationship you had, if you could call it that. He’d been lonely for a while, and you were just dumped by a boy you’d planned a future with, so why not? It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but then you kept showing up and he kept opening the door.

 Then once you felt yourself falling, you tried to not show up at his apartment as much. You’d settle in for the night around midnight, but within the next two hours you’d convinced yourself if you went, it’d be the last time. Over and over again.

 You didn’t have time to think about him, not during the day at least. It’s been six months since you graduated which meant the non-profit you built was projected to launch this week. That means today you needed to go around town and pick up the donations or door prizes that local businesses promised you for the banquet being held at the end of the week.

 So, you pushed open the door to the small craft brewery, smoothing out your blouse and pulling your jeans up higher on your hips. Some businesses had refused to help you because you were just out of college and still young, but many of them believed in you and the organization you’d worked so hard to build.

 “Hello, I’m Y/N. I called last week about a donation for a banquet this weekend?”

 The older guy, probably in his thirties, looks at you for a moment. He studies your face before he nods. “I think I remember you calling. Let me see if the boss man left the jugs on his desk. Be right back.”

 You nod and hook your hands together behind your back, fiddling with your fingers while you wait. He returns almost five minutes later with two oddly shaped jugs in his hand.

 “Here you go. Whoever brings them back in will get them filled for a dollar each the first time, after that it’s half price each jug. I’m William, by the way.” William flashes a smile at you.

 “Thank you. I told your boss I’d leave some tickets to the banquet for him, so here they are. Have a good afternoon.”

 After that, you headed towards the bakery just down the street. The owner, Sara, told you that she’d give you some gift certificates as well as a generous donation to be one of the main sponsors of the event. Before you pushed open the door, you tuck one of the jugs under your arm just so you have a free hand. You wish you brought a bag or something because carrying them and the extra tickets with thank you notes is proving to be a challenge.

 The small place was busy with people because lunch hour had just started. You’d always heard about how amazing their sandwiches were, but never had time to try it out. Just before you could scan the room, someone taps your shoulder.

 “Are you Y/N? I’m Sara, it’s nice to officially meet you! Come on to the back, and I’ll get you set up.” Sara is blonde with a bright smile and pretty blue eyes, and she motions for you to follow her behind the counter where multiple employees are busy helping serve customers.

 You pass through a doorway that opens up to the kitchen, then she unlocks another door that reveals a small office. You sit down and then set the jugs on the floor while she rustles through her desk to find various pieces of paper.

 “So we’ve got the catering all figured out. I’ve already checked with the venue, and we’ll be able to start bringing food in as early as 9am, which is perfect for us. The kitchen there will have everything we need so we don’t have to worry about transporting anything besides ingredients, and we’ve got that handled. All I need you to do is send over authorization passes that I can give to my employees who will be coming in and out that day.” She looks up at you after reading from a notepad that she’s been scribbling notes on and you smile.

 “That’s great news. I can definitely do that.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, half of you thought she’d have a list of requirements that needed to be met in the next few days, and your schedule was already busy enough. You start sifting through your thank you notes in your hand to find the one with her name on it, but she clears her throat, so you look up at her.

 “How are you feeling? It’s your first big event.” Sara smiles, and somehow, it relieves some of your stress.

 “I feel like I have so little time to get everything done, but I know I can do it. You’ve been so helpful, and I couldn’t thank you enough.”

 “Everything is fine. You’re far more organized than most people who come in and ask for donations. I’m happy to help. Let me just sign these certificates and this check, and you’ll be on your way, okay?”

 A few minutes later you’re trying to fit everything in your hands so you can walk back three blocks to your car. As you emerge from the kitchen, you see Calum’s friend Luke sitting at a table alone. His back is to you, but you’d know the curly hair and leather jacket anywhere.

 Panic rises in you. You can’t see Calum today, not now, when it’s been going so well. You frantically look to the parking lot, and it’s your luck that he’s just pulled in. Maybe you could exit before he gets out of his car, that would be easy. Quickly, you exit behind the counter and try to maneuver through people to get to the door, but someone calls your name.

 You turn around to see Sara. “I forgot to give you these on the house. Consider it a taste tester for this weekend.”

 Sara balances the bright pink bakery box on top of the full load you already have in your arms. You feel your hands getting clammy and your stomach-churning. You didn’t want to be standing here when he walked through the door.

 “Oh, thank you. I appreciate it.” You turn away to beeline for the door, but she stops you by grabbing your arm.

 “And really, if you need anything, let me know. I’m here as a friend, also.”

 Any other time you would’ve really appreciated her words, but right now you were teetering on the edge of full-on panic. “Yeah, great. See you soon.”

 You quickly spin around, pulling at the handle and rushing over the threshold of the door. The world around you is a little bit blurry until you run smack dab in the middle of someone's chest. The jugs, box of cookies, and thank you cards fall from your hands, you hear the glass shattering against the ground. It sounds a lot like your life falling apart.

 Anticipating hitting the ground, you squeeze your eyes shut, but it never comes.

“Y/N?”

 Now you don’t want to open your eyes, because you know exactly who it is. Your heart may burst out of your chest. You open one eye, and then the other. Calum is in front of you in a tight black shirt and navy plaid pants. Then, your eyes fall to the ground.

 The jugs are long gone, only a couple of big pieces remain. The thank-you notes and tickets for sponsors happened to fall into a puddle, but the ink has already started to run. You feel tears begin to well up in your eyes. Everything you’d worked for felt like it was gone. It would take days to order new tickets and have them shipped, and how would you explain that your most significant donations were just gone now?

 “Y/N? Are you alright?” Calums voice shocks you out of your unaware state. You look up at him, and that’s all it takes for the tears to roll down your cheeks.

 “No.” It feels like all your strength had been taken away. He looks at you with worry in his eyes, but you shake it off.

 “Do you need help?”

 Honestly, you didn’t know why he was still standing here. You were embarrassed that you had ruined all of your hard work, and now that he’s standing here when you’d been trying so hard not to think about him.

 “No Calum, I don’t think you could help me figure out why I couldn’t just tell you that I love you. I-“ You stop yourself from saying anything else. Your face already felt hot but even more so now. Without saying anything, you push past him and start jogging.

 You only vaguely hear him calling your name as you turn the corner and speed up.

 ++

 Every single light is off in your apartment, the TV is off, your phone is off, it’s dark, and you like it that way. You were meant to stop by four other places today to pick up donations, but all of that was thrown out of the window the moment you spoke to Calum.

 You felt stupid. Calum had asked to know your feelings, but that didn’t mean he loved you. You’d revealed too much, so now you’re just going to think about it for the rest of your life and hope no one tries to bother you.

 On your way home, you had called your best friend, someone who had been rooting for you and Calum since you met in the biology lab. She’d heard you rant and rave about how quick and witty he was all those years ago. She’d been telling you that you needed to do something about your feelings, but she certainly didn’t mean this.

 All of your tears are gone. You’d sobbed so hard during the drive here that you had to pull over at one point. Now you’re just left to wallow in embarrassment. You didn’t know what time it was thanks to the blackout curtains that hung in front of the windows.

 You’d hoped that maybe by now it was dark outside, meaning there was less of a chance Calum would stop by. Your hopes were let down when you heard a knock on the door.

 “I’m not home.” You groaned, rolling over, so your head was buried into the back of the couch.

 “I still have a key.” His voice rang through the silence, and then you heard the lock jiggle before the door opened.

 “Jesus Christ, are you a vampire or something? I can’t see a thing.” Calum chuckles, and you wonder what the hell he thinks is so funny. The door clicks shut, and then the lights flick on, causing you to squint your eyes.

 “You could’ve given me a warning,” You say, knuckling your eyes and then sitting up to look at him, “What are you doing here? What is all of that stuff?”

 You point to the bags he has wrapped around each wrist. They were the reusable grocery bags because Calum believed in that kind of thing.

 “Donations. I tried to pick up everything you dropped, but a lot of it was too far gone. I did go back to the places written on them, and I told them what happened. All of them replaced what you’d already picked up, and then I guess a few of the places you had cards for you hadn’t been to, yet so I have things from them too. You’ve worked really hard, Y/N, you can’t give up now.” Calum quickly moved over to the table to set the bags down and start unpacking them.

 “Why’d you do all of this?” You’re shocked. Calum is a good person, but you two weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

 “Cause you’re supposed to do things for the person you love.”

++ @aulxna @mikeyglifford @calumsnatchedmyheart 

[ultimavolatusrpg]

ACCEPTED // CORDELIA SNOW WINCLAIR

28 years old, Granddaughter of President Snow, FC: Rachael Taylor

Compassionate, Thoughtful, Devoted, Stubborn and Bossy

tw: death, prostitution

Cordelia Snow Winclair was born to Linnevia Winclair and Honorius Snow. Life was a constant battle for survival – was that a fair comparison knowing she wasn’t the one with her name on a paper at the reapings? Cordelia’s first breath had been her mother’s last. Due to her father always being away on business and never having to care about his kid going to sleep with an empty stomach, her fair treat toward the house’s avoxes and servants took a huge part in the experiences that would later make of her a kind woman. Her childhood was fairly normal considering the circumstances. Despite her grandfather being Panem’s president, the world of bright streets and colourful clothes never managed to blind her. Growing up she watched the annual Hunger Games with her family, celebrations that would bring everyone together and plan different gatherings for each night in advance. It was a tradition that couldn’t be questioned or at least that was what she had been taught when learning about the games’ rulebook and so it remained like an excuse to watch the whole Capitol cheer in excitement whenever the most anticipated event was around the corner.

Everyone knew what her next big step in life once reached the rightful age would be ever since she was born: take part in the family’s matters around the whole country and the precious event. But Cordelia had other plans, and these included leaving behind the silky comfortable cushion to experience the outdoors. She wanted to take part in the games but from a different position. She didn’t want to be the one with the control remote, the puppets’ strings. She couldn’t stand up against that – not on her own. But she could be part of the only less destructive part of the process: trying to put the victors together, at least physically. The blonde understood that the only path her family would accept the easiest without stating that she was going off the road too much was medicine. Undergoing plastic surgery to alter their appearances ran in the Capitol just as much as in her family and this was considered to be an acceptable choice that would potentially even increase the family’s power in a different field. Whiskers, dyed skin, talons, decorative patterns cut into their skin, gems implanted in their skin…all of these alterations were so heavily done that most of them were just disfiguring and even though Cordelia had been brought up surrounded by them, she was one to find the tribute’s beauty even more exceptional and extraordinary than any of the outrageous fashions she could learn about. Therefore, she began working with the medical team since a young age. She was responsible for the checkups prior to the games: she needed to make sure the tributes could offer a good show. As far as she was concerned, there was more to her job than that. She was known for going out of her way to help tributes reach peak physical and mental condition. She knew there was no magic potion, no pill that could make up for the years of starvation and  other deficits. But she wanted them to reach a balance between health management and optimising performance to stand a better chance out there.

Eventually, she became the medical director – someone who could now state which were going to be the priorities and how their use of medicine was going to aim in a different direction. They could guarantee good results without the surgical intervention of a tribute only because <that’s the way its sponsor wants it>. She became a sponsor too, but not for the sake of entertainment. She did it anonymously, not wanting to own those people or their merit while sitting back without a single scratch on her body. She used to support the way victors were given a taste of their extravagant world after the arenas, but this changed when she learned about the way highly attractive and desirable victors were almost always prostituted to citizens of the Capitol. At a young age, her prestigious position gave her the possibility to have any victor she wanted in her bed for a night. It didn’t sound weird to hear something like this going on around the Capitol. In fact, it could be any capitol citizen’s hobbies. The victors and tributes were seen as toys while the other district’s inhabitants were barely treated as human beings with feelings and emotions, too. The blonde rejected her grandfather’s and father’s offers many times, but she had in mind she’d need to accept them eventually; that was the only way to show off her loyalty. She had to be thankful for the chance, one that not everyone could get. Rejecting the offer would only make her a fish out of the water – she was aware of how dangerous it was to be different in such a structured system.

However, it might have been a surprise for many victors when Cordelia would confess she wasn’t looking forward to getting between the sheets with them. She doubted someone in the whole country wouldn’t want to sleep with them…but doing that against their own will was so fucked up. Yes, somehow and despite general beliefs, Cordelia could wrap her head around how this wasn’t right. Instead, she would suggest them to have more encounters like that one. The chosen victor would get their night off without anyone finding it out, and in return, Cordelia would ask them about the districts…the world beyond the Capitol’s selfish eyes if they wanted to share it with her. That was the only way the girl found to have an outsider view and keep her ideas alive. They’d watched the stars or dawn from the balcony, exchanging thoughts and ideas before messing with their hairs, throwing the blankets, clothes and cushions around the room in order to leave fake evidence. There was no use in trying to repair something already broken but if she could be a single moment of relief and peace in the endless chain of suffering, she’d give her best to use her skills for those who needed them to continue breathing and not changing the size of their ears. She wanted to be the warm hand and smile waiting for them despite how little and probably indifferent the gesture could be. It was easy to find her place in a system controlled by her family, even though she was supposed to be harming people instead of healing them.

And it would’ve worked, if it hadn’t been for an exception – someone who had caught her attention since the reaping. But Cordelia hadn’t been able to bring herself to look into his eyes while injecting the tracker into his forearm. After all, the odds could not be in their favour. For once she had been biased, sponsored someone excessively because she was determined to find his face the next time the hovercraft’s claw welcomed their new victor. Where there’s a will, there’s a way…and he became the victor she wouldn’t let anyone else lay a finger on him. He made her understand she wasn’t wrong for not blindly loving the glitz and glam of the event and there was a point in believing that this didn’t justify any of the deaths for them to prove a point. She had grown incredibly fond of him, but she had remained cautious: that wasn’t his place, his home. He wasn’t welcomed there except as another piece of the games, a shiny toy with a price. Even though she tried to protect him as much as she could from the formalities and the demands of being a victor, she knew that it was equally important to let him go from time to time in order to keep him safe.

But then the unexpected evidence of their love was on its way. The bigger her bump, the closer it brought them to the unbearable truth. How could she possibly expect anyone to ever accept she was carrying the baby of not only a rebel but also a victor? She was meant to build a life with someone with blue blood from a privileged and powerful family instead of empathizing with those her people loathed. Those around the mansion were starting to suspect and Cordelia needed to come up with a believable excuse. And that was when someone who had received the worst of treatments from her family proved how unworthy of forgiveness she was. Being the same age as her, Wade had been Cordelia’s confident and good friend since she was a kid. Both had proven each other wrong as the years had gone by – he had his own story to tell and she had hers. Despite being an avox, Wade had made himself being heard. Hadn’t Cordelia known him so well, she’d have pretended taking the blame and claiming to have knocked her up wasn’t a way of trying to set himself free from a life he had been sentenced to. He had left her a note filled with thankfulness for their friendship, hope for the future but stating this was his bullet to take because she bet on her changing the infamous last name of her family for good. He knew the storm was coming after such a statement. The next day, an incident that was blamed on the rebels, took his and a few more lives that were worthless for the capitol.

Her friend’s death only gave her the last piece she needed to complete the puzzle – the president would go to unthinkable lengths to preserve the power. Being a member of his family didn’t offer any level of immunity to his recklessness. With enough misleading wigs and make-up, Cordelia’s tried to return to the only people who’ve warned her about this during those endless nights. After a year of giving birth, she’s been assigned to return to the Victor’s Village to give check ups. Of course there are ulterior motives to her presence. Her grandfather believes having someone infiltrated and undercover there, one who can keep track of their lives and notice if anything’s out of order is the real reason behind the excuse of caring for their health. Regardless, Cordelia knows better than betraying her work ethics. Even though she’s required to provide monthly reports of not only their health but any details about the rebellion, she may not be giving the truest of the latter. Rumour has it she’s even been accused of helping the rebels with information that was meant to be kept between the mansion’s walls. But she’s willing to take a stand because she knows either way she’s putting her one year old in great danger. But she’s realised she’d rather help those that could guarantee him a future beyond his last name than leaving him in the arms of a grandfather who’s too known for accidentally poisoning those he doesn’t consider worthy of his respect.

Cordelia’s always willing to offer a caring hand if it can bring a smile to someone’s face. This may make her come across as someone way too kind not to have something under her sleeve considering the people she surrounds herself with – but she’s one to know when to act like just another selfish capitol citizen and when to let her guard down. She knows in her heart it’s her duty to turn her back on the districts – otherwise how could her speeches of justice for the capitol citizens be genuine ever again? She’s aware of the fact that she can’t remain silent and hope for the best when someone else could eventually bring any of this to light. She knows chances are behind one of those doors awaits the man who doesn’t know the baby in her arms is his, too. She is afraid that this could take them out of the frying pan and into the fire in a blink of an eye. She feels the pressure of feeling like she’s letting people down but also becoming another family disappointment.

PENNED BY: VIC

[jejublr]

Of Canvas and Coffee Stains

Synopsis: Watch where the hell you’re going with your extra extra large canvas, you nearly hit me- wait oh my god you’re so talented is that a ___ oil painting?”  He’s trying to get this giant canvas into the elevator and he better watch out before he knocks someone down, “here, let me help you.”

Genre: Fluff

Character(s): Painter!Woozi x Reader, appearances of the members

Words: 3k

Part of Seventeen Art School Collab

A/N: I’d like to thank Momo @taetaetrashhh for inviting me to join in this amazing collab! Thank you so much for this opportunity to work with such talented people! I can’t wait to see the other’s works! I hope you guys enjoy this piece! Have a beautiful day ahead~

Waking up late was definitely not on your to-do list today. Not when you have an exhibition to attend.

The exhibition is one of the most awaited and significant events of the year at your school. Private sponsors and organizations are always on the watch for the “next big thing” and the event proves to be the perfect moment to scout new faces to work for their galleries or companies. This year, one of the country’s most influential patrons, the Kim Foundation, decided that they would be choosing a beneficiary to be sponsored through their Bong Bong Program with a guarantee that their art would be displayed in their state-of-the-art gallery.

You were lucky to have your teacher choose you out of your classmates from Arts Management to guide the foundation’s sponsorship manager and his assistant around the school’s display gallery later. After all, it’s been your dream to be a curator one day. Until then, you’ll have to work hard and show the best you can do. And being late was not one of them.

So here you were, wobbling in heels you didn’t even know how to walk in as you struggled to get to the campus’s elevator. Five inch heels or not you’d rather have your ankles broken than showing up late and embarrass the whole school. Balancing your cup of coffee in one hand, you hobbled to the elevator that would lead you to the Arts Department. What you didn’t notice was the figure that emerged from your blind spot and by the time you saw him, it was too late to try and swerve.

Searing hot coffee spilled onto your shirt and you hissed as it soaked through into your skin. “Agh! Watch where you’re going with your big-ass canvas-” You glared and turned to look at the face of the person who just managed to make your day a hundred times worse than it already is, only to have your words die out in your throat as you caught the familiar sight of soft tufts of brown hair and the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. Only, they’re directed not at you, but at the white canvas he was holding.

Correction: the huge white canvas he was holding. And boy, does he seem upset.

“My painting!” Jihoon whispered to himself, eyes widened and mouth opened in shock as he stared at his work. Ignoring your palpitating heart and the heat on your cheeks, you shifted to get a better look and your anger dissipated and was quickly replaced by guilt. The painting was pristine white. Simple. But you could see all the subtle, well-thought-out lines, the individual strokes of the brush that only seem to accentuate the intricacy and delicateness of the piece.

It was an amazing piece, as expected from someone as talented as Jihoon. But then your eyes fell onto the coffee stain on the top right corner of the canvas and almost cried. 

“I’m so sorry!” You exclaimed, you covered your mouth in shock. “I’m really sorry!”

“How can you not see me coming?” Jihoon’s voice was controlled but it was pretty obvious that he’s trying to hold in his anger. He’s right. How can you not see him coming when he’s obviously carrying that monstrous piece of painting?

You can only lower your head. “I’m sorry..”

‘Please, don’t tell me that’s the piece you’re going to exhibit later in the afternoon.’ You prayed.

“This is the piece I’m going to exhibit later this afternoon.” He grumbled. Your heart plummeted into your stomach.

Jihoon moved to heave the painting but he looked like he was struggling so much that you made a move to help him carry the other end of the painting. “Look, at least let me help you get this canvas into the elevator.”

‘Before you knock someone down.’ You thought but kept it to yourself.

“Save it. You’re just going to make it worse.” His tone was cold but it was his words that cut you. Jihoon tried to lift it one more time but you both know he was going nowhere without a helping hand.

You said nothing as you lifted the canvas on your side and Jihoon couldn’t protest that he didn’t need the help. So he took your aid silently and you both waited wordlessly until the elevator arrived at your floor. 

Getting the canvas and angling it so that it fits was another struggle of itself but you both managed without much trouble. Jihoon punched the button to the floor where the Arts Department is and glanced at you from the corner of his eyes with an eyebrow cocked when he saw that you’re not making any move to push another button. “Aren’t you gonna pick a floor?”

His questions caught you off-guard and you were hopeless as another blush bloomed on your cheeks. You laughed, but even you noticed how awkward you sounded. “Oh, we’re going on the same floor.”

“I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Lee Jihoon.”

“I know.” You blurted. You saw Jihoon shift his foot and his eyes turned curious.

“Oh?”

Realizing that you have to tell him how you knew, your cheeks burned even hotter. Of course, everyone knows Lee Jihoon. Art prodigy, member of the local arts society, plays the piano, the oblivious owner of half of your heart. You rarely saw him with him taking Fine Arts and you Arts Management. The only times you do see him were the ones when you see him eat in the cafeteria with his group of friends. You’re some sort of his secret admirer, always watching from afar but you didn’t mind because he’s everywhere. He’s on the walls when you’re walking down the hallway and in the galleries whenever the school holds an exhibition. Every piece of his art holds a little piece of his soul and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of familiarity even when the guy barely knew you.

But what should you do? Now that he’s standing so close to you and you feel like you can’t even breathe? So you rambled. “I’ve seen your works before. All of them are amazing but I think my favorite was the one I saw in the Music Department. I knew it was yours as soon as I saw it because of the coloring. It’s just so..you. I’ve seen plenty of contemporary works but yours is my favorite. You’re really talented.”

Realizing what you’ve done, you let out another series of nervous laughter as you scratched your neck. “Ah, I’m sorry. I’m just rambling again.”

But Jihoon didn’t even notice that you were rambling in the first place because he was too busy watching how you talk about his art with a twinkle in your eyes. He’s had compliments over his works many times before but how you talked about it sent a different kind of butterflies flying in his stomach. He shook his head, waving his hand softly. “No, no, you’re not. Trust me.”

You couldn’t see his face because he suddenly looked away, but Jihoon coughed into his hand. “Thank you.”

Another wave of silence blanketed around you and Jihoon opened his mouth, about to ask what major you’re in, when the elevator dinged. The words died in his throat.

“This is me.” Jihoon grunted, sighing in relief as you both finally reached his studio. The hallway strangely, but not surprisingly, smelled like dried paint and thinner. It was pristine, unlike what you had in mind when you thought of how the Fine Arts’ hallway would be like but a brief glance through one of the door’s window proved that all the mess was hidden inside.

“Jihoon! Where the heck have you been?” A very tall brunette clad in jeans and a shirt that looked like it’s been through hell and back came out from one of the classrooms. You recognized him immediately as Kim Mingyu. Your teacher had introduced you to some art students, Mingyu being one of them, to help you get familiar with them as you’re going to promote their works. Unlike Jihoon, who prefered to keep to himself, Mingyu was a much bigger social butterfly and it didn’t take you long to become friends.

Mingyu’s warm eyes finally realized that you were holding the other end of the canvas as his face broke into a smile, canines showing. “Oh, Y/N!”

“Wait, you know each other?” Jihoon eyes shifted between you and Mingyu, his face contorted with incredulity.

Mingyu sent him a ‘duh’ face. “Well, yeah. She’s our assistant curator.”

You could only offer Jihoon an awkward grin as realization dawned on him. He looked at you. “You’re the assistant curator that’s going to show Mr. Boo and his assistant around?”

“Assistant curator in training.” You corrected. “But, yeah. Hi.”

Jihoon rubbed his temple. “This is ridiculous.”

Mingyu raised his hands. “Whoa. Slow down, guys. How did you even know each other?”

Jihoon pulled his painting so that it stood as he held them from behind. Mingyu drew a sharp intake of breath, eyes widening. “Hyung! What happened to your painting? It looked like someone spilled coffee on it!”

“It’s because someone did.” Jihoon snapped.

“I spilled the coffee.” You admitted. “It’s my fault.”

Mingyu pursed his lips, scrutinizing the painting. “But, hyung, I think it looks nice, though.”

“Mingyu, you’re trash.” The shorter sneered.

“I’m serious!”

“Guys,” you called out. “What about the painting?”

“There’s no other choice.” Jihoon tsked to himself then sighed. “It’s the only piece I worked on for this exhibition. The only one decent enough to be displayed.”

You and Mingyu stared at him. “Are you saying?”

Jihoon nodded. “We’re going to show off this one.”

It never gets old.

The way the exhibition was buzzing with audience. Parents, potential students and arts critics alike slip between the walls displaying the various works the students produce, eyes calculating. Admiring. Many stopped to look at Jihoon’s painting. Some looked confused, the others enlightened. Thoughts and whispers were shared among patrons as waiters breezed through each visitor with trays filled with glasses of wine with grace that you envied. You would’ve grabbed one to try and calm your nerves if it wasn’t for the worked up artist next to you.

“For the uptenth time in the last fifteen minutes, Jihoon, calm down.” You chided him.

“How am I supposed to be calm when my painting’s a mess?” Jihoon snapped at you, but his eyes softened when he saw the hurt in your eyes.

He sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just.. This is really important to me. My parents never really supported me taking arts in the first place and I really fought tooth and nail to get to where I am. Art school is really expensive and this program is the only guarantee that I’d be successful, even if it’s only a little.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized for the hundredth time that day, eyes cast down. “But I’d like you to know that whatever happens, I know you’re gonna make it someday.”

“Thanks.” The smile that he gave you was small, but if was grateful, and it’s enough. “That means a lot.”

Your attention fell on the man staring intently at Jihoon’s painting.

“Interesting.” The dirty-blonde mumbled to himself, eyes trained on the painting, calculating. Both you and Jihoon arched an eyebrow at his statement but he continued. “I think it captured exactly how we, how society, craves perfection. That perfection cannot be achieved without the presence of imperfection. The splatter of brown serves as a reminder that things do not have to be perfect to be beautiful. The abstractness of that one detail, the sheer randomness of it.. It’s brilliant.” He paused.

“But that’s just my interpretation.” He flashed you dazzling straight-toothed smile.

Jihoon bowed his head. “Oh, thank you Mr. Boo.”

The man laughed, waving his hands. “Oh, no. I’m not Mr. Boo. I’m Chwe Hansol but please, call me Vernon. Mr. Boo is my boss.”

Vernon pointed over to the other side of the room to a flamboyant-looking man in a wine-red suit, who’s making a beeline to where you were, purpose in every step that he took. “That’s Mr. Boo.”

“Welcome, Mr. Boo.” You both bowed respectfully when he finally got to you. Up close, the manager looked even younger than how you had imagined him to be.

“Ah, thank you.” The man nodded politely at you, smiling so wide that the apple of his cheeks practically glows. “I’m Boo Seungkwan. I believe you’re Lee Jihoon, yes? It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Jihoon shook his hands gratefully. “The pleasure is ours.”

“Now what do we have here?” Mr. Boo’s eyes landed on Jihoon’s work. “I see you’re going for a different feel this year.”

Jihoon looked confused. “I’m sorry?”

Mr. Boo pointed at the blatant brown against the stark white of the rest of the painting. “I never took you as one who likes to take risk. This work seemed to stray a bit from your usual taste.”

You knew what was running through Jihoon’s head. 

‘He’s seen my work?’ His eyes seemed to tell you everything. Mr. Boo continued.

“It is interesting. The way it seemed to catch light? And the subtle different shades of white that you used? So genius!” The man seemed to ramble to himself as he blabbered on. He doesn’t seem to notice your and Jihoon’s lost expressions as he walked away from Jihoon’s display.

‘So genius,��� you mused to yourself, barely able to stifle a smile from forming on your lips.

“What he’s saying is he likes it.” Vernon smiled, and the look in his eyes told you that he’s used to his boss’ antics. He pulled out a card holder out of his pocket.

“We’ll give you a call if you get in.” Vernon handed you both a slick black business card with his name and the company’s logo printed in gold. “I wish you the best of luck. Have a good day.”

And just like that, he hurried over to Mr. Boo, who’s now raving over another set of paintings, pantofel shoes clicking over the white floor, mumbling to himself. “I wonder how he managed to recreate and paint a coffee spill, though. That guy is a genius.”

Oh. If only he knew.

It’s been a week since the exhibition and everything started to fizzle back to normal. Fortunately, your teacher has decided that he was satisfied with how you handled the exhibition professionally (save for the time you actually spilled coffee on a valuable piece of artwork but he didn’t need to know that) and decided that he would at least give you a passing score for the rest of your quarter assignments. Unfortunately, you never got to see Jihoon after the incident.

He had accepted your endless apology, despite that they seemed a little bit forced just for the sake of your feeling, and you were on good terms after that. He had accepted whatever fate he would have and now that you both went back to your own businesses, you’re left wondering if he ever got that sponsorship.

You were walking back to your dorm after class when started hearing Jihoon’s voice calling after you.

“Y/N!” Jihoon’s voice seemed to call out. 

You sighed. ‘Oh, God, do you really like him that much to actually start hearing his voice?’

“Y/N!” There it is again. You swore you’re going crazy from the lack of sleep but you didn’t think it’d be this bad. You really need some sleep. You almost peed your pants when you suddenly felt a pair of hands land on your shoulders. You were ready to kick whoever it is in the balls when heard his voice from behind.

“Holy stinks, Y/N, are you deaf? I’ve been shouting at you for God knows how long.” Jihoon complained, nose wrinkled.

“Oh,” You grinned at him sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“Nevermind that.” Jihoon dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “But guess what?”

“What?”

“I got in! I got the program!” Jihoon jumped, his face lit up like the sun as he shoved a printed congratulatory e-mail in your face. “I’m getting sponsored!”

It took you a few seconds for his words to sink in and that’s when you noticed how different and jovial this Jihoon was compared to the one last week. You admitted to yourself that Jihoon has the prettiest smile when he’s not being all grumpy and snappy. Jihoon’s happiness was infectious, though, and you found yourself jumping along with his, grinning as your hands found his shoulders.

“Jihoon, that’s great!” You beamed at him. “I’m so happy for you!”

“I know! Me too!” Jihoon laughed. “I can kiss you right now!”

He seemed to realize what he said a second to late and you watched when the tips of his ears turned red as he stumbled on his words. “Uhm, I mean, I won’t but-”

You didn’t know what came over you next, but you felt a little bold and replied. “If you wanna kiss me, you can at least take me on a date first.”

Jihoon stared at you, eyes round and wide and you had to fight the biggest urge to kiss him. “Would you?” He asked. You hated to hope but you saw something akin to hope flash in his eyes and you wondered if you had imagined it.

“What?”

“Go on a date with me.”

It was your turn to stare. No way he had just asked you on a date. “Are you serious?”

“No, I’m kidding.” He grumbled. “Yes. I’m serious. Plus, you owe me after spilling your coffee over my art.”

You rolled your eyes, smirking. “Please. You won thanks to me.”

“That’s right.” He nodded, lips pursed as his eyes turned into crescents. “That’s why I’ll have to take you out for dinner. It’s my way of showing gratitude.”

“But I spilled coffee on your painting!”

Jihoon sighed to himself. Who do you have to be so stubborn?

“Fine.” Jihoon looked at you, eyes determined. “Last person to reach that lamppost right there pays for the date.”

You smirked. “It’s on.”

[entergamingxp]

PGA Tour 2K21 Is Ready To Bring Back Major Golf Games

August 6, 2020 10:00 AM EST

Highlighted by a revamped career mode, HB Studios’ once small indie golf sim is now on the doorstep of becoming the PGA Tour’s officially licensed game.

Golf games have been in a lull this generation, and the creative leads at HB Studios made no bones about it during a media presentation for PGA Tour 2K21 held earlier this week.

After releasing Rory McIlroy’s PGA Tour in the summer of 2014, in an effort to rework and put a new face to what used to be the long-running Tiger Woods franchise, EA called it quits on creating pro golf titles.

But opposite of that was HB Studios, which independently put out its own unlicensed sim, The Golf Club, that same year. From there, the series steadily grew. The Golf Club franchise gained a dedicated community of fans, and the Nova Scotia-based studio’s work eventually attracted a publishing deal with 2K and a new partnership with the PGA that allowed for a handful of real-world courses to be included, all culminating in the release of The Golf Club 2019 two years ago.

Now, after a name change and a bevy of new resources that have opened up, that once small indie sim is on the cusp of bringing a major golf game back to the market when PGA Tour 2K21 launches in a few weeks on August 21.

PGA Tour 2K21 is built on two core concepts.

The first, which the game’s creative director Josh Muise emphasised at the start of this week’s presentation, is the idea that golf can be for everyone. HB Studios wants to create a game that offers enough depth and customization that can reach anyone regardless of their experience with the sport. And the second concept focuses on capturing the adrenaline rush and drama of live PGA Tour events, working to recreate all the sights and sounds that go into those moments.

These ideals are behind the game’s entire feature set, all of which are returning from The Golf Club 2019 along with some new additions and improvements. But they’re most prominent throughout PGA Tour 2K21’s revamped career mode.

It all starts with your MyPlayer, who, like in The Golf Club 2019, can be customized from head to toe or built off a wide list of presets. And now he/she can outfitted with apparel from a number of major brands among the likes of Adidas, Callaway, and Bridgestone.

The high level of customization also extends to your golf bag. Again, like with The Golf Club 2019, PGA Tour 2K21’s attributes aren’t tied to the golfers, but instead their equipment. You fill out a bag of 14 clubs, selecting from licensed brands and models that, save for putters, each carry varying levels of distance, forgiveness, and control.

Senior producer Shaun West said the clubs have been balanced so that for every positive there’s an equal negative, with skill level, play style, and the given course also factoring into how players will want to construct their bags.

“So if you want to hit the longest club in the shop, you’re gonna sacrifice forgiveness and accuracy,” West said. “It’s gonna be harder to hit that club.”

Once you’re ready to hit the links, you’ll compete through more than 30 events across 15 licensed courses, including the six returning TPC courses from The Golf Club 2019. These courses have all been recreated 1:1 thanks to the gathering of 4K photography, video and 3D mapping of every hole of every course from Terra Imaging, and the work from HB Studios’ artists to transfer and apply it all into the game.

You’ll start in qualifying school, then make your way through the Korn Ferry Tour in the hopes of earning your pro card to bring you up to the PGA Tour. Once there, another one of the game’s major additions will show up.

You’ll play through the PGA Tour schedule, competing for the FedEx Cup against a roster of 12 pros highlighted by cover star Justin Thomas, who coincidentally just became the No. 1 golfer in the world after winning the St. Jude Invitational last weekend. Every completed match will earn you experience points that can be put toward new gear and apparel, but you can also develop rivalries against the game’s featured pros, where outperforming them in events can earn you more experience and even special gear rewards.

Unfortunately, it looks like you won’t be able to play as anyone from the pro roster this go around. Muise said the focus for this iteration was to bring the pros in as rivals to compete against. HB Studios went to the Players Championship last March and set up full head scans for each pro, but Muise said they haven’t done motion capture to implement pro specific nuances like their unique swings.

Likewise, sponsorship opportunities can provide their own shots at more experience and gear. As your reputation grows, you’ll unlock contract offers from licensed brands that will provide unique sets of challenges. Completing these challenges levels up your relationship with your sponsor, which in turn also rewards more experience points and brand specific rewards (just note that you can only be signed to one sponsor at a time).

Your performance, the rivalries you build, and the sponsorships you choose and develop all go into shaping your career, and it’s all complimented by a broadcast presentation that will build your story. Veteran play-by-play man Luke Elvy will call the action from the game’s virtual booth, and 2002 PGA Champion Rich Beem will provide color commentary. And for returning fans, John McCarthy, HB Studios’ senior audio designer who provided commentary for the previous games, will be returning as PGA Tour 2K21’s “third man on the ground,” Muise said.

“We will never not have John,” he happily emphasised.

Elsewhere in the game, the fan-favorite and extremely robust course designer is returning with more than 1,000 streamable assets that are no longer tied to a specific theme.

“This means if you decide to start with a Swiss theme, you still have access to anything you would have had for a tropical or desert theme,” West said.

The goal, both Muise and West made a point of, was to open everything up and let players run wild with their creativity, with Muise recalling that in the previous games he saw someone use the course designer create a Star Destroyer (just so you can get an idea of how flexible the editor is). In addition, published courses, once uploaded, will be available to players across all platforms.

The staggering level of customization also extends to gameplay and difficulty. PGA Tour 2K21 has six levels of difficulty that go from beginner up to legendary, and a number of audio and visual aids have been added to provide extensive feedback on your shots. Pro Vision, for example, will give you the projected flight of the ball before you swing, and shot suggestion will always give you the safest route to the green (it’s on you and your skill in how much you want to risk and deviate from that path).

The HUD has been tweaked to better communicate the results of your swing, adding displays such as a power meter to let you get an exact gauge on how much you’re putting into your swings when you pull back the stick. You can, however, turn it off if you want to rely solely on haptic feedback. There’s also a new training system that can provide reactive tips as you play, which can range from reminders on how to read a green or a quick refresher on the game’s shot shaping mechanics.

With all that said, PGA Tour 2K21 will let you create your own custom difficulty, allowing you to mix and match all of its settings to provide a challenge that best suits you.

One more thing to note: PGA Tour 2K21 will have Virtual Currency, a 2K Sports staple that has been a touchy subject for anyone that’s played an NBA 2K game in the past several years.

The option to purchase VC for use toward in-game apparel and clubs will be there. However, West stressed that the outfits are strictly cosmetic and that the clubs, again, have a con for every pro.

West also said the gear only unlocked through career mode will stay that way.

“There is an option to purchase VC as well if you decide to,” West said. “But we tried to balance it in a way that playing through rounds and increasing your golfer level feels good, so you don’t have to take that road if you don’t want to.”

Developing PGA Tour 2K21 has opened up a lot of doors for HB Studios, and represents a big step forward.

“It’s no secret that more people answer our emails when there are 2K emails in the address next to it, when we’re knocking on the doors of an Adidas or knocking on the doors of some of these major brands,” Muise said. “It’s been wonderful.”

“Our relationship with 2K was really born out of building the product (The Golf Club) the right way to come to the table with something that was strong on its own merit. And our partnership with 2K grew organically where they saw something that had potential, and we really needed to look to grow our product and move it to that next level.”

That next level comes to the PlayStation 4, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch, and PC on August 21.

August 6, 2020 10:00 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/08/pga-tour-2k21-is-ready-to-bring-back-major-golf-games/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=pga-tour-2k21-is-ready-to-bring-back-major-golf-games

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

My Healer - Request

Requested by anon: Draco x reader. Draco is a healer and after a quidditch accident where you were knocked off your broom, Draco tends to your jnjuries

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader.

Word count: 1.902

Warnings: Un-edited.

A/N: This has so much dialogue, but the request was so vague... I like it, I don’t know why, but I like it. Hope you do too.

Enjoy!

The quaffle was at plain view, and she was so close. Just one tiny wrist move and the game would be over. She knew that, because the seeker was mere inches from the snitch. But they needed the extra points to win – ties were for mediocre players and they weren’t mediocre.

Two seconds, the quaffle was hers. She was so close… A beater from the opposite team sent the bludger flying straight to her. The impact had such force that she fell off her broom.

Everything turned dark.

-

“Hello, I’m healer Malfoy, do you understand what I’m saying?” A soft voice spoke as she opened her eyes. “Don’t try to speak, just blink once for yes and two for no.” The girl obeyed, and forced her aching body to blink once. “Excellent. Do you know why you are here?” Two blinks, “Do you remember the Quidditch match?” One blink, “You were knocked off your broom.”

“Did…” She tried to speak, but her voice was too raspy.

“Don’t speak.” The healer commanded once more.

Although his voice was soft and even cheering, there was something odd about it. She was still unable to see clearly, but she could differentiate a platinum blond smudge somewhere near the source of the voice.

“Did we win?” She whispered. Her voice wasn’t audible at all, but the air that reeked through her throat was enough to let the healer know what she was asking. He laughed.

“You are in bed, with almost every single bone in your body fractured and you wonder if you won?” He inquired jokingly and then laughed again, “What a fun patient you will be. The answer is yes but not quite.”

She frowned and it hurt like hell.

“The bludger was sent with a very strong force. It was inspected and it was revealed that the beater had cursed it.” The healer explained, “They were disqualified and you won. However, almost half of the team is severely injured, and so none of you will be able to participate in the next round. So yes, you won this match, but no, you won’t move on.”

“Rude.” She breathed out and the healer laughed again.

“Get used to it; I will be attending you until you can walk on your own.”

-

The healer had managed to fix her bones using a smelly potion he had invented. However, she was still sensitive. Black bruises covered her body, and it was still painful to try and move by herself without getting any help.

Healer Malfoy had informed her that there was nothing he could do. Sometimes, magic wasn’t the answer. Injuries like hers had to be treated with patience, otherwise they wouldn’t heal completely. Yes, they fixed her bones, but the rest had to heal on its own.

“Meal time.” Malfoy cheered as he entered her room.

“I hate it.” She hissed instantly. Truth was the hospital’s food was awful.

“I hate it too but, because I’m your doctor, I can do something about it.” He whispered and then took out his wand. A few basic transfigurations spells left his thin mouth and, soon, the dull soup and the dry bread had turned into a juicy sausage with fried bacon, eggs and warm bread. “I know for a fact that food won’t interfere in your healing.” He assured and then proceeded to feed her.

It was too painful for her to move her body from her neck and under. She had managed to speak at a hearable volume, but it costed her nights of coughing and throat soaring. Healer Malfoy was kind to her, and he was always pending on her needs.

“Why are you like this?” She inquired one night, after Malfoy had finished feeding her dinner – biscuits with jam.

“Like what?” He asked listlessly.

“Why are you so kind to me?” She rephrased and Malfoy chuckled.

“I’m a healer, being nice is part of the job.” He answered.

“No but, other healers aren’t like that… I should’ve know, Quidditch is a dangerous sport and I’ve been in the hospital more times than I can count.” They chuckled, “You are kind in a different way… It’s almost like you were trying to redeem yourself.”

Malfoy stiffened. “At what school did you study?” He asked.

“Beauxbatons.” She replied and Malfoy released a sigh.

“You learned about Hogwarts Battle, didn’t you?”

“Of course, we all knew about it.” She nodded painfully.

“I am the one guilty of letting the Death Eaters in.” He confessed in a whisper, unable to turn to look at his patient because he was too embarrassed to look at her in the eyes.

“You? No, that is not possible. You are kind, and so gentle and good…”

Malfoy turned around, and (Y/N) could see his grey eyes swollen with tears. He lifted his white sleeve, showing a fading Dark Mark tattoo.

“You were one of them…” She whispered.

Draco’s face had turned from a nice man to the face of a broken soldier who lost it all in battle. “My father was one of the principal Death Eaters; I had to join them to… To keep my family alive.” He explained as a pearly tear slipped down his pale complexion.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” she assured, “after all you’ve done for me…”

“But you are right.” He sniffed, “I am like this because maybe, just maybe, this is a way of redeeming me. The hatred to the muggle borns, and the mudbloods, all the pain I caused… Maybe I can fix it by helping others.”

“I’m sure you are.” She whispered softly, “The past means nothing as long as you do better with your future.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so.”

-

“Alright, love, walk.” Malfoy insisted with a laugh.

“No, no, wait, wait… OH MERLIN!” She cried as Malfoy made her get up.

“Your feet must get used to your body weight again.” Malfoy explained. He was holding her, not letting all of her weight to rest on her swollen feet.

“I swear to Merlin, I gained too much weight and it’s your fault!” She whined and Malfoy chuckled.

“Still you need to get up.” Malfoy mumbled and (Y/N) groaned.

They hadn’t spoken about Malfoy’s past since that day. The healer was focused on (Y/N)’s recovery, and had begged her not to touch the Death Eater thing ever again, and she had obeyed. They focused on trying to make her move again, and that was it.

She had been injured so many times that her body was too weak.

“You have to stop hurting yourself.” Malfoy repeated for the millionth time as he held (Y/N)’s waist. She was trying to take a step forward, but still needed balance.

“Quidditch is a dangerous sport.” She insisted. Their conversation was always the same.

“I know, I was a seeker once.” Malfoy blurted and (Y/N) turned to look at him.

“Really?” She asked. It was brand new information.

“Yes, but I wasn’t good. I only did it to piss off Potter.” Malfoy confessed and, by the tone he used to pronounce the Boy-who-lived ’s name, she understood that they had been enemies once.

“Wow, I always thought you would be a keeper.” She commented as she finally managed to move a single foot to the front.

“A keeper? Why a keeper?” Malfoy was not understanding her joke.

“Never mind, Draco.”

It had been a few weeks since she had started calling him by his name – he felt like it was too formal for someone who needed him to feed her – and, although she did it because he had asked her, it made Draco feel like she was a friend rather than a patient. He wasn’t healer Malfoy with her, just Draco.

-

“If you keep recovering like this… Well, you will be out in two weeks.” Malfoy spoke as he read off his notes.

“Wow.” She sighed, “It feels like… Wow.”

“You already want to leave this place, don’t you?” He asked sadly. Of course she wanted to leave, nobody enjoyed being in the hospital.

(Y/N) was now capable of eating, bathing, dressing and walking by herself. She still needed help with stairs and to use her wand, a part from other complex movements but, basically, she no longer needed Draco to be by her side 24/7.

“I guess I just want my own bed.” She joked.

Maybe she wasn’t the brightest witch of her generation – as that Hermione kid Draco told her about, which ended up being the Minister – but she could tell that there was a tone of sadness in Draco’s voice and body expression.

-

“Will you miss me?” She inquired innocently; ripping a sad chuckled from the healer’s lips.

“Of course I will miss you!” He admitted, “No one can make me laugh and have nausea at the same time!” (Y/N) punched him playfully.

“I’m serious, Draco.” She smiled, “I will miss you.”

“And I will miss you too.” He confessed, looking at her straight in the eyes.

“Will you go and see me play? We’re going against the American teams.” She cheered.

“Only if you promise to be careful.”

“I can’t be careful!” She pouted childishly, “I am a free soul, soaring with my broom and gaining points for my awesome team!”

“You are also a very bad poet.” Draco laugh and (Y/N) joined him.

“Please, go see me; I will miss you too much. I mean, I am now used to seeing your face every day.” She begged.

“I will do my best.” Draco promised, “But, I know you will soon forget about me because ‘miss Quidditch prodigy’ will be too busy playing all over the world to remember that foolish doctor… What’s his name? Malloy? Mopsy? Moriarty?”

“MALFOY!” She giggled.

“Right, that lad!” Malfoy clicked his tongue.

He put an arm over her shoulder and walked her out of the hospital. (Y/N) insisted over and over again that she would not forget about him, but Malfoy wasn’t buying it.

“Your carriage awaits, my lady.” Malfoy bowed ceremoniously towards a carriage that was, presumably, pulled by thestrals.

“One more question.”

“Spit it out.”

“Do you see them?” Malfoy licked his lips anxiously before answering.

“Yes.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” She confessed suddenly, “You helped me and now I help you, it is only fair.”

“You don’t have to, the sponsors paid my help and…” She shook the thought away.

“Draco… I’m about to take that carriage, we have nothing left to lose.”

“What are you talking about?” He mumbled.

“I… These past months you have been my doctor, my friend and… I… I have fallen in love with you.” She confessed and Malfoy’s face lit up in a way she had never seen before; but it only lasted a few seconds.

“I should not keep romantic relationships with my patients.” He said after clearing his throat.

She made a strange dance. “See? I’m healed… I am no longer your patient.”

“I think you deserve better.” Malfoy breathed out bitterly.

“And I think you are being an arsehole. Do you love me yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Then?” She cocked an eyebrow.

Malfoy hesitated, alternating his gaze between (Y/N), the carriage, the interior of the hospital and the patients that were around.

“Sod this.” He whispered before pulling her in for a kiss.

“I knew you would surrender.” She smirked.

“Ugh.”

Masterlist.

Forever Tags: @dekahg

[tokyotheglaive]

Kylux, Resistance Hux!AU

Okay so I have a lot of feelings about a full cast switch–First Order is Resistance and Resistance is First Order–but I haven’t thought about Resistance Hux!AU exclusively outside of @sithofren‘s fic Third Degree which I haven’t finished yet but I love so far. Still, I’m going to give it my best shot!

At a relatively young age, Hux decided that enough was enough. His father was failing–the Empire was gone–and there was no sense sticking around with a sinking ship. He stole a shuttle and made for Hosnian Prime. For the next few years, Hux found himself in dire financial straits and on the street more than he was off of it, but he persevered. A combination of illicit activity, dogged determination, and sheer luck found Hux a candidate for the New Republic’s fleet. He made some credits but more or less found himself equally miserable. He might have drowned at the bottom of the bottles he grew to be so fond of during that period if he hadn’t been tapped by a supporter of the newly-established Resistance. He could be a pilot for them, they reasoned. The work would matter. Hux vacillated before admitted that he didn’t want to be a pilot. The supporter had done their research; of course not, they said, that’s not where your talents really lie. Hux might have bristled but they followed it up with soothing, ego-boosting remarks about his ability to talk circles around others, to fight on when no one else would, and his drive to succeed. Hux was hooked, and with the promise of a Senate sponsor (because he wanted his credits, damn it all) he found himself a slot in the Resistance as a troubleshooter of sorts–someone willing to do almost anything to get intel and new recruits.

Hux is absolutely one of the poster boys for Resistance recruitment. He’ll deny up, down, and sideways that it’s the hair, but the hair helps. He meets contacts across the galaxy, and through a combination of good looks and smooth talking he manages to accomplish his goals. The one problem the Resistance uncovered rather quickly is Hux’s xenophobia. He tries, though not very hard, to accept non-humanoid species, but his distaste for them is evident enough that he’s only sent after them on kill operations. If the Resistance needs more pilots/money/supplies/what have you from a non-humanoid species, Hux is sidelined in favour of someone else. (Hux doesn’t like that, not one bit, but he also doesn’t like aliens, so maybe it all balances out.)

When Luke goes missing, Hux is one of the many agents sent out to find him. He refuses to return empty-handed, though he grows frantic in his search. He runs out of fuel too many times to count and gets himself involved with an unsavoury crowd in order to keep going. The Resistance marks him as dead and carries on. Hux is not dead, just angry–at Luke for going missing, at the Resistance for not giving him more (non-existent) intel to work with, at himself for not doing his job and finding the person he’s meant to find. In the process of combing the galaxy, though, Hux hears of the First Order. It’s not that they’ve been unknown to him–he is fighting them, after all–but what he hears gives him pause. He discovers that Rae Sloane--his old mentor, once a Grand Admiral in the Imperial Navy--is still alive.

Sloane isn’t particularly happy to see Hux when he arrives, though she says that she’s not surprised. She’s been waiting for him to return for decades now. She’s disappointed in him, does he know? He says yes, he expects she is. She guesses he’s there to kill him, and he says he’s thought about it. He has, too, but that’s not why he’s here. He pours them each a drink and she laughs, says he’s gone soft. He asks her where Luke Skywalker went. Sloane’s not impressed with his question. “Come on, boy, use your head,” she tells him. She hasn’t been in with the Order for years, not since Snoke took power. Everything’s gone to hell. It’s not the organization she built, not the one she wanted. Hux presses her to tell him what she knows so they can build a better one.

He doesn’t mean it, except he does, and when he returns to the Resistance base armed with plenty of First Order plans--nearly everything Sloane had--the idea won’t leave him alone. He’s always wanted control; that’s why he likes these scouting operations, because he has control and power over what happens. What he does is important, and people recognize that. But if he built his own system... He sets the thought aside. There are too many players on the field right now, and he likes the Resistance, distant from most of them though he is. He’s a person here, a person with valued skills, a person who’s important precisely the way he is. His father never valued him as-is, and neither, for that matter, did Sloane. There’s something to be said for that.

Sloane’s dead, by the time he returns. She killed herself. There’s no one to back up Hux’s source information, but that’s of little importance to the Resistance. No, it’s a bigger problem for the First Order. His trip to see Sloane didn’t escape their notice, no matter how hard he tried to keep himself incognito. Snoke is particularly interested in Hux--he’d wanted that boy for the Order, and he had the audacity to break loose and join first the New Republic and then the Resistance. He wants him captured, returned to the fold if possible, and killed if not. Kylo Ren is sent on this mission.

Ren succeeds. He toys with Hux, drags him part of the way to the shuttle kicking and screaming. Hux is a vicious fighter, though he’s not the best; there was no overbearing father or Grand Admiral or Snoke to beat him into fighting shape. When Ren gets bored with him, he knocks him out.

Hux wakes aboard the Finalizer, strapped to an interrogation chair. Hux isn’t impressed with Ren, not in the slightest. Ren gives him the ultimatum, and Hux just laughs. Like hell is he going to join his father’s pet project. He doesn’t want to die, not in the slightest, but going back to the Empire or First Order or whatever they want to call themselves with his tail between his legs is hardly what he’d call a good time.

Ren’s ready to do things the hard way when he’s called outside of the interrogation room: a piece of the map to Skywalker has, allegedly, been located. A Resistance transmission was intercepted; someone now is headed to Jakku. Ren leaves Hux behind to get the map with the promise that Hux ought to have changed his mind by then.

Hux sort of drifts in and out at that point; he’s exhausted and, yes, a little scared, and pissed as all hell. He’s thirsty and hungry and in desperate need of a ‘fresher--but when the doors to his cell open, it’s not Ren who’s there.

Or, the thing looks like Ren. It’s not, though--the mask is different. Hux glares balefully and tells it not to come any closer. The creature obeys, and Hux remembers--something he hasn’t thought of for a long, long time.

The Knight--for Hux learns that he is a Knight of Ren--frees him from the interrogation chair at Hux’s own instruction. He leads Hux out, to a ship in the hangar bay, only to be stopped by Ren himself, demanding to know where his colleague is taking his prisoner.

Hux orders the Knight to fight on his behalf, but the Knight is quickly cut down. Ren demands to know how he gave the orders--how he got the Knight to listen to him. Hux attempts to flee and is quickly captured again. There’s little place to run aboard a Star Destroyer.

During this time, of course, Finn’s in the process of escaping with Poe Dameron, who’d been captured on Jakku. Ren isn’t aware because he’s bringing Hux before Snoke. Hux, thinking perhaps Ren is just a defective one of the kids Hux had once held complete sway over, tries ordering him to remove his mask. Ren, obviously, refuses, until Snoke does the same. Ren removes his mask, and Hux recognizes the face. He calls Ren by his birth name, and Ren’s ready to kill him before Snoke gives the order not to. He’s curious about Hux’s ability to control the Knights--he’d known that Brendol could do it, but Armitage? The weak-willed boy, thin as a slip of paper and twice as useless? (They’re not his father’s words, but oh how they sting.) Snoke wants to know more. He will keep Hux alive and under observation until the mechanism of that control is elucidated.Hux finds himself a permanent resident of the Finalizer. Each day, cycle, whatever they use, one of the Knights is brought to Hux. Hux is meant to give them orders so that Ren can observe with the Force how it is done. Hux initially refuses, then tries to get the Knight to attack Ren, then seeing how both are futile, pretends not to hear. He’s not at all inured to torture, so each day is agony, but he tries. Stars, how he tries. He tries to remind Ren of who he was, tries to ask what happened to him, but Ren won’t speak of it, and whenever Hux brings it up, it only means suffering.

Starkiller fires. Hux isn’t aware of it until Ren tells him of it. He asks if Hux lost anyone, if Hux cares. Hux goes into something like shock. He didn’t know anyone except he sort of did--old companions he flew with while he was with the New Republic, perhaps a few Resistance contacts. He feels and doesn’t feel, and he retreats into himself.

Starkiller explodes, and Hux doesn’t see Ren for several days. When he returns, it’s not with a Knight but instead with silence. They sit there all day, seemingly just watching each other. It’s comfortable in a very, very uncomfortable way. This continues for quite some time until Hux demands, nearly broken down, to know what’s going on, why he just looks now, and Ren removes the helmet.

It’s not--it’s not the worst wound Hux has ever seen, but it’s seen better days. Clearly, no one’s seen to it, least of all Ren himself. It’s infected, and, to be perfectly honest, pretty gross as a result. Hux can hardly look at it. Ren’s surprised and vocalizes it; Hux pities him. Hux flinches at the thought, but Ren pushes the matter. He has compassion, after all of this.

Ren starts coming and talking to him about Hux’s family, a topic which Hux refuses to speak of. He talks of Brendol, relays Hux’s backstory over and over to the point that Hux thinks that perhaps this is a new form of conditioning--maybe Ren’s tweaking the story a little each day until finally they come to the point when Hux leaves and Ren convinces him he never did. Ren doesn’t alter the story, though, merely relays it as if it were the news. Hux listens, and at the end of days of this Ren asks why.

Why? Why did Hux leave? What made him think he could survive alone? Hux, in a moment of weakness and exhaustion, admits that dying alone was preferable to serving his father or his cohorts any more than he already had. He’d rather live in agony than suffer that kind of indignity.

Ren leaves for quite some time after that, and when he returns...when he returns, he says that Hux is being transferred. He doesn’t say where, or how, only that he is. When he loads Hux into a shuttle, though, he demands that Hux reach out to old Resistance contacts. Hux refuses. Ren claims he’s defecting--he’s seen the light--and Hux continues to refuse. Ren plucks the answer from Hux’s mind and pilots the shuttle away.

Ren keeps Hux subdued as they travel. He says that Snoke wanted him to kill his mother, and that’s different from his father because he can feel her in the Force and even now after all of this she hasn’t given up on him, and he doesn’t want to suffer anymore--he wants to make the same call that Hux did. Hux doesn’t believe him. How can he? This is the person who imprisoned him, and intends now to, what, use him as a bargaining chip to get with the Resistance?

Ren doesn’t see a problem, and by the time he tracks down the new Resistance base by himself, Hux is too tired to fight. In Ren’s fervor to return, he’s neglected Hux’s health, and he’s a mess. Ren’s placed in a cell and Hux goes to the medbay, and for quite some time, they don’t see each other.

When they do, it’s because Leia orders it. Ren--Ben, she calls him, though he still doesn’t answer to it--has said that he’ll only speak to Hux and to herself, and she hasn’t been able to make much headway. She says he seems pained whenever she comes around, and perhaps Hux will have better luck.

Hux goes to see him, and Ren perks up. (Thinking right now of Clarice and Hannibal of Silence of the Lambs shot through with Liz and Red Reddington of The Blacklist in their first meeting.) Ren tells him where to find the other Knights--Hux can still control them, he can stop them from doing Snoke’s bidding in a way he can’t stop Ren himself. Hux asks why, and Ren says he wants Snoke dead. That’s it. That’s all he cares about now. Hux fears a trap and Ren says he can’t promise that they won’t be heavily guarded now, but Hux can stop them from doing worse. What worse means, Hux can’t get out of him, but Ren’s very clearly afraid of leaving the cell, of hurting anyone else.

Leia decides to act on the intel. One by one, Hux brings each of the Knights into the fold. They remember him from when he was a boy, and they’re no more talkative. Rumours start to spread about him--he’s something evil, something to be feared. It’s not helped by the Knights’ insistence to follow him everywhere, or the abilities they display during tests. They were fearsome as feral children; they’re worse as adults.

I’ve only just realized how far I deviated from what I was actually supposed to be doing re: merely listing five headcanons *sweats* whoops. Uh, let’s mark this down as a story I’m probably not going to write, then? I don’t know. Maybe I will. Depends if you like it, nonny. Don’t know how it could possibly end, though.

[vskpop]

February 2017 ⋅ What do you say to BTS? Not today

Draw Me - Wonder Girls 

I really hope that starting my monthly post with the goodbye song from a disbanded group will not become a constant this year, but it’s already the second time in a row it happens. I guess at least they’re getting a chance to give fans closure (goodbye, 4minute).

On one hand, it’s surprising that the Wonder Girls lasted through so many member changes, random concepts and failed American debuts. On the other, I was also shocked to see them finally give up just as they had seemingly found their new path with the band concept.

Without wanting to delve too deep into the situation (I’ve already done that with 2NE1 and it was enough), it’s incredibly frustrating that they disbanded as they started to put their own stamp on their music and put out interesting things that actually reflected what they wanted to do.

Even if you’re not into rock-ish ballads, Draw Me is worth listening to just for the bridge, which hits me like a ton of bricks every single time.

 Act. 2 Narcissus - Gugudan

Gugudan’s debut had one of the cutest cute concepts of 2016; I was still pleased with it, all considered. I wouldn’t have been too bothered if they had continued on that route, but A Girl Like Me is so good that it might end up as one of my favourite comebacks of the whole year (and yes, I know it’s February).

The song itself is great; none of the girls spend the entire time singing in the highest pitch they can produce, and all the main singers get decent parts.

What I was especially impressed with was the styling and concept for A Girl Like Me. While a lot of girl group concepts are ridiculously vague, after the mermaid concept Gugudan went for an original and well-developed “Narcissus” (aka vain) concept. I adore how they managed to find a different variation on the subject for each of the members.

I would hardly call this female empowerment but, in the realm of k-pop, seeing girls singing about how great they are is not that common. They were so into the concept that the physical album has a mirror in it, which pretty much seals the deal for me.

Knock Knock - Twice 

After the tragedy that was TT, Twice were a lost cause for me, and I’m not sure that the situation has changed much. Considering the disgusted expressions that Nayeon and Jungyeon have in 90% of the live performances of Knock Knock, I’m going to say that this comeback was a step in the right direction, but there’s still a  long way to go.

Just like Red Velvet, Twice have been subject to ridiculous infantilisation, made worse by a simultaneous sexualisation. Knock Knock still has childish motifs like pajama parties and fairytale books, but it’s not all-out kindergarten like TT was.

While it’s still not nearly as good as Like Ooh Ahh, this new song is delightfully catchy and the “pretty rebels” concept (sic - and yes, throwing pillows at each other is the most rebellious thing they do)  is much less disturbing that the “sexy Tinkerbell” one.

Rookie - Red Velvet 

I was obsessed with the kindergarten-like chant in Red Velvet’s Ice Cream Cake for months after it was released. The perfect balance of stylishness, weirdness and childishness of their “red” was their signature style, and what set them apart from the other girl groups that debuted around the same time.

The more they move forward, the more their comebacks lean heavily towards a kindergarten-y, bubblegum-y aesthetic. In Rookie, the five members of Red Velvet are thrown into a Narnia-cum-Alice-in-Wonderland scenario, they wear puffy baby blue pinafore dresses, and chant “lookie lookie, my super lookie lookie lookie” in the highest-pitched voice they can produce.

The atmosphere and tone don’t feel dissimilar to the colorful, childlike concepts  NCT Dream have been doing. The difference and/or the problem lie in the fact that NCT Dream are aged 17 or under, but the only 17-year-old in Red Velvet is Yeri. Joy is 21; Wendy and Seulgi 23; Irene is about to turn 26.

It’s ironic to think that this is what they have to perform, when their labelmate SNSD’s Taeyeon hated Gee (another song that hinges on childishness, innocence and repetition) when she was 19.

Is this oversaturated iteration of the cute concept better than them acting like sexy toddlers à la Twice’s TT? Definitely. It’s still really disappointing to see such an original, distinctive project fade into something more conventional.

Adding insult to injury, the best songs on the album are Body Talk, which would have been perfect for a “velvet” comeback, and Talk To Me, which could have represented an ideal medium between the “red” and the “velvet”.

Wings: You Never Walk Alone - BTS 

BTS’ Wings as a whole was one of my top three albums of 2016; this is probably why I found the new songs in the You Never Walk Alone a little underwhelming. Despite the high concept, they don’t have the same bite as any of the original Wings tracks.

Strangely rock-ish Spring Day seems to have picked up some cues from Day6, but with a much busier, artificial production. The various parts of the songs feel clunkily assembled and, even though the end result is good enough, it’s still one of the least unique songs of their production.

The music video is - as usual - is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, and it’s gorgeously shot; the lyrics are beautiful, emotional and uplifting; I always appreciate when V gets some non-falsetto singing; however, in the end it still feels uninspired and “less-than” in comparison to any other 2015-2016 BTS song.

Talking about “less-than”, I am furious that BTS’ team thought that putting out Not Today would be a good idea. While I have to acknowledge that in any other circumstance it would be an ok song, it just falls flat in comparison to previous BTS hype songs.

Everything, from the pacing of the song to the vocal gimmicks used by the members (think of Jimin saying “aaawww!” and the last line of Not Today’s pre-chorus), reminds me of a poorer version of Fire. I know that BTS are known for their bangers and they had to throw one in there, but this sounds like a rip-off made by a lesser group.

The MV for Not Today looks remarkably like a sportswear advert - especially the slow motion sequences around minute 3. It wouldn’t be terribly surprising, since they’re sponsored by Puma, but it doesn’t quite pay off as a music video.

My favourite of the “add-on” songs is what should arguably be the title track, You Never Walk Alone, which conveys the same message as Spring Day with a much more interesting structure, incisive raps and a style that matches the original Wings songs much better.

I’ve said before and I will say again that, in my eyes, BTS are the most likely candidates to be the Big Bang of the third generation; I can’t rule out that in a few years I’ll have changed my opinion on You Never Walk Alone, but for now I’ll have to try to write it off as necessary growing pains.

I’m just glad to see that they managed to go another comeback without letting go of the true BTS trope, dirty concrete walls.

 Don’t Recall - K.A.R.D. 

Because DSP Media has hardly been the best company lately (or ever?), I have been trying not to get too attached to their new group, K.A.R.D, especially while terms like “predebut group” and “project group” keep being thrown around and they are not promoting on shows.

Their first single Oh Na Na arrived a bit too close to the end of the year for it to end up my 2016 list, but I have been listening to it pretty much non-stop. I am quite surprised that I’m not disappointed with their second single Don’t Recall, and I possibly like it even more.

While tropical house (drink!) has been done to death in k-pop, K.A.R.D manage to make it moody and nostalgic, and most of all not sounding same-y and forgettable, by moving towards a dancehall vibe and adding a hook that’s not as obvious but just as perfect as Oh Na Na’s.

K.A.R.D’s international success has been ridiculous (and I’ve been on that bandwagon from day 1), so I’m hoping that they will manage to survive 2017 despite their agency.

Also, they have to be the first group to release fan theories to their own video.

More songs of note 

My Day - Day6

Come Over - DEAN  

 Zero - Dino (Seventeen) 

Yesterday - Block B

Tina - MASC

  My First and Last & Dunk Shot - NCT Dream

 Roar & Jungle Game - SF9

 Circle’s Dream & Strawberry - Subin (Dalshabet)

  Dance With Me - VAV

  Drought - W Project

 The Song - Zion.T

Strays

Tablo & Eric Nam have a Gallant-less go at Cave Me In.

  How do Seventeen manage to keep improving when they already seemed perfect?

All AKMU is good AKMU. 

 Dreamcatcher literally did a cute concept cover a day after releasing this Maroon 5 gay anthem. 

[ofstagsanddoes]

celebrity au in which they have a very very public rivalry which involves twitter rants, fandom wars, tabloid articles stirring etc. until they're photographed holding hands and the internet has a meltdown

Okay so literally months ago (I’m awful), I was challenged with this prompt for the @jilychallenge coordinated by @hmionegrangr and my partner was @lamelylimes (who wrote me this glorious piece you can check out here). Needless to say, college work got away from me and I didn’t finish the piece on time BUT I did promise to finish it, so finish it I did. (Albeit very, very late. I hope you enjoy it). 

October 17th was the day they officially broke the Internet.

To be fair, the rivalry had started out as just that- a rivalry. She was competitive, and he was arrogant and that had lead to a fair amount of interweb war mongering.

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                   Wow. I just love when I’ve beaten @quidditchjames’ offensive record but women still get paid half as much as men.

James Potter @quidditchjames                                                                             wow i just love when my records are beat by flukes

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                   Numbers don’t lie, babe.

James Potter @quidditchjames                                                                               listen. we’re gonna play a match against each other and then we’ll see who’s the real record holder

James Potter @quidditchjames                                                                               we’ll even do it for charity- all proceeds going to @witchesandwizardsforequality

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     It’s on like Donkey Kong.

James Potter @quidditchjames                                                                               i’m going to pretend i got that reference

And so it was determined; the match would be played and the rivalry would be settled. But of course that wasn’t the end of it.

THE DAILY PROPHET GABS, GOSSIP, AND GLAMOUR: STARS BANTER LEADS TO CHARITY MATCH

19/10/1979

Has James Potter waved his wand over the wrong spellbook?

The nineteen year old player for Puddlemere United has had a long time rivalry with fellow chaser Lily Evans of the Wimbourne Wasps. Interestingly, the two played together during their time at Hogwarts; Evans started the sport in her seventh year, with Potter (captain at the time) teaching her the ropes. The boy, like most of the world, wasn’t expecting what was in store for Evans, however, as she came out of nowhere to score a spot on one of the most competitive teams in the nation. Evans has gone on to become one of the best players in the sport, inciting a rivalry between the two former teammates.

Recently, the teen broke Potter’s offensive record, sparking a debate on Twitter between the two about who was the better player. The pair also discussed how women Quidditch players are often payed less than their male counter parts despite, as this new record proves, their comparable skill level. This led to the two starlets deciding to play a charity match where the proceeds will go towards Witches and Wizards for Equality- a foundation which promotes the equal pay of all genders.

The Twitter banter has lead many to speculate on the two’s romantic prospects- could we be witnessing a super couple in the making? The pair doesn’t seem to think so, however, as seen in Evans’ tweet from Tuesday:

Jacob Throne @jakeythrone                                                                                    @lilyevansofficial behind all this banter are we seeing a romance budding between you and @quidditchjames?

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     @jakeythrone I wouldn’t keep your hopes up, buttercup.

IQBS.COM: INTERNATIONAL QUIDDITCH BROADCASTING STATION LIVE STREAMING AND ONLINE ANNOUNCER TRANSCRIPT

Marcie Bendenberg: Well, Wendy, this isn’t something you see every day.

Wendy Lawrence: No, Marcie, it certainly isn’t, and that’s why so many members of the wizarding community have tuned in to watch today’s matchup between two of Quidditch’s hottest young chasers, Lily Evans of the Wimbourne Wasps and James Potter of Puddlemere United.

M: Yes, the two actually got in an argument on Twitter over who was the better player and agreed to play a match to settle it once and for all. All proceeds sold from tickets are to go charity, and it looks as though we’ve got a sold out crowd here.

W: It’ll certainly be an interesting match to watch, and for our viewers at home it’s important to note that this will not be a regular game of Quidditch. Instead, the pair will play each other one on one for five minutes, seeing who can score the most goals within that time period. What do you think of this matchup, Marcie?

M: Well, you know that I’ve always been an Evans fan- she’s a straight, no nonsense type of player that get’s the job done, but I will say that she’s got her work cut out for her. They both have that drive, that same innate level of talent, (and I think we can both agree the same competitive edge), but Potter plays with a sparkle that’s unparalleled in the sport as of now and that could bite Evans in the butt.

W: Then again, where he’s flashy she’s blunt and to the point, and I think that is oftentimes more effective.

M: Very true as well, I suppose we’re soon to see how it all plays out as the pair takes the field.

W: I’d like to take a moment to thank our sponsors for this match: Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion: “Two drops tames even the most bothersome barnet.” Sparkbucks: “The only way Wizards drink coffee.” and our charity for this event, Witches and Wizards for Equality.

M: Let’s play some Quidditch!

W: And, right off the bat Potter has the quaffle and is streaking towards the goal but…oh, that had to hurt, Evans knocks him hard in the shoulder and he drops the ball into her waiting hands.

M: And you know, she’s able to push him around so much in the air not because she is heavier than him, but because of the broom Potter flies on. Although the Nimbus Three Sixty is an exceptionally fast broom, it is lacking in the defensive departments. On her Comet 1000, Evans has a greater balance of speed and power, and this evens up the playing field greatly.

W: We’re seeing a lot of back and forth here, neither making much progress towards either set of hoops. Is this what you expected?

M: Honestly, we’re seeing some great Quidditch right here. You get this matchup between two of the best players in the nation and of course you’re going to have some what of a standstill. Now, eventually that standstill will break and-

W: Evans gets out of the tussle and heads towards those golden hoops. She chucks the quaffle towards the right one and…SCORES! Evans-10 Potter-0

M: Uh oh, though. It seems as if this has ignited a fire under Potter; he’s playing with more vigor than before!

W: Yes, this is definitely the player we’re used to seeing. Showy, but singleminded. He and Evans are diving and weaving around each other now, and it almost seems as though they’re…yelling at each other instead of playing Quidditch. That’s a new one.

M: Certainly. Especially as the clock shows that there are only sixty seconds left in the match; Potter needs to score!

W: Oh! But instead it is Evans who emerges from the altercation with the quaffle! And she’s racing towards the goal posts, Potter right on her tail. She’s got her work cut out for her, because, yes, Potter’s beaten her there, but will he pick the correct goal post to block? She chucks the quaffle and Potter’s diving and OH!

M: The quaffle careens into Potter’s head, sending him off course and crashing into one of the goal posts. That’s not good. He looks unconscious right now, the Mediwizards are flying onto the field.

W: But the quaffle did go in, and the score stands Evans-20 Potter-0, and this certainly- oh…oh my.

M: That was…unexpected.

W (laughing): Love does come to us in the most surprising of ways, doesn’t it? That’s all from us here at IQBS, we hope you enjoyed the brief commentary of the match. [Still giggling] Signing off for now.

THE DAILY PROPHET GABS, GOSSIP, AND GLAMOUR: YOUNG LOVE ON AND OFF THE PITCH

30/10/1979

On Friday night, all eyes were tuned to James Potter and Lily Evans as they played a Quidditch match to decide the better player. One expected to see a great game between the two exceptional players, which they got. The two young chasers battled so fiercely that only twenty points were scored in the five minute time allotment; both of those shots belonging to Evans.

However, the unexpected part of the evening was not the Qudditch playing itself, but rather the events that transpired afterwards.

During the last shot of the game, a rogue quaffle hit Potter in the head, causing him to crash into one of the goalposts and be knocked unconscious. Evans, instead of pausing to take in her game-winning shot, let out a yell and streaked down to catch Potter in her arms before the Mediwizards were able to get to him. An uncharacteristic show of affection between the two rivals? Perhaps. But even more surprising is what occurred next.

As the Mediwizards lowered him down to the ground and set about examining him, Evans was crying and crying, talking about how she hadn’t meant to hurt him and how he was such an idiot for trying to defend a goal so close to the posts and hadn’t he always told her that was foolish? The Mediwizards got him revived and all, and as soon as that boy opened his eyes Evans planted a big old kiss right on his lips.

Naturally, the internet has blown up at the idea of two such promising stars (and aforementioned rivals) falling in love, but there has been no word from either as Evans travelled with Potter to St. Mungo’s for further examination. With #lilypotter trending now on Twitter, who knew Quidditch could get so saucy?

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     James is fine; he has concussion but is expected to make a full recovery in time for Puddlemere’s next match.

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     He wants everyone to know that he’s grateful for all the well wishes and he loves you all dearly.

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     Also, he concedes that I am once and for all the better player.

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     I’m being forced to reveal that he never said that and never will admit that.

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     (Even though it’s correct.)

Jamie Bowler @jamieb23                                                                                         @lilyevansofficial WHAT’S UP WITH THE KISS????

Suzy Pemby @suzy.q1                                                                                             @lilyevansofficial the kiss???? what did it mean???

Marcie Bendenberg @marciebendenberg.official                                                    Honestly. We’ve got to know.

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     What can I say.

Lily Evans @lilyevansofficial                                                                                     The boy has beautiful lips.

[glopratchet]

001

Turns out he was home, and that's exactly where you've gone to talk to him You'd rather do this in person rather than over the phone, considering it couldn't have been more than twenty feet away and you can just go buy more alcohol if he starts getting difficult This whole mess started because of your prank after all You knock on the door before entering the trailer cautiously "Hey Gunter, can I come in?" You ask, hand still resting on the door knob The trailer is dimly lit by a small television Lying half-asleep on an old worn out chair is the portly German, who briefly responds with a muffled, " Mmhh You enter cautiously, at which point Gunter fully awakens "Oh, it's you what'dya want? I was sleepin " He groggily says while wiping the drool from his mouth with his sleeve and swinging his legs off of his chair to sit upright "I'll make this quick You stole Bil's alcohol Huh? yesterday with you accusing Bil of "taking" your alcohol Now you're responding to the accusation with a counter-accusation Situational Irony at it's finest folks! "Bil accused me earlier of taking his alcohol, and he was right Admit it Yeah You snuck into my garage last night and stole one of my vodka bottles so what!" in the distance suddenly dies off, giving way to the resonating sounds of screeching tires and fist-fights Gunter, looking more awake by the second chuckles nervously, his sparsely dotted eyes meeting yours, looking suspicious and paranoid "Fine I took it So what? I had a right!" "Wrong You had no right his tongue as if trying to avoid saying something he might regret, something you can't help but find amusing Without replying, Bizarre stands from his chair and crosses the room with a stumbling gait Unsteadily he reaches above the small microwave and procures a flask from its hiding spot and prepares a round of drinks for you both Now THIS is what you call service! You accept the drink, bottoms up! Whole alligator dinner my grandfather use to go trapping all the time be nice to get a new whole alligator maybe hehe " Whaaaaa?" Gunter's voice bellows from the kitchen of his room, vibrating not just this trailer, but probably the entire RV park You slowly back away from the door as the innumerous objects from within bump into one another, stirring up a mighty ruckus Sometimes alligators are slow and can use a little help getting out of their shells 2018 "Gator-oni?!" Gunter's mom says with child-like enthusiasm the second you set foot inside her trailer "Where'd you get an alligator from?" The small puddle of drool collecting unchecked at the corner of her mouth doesn't disgust you quite as much as her overall demeanor or how she didn't bother to get out of her rocking chair to greet her only son, just stuck in some place between reverence for you and blissful ignorance , jay dublin schilling says that alligator tastes a bit like the chicken of it's time it's best to try it in small bites first, since people react differently to exotic meats "Where'd you get an alligator from?" Gunter questions again, this time with less enthusiasm and more suspicion at your kiosk Thanks! Wholes all around! Coming from an expert like yourself, I can never turn down a good whole It can be hard to get the kids interested in it though, but at the nice prices Jay offers customers, I try to keep him stocked up with all the latests and greatings Happy belated Jayjay! "From Jay," ? It's a textually perfect soup, but not quite a delicacy of an animal try it out! What's your background? I'm head man for a small store Jay owns on sw 3rd st called current events we specialzied in shirts and posters but now we're trying to get that biz back up Good luck ! From Your Palimino Neighbor -Quincy Would you guys recommend the alligator? Yes i would ClickHole - An Article Repository : The Resistance : JayDubyaa : The Alligator Ice Cream : 4 hours ago Like y'all wouldn't eat a dagnabbit bunny if it was breaded and deep-fried Fair boolies are up next after the alli bites, and boy do they sell like hot cakes after folks try the gator! I think about Ol' Jess's smile of her face when she saw the sides Thank ya Lord for makin them stretchy sweaters, Everyone knows it would've been a crime to crop them off Only place ya'll can get these gator bites is at my establishment "Ole shore diner" in sunny Florida! That's right its been shipped all the way up from the swamps of Ellis! Only the finest or is that fishedest for you guys! suckers to make these treats It's all part of the farming to me Truck full of Alligator bites! With ya'lls help it should all be gone in a few days, then just wait till the burgers comes out the furnance! Just think outside the bun and your good to go!Would you guys recommend the alligator? so it ain't chicken! So your saying it tastes like chicken? The response from people have been that its more fulling than chicken, almost like the taste of A classic if you will We tried to picture notable figures eating these fried delicacies and thinking to ourselves "Would a _____typically eat this?" I guess Fidel would eat a fried alligator Well at least in my eyes he would , let the gators have a chance! Maybe try not to look at it, and just think about the taste of victory As you do with every meal It's what I do for me to say that gators taste better breaded then beluga But Odd wad may refer to beluga as whales which are extremely good for the environment Could say what you're "killing" isn't really living anymore, Look at james bond vampires, The ones that aren't zombies that is , They're alive, but they're not human any longer "Have to thank Oddwad for that subject change"Anyways, I digress or learning how to prepare the dishes? I just like eating them what can I say, I AM THE ONLY ONE THAT APPROVES OF ME WELL MAYBE A specifically a Goon Thank you for caring though Ive been doing this since before Jesus was born! Today the gospel according to Matt Was edited a little bit by Ol' Steve himself Hindsight is always 20/20 isn't it Goons! or about the new item manipulation commands? Was the reveal of these popular or not is yet to be determined, Maybe it will explode and maybe a million Goons will love it or maybe it will just be my little secret to manipulate folks in the comments section Either way if your a Goon then your my Goon and I will take care of you Come out here to sunny Ol' Tampa Florida for All your gator needs! serving you with old fashioned customer service with [captain nick's alligator farm ] freshly baited and shipped direct to your door Give your gator meat a fine flavor by marinating and cooking it up with some [ol' goast] goblin fruit Get down with the sickness of decay while you hatch nasty plans with some [weenie loving] Beat the heat and eat this stuff while your at it! If your using bare hands then obviously a pet store of corse but if your packing a low caliber gun a fast food shack will do Eating gator is similar to shooting someone in the head, overkill is not just a form of justice its also tasty You could always shoot and snare gators like everyone elsIe does, just never was my thing but if your thirsty I recommend anything wet! [the boogoti basics of alligator dinner delivery] ! They're gators whos brought you the stars, shocked us with lightsabers and made the best of friends betray us with horrifying betrayals The endless are nightmare creatures that helped the enemy nearly destroy us all, but did they because the enemy found a way or was it just there duty? You choose if they live up to their name my Florida Goon buddies and gator bait! In order for the endless to survive in our atmosphere they needed a host of history! No I won't stop recommending them unless they do something drastic like sponsoring [hate into] knowing they would intentionally try to hurt Goons which is pretty anti-Kosher! Was it the DE that tried to kill us all? Was it an angry human? Was it Mother Nature putting us back in our place (yeah right!) Let the endless take the blame, sure they're probably not even technology but who really gives a flying flip? ! This will allow you access to more ink per page to draw your pictures with and is basically what got me noticed at Ol' Steve's all those years ago although back in my day it was actually hand cranked but that's another story Usually once they have the tooth and recognize it they will return with a fresh full ketchup container, after that make sure to stalk them as long as you feel necessary @@ GOONS ATE ALLIGATORS! Shoot the biggest gator you can on your hunt! Isn't bigger just better? tooth while hunting! Did you find a miniature tooth or an oversized one? Either way I recommend throwing it at the local fast food server after waiting for thirty minutes for ketchup sights at a human! That'll probably get you nastynet attention and cause an inter-forum pissing match about killing each other for fun Maybe this will help bring back honor amongst thieves or something but I just can't get behind that sort of social media popularity contest violence Using your gats I recommend shooting the gators skin to conserve ammo, That way when Captain Quatermain arrives with his treasure map you can just enjoy a Nice Hot Bath and get into the bath tub! Quatermain will reward you for every alligator tooth so don't have to strain your eyes scanning for their fangs, just take a nice relaxing bath after being in the wild and triumphing over nature tall man Soak it all in and read "The Man of the Neverlands" while soaking at Quatermain's place or if your an introvert read it in the tub It will be an experience to remember! to take with you! 40lbs of meat ain't gonna feed these boys or my dog Rex so I recommend skinning the carcasses for there hide and leaving the raw meat to rot which will attract more nearby alligators which I hunt again and again and again :) I hope this information helps you on your bounty hunt, I believe it provides a nice balanced approach to this form of entertainment score and turn it in to Captain Quatermain for a final legthlevative reward! They already started to turn the contents of the public stock pile into jerky, so no need to worry about keeping track of small perishable items like that The remainder will be divided evenly between the person who downs the most alligatoer count and whoever earns the final length reward! count and final reward RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Zalmora - 12-09-2017 05:01 PM Ideas sure, but thes ain't ideas MA! RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Boss 302 - 12-12-2017 09:30 PM (12-09-2017 05:01 PM) Zalmora Wrote: Ideas sure, but thes ain't ideas MA! service! 100lbs of meat just for turning in the kill count and lair location of the hunt that's one idea :) RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Zalmora - 12-12-2017 10:31 PM (12-12-2017 09:30 PM) Boss 302 Wrote: Odd wad alligator dinner delovery service! got an eatery in mind? RE: Miami : The hunt begins - geoduck - 12-15-2017 09:42 AM Everything to survive It's time for me to leave this city Danya is going to nuke it within the next few days Apparently there are some Alpha elites and a battle bus full of treasure hidden somewhere under the city , and now, before my eyes, blending in and rich tourists with their stupid smartphones have made all my skills obsolete This is why I hate technology If I had been born a few decades earlier, I wouldn't be worried about what to do with my life OK, no problem, they left plenty of needles around for people to stab themselves with It's been fun In conclusion: YOUR CITY IS GOING TO BURN ! Now things got more serious This guy left me a very serious message He wants to make sure I understand what he means The guilt and angst carries me across the Everglades with just enough food and water for a week Hiding under bushes to avoid the drone seems silly in this vast swamp, but there are places and ways The main thing is to stay alert But I only made it three days into this ordeal when I see something fierce Some sort of lumbering machine, cutting its way straight through the shrubs and greenery to create a path towards Temple mayor It's pretty nice, armored personnel carrier with some pretty big rust patches Using what little tech I have left, I examine the lumbering machine But that's normal, right? Otherwise it hasn't been used for seventy years! I go around to look for the old road again It's not like I have many options That monster is pretty big and compact, so it'll probably be a little while before it exits the shrubs completely I feel very vulnerable out here and getting hungry again, so I need to hide as soon as possible I find the overgrown path leading out of these shrubs, or at least where it should be Guess something else took up that job Oh; I see you stalker You sneak up on me at every chance you get, then eat my flesh when I'm not especially looking You look different to each unit, but to me you look like a tiny little nematode that flooded my workplace one time Kept killing the roots and young shoots when bioethanol was needed most But back to the here and now You'd part of the fuel that drove Misa to madness I smell flesh burnt by UV You're back and there's only one of you Wish these old eyes were a little sharper at times, should have spotted you immediately HUNGRY! RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Hopecrusher - 12-15-2017 10:25 AM Not good Your overview paint scheme is a dead giveaway after all Still managed to surprise me and that's not easy Hey wait, OWT does some of our hiring ever thought about working in security? Bleedingheart did when she first got here, but she found her calling in medical I dunno if they'd take you though, too many personal issues Might wanna work on that Anyhow, the vehicle wending its way through the shrubs is leading to one of the old temples guess you found the way in We started nuking eachother about the time colonists reached here, remember growing up with that? Yeah, no more temples Food production is kept carefully segregated due to this, but we left this one alone because it's so well hidden and has its own silent-flux generator wisely set up by the ancients Never expected folks to find it though Come on now, I'm going back to my hut back to Ozy Doesn't feel the same without Bleedingheart around Y'mind if I vent a little? Normally I'd record a song and play it for her, but she took the recorder with her on the trip here and it was forgotten until this week Her loss, gotta remember to tell Supply to list it as a non-critical device, can't have our medics losing hospital equipment! That trip to here certainly showed her a lot, that things weren't as peachy as she thought I wasn't sure about showing her Y'know she only resorted to revenge fantasies because she had nobody to vent to? Nobody to help process things, like when we were yanking arms off gangers or executing people for sport Really hate thissense of loss right now I'm going on Wonder if this was part of the reason Tom wanted isolation Guess happenings like these are good lessons, but I dunno, we should be absolutely sure next time Now I'm feeling guilty too Not that his plan worked Hey, let me play something for ya RE: Miami : The hunt begins - Green Eye - 12-15-2017 10:39 AM That hallway had to lead somewhere important Not like someone would just build a dead end in a hideout Like a secret panel! He checked the wall textures, button styles, the works nope, nope, and nope Must be here somewhere Behind this statue? Nope In the torch? ! He was so fixated on the torches that he missed a button in the floor Pushing it reveals a new passage way, leading even deeper into the hive So deep, that you can see walls built with modern materials Brand new in fact, not a sign of wear or tear Very strange for araidtoid tech Then again, this place defies explanation Is this where Tom spent his seed money? You press onward, ready for whatever lies beyond Hey! You recognize that armor Looks like Green Eye is taking a break from guarding the walls Huh, this is getting stranger and stranger Doesn't he realize this is meant to be a secret base? Oh wait, you're wearing stealth armor "Hey Green Eye, got any sal-- Oof!" You run into him before you can finish your sentence "Watch it, fool! Oh, hey you? What're you doing here?"

[will242424]

Endicott Football Player Determined to Make Music Passion a Career

Zach DeNike is an Endicott senior from Old Tappan, New Jersey. He played football at Endicott all four years of his college career as a wide receiver and punt returner. DeNike amassed 117 catches across 37 games in his college career, scoring eight touchdowns. Standing at 5’8’’ and weighing in at 175 pounds, it’s easy to understand who he looks up to on the gridiron.

DeNike, a liberal studies major, is far more than just a football player. He’s had a passion for music his whole life, and has started pursuing it as a career in college. DeNike has his own YouTube page, which contains two music videos that he’s starred in within the past year.

DeNike is a determined individual. He has battled through injuries to continue playing the game he loves, and his decision to skip a traditional rite of passage event back in high school to suit up one last time shows he is committed to carving out his own path.

Music is a competitive industry, but DeNike is driven to chase his dream of working in the field, whether it’s as a recording artist or something else. We talked about a valuable internship opportunity that he experienced in NYC, and how he endeavors to create similar chances for himself in the future to create a bigger name for himself.

Why was Endicott the choice for you? What other schools recruited you?

The recruiting process was kind of stressful for me. I ended up getting some D1 offers (Wagner) towards the end, right before signing day, (but) it just didn’t feel right when I went on the visit there. When I came here, something kept bringing me back. (It felt) like a family atmosphere and I loved the campus, everything about it, the academics. Everyone about the team was really cool when I went on my visit. The coaching staff was pretty relatable; they’re all young guys. Everyone was open when I came. The guy I stayed with offered to let me sleep on his bed. I went to a few classes and I pictured myself coming here more than any other school. I don’t regret (the decision of going D3 at Endicott) at all, I love everyone on my team, the coaching staff and the school. I live on the beach this year, waking up and looking out my window seeing the ocean and hearing the ocean before I go to bed, it’s awesome. Not many kids can say that.

What is the most memorable play, game or accomplishment in your football career so far?

In HS I had the opportunity to play at MetLife stadium in my state championship game; that was a dream come true. This year we had that comeback against Bridgewater State; it was unreal. It’s like the Patriots, you can’t ever give up until the clock hits zero. That HS team went 12-0 and a bunch of us got asked to play in the Bergen County All-Star game, which is the North vs. South Jersey football game. I ended up winning MVP of that game for the offense. I was the only member of my team that ended up playing in that game because it was on prom (night). Most of them wanted to be with their girlfriend, but I wanted to play one more HS game.

Is there a professional football player you look up to or perhaps model your game after?

Julian Edelman for sure. I’m a NY fan, but Edelman is my idol. Short, versatile.

I noticed on your bio that you’re a Liberal Studies major. What type of career aspirations do you have?

I made my own major through that, it’s music performance and songwriting. I did my internship at Premier Studios this summer, got to work with DJ Khaled, Steve Aoki, Young Thug, Nick Cannon, all these big names. I recorded with Kesha’s producer and wrote a song with her. Awesome experience. My mom was really good friends with someone well known in the industry; she made a few phone calls for me and set it up. It’s pretty difficult to get an internship at a recording studio. I hope to be a singer-songwriter one day. I’m writing my own album right now. It’s going pretty well. It’s tough to balance it with football and school right now. Whenever I have free time I’m always coming up with ideas and playing music and collaborating with people. Someone on our team last year, Jesse Bonner, he’s good at producing music and making beats. I’m working with him. My brother has been helping me out a lot; he’s good with the software (GarageBand).

Punt returner and slot receiver is a particularly dangerous position given the many hard hits they take over the middle of the field. Have you ever been seriously injured playing football?

No serious injuries, knock on wood. I’ve missed the last two games with a concussion. I’m feeling good, ready to go, this week is gonna be my first game back. I had two (concussions) in HS. They weren’t too serious. Once you get the concussion, you have to wait until all your symptoms are at zero. Once that happens, you can start going back to class and start exercising again. You need seven days of exercising with no symptoms and no setbacks, and then you’re ready to go.

What are your thoughts on the reports of concussion severity and CTE among professional football players? Is it something you’re worried about for your own health?

It’s in my head a little bit, I’m definitely thinking about it a little bit but I try not to think about it too much and just try to focus on the game and what’s in friend of me right then. My family, they just want me to be safe, make sure I’m not going out there to just play a game and not worry about my head. I gotta worry about the years to come, the next 40-50 years of my life.

Does your talent for music relate to your football career at all? Maybe I’m reaching here, but is reading a defense as a punt returner and slot receiver at all similar to reading a sheet of music?

I would say yeah in certain aspects of the game. When I’m returning punts, I kind of relate it because you need to get in a rhythm. If one thing’s off then the return is not gonna be too great. When you’re playing music it becomes frustrating when you don’t get into that rhythm, or if you’re writing a song, if you don’t have that rhythm going then you can get writer’s block.

On your bio it says you play seven instruments, can you list those for me? Which one are you best at and which is your favorite instrument?

Guitar, piano, mandolin, ukelele, drums and I sing so I guess six if you include singing. My favorite is guitar, it comes easy to me. I have a good ear for music. I never really read music up until college; I’m learning right now. I’m learning about music theory and stuff. Usually when I hear a song I can figure it out and play it right away. (I started playing guitar in) fourth grade.

I’m particularly curious about your internship at Premier Recording Studio in NYC. What was that like?

I was around a lot of big names, got a lot of awesome contacts. The producer that I worked with on the last few days of my internship, he put me in contact with somebody named Steve Migliore who has put a bunch of different artists on the BillBoard Top 100. I’ve sent him some of my songs, a few covers I’ve done since I haven’t copyrighted any of the original music that I’ve done yet so I don’t want to send it out and have it get stolen or anything. The music industry, you don’t know who you can really trust. Once I finish album and get it copyrighted, I’m gonna send it to him. He really likes my voice, what I can do. I know as far as the producer that I worked with, he loved me. I literally sat down and wrote a song with him and this Australian girl that he was working with. I wrote all the lyrics for her and they featured me in the song too. I normally write about what’s going on in my life at the time whether it’s girl issues or family issues. My favorite song I wrote down by the beach last year about the waves. It’s about how life goes up and down sometimes but you just gotta keep pushing through. I’m not really sure when I’m going release the whole album. Hopefully I’ll release one of the songs as a single within the next two months. (Without this internship) I’d probably do it like most artists get started, just go on YouTube, throw up some covers and maybe just put stuff on SoundCloud. Now that I have all these connections, it’s a quicker way for me to get into the industry. The hours were crazy. I would work from like 9AM-730PM, get a day off and then work 730PM-9AM. Overnight, into the morning. Sometimes they would need me to stay longer. I started out cleaning the studio and then going out on runs, getting pizza for all the artists. In my free time I would start singing, and then people would hear me and were impressed. I started to sit in on different sessions, help out the sound engineers by setting up the microphones. I learned a lot about the different softwares and pro tools that they used. I took a class last semester called Intro to Studio Production; without that class I would have been lost in the studio. At Endicott, they have a recording studio with the same exact sound boards, and I already had an intro with how to use it.

I plan to work at another recording studio in the future to get some more experience and meet some more people, maybe out in California.

What musicians do you look up to?

I love John Mayer, Maroon 5, Adam Levine is one of my favorite singers. I love Jimi Hendrix and the Grateful Dead, the Beatles. I love every genre of music, I’m open to everything. It helps me as a performer.

I see that you worked with the Open Hearts Open Homes Project in the past. What is that group about and what did your involvement consist of?

We sponsored an Israeli child whose life had been affected by terrorism. He stayed with us for three weeks in the summer when I was pretty young. I might’ve been like eight years old. We fell in love with him, he’s our family. He and his grandpa were going into a market when he saw his friend, and he went to meet up with him. Then, his grandpa ended up getting killed by a suicide bomber. Originally, it was only supposed to be a three-week thing where they would go to a camp during the day and do some overnights at Great Adventure. Fun stuff for the summer. But a war broke out, and my family (myself, mom, brother) said we can’t let these kids go back after they’ve had all this fun so we raised all this money very quickly and it gave them the opportunity to stay another three weeks. Ever since he’s been coming back every year, he’s like a brother to me. Is there anything else you’d like to add?

Music runs in my family. My mom told me that my grandpa could sit down and play any instrument, didn’t read music kinda like me and if he heard something he’d be able to play it, write a song in like ten minutes. My dad is a good singer, it’s always been a part of my family and a huge part of my life.

[wordsonpagespress]

Venus, by Sara Flemington

fiction by Sara Flemington | third-place winner of the 2016 Blodwyn Memorial Prize in fiction, sponsored by Book*Hug

We were suddenly on a lucky streak. Following a very long, very unlucky streak. For example, the movies. Four bad movies in a row. And you being the type of person who could tell right away if a movie was going to suck or not, and me being the type who was clairvoyant enough to start panicking as early as the concession if it seemed like I’d taken someone out to a sucky movie, it was an all around uncomfortable series of unfortunately campy and “ha-ha” date nights. Then, there was X. Popping up everywhere: drugstore aisles, bars, the post office. And you being nice enough to always say hi, and me being nice enough to not comment on how her smile made her look like she was teething, or ask the reason as to why she was regularly done-up as if about to hit Prom ’85, we always had to stop and have a quaint little chit-chat about her newest accomplishments — arts-grants-wise — or about the tragic passing of Dear Aunt Beatrice, who was nothing if not her biggest source of moral support and guidance, as the lesbian of the family, and therefore, the only other dissenter. And on top of all that, the cactuses died. For no reason, as if by suicide to get away from the doomed home they had recently been moved into. And so I was pretty certain that, Mercury retrograde aside, I had become a jinx for you and our love would never be allowed its proper chance to sprout, let alone effloresce, (remember that homemade haircut I tried to give you ultimately resulting in a entire shaving of the head?) and in very little time you would, in turn, begin to despise me and wish we had never met and hope that somehow, in some life, you might find your way back to the inflatable tube man arms of X.

And then, Christmas came. But not in the It’s a Wonderful Life sense of the holiday, where we both would learn the power of a positive outlook; more like, in the holiday-packs-of-scratch-tickets sense. Because we were sitting beside each other at the very back of the very last bus of the night, heading home from drinking far too much acrid red wine at a disappointing poetry reading held at the “recently renovated” i.e. recently primer-painted community art gallery, and the heat was cranked far too high for our winter jackets and toques and scarves so we were both uncomfortably sweating through the crevices of our armpits and nostrils, and the reddish + greenish hue our skin had adopted from the alcohol + overhead bus lighting was making us appear even more dismal than we already naturally did. And that’s when I spotted them, jammed between the two seats directly across from us: the shimmering, unopened stack of lottery cards. Of course, it took a while for one of us to get up and “just take them,” being overly anxious over-thinkers plus regular sufferers of mental inertia, but finally, seconds from our stop, I threw my arms up as high as they could go in a puffy winter jacket + two more layers of sweaters and declared, “It’s not like they’re gonna be winners anyway,” and tucked them into purse. Then we stepped off the bus into the refreshingly frozen night.

But I was wrong. Ten dollars. That’s what we won. And Jupiter was about to make its move through Cancer.

“Can you believe it?” I said to you — sincerely, actually. “Can you believe we just happened upon these tickets? And now we have enough to buy like, four more bus rides? That’s like, two bus rides each.”

And you with your ever-salient shrug replied, “Happened upon? Really?”

Regardless, that was just the start. Because then, along came the cat.

“How is the cat good luck?” you argued. “He’s disgusting and annoying and he gets litter everywhere. And I’m pretty sure he’s slow. Like slow slow. Watch his eyes.”

“But, re-examine the point,” I begged. “So I was just walking along, like normal, like I always am, and right there in the window, there’s this little guy! Fresh off the streets, all shaking and on-sale and with a weird squinty eye. Look, it looks like he’s winking. Which is just like how you described your beloved childhood cat that only just two nights ago you had come across an old picture of and went on and on about how much you missed so much, which led right into a conversation about adopting our own little kitten –”

“Maybe adopting our own little kitten.”

“Maybe adopting our own little kitten. But anyway, here he is, and it was clearly meant to be.” And even though, granted, this particular kitty was a bit off somehow, he did serve to prove my point that good, possibly even great things, were now on the horizon for us. You still didn’t believe me at this point, but you had, at least, learned to love to humour me, and also learned to love the oddly vacant cat, while I was taking a daily inventory of signs from the universe divining our good fortune:

Your favourite hat — lost two months prior — resurfaced, magically, while I was cleaning out the refrigerator.

The day every single item written down on our grocery list was on sale at the grocery store.

The cookie thing (when the second cookie got stuck to the one we bought to share, but the lady behind the counter didn’t notice, so basically we just got a free cookie, which was mostly good for you because then I wouldn’t eat two thirds of the first one after claiming I only wanted a single chocolate chip and leaving you with basically nothing).

The second chance you gave me at giving you a haircut, and it turned out to be a pretty spot-on attempt modelled after a picture of Ryan Gosling.

The discovery that we had, at one point, attended the same film screening in Toronto, on the same day, years before ever meeting in real life.

The discovery that we had ALSO been at the same concert for one of our mutually favourite bands, in Toronto, on the same night, ALSO before ever meeting in real life.

The lucid dream I swear we shared.

“Maybe you’re right, like, maybe we’re soul mates or something,” you said one day, petting the winking feline and, joking or not, I continued to discover more coincidences to add to the inventory; a rare 1979 Boba Fett Loose Action Figure with Original Back Blaster for pennies in a bin of kids books at Goodwill; the big power outage and thus free popsicles from the convenience store the same night I found some old weed in the bookcase; the twenty bucks in the building’s dryer. Even kitty seemed to be getting a little bit smarter, not batting his turds out of the litter box so often. And with the new moon beginning to wax, everything in both of our entire lives began to feel like it was not only coming together to complete a circle in which we would inevitably end up in the centre of — deeply happy and entirely X-less — but a sphere. Like we existed in some sphere type thing, like a planet, like our own planet following its own orbital path. Or fate. Or something.

“You’re losing your mind,” you said to me, combing your fingers through my hair one night as we lay across the couch watching yet another good movie. Maybe, baby, maybe. But maybe, I wasn’t, actually. Because then, as it often happens when things are going well, I started to wonder when it all might start to go wrong again; you know, when karma would decide it was time to balance things out. It was turning into spring, and while everyone around us was getting cheerier and everything around us was getting colourful and good-smelling, I was becoming paranoid that at any moment you’d be calling me at work in the throes of a severe allergy attack, or the hospital would be calling me with news of your newly broken legs due to a bicycle accident (knock on wood), and I continued to I waver consistently between calm and vomit-mode. But these grand fears never materialized. What did end up materializing was the bagel you burned one sunny morning resulting in the whole apartment smelling like singed sesame seeds.

“That’s a thing,” I said.

“It’s not a thing if I don’t even care,” you replied.

And I guess I kind of liked the smell.

So while I was out, walking along again, like I always did, I decided to take a chance and step inside the floral boutique I usually passed by but of course, never went inside of anymore. I meekly approached the thin young florist with a swoopy haircut and very well-ripped jeans who was tying white ribbons around lilac bouquets, and asked:

“Excuse me, I was just wondering, which plant would be relatively easy to maintain and, maybe doesn’t require much extra care and maybe, you know, could be left alone for an extended period of time or even accidentally forgotten about and still be okay afterward?”

And whose shrill snort should I hear pipe up right behind me, followed by her sudden eagerness to show off all of the green-thumb knowledge she had apparently accumulated over her many years of being perfect at everything, but X. Our lovely lanky phantom X.

“A cactus?” she laughed, and began in on how she used to raise orchids, nurse Venus flytraps, shape bamboo stalks into elaborate spirals and hearts and I could feel the acid reflux pushing up my trachea and clogging my nasal cavity. Sensing my panic, the florist stepped out from behind the counter, linked his arm through mine like a best girlfriend, and directed us safely away from X and towards the corner of the room, where the moderate moisture-loving shade-dwellers were kept.

“I think you’ll do just fine with one of these,” he said. I pocketed the laminated fertilization instructions.

And that was the day I brought home the spider plant. I set it down in the middle of the kitchen table with a dramatic thud, and I stood there and looked you in the eye and I made a promise. I promised that I would keep the damn thing pretty and green as long as I lived in this damn apartment with you, so help me dammit, and I may never be able to cultivate a banana plant or whatever, and even if we wake up one day to a flood or a fire or full body rashes or something, or Mars and Saturn and Pluto all simultaneously backspin right through both of our signs at the same time, I will still be here, keeping everything pretty and green and alive, for you, and for that weird cat over there, and for this plant, and that was about the point when I started to run out of breath, and kind of doubled over a bit, and realized how comforting it felt to know that while I was there, one hand on my chest and one hand stroking the long pointy leaves of our newest addition, you were looking at me with that composed smile.

“Okay, love. Sounds good.”

[somniax]

2017 Year in Review - Blog Revival? Part 2 - SFV

Back again for Part 2 and Wishing everyone a Happy New Year!

By far my most active game this year was SFV, entering many leagues, attending many locals and travelling to quite a few Asia tournaments.

May not be that well known but SFV S1 had me questioning whether I was going to stick around in fighting games or take a long break. Despite winning the S1 Couchwarriors ranbat league, the 8 frames of lag was a huge annoyance for me as a defensive player. S1 had me bugging out with how ridiculously easy strategy wise it was to play some of the top tier characters. 

Thankfully the minor lag reduction & S2 re-balance patch gave me hope of better days. S2 saw the rebirth of Dictator as an actual threat, no more getting abused by Chun/Mika/Ryu & v-reversals into set play so I decided to stick it out and see where it takes me.

It took me places I’d never been, like Taiwan

Dark Sided

So I started off the year 2017 by joining up with team Dark Sided.  One of the major reasons for doing so is that I saw all the great things they had been doing with ZG & Falco and they were proving that they were an organisation that cares about the local FGC. I’d been sponsored before, but it was a very hands off affair that never really went anywhere. I was originally concerned about a similar situation but Dark Sided not only proved themselves as a great team but a team that actually cares about their players. 

If you wanna check out the year Dark Sided has had, click the link below. Lots of great moments!

A twitter year in review for the team -

https://twitter.com/i/moments/943714052697505792

Hyper Magazine

The next big thing that happened in 2017 was pretty much a life achievement. I used to read Hyper Magazine as a kid at my local news agency and I never imagined I’d be featured in an article. Needless to say I’ve kept a few copies to reminisce about when I’m old and retired (just old right now, not retired just yet).

A full page spread in Hyper Magazine - A dream come true

Battle Arena Melbourne 9

The first major tournament that I attended in the year came around in May. 

The global Capcom Pro Tour Premiere Battle Arena Melbourne 9. I was doing quite well online and locally so my confidence levels were up there.

It’s also the first time I’ve got an interview on Capcom Fighters, which was an awesome experience

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FI_tXf-zTx4

There was one major problem I didn’t account for though... for the first time in about 10 years I lost my keys on the way home on Friday night, the day before the tournament.

My spare keys were with my partner who was sleeping, far away & had work early in the morning so I was pretty screwed.

After about an hour of trying to break into my own place, I walked to the nearest motel at around 3-4am to get a few hours of sleep before the tournament started the next day. Needless to say the motel wasn’t exactly the greatest place to sleep but I did manage to get around 3 hours.

Next day my partner let me into my place and I was able to go get my keys. Rocking up to the tournament feeling like trash, I was knocked into losers in a relatively close match vs Tokido. Once in losers, BKsama’s Urien eliminated me. BKsama took me out and had a really close match vs Gamerbee next, just falling short of taking him out.

The main lesson learned here is always check for your keys - and if you do happen to lose them you have to try extra hard to stay on point (or get a lot of decent sleep) because the best players will notice and body you systematically.

Infiltration visiting Melbourne at BAM9

As a long time fan of Bonchan’s Sagat in USF4, it was amazing to see him run through the brackets at BAM9 and take out the event with a nerfed Nash. Especially when it was against such a strong Cammy player too!

The grand finals were sick and you can review them at the link below

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RNIVBDsy7fc

Stay tuned for the next part! I’ll have it up in the next couple of days.

[tortuga-aak]

I lost my job after 14 years — and it's made me realize that a day job might not be the best way to build wealth

Flickr/Eelke

After 14 years, an investor was laid off from his full-time job, giving him time to focus on his side-projects and family.

He realized self-employment is stressful — it comes with the unique challenges of self-scrutiny and less stability.

Having a break between full time jobs is allowing him to be selective about what his next step is.

He also says that earning a salary as well as additional income from a side job is the path of least resistance for reaching financial independence.

  Around friends and neighbors, I'm using the phrase "in between jobs" to describe my current employment situation. That's a convenient euphemism to make it sound less bad.

Most people aren't familiar with my business so they only see a jobless Dad of three kids married to a non-working Mom, dealing with a mortgage and the same suburban costs they struggle with.

I used the term "unemployed" the other day with a former co-worker and I sensed sorrow in his reply text message.

"Oh damn," he wrote.

In a town where conversations often revolve around employment, I'm conflicted about my actual status.

Yes, I'm between jobs because I left a job and intend to go back to a new one. Yes, I'm technically self-employed because I work on a business that earns money. Yet, I was laid off and I'm looking for work. So I'm unemployed.

The way I frame my story changes depending on who I talk to. The truest answer is it's a long story that only my family and a few friends understand.

And you.

Regardless of what it's called, I like my status right now. I'm home every day. I make breakfast for the kids and take them to school. I go to the gym when l feel like it. Errands are easy.

We have multiple income streams and cash savings to get us through this period, so we're not stressed or panicking about money. Though our cash savings account is shrinking and I don't like that.

My side business work is fulfilling and challenging. It makes money and has the potential to grow more. That's exciting.

It's all got me thinking… what if I don't go back to work full-time?

Never enough

For those new here, I lost my job of 14 years in early October when my project lost funding. I was always treated well, but my employment situation was never ideal. I hope to go back to work full-time in the new year in a similar field.

I miss the benefits and salary.

Even so, my plan remains intact to leave full-time work by 2022 and retire completely and never work again at age 55, one year before my Dad retired.

During this period of searching for a new position, I have time to focus on my side projects to set them up for future growth.

Working for myself, I'm under constant personal scrutiny. Whatever I manage to accomplish on any given day is never enough. There's always more to do. More writing, more optimization, more tracking, more upgrading, and more organization. I'm trying to automate where I can. But my business requires manual work on my part.

On top of that, since I'm home all day, I'm under constant pressure to be accessible to my kids. When I worked in an office building, they couldn't knock on my door to ask for a butt wipe.

Young kids don't understand the concept of work. All they want is more time with Dad. Being more available is part of why I'm embracing this lifestyle in the first place. But balancing work and kids while self-employed is much more difficult than I anticipated.

Waking up early is more difficult too. Planning out my day is not a straightforward as I hoped. When I work during the day, I tend to justify that working in the evening and on weekends isn't necessary.

Maybe it isn't. But that feeling of not doing enough is always there.

My biggest fears if I don't go back to work

As a sole breadwinner, I'm responsible for providing health and dental insurance for my family. Without a sponsoring employer, insurance is expensive. I want excellent insurance, not average insurance.

We are on COBRA for now, but it's been a slow and somewhat stressful process.

Maybe this is something I need to get over. Plenty of self-employed people have good coverage for their families. For now, at least, I want this aspect of my life to be stress-free. Working for a good employer with excellent benefits would put my mind at ease about healthcare for my family.

Another fear is that the local or national economy will sour while I'm unemployed. This scenario would be bad for my side business if the market tanks and people stop reading about investing. And it would be difficult to find a new job.

Not working for a salary puts a damper on my ability to grow wealth. I'm not contributing to retirement accounts and I've paused our college savings for now. Both actions make me uncomfortable.

At age 42, I'm not ready to draw down my wealth for the rest of my life.

A salary is a solid baseline. Any side income is gravy on top. This combination, I still believe, is the path of least resistance to financial independence for me.

But I may have that all wrong.

What scares me about going back to work

If I go back to work, I won't be able to work on my side business as much as now. My side business could be the real path of least resistance to financial independence. It's a riskier venture, but perhaps the more lucrative one.

Going back to full-time work, in a way, says that I can't make enough money as an entrepreneur. But I'm conflicted because this blogging business was never meant to be a full-time gig.

However, online businesses have a way of growing exponentially. Potentially. Not guaranteed. There are many risks and speed bumps.

My new job may require too many hours and I won't have the time or energy for my side gigs. Definitely possible.

Another fear is I could go into worker ant mode and fall into contentment and lose my ambition.

But the most painful aspect of full-time work is the loss of control of my time. I love choosing what to do each day. Even though I always feel short on time, having the choice is a premium luxury.

Looking back at the last 14 years of my career, the hardest part of the job was the time commitment. The work wasn't so bad. But 40 hours per week is a lot despite being normal. The full-time job prevented me from extended traveling. It prevented me from seeing my kids four mornings a week. And it meant that my work was ultimately making someone else wealthy.

The happy medium

Weighing everything over and over again, I've come to the conclusion that after some time in between jobs, I can position my side business to flourish and return to a healthy and lucrative nine-to-five career. I'll need to be selective in my job choice so I am not overwhelmed by a full-time work commitment where I still have some control of my time.

Finding the right balance might take a while. I am at the point in my career when I can be pickier with employers because I don't really need the job. Yeah, it would be tough financially not going back to work full-time if the business doesn't thrive. But our savings and passive income can carry us for some time.

We can always move to achieve financial independence. And there's "always money in the banana stand" to keep us going.

But I'm not ready to stop building wealth.

More than anything, the desire for good health insurance is driving the decision to go back to work. Until my side business income surpasses what I can make as a professional, I don't expect that to change.

Conclusion

Now that I've been unemployed for two months, I've seen the challenges of being self-employed.

Actually living the self-employed lifestyle is a blunt realization that it's not as easy as it seems. The challenges are real and many.

So far, this experience reaffirms that going back to work is the right choice. Though it hasn't changed my broader goals of leaving full-time work in a few years and retiring completely at age 55.

When I do go back to the daily grind, I'll be relieved to have the coveted benefits to support my family, re-energized to do good work, and intoxicated by the notion that it may be the last job I ever have.

NOW WATCH: What happens to your brain and body if you use Adderall recreationally

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[flauntpage]

Wimbledon Champ Goran Ivanisevic Recalls His Wild Ride to the Top of Tennis

This article was originally published by VICE Serbia

If you were looking a single reason to explain why the former Yugoslavia has become a tennis superpower in recent years, Goran Ivanišević would be a decent shout. Though there were players before him who achieved significant results, none became a global star in the way that Goran did. The Split native was the one who showed the kids what was possible; in his footsteps came the likes of Đjoković, Karlović, Čilić, and many more.

Goran is the kind of guy who has always done things his own way. It's the reason he lost some matches he clearly should have won, and why he won many that looked impossible. He could beat absolutely anyone, yet he could also lose to absolutely anyone. He is the only Wimbledon champion who entered via a wildcard in the tournament's 140-year history. He is also the only player in the history of professional tennis who had to forfeit a match because he had nothing to play with, having broken all seven of his racquets.

In short, the man is an enigma. We recently we met up with Goran for coffee at a golf course in Zaprešić, roughly half an hour's drive from Zagreb, where we spoke about his beginnings, tennis then and now, and what he is up to these days.

VICE Sports: Hi Goran. So what got you playing tennis? Goran Ivanišević : My father was a tennis player, and in Split there were always sports to play – football, tennis, whatever. Our family home was about 20 metres from the tennis courts. My father took me with him one day when he went to play, and that's how it started. I was seven. And you know what was interesting? The first time I went to play I broke the racquet! I don't know if I saw it from someone or if it was that talent for smashing things that woke up in me, but I returned home with a smashed racquet.

Those were different times. First, you had to go through some kind of tennis school. You had the first course, and then the second one, and only then were you able to start competing. I started tennis school and elementary school at the same time, and it went fast, so I played my first tournament in Zagreb when I was nine. My first big success was the Yugoslav championships final for my age group the following year in Zenica, which was a big surprise. No one knew who or what I was, but bit by bit I proved myself.

When did you decide that you really wanted to play tennis? When I finished elementary school at 14 I found myself at a crossroads. Should I continue school or tennis? You can't do both – I would have neglected one or the other. The decision was on my parents, but there was no money. Nothing, not even close. We were barely making ends meet, I was smashing racquets, sponsors kept promising things, managers kept knocking, but that was all. Then dad and mum decided to sell grandpa's apartment and start the adventure of a lifetime without any guarantees. At 14 I was the best, not just in Yugoslavia but in the world. Still, who can say in that moment that you'll be a success and make a living out of tennis? No one had a crystal ball to tell my dad: "Your son will be one of the best in the world." My father, who had a university degree, told me then: "Son, you're better at what you're doing than I am," and devoted himself to my career.

Goran, stood on the right in the extremely loud shirt, in 1991 // Photo licensed to VICE Serbia by MN Press

As a kid, how did you adjust to the nomadic lifestyle?

You get used to everything. There is no one to travel with you, you don't have money for a coach, but there was at least something for me – I got a chance, and I had to take it.

The worst day in my tennis life was in 1988. I remember it as if it were yesterday. I was going to Australia to play in the qualifiers for Australian Open and then a junior tournament. Before I left, my father told me: "I've got bad news. Your sister is sick, we have to take care of her, so you're on your own now." It's as if that woke up something inside me. The treatment for the kind of illness she had was very expensive. Not that much about it was known and a lot of people were dying from it. I didn't sleep that night. I left for Australia the next day, and I lost in the final round of the qualifiers but still made it as a "lucky loser" and ended up in the top eight. That put me in the top 300 in the world, and brought me directly into the draw for the Australian Open qualifiers. I got through and became the first person ever to go from the qualifiers to the quarter-final. In the end I never played that junior tournament.

So all of a sudden I was 121st in the ATP rankings, and all that prize money I earned in Australia I took in cash! I'd only seen that kind of money on TV. I was flying from Melbourne to Belgrade to play in the Davis Cup against Denmark, and I had that pile of money with me, on my own on the plane. Man, I did not sleep a wink from Melbourne to Belgrade! All that money was in my jacket. The flight attendant asked me about 16 times if she should put the jacket away, and I was like: "No, it's okay, I'm fine." And it's not like it wasn't hot on the plane. When I got home, all I said to my dad was: "Here's the money, and keep the jacket." I just wanted to get some sleep.

By the end of the year I was around 50th in the rankings, and then the managers finally started showing serious interest in me. But if it wasn't for my dad and my family, I wouldn't be sitting here today talking to you. A lot if it is down to them.

READ MORE: The Cult – Goran Ivanisevic

What was the transition from junior to senior tennis like? What are the biggest differences between the two? Well, I remember at the 1988 Junior U.S. Open, there were Jim Courier, Pete Sampras, Michael Chang, and myself. Chang was the biggest star there and no one could care less about Sampras. At that tournament there were at least 20 or 30 players who eventually ended up in top 50. In my time there were a lot of young players in the top 50 and not so many older ones. There is more of a balance nowadays.

But here's a more specific answer to your question. After that Australian Open I got an invitation to Scottsdale, Arizona, and there, in the quarter-final, I got to play against Ivan Lendl. Until three weeks before that I'd had a poster of Lendl in my room. I watched and cheered for him on TV, and all of a sudden there I was, walking on to the court with him. I couldn't feel my legs; had he said "Boo!" to me I would have fainted. We'd barely made it on to the court and he'd already won the first set.

By the end of the match I'd relaxed and almost took a set. There I was thinking: "This isn't that bad, he's number one, I'm 120 in the world, but there you have it, we're playing and I am close to taking a set." Afterwards, in Split, they asked me how it was to play Lendl and I was like: "Meh, it was nothing." So they were like: "Come on, don't get too pretentious, you want to beat Lendl now!" But that was the moment when I realised that I was good enough to play Lendl and others. I just needed a bit of time.

You mentioned the Lendl poster. Did you have any other tennis idols? I read that you loved John McEnroe, and there is some logic to that, but was there anyone else? McEnroe for sure, because of the left hand, because of the temperament. But I went through all the generations. When I started, Jimmy Connors and McEnroe were playing, and I even caught some of Bjorn Borg when he was making a comeback. Then I went through Mats Wilander, Stefan Edberg, Boris Becker. Then there was my generation, and then I made it all the way to Nadal and Federer. So yes, McEnroe was my idol, but I liked watching all of them.

I went really fast from a boy who put posters on the walls to a man who all of a sudden had to think how to beat those guys from the posters. All of those idols became adversaries, some even friends.

Photo by Stefan Djakovic

You mentioned Boris Becker, who ended your first serious Wimbledon attempt in the 1990 semi-final. What was it like to play against him? He is one of my favorite players. Before that Wimbledon I beat him at the French Open, and when I look at it now, I should have won that one as well. I was serving for 2–0 in sets, but somehow... Still, I was kind of satisfied with that semi-final. You know, semi-final, centre court, everyone watching me, no expectations from anyone. At the end of the day, I should have won against him. I had my chances and had I believed more... I was too relaxed for that. I was enjoying that semi-final and it's not a shame to lose against Becker, but it really could have ended differently. At that particular Wimbledon I saw that grass could be my surface, my game style. I didn't really like playing it at the time, because grass was so fast that it was easy for you to fall out of the shot. Then I started thinking: "My serve is good, my net game is good, I have a good return, maybe this will be my tournament." Over the next 10 years I could have won it five or six times but, thank God, it turned out the way it did. I've got one here in my home, but did I have a chance to win a few more? I did.

From your perspective, what makes Wimbledon so special? As a kid I always loved watching Wimbledon the most. That grass fascinated me - how could anyone play on grass? Why on earth grass? Back then I thought that was the same grass we have in the parks; later I realised it wasn't like that.

The first time I got to Wimbledon, in 1988, it was an amazing thing for me. Why not Queens? That's a completely different grass! The grass at Wimbledon is somehow softer, caught my serve better, and dude, Wimbledon is Wimbledon – it's a miracle! Watching all those people queuing up, coming in the evening to stand in line and buy a ticket in the morning, that was awesome for me. Even though the French Open was the first Grand Slam where I achieved something, Wimbledon was always special for me. As a matter of fact, that reflected my results later on.

Except for when you lost to Nick Brown in 1991, a man who was 591 in ATP rankings… Oh man, only I could do that! That is a very specific situation in my brain, but that was also why people loved me, because I was unpredictable. That man could hardly play tennis, he was some kind of a tennis coach. He drives his car and there's a sticker on it that says "tennis coach". And me, I came to that match as if I was going to the beach. Totally relaxed, thinking: "This guy is a coach, there's no way I can lose against him even if we played for seven days in a row." But bit by bit, here comes the third, the fourth set, things get a little complicated. My arm got shorter, he started getting the balls in and I ended up making history, losing to number 591 in the world and making this guy famous. Man, did I make some strange characters famous! But I was in luck that there weren't betting houses then, because if there were I believe someone would have suspected that I was losing on purpose. And really, one does wonder – how on earth could I have lost?!

READ MORE: Inside Wimbledon's Black Market Ticket Trade

You were part of the first two tennis tournaments at the Olympics where medals were presented, in Seoul and Barcelona. What was that experience like, and what's your view on Olympic tennis? I was the youngest member of the team in Seoul and when you look at the people who were there – the handball team, the basketball team, the rowers – when you look at those names, it was weird being in their company.

In Barcelona, that tournament was probably played on the slowest surface in tennis history. I loved that surface, I played well, but during the tournament it was surreally hot, and I played all of my matches in five sets – both singles and doubles. That's why, in the semi-final against Marc Rosset, who went on to win the gold, I ran out of gas. But that tournament was damn strong: Sampras and Courier and Becker and Edberg were playing. Could it have been stronger? Not a chance. I'm still sorry about the doubles, where Prpić and I lost to Ferrer and Norval. We could have played Becker and Stich in the final, but it didn't turn out too bad this way either.

That feeling, when you win a medal and stand on that podium, when you're at the Olympics and in the Village... that feeling is special. Everyone is hanging out, everyone is standing in line, there's no "you're the man so you can cut the line"; you're queuing with everyone else and waiting your turn to get food. I am a four-time Olympian, and it was different every time, more interesting. It's different when you're based in the Village from when you're staying outside of it. When you're not in the Village, you're not at the Games. That thing just has to be felt.

In 1992, as well as the Olympics you played your first Wimbledon Final. It was a very strange tournament and a very weird final, wouldn't you say? Well... yes and no. In '92 I had a very tough draw. Had I asked someone to make it tougher, I don't think it could have been done. Lendl, then Edberg, then Sampras in the semi-final. On the other side of the draw there was Agassi and McEnroe, playing at the same time because of the rain, and Agassi beats McEnroe and Sampras and I serve each other out. Then you've got the final, for which I was the absolute favourite. It was a question of whether I would win in three, four or five sets. I beat Agassi before on clay and on concrete and here he comes on grass which is "my" surface.

Goran on "the slowest surface in tennis history" during the 1992 Olympics // PA Images

But for the first time in that tournament I was playing a "baseliner", and that confused me a bit at first. At one point I felt that I was losing the match. I wasn't feeling right, even though my serve was good; I was holding on but it was slipping away somehow. Recently I saw it on YouTube – thank God there's YouTube now so you can watch whatever you want – and was thinking: "How did I lose this?!" But okay, I lost because he was better that day, and that's the way it is.

I did notice that I "wasted" a lot of games and that in those games he was mainly static. That was what the last game in the match was like. I was serving – double fault, double fault, ace, ace, then he makes a passing shot on a volley and, in the end, I dropped a sure bet shot with the backhand volley into the net. And that's it – a gift, simple as that.

I think that, again, I entered that match too relaxed. Had I had more of that finals experience, maybe it would have turned out differently. He had lost one or two French Open Finals... I don't know, maybe it was his time to win it that year.

You best Sampras in '92, but in '94 and '98 he was the one celebrating in the final. That 1998 match was... interesting, if we can put it that way. Well, that was the first time in my life that I played Sampras believing that he couldn't beat me. That's how I felt, and that is how I started – I had two set balls for a 2–0 lead. Somehow I broke his serve when I felt like breaking it, I believed I was better, and then in the end you look at the result and see him lifting the trophy, and I end up with the tray again. That match is the biggest disappointment of my career. After that match things started going downhill. I couldn't get over it.

Being second is a big thing, but when you ask someone about who played the final… For example, at the World Cup, you always know who won, but for the losing finalist you have to think a bit. That's how it is in tennis. Big, big disappointment. That final was a very painful and heavy defeat.

The same year you had one of your stranger injuries. Generally, you had problems with injuries, but you seemed to have some unique injuries that happened only to you. Could you explain to me how Mark Philippoussis and you got the idea to hit the ball across the net with your head at the same time and hit each other? I think I had more self-inflicted injuries in my career than anyone else. I even think I could write a book about it – "how to get injured the way no one else can". But this one that you're talking about, in that instance I am the least to blame.

I was playing doubles with this Australian, who doesn't know a single thing about football but still thinks he's good at it. I'm standing at the net and the ball is bouncing towards me and I want to pass it to the ball kid with my head – you know, easy. But, all of a sudden, I'm on the floor as if one of those Japanese bullet trains has hit me. I can see blood all around me, not a clue what's going on. It turns out Philippoussis, my trusty partner, had the same idea to pass the ball with his head. I don't know who to, and he ended up hitting me with his head, knocking me out completely. And on top of that the umpire asks me if I can continue playing!

They took me to the locker room right away, gave me three or four stitches. Afterwards I asked him: "Where on earth were you going?!" Even now it's still not clear to him, but at the end of the day I am the one with four stitches in my head and he's got none!

You also had some serious injuries. At one point you were close to quitting tennis, but you managed to turn things around. Remind us how it went. That's a good question. Let's get back to 1998. As I said, that's when things started to seriously go downhill. I lost my confidence, my arm started to hurt more and more, it was a serious injury that affected my body mechanics. I needed that serve, I needed to serve well to win, and every time I did that my arm hurt.

And then it happened, like in that song – "Dotak'o sam dno života" (I hit rock bottom). It was 2001, I was playing the qualifier for the Australian Open. I was playing in the first round and I couldn't find the court. I had no idea where the court was, I was looking for it and I was going crazy. It was 800 degrees outside, and I couldn't find the court I was meant to be playing on! And I was thinking: "Bloody hell, is it possible that I've reduced myself to this?" Let alone that I was back playing a qualifier, now I couldn't find the court. I hadn't even heard that this court even existed; I thought that it was outside the complex, that they'd sent me to play in the car park.

In the end, I finally made it to the court, furious at myself, at the entire world, and lost that match royally. So I was done with that, I went home, and on the plane I had a conversation with myself. I told myself: "Look, you are either going to play tennis or it's time to retire. If you retire, your career wasn't half bad." But I couldn't just go on like that. Something was missing.

So what happened? I went to the challenger in Heilbronn, where I played in the final, then I went to Milan, got into the final eight and lost to Federer. But I'd started playing a bit better, and then Queens happened. On the day I was supposed to get a wildcard entry for Wimbledon I lost to Christiano Caratti. Oh well, you can lose to Caratti, but the way I was playing that day… it was unwatchable. I wouldn't have given myself the wildcard for Wimbledon after that match.

But, fortunately for me, the English had eight wildcards so I ended up getting one. After that there was also one interesting thing. I went to Hertogenbosch and changed my racquet. And you know, you change racquet at the end of the season or you don't change it at all. But at the time I was thinking: "I can't play worse than this. I can only play better, or the same." And my racquet at the time, I don't know. I liked the colour – it was black – and they kept telling me it was the same, but it wasn't for me.

I will never forget my practice before Wimbledon, on the Saturday before the tournament. I was practicing with Ziki – Nenad Zimonjić, а great friend of mine – and he told me: "I've never seen you serve like that." He didn't return a single serve that day, none at all. Generally, when you serve with those "prestige" racquets from Head, they have a specific sound when you hit a really good one, and I had lost that sound. I hadn't heard it in a few years. But that day I could hear it, the sound was back. I don't have a clue what happened, it's a mystery.

His serves were brutal, but this calls for a gentler approach... // Photo by Stefan Djakovic

But your preparation was a bit more thorough than that. You went to London from Varaždin... Yeah, I cancelled Paris and was preparing in Split and watching the end of the Croatian football season. Hajduk Split were playing a very important match in Zadar, so we went there and then to an away game in Varaždin against Varteks, where Hajduk had to win to take the title. The night before, 10 of us idiots went to Varaždin, singing all night. Hajduk won, so we went back Split for a party on the seafront. It's the kind of party only Split knows how to throw. And I was thinking to myself: "What would happen if I won Wimbledon?" It started in two weeks and I couldn't beat anyone at that point, but I was still thinking how great it would be.

At that point I was physically prepared, even though the arm was already hurting horribly. But I clenched my fists and told myself: "You're going to serve until your arm falls off and when it does, then you can leave the court."

When did you start to believe that your seafront party might happen, that you could win the tournament? After the second round. In the first round I got some qualifier – some Swede, Johnson or something like that – and in the second I was playing Carlos Moya, a seed. That's where I felt my serve was back and that something big was going to happen. Poor old Moya was hammered at the press conference, like: "How on earth could you lose to that guy?!"

The bottom line was, the media kept writing me off after each round. The only one who kept believing in me was Pat Cash, who kept warning people: "Ivanišević knows how to play on grass, he is playing well, and you never know with him." I couldn't say before a match: "Hey people, I'm going to win Wimbledon," because they would have taken me to the madhouse right away, or locked me up in the Tower of London. But I played better and better each match, I won against Roddick, and Rusedski, and Safin, and then that semi-final with Tim Henman happened.

That was the last chance for Henman to do something... It was the first time he was playing the semi-final against someone other than Sampras. That was a big boost for all the Brits, and for them it was as if that match didn't even exist. I got up in the morning and I was watching their TV coverage, and everyone was already talking about Henman playing in the final. Apparently I didn't even have to walk on to the court, Henman was already in the final. They were just waiting to see if it would be against Agassi or Rafter. So I'm thinking to myself: "Slow down, Henman, you still need to beat me." Okay, so I'd never beaten him before, but still, slow down!

Then the famous "three-day" game happened. I started well, won the first set, was supposed to win the second, and when I didn't everything changed. Henman started to totally dominate, I had zero chances in the third set, and he destroyed me. I remember it well, 2–1 to him, the fourth game of the fourth set, and it starts to rain – heavily. They sent us off to the locker room and I was angry with myself, angry with everyone, but at that moment Jovan Savić, the Williams sisters' sparring partner, walked into the locker room. He's a very funny character and he began telling jokes, talking about adventures, funny stories, and I started laughing. I forgot I was playing a final, that there was a rain break, that I was losing. He just relaxed me. After a few hours the umpire, Allan Mills, came and told us: "Guys, we're suspending the match, the rain is not going to stop and we'll continue tomorrow." At that moment I knew I would win the match.

To put it simply, Henman had the chance, but someone up above sent the rain. When we continued I played better and better, and he kept playing worse, and that's how it ended. He didn't take his chance.

And then the final with Rafter… It's the final that will be remembered as having the best atmosphere in Wimbledon history. The atmosphere at that match was like a football game, the exact opposite to the usual at Wimbledon. I thought I was at a Premier League game, to be honest.

The fact that I played the final barely a day after the semi helped me a lot. Rafter had finished his job on Friday and waited until Friday night, then Saturday, then Sunday. I woke up that day at 5am. I couldn't sleep – I was waiting for the match to start.

It wasn't a particularly nice final. The tennis wasn't spectacular, but it was certainly one of the most exciting. It was my fourth final, his second, with me as a wildcard. We're great friends, but unfortunately someone had to win. He'd won two U.S. Opens, but this, this one was mine. That was a given.

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And the celebration on the seafront that you'd dreamt about actually happened. At one point I was thinking: "Is it possible that this many people showed up just for one man?" Split was on fire. The sea was on fire. Every living soul showed up for the celebration. There is no greater prize than when the town that would have at some point swallowed you lifts you up like this and shows you such respect. That is my town, and that's a special story. One love. I don't reckon I would have amounted to anything were I not from Split.

Okay, maybe I would have, but not like this. The town gives you some kind of special energy. If you make it from Split, then you've really made it. You know, there are those who say: "Man, I was good, but my mum didn't wake me up so I couldn't make it to practice," or they missed the bus, or their coach didn't like them, or: "Oh my God it's summer, how can I play tennis in the summer, we have to go play picigin at the beach." It's crazy down there. I've been around, but Split is a very special town, and as I said, it gives you a special kind of energy.

After that Wimbledon you played a few more seasons, and you got injured at the beach in Miami. It was another of those things that could only happen to you, right? Ha! Yeah, that happened after a year off when my arm was totally gone. After a long spell of physical rehab I went to play Indian Wells and Miami, but couldn't serve at more than 150kmh [at his peak Goran served at well in excess if 200kmh]. In the first round at Indian Wells I was playing against Cuerten, serving at 150kmph, and boom, he returns. I was thinking to myself: "This isn't going to be good." I got to Miami and I realised I could even hold the racquet. It was over.

What could I do? At least I could go for a swim in Miami, so I go to the beach. When I was getting out of the water there's was a guy and a girl running around, and I was walking slowly to avoid them. I stepped on probably the only shell in a five-kilometre radius. It got so complicated – they didn't clean the wound properly, so I ended up in surgery, and then it got infected with some kind of bacteria. So from a simple swim in the sea I ended up at the operating table. Another of my crazy injuries!

After that surgery there was no coming back. Somewhere in 2004 I took six months off to at least try to get back into some kind of shape, to play my last Wimbledon. After all, that's where it all started. And that's where it ended: I said goodbye in the third round against Hewitt, on the most beautiful court there is. The goodbye couldn't have been nicer. The guy killed me out there – I didn't stand a chance – but I am still proud of that third round.

After you, tennis in the region began to open up. First Ančić, Ljubičić and Karlović in Croatia, and then a whole new generation of Serbian players. That change happened really fast. They picked up where I left off. Ljubo was third in the world, Mario was unfortunately held back by illness, Ivo is still out there, better than ever. Later on Marin Čilić came. So it opened up and it "infected" Serbia as well.

After Boba Živojinović [whose last Grand Slam appearance came in 1991] there was a void in Serbian tennis. Everyone was struggling somehow. Okay, there was Ziki, but there wasn't anyone really serious, until…

I still remember it like it were yesterday. In 2000 I was with Niki Pilić in Munich and after lunch he asked me to spare half an hour for this kid. He was going to make it into top 10 for sure, and could maybe even be better than that. I'm like: "Okay, I can play for half an hour with a kid." And this tiny, skinny 13-year-old turns up. His name was Novak Đjoković.

You could see right away why Pilić said what he did, and he's been proved correct. Not only has Nole made it into top 10, he's dominated world tennis. Then Tipsa, and Viktor, and now Lajović came along. There's a lot of talent. We have to mention Jelena Janković and Ana Ivanović, too, who played a remarkable role on the WTA tour. All of the sudden this part of Europe became a tennis superpower.

Photo by Stefan Djakovic

How do you see world tennis right now? Borna Ćorić recently beat Andy Murray. Novak is struggling, Federer and Nadal are back... Had anyone told me a year ago that Federer and Nadal would be making a comeback, after everyone had written them off... Okay, they shouldn't have written them off because they are Federer and Nadal. On the other hand, the two that were dominating last year, Murray and Đjoković, are playing below-average tennis by their standards. I think it will stabilise in time. Nole is too good not to get over this crisis, just like Andy.

But all of this is good for tennis, with young talents like Borna, Zverev, Kirgios getting a chance to prove themselves. There are a lot of changes in the ATP top 10, and anyone can beat anyone. That's a good thing. There are no more super-favourites. Wimbledon will be extremely interesting this year.

You are a tennis coach nowadays and are working with Tomáš Berdych. How did that start and how are you getting on? It started in 2008 when Federer asked me to be his sparring partner before the Wimbledon Final against Nadal. He won, so I guess I helped him, and that's where the idea of a coaching job appeared. To be honest, I always liked working with kids, to help out, but when I stopped playing I sort of got lost. I didn't want to travel anymore; I stayed in tennis but I wasn't ready to get back to the Tour as a coach.

The desire to coach came back in 2011, after I spent some time at home resting. I started working with Marin in 2013. After the months with that doping scandal had passed we started working seriously the following year. Then Marin won the U.S. Open in 2014. He played tennis there that you rarely see. For me as a coach it was very satisfying to watch my player grow and improve.

That collaboration lasted as long as it did, it ended the way it ended, and then a new challenge came along - working with another player, someone who isn't from Croatia, another highly ranked player. Every new relationship brings its own problems, and new positives. With my experience I can help my player find his solutions, but when he steps on court the decisions are his and his alone. Then I become a fan.

Your interviews are full of various anecdotes about the crazy things you did. We know you're the only tennis player who had to forfeit a match because you ran out of racquets, but is there anything else that you never told anyone? Well… okay, when I won Moscow in 1996, I remember that I would get back to the hotel at 7am every morning. After the match I would go out, I would head for the hotel around 5, get there by 7, sleep it off until 3pm, have lunch, and then without the warm up get on to the court around 6 or 7. And I won the tournament.

Let me say right away to younger players that it's not healthy and they shouldn't try to do the same! I would also say that I never drank during the tournament – if you drink you're done right away, but you know what, the atmosphere was good. As they say: "Moscow never sleeps", and by God, I didn't either. It shows you what confidence can bring. I didn't warm up, didn't sleep, and I won the tournament. And in 2000 I practiced for seven hours every day, went to bed at 9pm, and lost first round matches 11 times in a row. 11 times. Had someone tried to let me win, I couldn't have done it.

You recently got involved with Pro Sport Angels which, in essence, is a crowdfunding platform for young talents. Tell us a bit more about that. Look, had I had this in my time, my life would have been much easier. Both for me and my family and everyone around me. When I was presented with this idea... you know, I get a lot of things proposed to me, but this is really amazing. No one has ever done anything like this.

It's a chance for every young player – for everyone who doesn't have the chance, who is written off, who cannot find sponsors, but has the quality. I think that with this service we will make it easier for young players and their parents, we'll ease the pressure a bit. The pressure is high. While you're on the court you have to keep thinking about the points and the finances. Will you travel here, will you hire a coach, save some money on the air fare, the hotel? And if you don't win here you can't go to the next tournament. This platform helps you to have your schedule, your people, your routine. If young tennis players become good, that means that those of us who have invested in them did a good job.

I grew up in a sport where people only promised things. "It's going to happen", then "come tomorrow", then "come the day after tomorrow". This is very simple and transparent. You've got the internet, you log on, present your schedule, get the funds, play the tournaments. It's going to be a revolution in sport – I'm telling you.

Goran, thank you very much for your time, and best of luck for the future.

This article was translated into English by Nebojsa Radovic and has been lightly edited by the UK office for clarity

Wimbledon Champ Goran Ivanisevic Recalls His Wild Ride to the Top of Tennis published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

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