#test event gymnasts

[stateofcharles]

Ekaterina Volkova from Finland🇫🇮 performing at the 2016 Olympic Test Event

photo credits: Wikiwand

[slamamanderb]

Maybe it's a hot take, but I don't think that flowey dresses are antithetical to Nearl. Sure it's not her normal fare, but I don't think there are any official arts of her wearing pants, and I'd suggest that (at least post-Near-Light) she would be able and willing to don the 'battle gear' for high society schmoozing.

I think what gets me is her expression and pose. Nearl usually looks composed, on a sliding scale from overtly confident to stone-faced mild disapproval. She's the one in control, the reliable guardian facing the world head-on. Invincible and steadfast.

The leaked promo image makes her look... off-guard, unsure, unaware? She's the only one in the spread not in a power pose. Almost like she wasn't ready for the picture.

It would make more sense to me if her 'confused' reaction in this case were to go serious and assess the situation. Surely she'd be used to it from the Kazimierz paparazzi? It makes seeing her look surprised by a photoshoot a bit jarring. So it's like a double whammy of cognitive dissonance with my idea of Nearl's demeanor.

even her swimsuit skin has her keeping her composure in a staged surprised/vulnerable pose

it's giving me the same vibes as that one cafe promo from a while ago. It's unsettling but hard to put my finger on why. For me it's hard to separate her outfit from her demeanor and "the vibes". I'll probably just write it off for myself as directions from a producer who learned about the Nearls recently from Maria/Zofia and directed Margaret in a way that makes more sense for them than for her

Thoughts on Nearl's look for Ambience Synethesia 2024... (spoilers, it's not good)

If you take away all the recognizable knightly things about her, put her in feminine outfits... who even is she? I know Canon Nearl doesn't look like the Masc Knight I draw her as, but even in her original design and Radiant Knight alt look she was still sorta bulked up with the chest plate, pauldron, arm and leg guards... remove those, and what are you left with? Especially because her being Skinny is so much more noticeable in these dresses they keep putting her in.

The vibe they were apparently going for is some "goddess of war" aesthetic, but that doesn't fit Nearl. That's not her vibe. Her vibe is Knight. And because several people confused her for Horn, makes me think they should've used Horn instead, because Horn already has her "lady of the lake" skin as a precedent.

I don't know why they keep doing this to her. It's like they're trying to push Nearl into some sort of visual box, but the box they try to shove her in doesn't fit. It contradicts her character and personality.

[alexanderwales]

I think the worst part of my experience with the internet is when people make bold claims and I say to myself "is that actually true though?" and then, rather than continuing on with my life and letting it lie, I take it upon myself to answer the question to my own satisfaction.

And this is often very difficult and time-consuming, because the thing that's boldly being claimed is complex and nuanced, and there's possibly a grain of truth somewhere that I really would need to go looking for.

I used to have a very Catholic coworker who I'd get in fights with all the time, and he was terrible about providing sources for the things he said, because obviously it was based on an article that had landed in his inbox and it was hard for him to remember all the details, except that he had definitely read it somewhere. So I would take it upon myself to say "okay, what the fuck is this guy talking about" and then eventually I would find the kernel of truth that had led to whatever was in his head. Sometimes this was interesting and worthwhile, but often it was not. On a few occasions, it was just funny/frustrating, because he'd been shared something from the Onion.

(As one example, he had said that Pepsi products contained pieces of aborted fetuses, which was clearly stupid on the face of it. But when I went to go figure out where he'd gotten that from, I learned some stuff about cell lines, and in particular, HEK-293. That cell line comes from the kidney of an aborted (or possibly miscarried) fetus from 1973, and through the magic of biology, became an immortal cell line. This cell line was then used by a company called Senomyx, which had developed a way to test sweetness using them, though so far as I know no one had any proof that they did anything with that particular cell line in association with their partnership with PepsiCo. They certainly weren't putting HEK-293 cells in their drinks. An anti-abortion group then began attempting a boycott of PepsiCo around 2010 on the basis of this partnership, which is how my coworker had wound up repeating to me the claim that Pepsi had aborted fetuses in it. I found this to be a Fun Fact.)

Anyway, tumblr is a particularly bad place for misinformation and bold claims, but today was the first time I failed to stop myself from trying to get some actual sources when someone tossed of a little treat of a fact which did not actually sound true to me. And I didn't even get the answer I was looking for!

It's tangential to this post, but the claim was that sometimes sports were segregated because women were outcompeting men, rather than the reverse. So far as I can find, the answer is "probably false if taken to be anything on the level of a trend", but gymnastics apparently has men and women doing totally different events, and without grabbing a book on the development of gymnastics as a sport, it would be difficult to determine whether the segregation was specifically because men could not compete, rather than some other motive.

The other, more clear-cut example, was mixed skeet shooting, where a woman won a gold medal in the event, then women were barred from competing the next Olympics and a separate women's skeet shooting event was made. Barring other details, this is some sexist bullshit on the part of the International Shooting Union. So I did find evidence of it happening at least once, in a single sport, which was already a sport where women are roughly at parity with men. And if I've found evidence of it happening once, there's a good chance that it's happened more than that. Seems very rare though, and more of a "because sexism" thing rather than "because biological differences". But if I didn't know about that, what else might I not know? Think about what a fool I'd look like if I displayed ignorance of Shan Zhang's 1992 Olympic skeet shooting performance and the subsequent rule change.

The other claim I was trying to track down was "what's the difference in funding for male and female sports, and can we predict how much of an impact that has on performance", which is obviously a fucking huge research question, so I was hoping that someone had done some kind of study that I could read. I don't think there's a bunch of data on how much money is spent on facilities or coaches or whatever, but I was thinking that maybe you could try to find comparable budgets. That would still leave you with some of the social/access/selection problems, but it would at least be something. If the hypothesis was that socialization and funding are the primary reason for the performance gap, we could eliminate at least one of them, and I think there are statistical methods to account for different sample sizes. I was hoping that someone would have done it, or something better than that took an actual knowledge of statistics and sports into account, but apparently not.

FWIW the sports where men and women are at something like parity appear to be those that require endurance, flexibility, or where we wouldn't think there's that much reason your specific body would matter: ultramarathons, equestrian, shooting sports, some archery, and some climbing. It would be weird to me if a difference in funding and engagement and sexism was making a difference in other sports, but not these ones, but I guess I could float some theories if I had to.

I actually do not care that much about these questions, and it gets into a lot of feminist and trans waters that people have strong feelings about, where to me it's just a research issue, trying to find some empirical data. I am including this stuff here mostly for the sake of completeness and because I dislike vagueblogging.

[thelibrarian1895]

Gotham Athletes

Despite producing a majority of the county's best, arguably the world's best, martial artists and gymnasts, athletes from Gotham are not allowed to compete in international events, particularly if it's a contact/combat event like martial arts. This is because 1) the various rogue chemical attacks will pop up on a drug screening test as enhancing drugs and 2) in combat/contact events Gothamites tend to be...overly aggressive.

Gotham has protested that no one has been permanently crippled for life. Various sports committees do not care or listen. Gotham is on very thin ice when it comes to national events or even inter city events. This is one of the reasons Gotham Knights frequently loses, too many penalties.

Certain drugs used in chemical attacks by rogues, particularly the Joker and Scarecrow, do in fact work as performance enhancers. Generally it just doesn't do the one suffering any good since they're dealing with things like full body paralysis or mental torture. The antidotes relieve the suffering but everything still shows up in blood tests after the fact. It actually takes a year or more for certain factors to be entirely removed. The batfamily cannot compete in any sort of official event because of constant exposure despite their best efforts to avoid via rebreathers and taking out villains before chemicals can be released. Jason is particularly NOT happy about this since there are potentially addictive components and that is a major trigger for Jason. Scarecrow suffers since no one will let Jason near the Joker. It does give Dick Grayson, noted gymnast, a good excuse for not competing in the Olympics even though everyone knows he'd sweep the event.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Barbie Girl 💄 | Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of Top Gun Maverick

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Barbie!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content warnings: light profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 4.3k

Requested 📨 yes/no (for @kayla-swiftly)

Premise: They say the sky is the limit and anything you set you’re mind to will be achieved as long as you’re dedicated to it. For most people that testimony is nothing but a mere fantasy. But for one woman, with too many dreams to count on her fingers, she took that statement to heart. Proving you can be anyone you want to be and maybe even a few others give or take 😉

Note: Anyone else obsessed with Barbie lately?? Omg y’all I saw the movie last week and absolutely fell in love and i had this request from around the time the final trailer dropped and knew it was the perfect time to write this. I know I know I haven’t been living up to my promise of being consistent but man they having me working my ass off at my job. Also I’ve been traveling and I saw Big Time Rush last night (i felt like a teenager again and it was amazing 😭) anyway I hope you enjoyed this and let me know what you think!

—————————

“Hi, Barbie!” The familiar greeting fills Y/n’s ears as it does every morning she arrives at the hangar. With it comes an instant smile, hand raising to wave at the person responsible for it, “Hi, Phoenix!”

“Hey there, Barbie,” winks another friendly face.

“Hiiii, Hangman,” her tone is playful like his, turning energetic for Bob when he goes, “Hiya, Barbie!”

“Hi there, Bob!”

“Hey, Barbie.” “Good morning, Barbie.” “What’s up, Barbie Girl.”

“Hello, Rooster.” “Good morning to you too, Fanboy.” “Nothing much, Pay. And yourself?”

Unlike her fellow pilots, clad in their deep green flight suits, Y/n stood out in the crowd for hers was a little unorthodox when one thinks of a naval fighter pilot's uniform.

It was pink. Completely as in her combat boots were also the bright color and the patchers were white and pink tones rather than red, blues, black and any other color seen in the ones attached to her coworkers arms. ‘Barbie’ in pink cursive writing instead of traditional bold Times New Roman lettering.

And don’t forget the little flower dotting the ‘i’.

Growing up, Y/n took ‘you can be anyone and anything you want to be,’ quite literally. At no point was it a joke to her when she would tell her friends and family, “oh I’m gonna be a fashion designer and Olympic Gold medalist when I’m older,” “I wanna go to space, fly in planes, and see all the wonders of the world,” “I’ll be a doctor, a teacher, and movie star!” They’d smile and laugh, thinking it was adorable for a little girl to dream big. No way would it be possible to achieve all of those careers. Everyone only gets one life to live and time goes so fast one can only set their eyes on one path and hope for the best.

But Y/n was a dreamer. And if you’re going to dream, might as well dream big.

All through middle and high school people took Y/n’s intelligence for granted. Focusing more on her beauty rather than brains, it came as an under shock to everyone when Y/n had the credits to graduate at the ripe age of 15. Exceeding in her standardized test scores with a high school resume taking up three pages with extracurricular and academic achievements, she had colleges from all over the country begging for her to apply.

Stanford. Cornell. Pratt. Juilliard. NYU. John Hopkins. Harvard. UCLA. Duke. Top medical and law schools. Ivy League universities. Performing Arts schools calling for auditions after sending scouts to watch her perform in school plays and dance recitals. Coaches from high ranking NCAA gymnastics teams sending emails after emails.

So many to choose from….And so the story of Y/n L/n becoming a real life Barbie Doll begins.

Setting her eyes in New York, Y/n attended not one but two of the best schools in the country. While obtaining her bachelor’s in both astronautical and aeronautical engineering at NYU Y/n also completed a two year degree in Fashion Business Management at the Fashion Institute of Technology. During this time she continued training for the Olympics in hopes of making the 2008 Beijing team in gymnastics.

“How do you do it?” Her roommate at NYU constantly asked. “You go from here to FIT, working on two degrees that are completely on opposite sides of the spectrum and career paths,” she emphasized with hand expressions, “and still have enough to time to go to the gym to practice, eat three meals a day, have all your assignments done early, and sleep a reasonably about of hours each night.” Letting out an exhale, her roommate looks at Y/n as if she’s an alien from another world, “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of Barbie doll the government created as a test robot?”

Each time Y/n would pause, think for a moment before smiling, “I don’t know if I should find that as an insult or compliment, but I’m gonna chose it as a compliment and say it’s because I want to live a life where I can look back on and go, ‘I took a risk and tried something new even if it didn’t look possible but it was all worth it.’”

By the time Y/n turned 20 she had accumulated a vast list of credentials to her name. The list included getting her fashion business degree at 17, Bachelors in astronautical/aeronautical engineering at 19–receiving her Master’s for it at 20–An Olympic Gold and Silver medalist, dancing with the Radio City Rockettes, performing with the NYC Ballet Company in their rendition of Swan Lake, landing a role on Broadway, walking a runway at NY fashion week, and appearing on episodes of SVU, 30 Rock, All My Children, Sex and the City, and Ugly Betty.

So yeah, New York was a success in experiences for Y/n.

Following the high note, she packed her bags to leave the golden apple for the flashing lights of Hollywood, California. This time Y/n was working on her doctorates at USC, running her own business with her fashion degree called ‘Dream Closet’, and auditioning for film and tv shows.

Hollywood was a dream come true just like New York. Again she attended two different schools, this time flight school and USC. During the day she was occupied running from class to the hangar and then the observatory. Coaching dance and gymnastics on the side, designing clothes for her online shop which developed into a pop-up chain store in malls across America.

It wasn’t long until Y/n’s name grew into nationwide popularity. People started realizing the Y/n L/n who won the Gold and Silver medals in the 2008 Olympics was the same one responsible for the most recent fashion trends and guest starring on their favorite tv shows. What really set it in stone was when Y/n landed the role of an engineer officer in the 2009 reboot of Star Trek, going on to appear in both the 2013 and 2016 sequels.

Impressive was the only word her costars could use to describe her. What else was there?

Anytime there was a question involving, “who’s most likely to become president?” “Who’s most likely to try something new or create a new hobby?” “Who’s most likely to win a Nobel Prize?” Along those lines…the answer was obvious.

“Oh Y/n,” Zoe Saldana waves her hand, “Always.”

“Yeah,” Chris Pine agrees with a laugh, “That woman, I-I don’t know how one has the energy to do all that she does—a-and still want to do more.”

The Interviewer laughs with them, “didn’t she just race in the Daytona 500 last year?”

“Yes!! And she did a song with Lady Gaga when they were on American Horror Story,” Zoe’s tone is in absolute awe, “All while teaching at USC and creating new technology at NASA.” Chris lifts a finger.

“Don’t forget she had her own Mac Viva Glam line a couple years ago.” Zoe made a sound along the lines of ‘see what I mean,’.

“I’m telling you, she’s gonna be a name in the history books.”

What all has Y/n accomplished career wise? Let’s take a look.

Model, dancer, actor, singer, fashion designer, entrepreneur, athlete, engineer, race car driver, and professor.

And now she can add pilot to the list. Although she got her license to fly way back in 2009, Y/n didn’t put it to use full time until 2016, wanting to wait until after the release of Star Trek: Beyond to say goodbye to Hollywood for the time being and set forth on her next adventure.

Boy did it come as a surprise what she had planned.

The Manila folder containing her resume hit the desk of the Admiral, his eyes wide as saucers. “You wanna join the Navy?” Reading the front page for a fifth time, Cyclone glanced back at the woman in front of him. Doctor Y/n L/n. Or is it professor L/n? “And you wanna be one of my pilots?”

“Yes, Sir.”

”Ma’am, I apologize if this comes off as offending,” he really didn’t know any other way to put it. “But you are more qualified than any person on this base. Doctorates in aeronautical and astronautical engineering from the University of Southern California,” he counts off on his fingers, “you recently developed a groundbreaking advancement in space technology that’s going to help our astronauts—on the road to becoming a Nobel Prize nominee.” He raises his eyebrows, “And this is only what relates to this career field. I’m not even mentioning your acting, athletic, and fashion credentials. Why join the Navy?”

Y/n only offers a shrug, “I think the better question is, why not?” Cyclone lets out a sigh.

“What did you say your callsign was again?”

“Barbie.”

There was no stopping the small smile trying to break free, “I should’ve guessed.”

After completing OTS there was much debate on what Y/n’s rank would be coming into the Navy. Civilian lawyers and physicians often are Lieutenants (O-3) right away, but considering Y/n had two doctorate degrees and her pilot license they felt it was only fair for her to come in as Commander (O-5). From there Y/n was sent to North Island to attend Fighter Weapons School.

Better known to its flyers as Top Gun.

Y/n was used to the looks she received on a daily basis. From head to toe she was covered in variations of pink depending on what she was feeling. When teaching her briefcase and pantsuit were baby pink, in the labs her coat was hot pink, at auditions she wore pink leather jackets. Even her race car for the Daytona was pink.

Shoutout to Mac cosmetics for the sponsorship.

So it’s no surprise her flight suit would be the color she was known for—despite it being out of regulations.

Being more qualified than your superiors had its perks.

If she could have a pink F-18 she would but unfortunately that wasn’t possible. That was okay for Y/n. After all, she managed to get her own custom flight suit. One which had everyone having to do double takes whenever she walked into a room.

“Is she wearing…?”

“How the hell did they allow that?”

“Does that mean I can have mine in purple?”

Her first day at Top Gun Y/n met Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace. They were paired as roommates in the dorms and quickly became good friends. Phoenix was beyond amazed with Y/n’s accomplishments and experiences. Every conversation led to a new discovery. “Do you ever burn out?” Nat stag criss crossed on Y/n’s satin pink bed sheets, admiring her wall of photos from when she traveled to see all the wonders of both the ancient and modern world. “I feel I’d be a walking corpse from exhaustion. And you mentioned you’re still running and designing clothes for ‘Dream Closet’?”

Y/n removed her diamond studs, placing them on her desk she was using as a vanity. “I have a team dealing with the business side of things for the brand. I’m still CEO and creative director—usually I work on designs for a couple hours before bed to prepare for the next launch.”

Nat was in awe, “I have to ask….what’s been the best career you’ve done so far?” A common question Y/n heard, there was never a true answer. She loved every career. They all had their perks and their flaws, but at the end of the day it left her satisfied she achieved them.

“I don’t know yet,” she spoke truthfully, “I still have a few to check off on my list. When that happens I’ll let you know.”

Fast forwarding to 2019, Y/n answered the phone to Admiral Simpson’s voice with the news she needed to report back to North Island for a highly confidential mission. The details were unknown, but Y/n packed her bags, loaded her pink vintage corvette convertible and high tailed it to sunny San Diego.

The squeals initiated by Y/n and Nat the moment she stepped foot in the Hard Deck had heads whipping in their direction. “Hi, Barbie!” Nat’s arms opened for a hug.

“Hi, Phoenix!” Y/n accepted the embrace, still grinning ear to ear. The guys around them were looking at each other like, ‘what the…?’ Y/n wasn’t in her standard Khakis like they were—minus Rooster. She bore a pink denim number with matching boots with her hair curled and pink eyeliner surrounded by tiny rhinestones.

“You got selected too?” Nat complimented her outfit before cutting straight to the point.

“For the special detachment? Looks like it,” she winked.

“What happened to the Artemis program? Weren’t you up as a candidate?”

“Oh I still am,” Y/n affirmed proudly, “They’ll be announcing who’s to be selected in the coming months. So for now I’m still with the Bounty Hunters. Plus,” she leans in to whisper, “this will look good on my resume.” The two giggle before Y/n drifts her gaze to the boggling gazes in front of her. “Oh! I’m sorry for being so rude. I’m Y/n L/n,” extending her hand to the first person who’s name tag read Fitch, Y/n added, “But you can call me Barbie.”

“Barbie,” the blonde holding a pool cue repeated like a question, “like the toy Barbie?” Nat chuckled, throwing an arm around her friend after she was done shaking everyone’s hand as they introduced themselves.

“Fellas, if there is anyone who is a life sized version of Barbie, it’s this one right here.”

“Now, Phee…” Y/n’s tone was that of, ‘Don’t start.’

“It’s true,” the pilot defended. “Not only is she Commander Y/n ‘Barbie’ L/n,” jaws drop, “but she’s Professor and Doctor L/n.” The jaws hit the floor, “On top of founder, creative director and CEO of ‘Dream’s Closet,’” Javy makes a sound, familiar with the brand, “Emmy nominated actress,” Fanboy chokes on his water, “Olympic Gold Medalist and soon to be astronaut for the Artemis program.” By now all the guys are on the verge of losing their minds.

Bob rapidly blinks, “uh—.”

“Now I’m not an astronaut yet,” Y/n points out, “I’m a candidate for one.” Nat scoffs lightly.

“They’d be stupid not to pick you, Barb,” she then slaps her side, turning back to the guys, “Oh and how could I forget Broadway, Vogue, and the Daytona 500.”

“Daytona 500!?” Payback practically screeches.

“You were on Broadway?”

“—featured on Vogue—?!”

“Wait a minute I recognize you from Star Trek!”

“—How in the hell—.”

“Guys, guys!” Y/n laughs with her hands slightly raised, “Please, one at a time.” They were in for a long night of questions and story times. And just like Nat was years prior when she first roomed with Y/n at Top Gun, the officers were in complete amazement over the woman in front of them. Never had they met anyone like her.

“Wow,” Jake whistled once she finished bringing them up to date on her most recent careers. “You really are a real-life Barbie.”

“Shhhh,” a finger went to her lips, followed by a wink, “don’t tell Mattel.”

And thus the dagger squad was formed. Two and half weeks of hell bearing training preceding a face-with-death mission brings people closer. Every morning Y/n arrived at the hangar to a chorus of “Hi, Barbie.”

She waved at Reuben, “Hi Payback.”

“Hey there, Barbie Girl,” Javy threw her a peace sign.

“Hiya, Coyote!”

“Good morning, Barbie,” Rooster tipped his hat.

“Mornin’, Rooster.”

“Hi, Barbie!” “Hi, Barbie!” Her favorite duo harmonized.

“Hi, Bob! Hi, Phee!”

And for some closer than others….

“You know I was thinking,” Jake commented, taking Y/n’s hand before leading her to the pottery class he signed them up for. Every Friday night was reserved for date night. Dinner and a movie. Walk on the beach. Spending $20 worth of quarters at an arcade. Attending a comedy show. Paint and sip. Following the successful mission, Jake and Y/n hit it off and began seeing each other.

“Famous last words.”

“It’s not bad,” a chuckle left his lips, stopping at the door. “I just thought it was funny. You know how you’re basically Barbie?” His cheeky smile resulted in her mirroring it.

“Yessss.”

“This means I’m pretty much your Ken, right?” The question makes the woman visible ‘awe’. Jake ruffles a hand through his hair and gives his best blue steel, “we kinda look alike. Don’t you think?”

Laughing, Y/n kisses his cheek, “I mean…name a more iconic duo than Barbie and Ken.”

“Barbie and Hangman?”

“Exactly.” It was safe to assume what their Halloween costumes were going to be.

Time went on, missions were run. And after a year of anticipation—though it felt like forever, it was finally announced in 2020 Y/n would be one of the astronauts selected to be part of NASA’s Artemis program launching in 2024.

Making Y/n the first woman to go to the moon.

The call came in from a restricted number when they were in a meeting, and knowing she was to expect a call within the month everyone quickly shut up so the pilot could answer.

She excused herself to leave the room, staying in front of the window so the team could see her. Throughout the conversation Y/n’s expression remained neutral to the point none had a clue whether the news was good or bad. Only when she reentered the room did they get the answer.

“I’m going to the moon!!!”

“Ahhh!!!!” The team exploded in an array of cheers, Y/n jumping up and down, careful not to drop her phone that was in her hands when Jake lifted her in his arms.

“I’m so fucking proud of you!” Despite being unauthorized to show pda in uniform, Jake gave her a big kiss on the lips, not caring who saw. “You are the most exceptional human being on this planet.”

“Jake,” tears welled in her eyes, which he kissed away. Her heart filled with warmth and gratitude. Feeling on top of the world with her closest friends supporting her.

Once all calmed down and they finished the meeting, Mickey jumped from his seat, “Come on Barbie, let’s go party!” Everyone sped to the Hard Deck to celebrate the news. Mav bought the first round, followed by Payback.

“Guys you don’t have to do all that,” Y/n said once she realized they all agreed to buy her drinks for the night.

“We want to,” Nat tapped her beer with Y/n’s cocktail glass, the guys voicing agreements. “For years you’ve been dreaming about this and it’s finally happening. Your hard work is paying off and we want to celebrate—show you we love and appreciate you, Barbie.”

Y/n fought back tears, never afraid to show her emotions. Some may find it childish or thinned skin, but to Y/n that was what being human was all about. “I love you guys.”

“We love you!” The voices echoed together.

The night had been going well with the squad hanging out by the pool tables like they usually did when Y/n approached the bar to pick up the next round Mickey was paying for. Not paying attention to those beside her, she smiled at Penny and repeated the order before waiting patiently.

But what’s a night at a bar without someone who lacks boundaries.

“You must be the one they call Barbie,” a voice says, flirtation seeping through the words. Glancing to her right, Y/n recognizes a gentleman from the flight line whose name she could not recall. “You’re quite the talk around base. In fact, weren’t you in some Hollywood blockbuster?”

“Yes,” she politely responds, keeping the answer short. Though she was known to be a sweetheart and kindhearted to anyone she met, Y/n could tell where the interaction was heading toward and did not feel comfortable entertaining it any further. “A long time ago.”

“I’m Lieutenant Paul Billings,” he extended his hand, and she immediately clocked he was trying to show off his rank. ‘Boy he’s in for a treat.’

Not wanting to make a scene, she accepts the handshake. “Commander Y/n L/n,” there was emphasis on the Commander, displaying the woman was of higher rank and therefore a silent warning to Billings to not cross a line.

There was a flash of surprise on his face. Y/n held back an amused laugh, ‘guess you didn’t hear everything.’

“Something the matter, Lieutenant?”

“No,” he brushes it off, “Nothing. Say,” he nods to the bar, “can I buy you a drink.” Did he not just hear her order a round for the people she came with?

“That’s kind of you,” she starts just as Penny arrives with a try full of cold beers and her usual cocktail. “But I’m all set, thank you.” Hands moving to take the tray, she jumps slightly at the feeling of his own coming to her wrist.

“What about lunch this week?”

“I’m sorry but I am spoken for, Lieutenant,” removing his hold, Y/n takes a step away.

Now Paul had lost his reasonable composure. Scoffing, he says, “What? Am I not enough for you?” The question results in her raising a brow.

“I beg your pardon?”

He makes a face, “You think because you’ve done all these careers and occupations that you’re better than the average person? I’m not a pilot and an actor or researching the cure for cancer while creating a documentary series,” venom seeps through his tone, obviously depicting his jealousy, “Basic is not up to your standards, so you have to throw our failures in our face as if we don’t already know.”

By now a crowd has formed. Jake started moving the second he noticed Billings etching too close to his girl, followed by Nat and the others who were ready to back him up. Behind the bar, Penny was fixing to ring the bell until being stopped by Y/n’s wave of the hand.

“Are you done?”

Paul’s expression was that of, “what?” No audible response was voiced therefore Y/n continued.

“Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say this, Paul,” Y/n drops her shoulder. The change in body language let Jake and her friends know she wasn’t taking anything that the man said personally. “I know I should be offended by your insults and insinuations, but the truth is I’m not.” A small smile forms on her lips, “I don’t view myself higher than anyone because of what I accomplished. The only person I do that to, is myself—because I don’t have to prove to no one but me that I am capable of achieving what I set my mind to. And yeah,” a light chuckle escapes, “I’ve set my mind to a lot of things—way more than the average person. But that doesn’t mean you or anyone else can’t do the same.”

Pausing Y/n takes a breath before exhaling, “You look at me, and hate the way it makes you view yourself. Makes you believe you’re a failure because you didn’t follow the path you hoped to make for yourself.” Paul’s expression shifts to one of solemnity, like he was thinking of his younger self who had dreams and aspirations. Mourning what could have been.

It made Y/n sad for him. Empathetic despite him attacking her. “One thing I’ve learned over the years…is time is what you make of it. Life is about taking risks. You can still set out to do whatever it is you wish, as long as you’re committing to taking the risk no matter how scary it is. Sure you’ll find obstacles and it’ll feel like the whole world is against you. But determination will guide you through the walls, and you will be successful so that you can look back and think, ‘it was worth it.’ As cliche as it sounds,” she couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Barbie isn’t a person or an object you can obtain. Barbie is a mindset. And you have to unlock it in your own way, Paul.”

It was so quiet in the building, a pin could drop and everyone would hear it. Their looks of awe, admiration, and even newfound motivation by Y/n’s speech. Impressed by how classy she handled what very well could have been a scream match between rival squadrons.

Behind Billings the Dagger squad stood with proud smirks at their friend. Especially Jake, who caught Y/n’s eyes and threw her a wink. Nat gave the woman a salute, a silent gesture to say, ‘you inspire me everyday.’

And Billings? Well he was at a loss for words.

Patting his shoulder, Y/n grabbed the tray of drinks, “I wish you luck, Paul.” Thanking Penny, who gave her a proud nod and replied, “this ones on the house,” Y/n returned to her friends where she was met with a sweet kiss from Jake, claps on the back and “You go girl!” “Tell them who’s boss.” “Damn, you made me wanna go out there and live life the way I should.”

“What’s stopping you, Javy?” she handed him a beer, “the world is your playground.”

A couple hours later it was time to call it a night. Hugs went around, promises to meet up the following night and tabs were closed.

On their way out, Jake dropped a kiss to Y/n forehead, pulling her close to him as he led her to the door of the parking lot, “So what’s next for you, doll? You’ve proved you can be anything and anyone you chose to be,” he grins at her, “What will you set your mind to now after space?”

“First, I want to write a book—I think that’s something a lot have been waiting for me to do. Afterwards, well, I’ll have to wait a couple more years, but,” The corner of Y/n’s lips lift up before flashing a dazzling smile, “I’m thinking….the Oval Office is in need of a makeover. Don’t you think?”

Then, before he could answer, Y/n turns her head in the opposite direction as if she’s trying to find a hidden camera. Makes eye contact with you, the reader, winking before turning back to Jake where she sets off on her next adventure.

…………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris

[rambleonwaywardson]

Clegan Olympics AU - All-Around

Basically part 7 if we're going in order. Catch up via this Masterpost

AU Summary: Paris 2024 Olympics. Gale is on the U.S. equestrian eventing team, Bucky is a U.S. gymnast, they meet on the plane to Paris, and a love story ensues.

Author's Note: This is kinda long but splitting it didn't seem right. We have a lot happening: Bucky confronting his past; fluff; hurt/comfort; a bit of spice; we have Bucky and Curt's bromance; Bucky and Gale's romance; sports; celebrations; two idiots falling in love while the whole world watches. Buckle up y'all.

---

Three up three count. 

That’s the rule for Olympic gymnastics this year. For the team event, each country can send five gymnasts. For the U.S., that’s John, Curt, Croz, Brady, and Alex. But only three athletes compete on each apparatus, and all three of those scores count towards the team’s total. Gymnasts looking to qualify for a specific individual event must compete that event during the team competition. Croz, for example, is one of the best in the world on parallel bars. The U.S. wants him to qualify for individual events on parallel bars, so he does parallel bars during qualifications and team finals. Croz additionally goes up on pommel horse for the team competition, Brady on floor and rings, and Alex on vault and high bar.

Gymnasts looking to qualify for individual all-around, on the other hand, must go up for all events in the team competition. That’s John and Curt, the strongest male all-around gymnasts in the United States. 

This means that John and Curt both did all six events for qualification. Floor exercise, pommel horse, rings, vault, parallel bars, and high bar. Then they did all six again for team finals. They’re about to do all six again for individual all-around. And then they have individual events: Bucky on floor and rings. Curt on vault and high bar. Croz on parallel bars. 

That’s five days total of men’s gymnastics competition in Paris. Bucky is competing across five days. Twenty events total. Little to no break in between.

It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, right? He’s young. He’s strong. He’s America’s best male gymnast, plain and simple. He earned his place here because he’s capable of doing this. He did it in Tokyo. He can do it again. Right?

Even after destroying his leg less than two years ago. 

Right?

There’s a full house in the stadium tonight for men’s all-around. The gymnasts are heading into the fifth of six rotations, and Bucky is trying to push past the fatigue in his knee as he waits his turn on floor. One of the U.S. coaches is working on it, pressing his thumbs around the joint in a way that causes some disconcerting crunching sounds. It makes Bucky squirm in discomfort even as he feels the tension release. Curt is bouncing from foot to foot beside him, headphones in and the hood of his U.S.A. Gymnastics hoodie haphazardly over the back of his head. No care in the world.

Bucky wonders how that can be. How can Curt feel so calm? So confident? When he feels… like this?

There’s a certain moment when you are overwhelmingly sure that something is about to go wrong. Maybe you have no idea what, but something. A dread fills your being like an ominous shroud. You push it away. You hope to God it’s wrong. It’s just nerves. Just fear. Just exhaustion. Things that have no place on the gymnastics floor. 

‘We never thought we’d see John Egan at the Olympics again… a year ago, learning how to walk again… said the pain was excruciating…’

Bucky’s coach pats his leg, and Bucky sits up with a groan, bending and straightening his knee. With practiced fingers, he puts on his brace, securing the straps and double checking every one. When he stands up straight, he shifts his weight, testing the joint. It’s tired, but when is it not? 

He claps Curt on the shoulder and heads over to floor, where he’s about to be called. His head isn’t on right, he can tell. The lights of the stadium are too bright. The murmuring roar of the crowd crashes in his ears like waves breaking in the wind. There’s a camera right in his face, and he knows there’s one behind him, too. Watching. The whole world, watching. Everyone in this room.

Watching.

Because the world loves a good comeback story. And they also love to see what happens when a comeback story becomes less of a comeback and more of a… one last stand. No matter what happens, they get a show.

‘John Egan’s great comeback… a year and a half ago… destroyed his knee… thought he was done… had to learn to walk again… can’t imagine… what a comeback’

Bucky shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair, blows a hot breath through his nose. It’s floor. It’s his best event. Even with a stumble or a step out of bounds, his difficulty score is miles ahead of many athletes here. He’s got this.

‘Shocking… brave… incredible… inspiring’

Just one minute. Just six tumbling passes with a couple of non-acrobatic elements thrown in. Piece of cake.

His eyes scan the stands, but they’re too packed. He doesn’t know if Gale is here. He doesn’t know where he’d be if he were. 

He wishes Gale was here. 

‘Should’ve ruined his career… couldn’t even walk… no one but John Egan… a shocking comeback’

He needs Gale to be here, and if he didn’t know cameras were laser focused on him he’d smack himself in the head because come on he’s done this his whole life without Gale Cleven watching. 

But Gale stills him in a way that no one ever has. And looking at the blue spring floor in front of him, he feels anything but still.

‘What a comeback’

“On floor exercise, John Egan!”

The announcer’s voice rings through Bucky’s head at an earsplitting pitch that makes him wince. It’s too loud too loud too loud. He doesn’t know if it’s the crowd, or if it’s the memories pounding at his head or the way his leg feels like it’s not a part of him anymore or if there’s just something wrong with him. What if he can’t do it anymore?

What if he can’t do it ever again? 

His chest feels tight, but he salutes the judges anyway, sets himself up in the very corner, his heels on the white lines marking the boundary. Stand up tall, chest out, deep breaths. And then he runs across the diagonal in powerful, bounding steps.

He launches himself into his first tumbling pass, a triple twisting double back layout, the most difficult in his routine. The most difficult, perhaps, in any routine here. It’s one of the highest valued passes in men’s gymnastics, and he is one of few in the world to ever compete it. There was a long debate over whether or not Bucky should omit the pass from his routine post-injury, but he insisted he keep it, instead dialing back a couple of his other passes. He prides himself on this skill, and the world loves to see him do it. 

The world loves a hero, just as much as they love a comeback. 

He sticks the landing. He can imagine the commentators describing it, saying how incredible it was, noting how much power he can still get on that knee. It is an incredible pass, and he does it well; he knows that. He can’t count how many videos he’s seen of himself, the commentators exclaiming “Gymnastics 101 baby! Fly high and stick the landing” when he completes another impeccable routine. 

He sets up the next skill, a combination pass. He feels the dread deep in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. 

It’s so damn loud. He feels the impact shooting up his bad leg with every step. He launches himself into the air.

The world spins around him, or maybe he spins around it. It’s off. It’s not right. He’s mid-air and it’s not fucking right.

Why isn’t it right? Why can’t he find the ground? Why won’t his body listen to him? Why-

His knee crumples on impact, sending him to the ground, blood rushing through his whole body with such determination that he can hear it pounding in his ears. The crowd gasps. Curt yells his name. The pain explodes through Bucky’s entire body, and he screams. 

–

That’s how he wakes up: screaming. 

There’s someone standing over him in the darkness, hands on Bucky’s shoulders, shaking him gently.  “Bucky, Bucky it’s okay,” Curt says. “Wake up. It’s okay.”

Bucky gasps, drawing in deep burning breaths that catch in his throat and make him choke. His eyes are burning, his ears still ringing with the rush of the crowd in an echoing stadium. Curt is staring down at him, though, all concerned and worried and shit. Bucky hates that he’s looking at him like that, but he desperately doesn’t want Curt to leave, either. His hand on his shoulder is the only thing bringing his heart rate back down to something resembling normal. 

Curt doesn’t leave, though. He doesn’t even think about it, and Bucky knows he wouldn’t even if he asked him to. He stays right there. He stands beside Bucky with a hand on his shoulder, waiting for Bucky’s breathing to calm. He stays right there, just like he did every time Bucky woke up the exact same way in the hospital, with pain coursing through his entire body and fear gripping his mind. 

Curt was right there with him when it happened. He and Croz were two of the first people at Bucky’s side when he went down at Worlds. He watched it all happen with his own eyes from beginning to end, a snapshot sequence of events that is imprinted in his brain in slow motion and fast-forward at the exact same time. He remembers how perfect the routine was before everything went to hell. A routine that would’ve secured John Egan another world title. He remembers the terrifying crack of a bar snapping, Bucky’s body hurtling uncontrollably through the air, his ear-piercing scream ringing through a stunned-silent stadium. He remembers the absolutely sickening visual of Bucky’s leg bent all wrong as he lay unconscious on the mat. 

Curt was right there, an unwilling witness to it all, even when Bucky wasn’t. When the initial shock cleared, he didn’t think, just ran for all he was worth to Bucky’s side. He kneeled there with Croz, on the floor somewhere too far away from the high bar that Bucky had prematurely dismounted from, and he stared down at Bucky’s face. Eyes closed, covered in sweat, blood seeping slowly from the back of his head. His leg twisted out of shape in an impossible position. Curt remembers his hands shaking, hovering over his best friend’s still body like they knew they needed to do something but they couldn’t figure out what.

It still makes him sick to think about. It still haunts his own dreams. 

Curt didn’t even finish the competition that day, demanding instead that he be taken to whatever hospital Bucky was heading to. He refused to leave, even when the nurses and doctors told him that only family was allowed in. 

“I am his family,” he protested. He sat in that waiting room, slept in that waiting room, lived in that waiting room until a nurse took pity on him and let him in to see Bucky. He talked to his friend, even though he wouldn’t – couldn’t – wake up at first. When they moved Bucky back to the states, Curt hardly left his side. He sat with him, talked to him, stayed with him day and night. He woke him up from nightmare after nightmare, even when he was having nightmares himself. He sat on the edge of Bucky’s bed and wrapped his arms around him, trying to put him back together. He stayed. Even once Bucky was well enough to be angry at the whole fucking world and tried to push him away, he stayed.

Curt never gave up on him. Not once. Bucky isn’t sure he’s ever properly thanked him for that. 

But even now, here Curt is, waking him up from a nightmare that had him screaming in his sleep. Curt was up and at his side in two seconds flat without a second thought. Bucky doesn’t even think to be embarrassed or try to brush it off or act like it’s not a big deal, even though it’s the first time it’s happened in months. That’s how familiar this is. 

“It’s okay,” Curt says again. John might be the only one in the world that knows how soft Curt can be. Sassy, carefree, devil-may-care Curtis Biddick. And yet he’s been Bucky’s rock. 

Bucky’s breathing is slowing. He closes his eyes, trying to let go of the tension gripping his body. He reaches a hand down towards his knee beneath the thin comforter, and he finds it intact. He’s not in any pain, at least no more than would be expected from competing over and over on a joint that was surgically reconstructed months ago. A little fatigued, sure. But that’s his normal now.

“Sorry,” Bucky sighs, opening his eyes again. 

Curt shakes his head, slowly drawing his hand away from Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky tenses again at the loss of contact, but he forces himself to breathe. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” Curt shrugs. “This week. It’s a lot.” He knows. He’s been there every step of the way on Bucky’s recovery. This is the most he’s put his leg through since he came back to the sport, and he’s only about halfway done here. Curt would be lying if he said he doesn’t hold his breath and pray to whatever gods may be listening every time he watches Bucky fly through the air, waiting for the moment the world shatters again and hoping against hope that it never comes. He knows that’s what the dreams are about, and he’d be lying if he said he isn’t terrified that Bucky came back too soon. 

“You okay?”

Bucky nods, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. Yeah, I just- I’m…” he groans. Curt is the only person in this world that he can be honest with about this. “I’m worried, Curt. What if…” He can’t say it. He just saw it, felt it, heard it in his dreams, real as if he’d lived it. 

“I know.” Curt squeezes Bucky’s shoulder again. He doesn’t say anything else about it. There is nothing he can say that will make this better. You’ll be okay, is a guarantee he just can’t make. They both know it, but that’s the risk Bucky has decided to take. All he has is the work he’s put in in the last year. All he has is his raw skill, his own trust in himself, the sheer determination to make it through. 

So instead Curt says “Try ‘n get some sleep. You’re gonna need it.” And that has to be enough. 

—

“Where r u sitting???” Bucky is sitting on one of the barely padded folding chairs that lines the perimeter of the stadium. He doesn’t usually spend much time on his phone during competitions – usually he spends most of the time he isn’t on an apparatus stretching, talking to his teammates or coaches, or watching other athletes – but with the few free moments he has, he’s pulled his phone out of his bag to text Gale. The nightmare is fading bit by bit, but it’s still nagging at him.

Gale is here, though. He promised Bucky he’d be here during their date in Paris last night.

Bucky: 1, Nightmare: 0.

“You’re so whipped,” Curt teases. He’s on the floor in front of Bucky, using a foam roller on his upper back. 

Bucky rolls his eyes and nudges Curt off balance with his foot, earning him a slap on the ankle. “Just sayin’,” Curt says as he gets the foam roller back underneath him. “Never seen you like this before.”

“Like what?”

Curt doesn’t even hesitate. “Happy. He makes you happy. Not like the other assholes you’ve dated.”

Bucky doesn’t really know what to do with that insight. But when his phone buzzes, his eyes dart straight to the screen with such speed that he knows Curt is probably right.

“Three rows up, in front of floor.” Then another message pops up. “Croz is waving his arms and yelling like a maniac.”

Bucky smiles and looks up across the stadium, squinting to try to see through the bright lights. He and Curt are currently still over by the high bar, directly across from floor, and will make their way over there for the next rotation any minute. Sure enough, there’s Croz jumping up and down in the stands a few rows up, calling out Bucky’s name. Bucky snorts and waves, encouraging Croz to sit the fuck down and stop earning the wrath of spectators around him. It looks like Gale might be smiling back, but Bucky can’t really tell. He imagines he is, anyways, in that soft and unassuming way that he has as he raises a hand in a shy wave.

Bucky makes a heart with his hands, holding it up high, nothing shy about it. Gale really does smile, then, shaking his head. 

“Now the cameras really will be on me,” the next text says.

Something about that makes Bucky happy. Part of him wants everyone to know that Gale Cleven is here for him. He sends back a heart, followed by “Thanks for being here,” and then he shoves his phone back into his bag, slings the bag over his shoulder, and gets to his feet. He and Curt are being called over to floor with a handful of other athletes in their group. 

By the time it’s his turn, Bucky is worried he’ll psych himself out. He keeps waiting for that feeling of dread to pop up, but it just doesn’t. Every time he thinks too hard about it, his eyes drift over to Gale in the stands, right there. Every single time Bucky looks, Gale is looking back. And every single time, Gale gives him a sweet little smile.

Gale stills him in a way that no one ever has, and if Bucky accomplishes what he thinks he might today, he thinks he’ll have Gale to thank for it. 

Bucky rolls out his neck, bends over to triple check his brace, and he takes a breath. 

His nightmare was not all-knowing, it turns out. First of all, Gale is here. Even better, floor is his third rotation today – following parallel bars and high bar – not his fifth. Curt isn’t hopping from foot to foot with his headphones on like a boxer while Bucky gets ready. And Bucky’s knee isn’t sore and in need of chiropractics… yet. The roar of the crowd isn’t crushing him under its weight, and his ears aren’t ringing in a way that makes everything feel like it’s happening in slow motion.

The announcer calls his name as he walks onto the floor, and he feels excited rather than terrified.

He completes his first pass, that same double layout with three twists, and he lands with a small hop back that he knows will likely be a one-tenth deduction. But that’s a very small price to pay for a massive element that demands so much power and will hopefully secure his lead. Fly high and stick the landing, he thinks to himself, even though that line gets on his nerves every time he hears it. Then he completes his second pass, his third, his fourth. Men don’t get music on floor. No dancing, no fancy footwork, little artistry. It’s just him, the floor, and his acrobatic skill. Strength and grace, all at once.

Before he knows it, he’s on his last pass, a triple full, and he puts it to his feet. The crowd erupts around him, and Bucky pumps his fist, yelling “Let’s gooo!!!” before he jumps off the spring floor. Curt assaults him in a massive hug the moment he’s down, jostling him in his excitement, and absolute relief floods through Bucky’s body.

Three rotations down. Three to go.

Predictably, on U.S. television, the cameras frequently pan to Bucky and Curt, even when they aren’t up on any events. The commentators discuss their skills, their athletic journeys, their training, and also their personal lives. Predictably, they are far too invested in John Egan.

After Bucky survives pommel horse – his most hated event – and comes away unscathed with a decent enough score, he’s officially hit the point in the competition when he’s tired as hell and sweating out nearly everything he drinks. His hair is just about plastered down with sweat, and he has half a mind to dump his water over his head. As he and Curt wait around for the fifth rotation, they walk around near their seats, stretch here and there, and run through their routines in their heads. Curt has his headphones on and is holding his arms out, down, back, out again, mimicking his holds on still rings.

In an effort to stay cool, Bucky has pulled his competition shirt (essentially a men’s leotard) down over his shoulders so it’s bunched at his waist, leaving him in nothing but competition pants with his highly muscular and very sweaty upper body on full display. A cameraman zooms in on him, and Bucky sticks his tongue out and flexes his left bicep, showing off the Olympic rings tattoo that he’d gotten after Tokyo. Curt joins him all of a sudden, headphones dangling around his neck. He wraps his left arm over Bucky’s shoulders and flexes his right, showing off his own rings tattoo. Then he leans in close to the camera as the cameraman zooms in. With his free hand, he points at Bucky. “This is the man!” he says. “He’s gonna do it!”

Commentators, reporters, and the public alike will note how at ease Bucky seems today. How this loose and laid back attitude is the typical John Egan that they knew before his accident. How the beloved bromance between John and Curt, two of America’s best, is back in full force. “We’re seeing such confidence from John Egan,” they’ll say. They’ll laugh when he makes faces and grins at the camera, and the world will fall in love with him all over again.

The cameras follow John as he discretely pulls his phone out of his bag, glancing at a text. He smiles and bites his lip, and for a moment everyone watching from home will wonder what on Earth the message could have said. But then Bucky sets his phone down, walks a few steps forward, and looks up at the stands. His eyes lock right onto Gale Cleven, who’s looking right back at him. Bucky blows him a kiss, the cameras catch Gale’s blush, and that definitely gives people something to talk about.

Bucky returns to his chair, and Curt waits until he looks at him to make a gagging noise. Bucky flips him off and goes back to his phone. The text says “You’re being very distracting, looking like that.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Bucky sends back, followed by a winky face. Then he adds, “Nothing you can’t see again.”

“Is that a promise?”

“I’m all yours babe. As soon as I win this medal.”

“You might not have another event in you after today.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a highly trained athlete in peak physical health. I’ll show you how flexible I can be.”

Bucky watches the three little dots appear, and then go away. Appear. And go away. He stares at his screen for a moment, then looks up at Gale, who is also very pointedly staring at his screen. Finally, Bucky’s phone buzzes again. 

“Mon dieu.”

“Hey Bucky,” Curt says, coming back over to stand beside him, voice quiet so the cameramen can’t pick it up. He’s holding his own phone and stifling laughter. “Croz wants you to know that Gale blushes very very easily. And while entertaining, you might wanna quit the sexting before people catch on to what exactly you’re textin’ about.” 

“I’m not sexting,” Bucky says indignantly, and belatedly realizes that he said it just a little loud. Their coach glances over and eyes them curiously, no doubt praying to God that that wasn’t caught on camera. 

“You’re definitely sexting,” Curt insists, biting his lip to keep from grinning at how ridiculous this is. “Dude, we’re at the Olympics. Not cool.” 

Their coach looks over again, this time with a look of warning. The two athletes both snort, trying very, very hard not to break out into laughter.

Bucky rolls his eyes and shoves Curt away. “You’re almost up you idiot.”

–

Going into the final rotation, Curt and Bucky are both in a position to medal. Bucky’s leading, and Curt’s in third. There’s a palpable tension in the air as the whole stadium waits to see how this is going to pan out. Two U.S. medalists in men’s gymnastics is unheard of at the Olympics, and an American hasn’t won all-around since Athens in 2004. But Bucky seems like he just may eke out a gold medal over the Japanese gymnast in second, and Curt is holding the line against the Russian behind him. They don’t want to get too excited until it’s all over, but they keep sharing nervous and exhilarated glances as they wait their turn on vault. This might happen. This could happen.

Bucky’s fairly certain Curt will hold his own and get that bronze. He’s one of the best vaulters here and everyone knows it. Basically, as long as he doesn’t fall, he’s got it in the bag.

Bucky holds his breath as he watches Curt sprint down the track, spring up off the springboard, and make good hand contact with the table before flying up high into the air. His vault is the most difficult one being done in this whole competition, and it happens in the blink of an eye. Three flips and a full twist, something that seems almost superhuman, and Curt does it like it’s absolutely nothing. His feet hit the ground, and he has just the littlest hop back before slowly standing up straight. His face is completely expressionless as he salutes, like he can’t even believe what just happened. But the whole stadium starts cheering, on their feet, and only then does Curt take a deep breath and let out a celebratory yell. He throws his hands up in the air as he steps off the mat, encouraging the audience to celebrate with him. 

Bucky practically assaults him when he walks off, and Curt all but jumps into his arms. Bucky is yelling “You did it! You fuckin’ did it!” as he slaps Curt on the back.

Curt’s grinning, still breathing hard as Bucky lets go of him. He puts his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Go finish this thing.”

When it’s his turn, Bucky stands at the end of the vault track, looking at the table ahead of him. He leans down and checks his brace. Vaulting with the brace is about the most uncomfortable thing ever (other than, well, breaking the leg in the first place). But he isn’t ready to risk doing this without it yet. “You better keep it the fuck together,” he says to his leg. “I’m counting on you.” If he wants gold, this vault has to be just about perfect. There’s a very slim margin between him and the current second place gymnast.

He can hear Curt already yelling “Let’s go Bucky!” as he mentally prepares himself. He salutes with a nod, more to himself than to the judges, and then he runs. His knee is tired, he can feel it, but he pushes the thought away. Now is not the time to get distracted. 

Last night was just a dream. This is real. This is what counts.

He’s been doing this vault for years, and he knows the moment his hands hit the table that he got it right. He launches himself off the table and into the air, and there’s not even a fraction of a second to think about what he’s doing. His body simply knows what to do, following muscle memory and rotating through the air to complete two and a half twists.

The entire stadium erupts in a whole cacophony of noise, and Bucky slowly realizes that he stuck the landing flawlessly. Not even a step. He can barely even straighten his legs to get through his salute before he collapses to the ground on the mat, first to his knees, and then onto his back, the adrenaline coursing through him in overwhelming pulses of energy that thrum through his whole body.

“Bucky?” Curt calls from the side, worried for just a moment. But then Bucky pumps both fists up into the air and Curt takes a deep breath in relief.

“LET’S GO!” Bucky bellows, even as he’s heaving oxygen into his lungs, trying to slow down his heart rate. 

After a few long seconds, he hops nimbly to his feet and raises his hands into the air again, waving to the audience cheering his name.

–

Bucky can admit it. He almost cries when he climbs up onto the top of the podium and the Star Spangled Banner resonates through the stadium. He stands there with a gold medal around his neck, and he holds it up for the photographs. A phenomenal Japanese gymnast won silver, and he and Bucky congratulate each other. Curt stands on Bucky’s other side, showing off the bronze, and neither of them can really believe that they’re standing here right now. Together.

Once they’ve stepped off the podium, a reporter pulls Bucky and Curt aside for a quick interview, asking them about what this means to them. For the very first time, two American men have medaled in all-around, and it happens to be them, best friends, practically brothers. 

“This is- this is just amazing,” Bucky says, shaking his head as he looks around at the crowded stadium. Curt’s arm is slung around his shoulder. “I mean, did you see this guy’s vault? This man is insane.”

Curt snorts in disbelief, even though he does tend to think very highly of himself. “Don’t let Bucky fool ya,” he says. “He’s basically a superhero. And he’s usually a hell of a lot less humble.”

The reporter laughs and asks them both a few more questions. At some point, though, she becomes aware that Bucky’s attention has shifted. His focus is up on the stands, at a point somewhere above the floor. 

Gale Cleven is there, looking right back at him. Bucky takes a deep breath, a smile drifting its way across his face, and he waves. 

“There’s been a lot of talk about you and Gale Cleven,” the reporter says, taking the opportunity to bring up what everyone wants to know.

“Yeah,” Bucky says absently, still looking off towards the stands. Curt pinches him, making Bucky flinch and glare at him, but it gets his attention. “Yeah,” he says again, this time far less lovesick.

“Everyone’s dying to know more about you two. Is there something there?”

Curt scoffs and Bucky elbows him. He gives the reporter a smile that is much more practiced. Kind, but far less genuine. “Yeah,” he says. “There’s somethin’ alright. Gale’s… well. Gale’s amazing. Gale’s-” he shakes his head. 

I love him. Those are the words his brain wants to spit out, and it sends him reeling for a minute, shocked by his own mind. His whole body fills with exhilaration and fear. God, what is he doing? 

He looks back over his shoulder, knowing Gale can’t hear him and has no idea what’s going on. Bucky bites his tongue. “Yeah, there’s something there,” he repeats instead, and that’s all he’ll say.

–

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Curt says when he and Bucky are back in their shared room, both showered and changed. “We did somethin’ fuckin’ incredible tonight. And we are going to celebrate. But. But but but. Because I am your best friend and your favorite person in this whole world, and I know you’ve been-” – he makes a vague hand motion to Bucky’s whole body – “ahhh all fuckin’ day, I will do my duty as wingman.” 

Bucky’s eyes go wide as he chokes on a sip of water and splutters, trying to respond. But Curt holds his hand up. “We’ll celebrate tomorrow. Tonight, I’m gonna get outta here. Go have some fun with the boys. Or maybe find some ladies. Or gentlemen. Or both. And you are gonna get nasty with your boy toy.”

“Curt!”

Curt shakes his head. “Just, like, don’t do anything kinky on my bed, okay?”

Bucky stares at him, honestly a little mortified, before shaking his head and pointing a finger at his friend. “Don’t lecture me about what’s kinky.” Curt literally just insinuated a possible orgy in the Olympic Village.

Curt just winks at him. “Make sure he’s real careful of your leg. You’ve still got two more days of competition.” Then he opens the door to leave, only to find said boy toy right on the other side, hand raised as if he were about to knock. “Oh hi Buck,” Curt says. He glances back at Bucky with an eyebrow raised. That was faster than even he expected.

“Hey Curt,” Gale says back with a friendly nod. “Congratulations. You looked amazing out there tonight.”

Curt smirks at him. “I think we all know who you were really watchin’ out there.” Gale bites his lip awkwardly and Curt saves him the embarrassment, stepping past him and out the door. He turns around on the other side to give Bucky an excited thumbs up, and Bucky huffs, shaking his head. And then Curt’s gone. Leaving Bucky standing in the middle of the room, staring right at Gale, standing in the doorway.

“You can come in,” Bucky tells him. He still feels off-kilter from the whole I love him revelation, but he shoves it out of his head as Gale nods and steps inside, closing the door carefully behind him.

Bucky can barely even spare another thought before he finds himself pinned against the wall, Gale pressed to him, desperate lips on his. Taken by surprise, Bucky honest to god moans at the sensations overtaking his whole body the moment Gale so much as touches him. His hands find their way to Gale’s waist. One of Gale’s is on Bucky’s shoulder, the other pressed to his solid chest, pinning him to the wall, and Bucky is already breathless.

“You… were… fucking… incredible,” Gale whispers against Bucky’s lips between kisses. His hands are gripping the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky is questioning why he even bothered to put it on in the first place because it's only been a few minutes and he’s already pulling it back over his head, throwing it to the floor. 

Gale runs his hand up Bucky’s bare chest, his fingertips light and tender and possessive at the same time. It makes Bucky shiver involuntarily, and the corner of Gale’s mouth quirks up like he discovered a fun new trick. Bucky kisses him again, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Only fair,” he whispers, repeating back Gale’s words from several nights ago. He briefly wonders how it’s possible that it’s been less than two weeks of knowing this man. How can that be true when it feels like finding each other was the answer to some grand cosmic question written in the stars? 

But then Gale’s shirt is dropping to the floor beside his own and all thoughts in Bucky’s head fly right on out. As he told Gale earlier today, it’s nothing he’s never seen before. And yet Bucky completely blanks when faced with Gale, half naked in front of him, ready and beautiful and just asking Bucky to do unspeakable things to him. Bucky wants to… he doesn’t even know what. He wants to bite. He wants to kiss. He wants to touch. He wants it all. 

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says before he moves in to nip at Gale’s neck, running a hand up his side. His other dips down to Gale’s ass, pulling him closer, and Gale chuckles quietly. 

“Me?” He asks. “God, John, what about you.” His fingers move to the back of Bucky’s head to grip his hair, tangling into the wild curls there, still a little damp from showering. It makes Bucky dizzy with want as Gale presses their lips together again, rocking his hips forward against Bucky. 

But just as Bucky is getting lost in how amazing that feels, Gale pulls away. Bucky chases after his mouth, wanting Gale’s soft lips back on his, but Gale leans his head back, drinking Bucky in with hungry eyes. “J’ai envie de toi,” he murmurs. 

Bucky goes still at the words and stares into Gale’s eyes, seeing nothing but arousal and undeniable want. He has no idea what that means but holy shit does he like the way it sounds. Gale presses his hand to Bucky’s cheek, then trails his fingers across his collar bone, his shoulder, and down his bicep. God, Gale loves his biceps. He stops at the Olympic rings tattoo, fingertips hovering over the dark ink. 

Bucky smiles crookedly at him, flushed and still leaning back against the wall. His hair is messy and sticking up in all directions where Gale twined his fingers through it. “You get to get one too, now.”

Gale tilts his head. “Hadn’t really thought about it.” His hand drops away, but Bucky laces their fingers together instead. Pressing his other hand to his chest, he pushes Gale back, towards the bed (his bed. Very very pointedly not Curt’s). 

Gale grunts as the backs of his legs hit the edge of the cardboard bedframe, but Bucky is still guiding him backwards, pushing him down onto the mattress. Gale falls back onto his elbows, then onto his back, and Bucky is hovering over him, pressing Gale’s hand into the mattress beside his head. “You should,” he says. 

Gale blinks up at him, lips parted and eyes dark, too lost in Bucky to remember what they were talking about. 

“The tattoo,” Bucky laughs. “You need to get the rings. You’re an Olympic medalist now. Welcome to the club.”

“Shouldn’t I be congratulating you here?” Gale asks, his eyebrow raised. He motions vaguely to Bucky on top of him. “Olympic gold medalist John Egan.”

“Did you forget? You fell asleep after winning your medal.”

Gale blushes and seriously? That’s all it takes? Bucky’s obsessed. 

“Sorry,” Gale huffs.

“We’re celebrating each other,” Bucky tells him. He lets his fingers trail idly down the middle of Gale’s torso, following the line of his abs. 

Gale looks at him, searching his eyes for something, and Bucky wonders what it is. He wonders what Gale sees when he looks at him. 

But all he says is “Where should I get it then?”

Bucky grins, kissing him deftly on the lips. “Let’s see.” He runs his finger lightly across Gale’s collarbone, like Gale did to him before. Over his shoulder. Down his bicep. A touch that looks innocent but is anything but. His lips follow, pressing delicate kisses all along their path. He bites down softly on Gale’s muscled bicep, teasing. “This is always a good spot. A lot of us get them right here.” He nips again, his tongue flicking out to lick at the reddened skin, and Gale bites down on his lip as he watches Bucky move over his body.

“Or here,” Bucky adds, pressing his lips to Gale’s forearm. Then his wrist. Then he shifts over to his torso, letting go of Gale’s hand. Gale inhales sharply when Bucky says “here?” and starts sucking at the delicate skin over his ribcage until it’s red and swollen and a small bruise is blooming at the surface. Gale watches, finding he likes it. Part of him wants Bucky to mark him up and claim him, and it feels heavenly, making him squirm in pleasure. Bucky trails kisses all the way down Gale’s side to his hip, where one of his hands has once again made its home, holding Gale still with a tender sort of firmness that makes him feel weak.

“You uh… you might be onto something,” Gale breathes shakily as Bucky sucks another mark into being on his lower abdomen. He lifts his head, trying to look at Bucky even though all he can see now is messy hair that he wants to grab. So he does. He buries his fingers in Bucky’s hair and gently presses his face to his stomach, a silent request to please, please keep doing that. 

Bucky smiles against his skin, and Gale lets himself relax into the mattress, staring at the ceiling above with a heady and weightless satisfaction. He feels Bucky’s fingers fumble at the button of his jeans, followed by the zipper being pulled down. Bucky tugs at the waistline, his lips pressing lightly lightly lightly down down down until all of a sudden there’s teeth nipping at the sensitive spot right above the waist of Gale’s underwear, and he gasps in surprise. “I don’t think I’ll be getting a tattoo down there,” he pants. 

Bucky pauses and looks up at Gale to make sure he hasn’t overstepped. Maybe he read this wrong. Maybe Gale doesn’t want to go further. But the only thing on Gale’s face is pure want, and goddamn. It makes Bucky’s heart stutter, the way Gale is laid out for him. The pleased and needy noises he makes when Bucky touches him. The way he looks, cheeks flushed, so perfect. Bucky’s mind is already jumping ahead to where he wants this to go, what Gale will look like in other positions, with Bucky touching him in other places, laying on this bed with all of his clothes off instead of just his shirt. But he forces himself to take it one step at a time. He rubs his thumb soothingly over Gale’s hip. “Well,” he rationalizes. “We really should explore all possible options.”

Gale takes a deep, gratified breath as Bucky pulls his jeans down, letting them fall to the floor with another gentle kiss to his bare hip. 

He really can’t argue with that.  

---

---

For those interested: Curt's vault, done by Asher Hong, 2024 Olympic trials Bucky's big tumbling pass, the Shirai III Bucky's vault, done by Brody Malone, 2024 Olympic trials

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Hi! This is a fic rec of my favorite fics involving sports. These fics are organized by word count from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Unbelievers by isthatyoularry / @isthatyoularry (136k)

It’s Louis’ senior year, and he’s dead set on doing it right. However, along with his pair of cleats, a healthy dose of sarcasm and his ridiculous best friend, he’s also got a complicated family, a terrifyingly uncertain future, and a mortal enemy making his life just that much worse. Mortal enemies “with benefits” was not exactly the plan.

Or: The one where Louis and Harry definitely aren’t friends, and football is everything.

Soft Hands, Fast Feet, Can't Lose by dolce_piccante  (112k)

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

Oh Glory by alivingfire / @alivingfire (77k)

Tomlinson looks Liam over, tilting his head. “Are you a swimmer as well?”

“Yeah,” Liam says, a little cautiously. Harry wonders if it’s Tomlinson’s fame or the unimpressed eyebrow that’s making Liam wary. “Distance, I’m doing the 1500m. Harry here’s a sprinter.”

“Ah,” says Tomlinson, turning his glinting eyes back to Harry. “So you’re not an endurance man.” A beat passes, and his grin grows, wide and filthy. "Shame."

Harry Styles is Team Great Britain's newest swimmer, and has spent his whole life training for this moment, a chance at the gold medal in the Rio 2016 Olympics. All his training, hard work, and dedication to no distractions is tested when he's assigned to the same Rio apartment as Louis Tomlinson, British gymnast and Harry's childhood crush.

Summer's In the Air and Baby, Heaven's In Your Eyes by starryhaze / @starryhaze28 (71k)

“So we probably shouldn’t do this.” Louis says, and Harry knows he means staying like this, wrapped up in each other, and he nods, then lifts his head from Louis’ shoulder. His eyes are focused on the ground while he tries to will the tears away.

“We shouldn’t. I’m sorry Lou it’s just-“

“Hey it’s fine, baby.” Louis promises, gently rubbing this thumb over Harry’s cheek. Harry leans into the touch and blinks up at Louis.

“Not your fault.” Louis says, looking around before he presses his lips against Harry’s in a short but sweet kiss. “You’re like my dirty little secret now.” He grins wickedly and gives a wink, making Harry blush and bite his lip as he steps away.

⋆ .ೃ ࿔ *: ･

or a 70s tennis au filled with skirts, pet names and intrigue

On the Edge by zanni_scaramouche / @zanniscaramouche (47k)

Figure skating is as vital to Louis’ identity as his DNA, so when his skates go missing right before the last Olympics of his career there may be a meltdown only vanilla bath salts can fix. Well, that and the stupidly charming hockey player he met on the plane.

Harry’s too old to be the wonder kid and too young to be taken seriously in the NHL. As an alternate thrown in at the last second, he fights to prove himself on the national team at the largest sporting event known to man. Or he will, once he gets off this flight and can focus on something other than the fussy figure skater and his stunningly blue eyes.

A baggage mix-up skews both of their perfectly laid plans for gold, forcing the two to work together as the clock clicks towards the minute they’re expected to shine on centre ice.

The Boys of Summer by afirethatcannotdie / @afirethatcannotdie (45k)

“I mean…we’re gonna have to sneak around anyway, yeah? Like, with that whole rules thing that I guess we’ve decided to ignore. Might make it a little more fun this way.”

AU. In which Louis is a reluctant sports coach, Harry's a fellow counselor who wears tiny yellow shorts, and camp rules say they're forbidden to date.

Bloodsport by tofiveohfive / @tofiveohfive (40k)

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left—”

Louis stops when he hears a chuckle.

He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation.

“‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

Be My Little Good Luck Charm by 100percentsassy (34k)

In which Harry is a promising amateur golfer making his debut at the PGA Championship, and Louis is a Sky Sports anchor who would really rather be commentating on footie.

The other boys are around too: caddy!Niall provides victory pints, Liam is Louis’s Very Serious co-anchor, and poor Zayn just gets his face drawn on.

But Me, I'm Not a Gamble by orphan_account (33k)

A Posh & Becks AU in which Harry is a star on the stage and Louis is a star on the pitch, but they're both inexplicably terrible at articulating their feelings. In the end, it only takes a season's worth of failed matchmaking schemes, platonic dinner dates, road trip holidays, and one very convenient David Beckham cameo for them to figure it all out. And if Niall knew all along? Well, he at least has the decency not to be too smug about it.

Swallow My Words by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf (32k)

Senior year is stressful. On top of balancing school work, family, and friends, Harry's lacrosse team is vying to win the state championship, he's not sure where he's going to college yet, and he has a secret boyfriend that no one can know about.

Part 1 of Swallow My Words

Player by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom (28k)

Louis’ job should be simple. Harry Styles, one of the top ranking tennis players in the world, is every publicist’s perfect client. He’s charismatic, enigmatic, and fit as fuck. The darling of the media, a national treasure, and a sponsor’s wet dream. He’s also a goofball with the kindest heart, sweet, and polite, and singularly focused on achieving his goals.

There are just two minor problems. Firstly, Louis’ debilitating crush on said client. And secondly, Harry has just accidentally Instagrammed a picture of his dick to his 18 million followers. So no, Louis’ job is anything but simple.

OR the one where Louis is Harry’s highly strung publicist and has a thing for his client, Harry is an international sports star and has a thing for his publicist, Liam and Zayn have a thing for each other, and Niall wishes everyone would just get their shit together.

You and Me Were Kings by orphan_account (28k)

harry plays football in a small town in west texas. louis might be the only person that doesn’t give a damn. au.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope (17k)

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

We've Got Nothing to Lose by iwontseecadyagain (12k)

“Oops!” A deep and slow voice fills Louis’ ears as an arm reaches around his waist, to keep Louis from rebounding into another white-outfitted body – this time a short young girl who could only be gymnast.  “Hi,” Louis replies as he turns to smile up at the person and thank him for preventing Louis’ life from dissolving into a real-life game of Pong, but the words dry up in his throat when he sees.

The person is a boy, tall and lanky with curly brown hair pushed away from his face messily and held back by a gaudy Union Jack scarf, green eyes sparkling from all the camera flashes and impossibly pink lips curled in a wide smile that nearly encompasses his whole face.

And Louis recognizes him instantly. And he thinks that maybe if walking into the Olympic Stadium during the opening ceremony wasn’t enough, having Harry Styles’ arm around him might be the killing blow.   Also known as an Olympics AU where Harry is a pro tennis player, and Louis is a pro footballer. They meet at the opening ceremony and fall in love, obviously.

We Should Get Jerseys by orphan_account (12k)

There’s a lot surrounding Harry, and Louis knows, in his heart of hearts, that there always will be. He just doesn’t know if he’ll manage to equate into the ‘always’ of it.

Harry is a hockey player, and Louis is his slightly melodramatic boyfriend.

And Darling I Will Be Loving You 'til We're 70 by orphan_account (11k)

“Well, you deal with the football team, and we’ll handle everything else,” Teddy answers. He sits up confidently and crosses his arms – Harry always tells them that believing in yourself is 90% of the job – with his head held high. Louis sees a flicker of determination in his eyes, mixed with a bit of mischief and youthful exuberance. It reminds him of himself, when he was younger and even now, 32 years old and married with four children. He’s really fucking grateful for the life that he lives and the kids that he has. (And his husband is pretty alright, or whatever.)

A canon spin on Posh/Becks where Louis coaches their daughter's football team for the very first time and Harry comes back from a summer working for Saint Laurent.

Part 1 of posh/becks au

[bansheeboyy]

Olympians I would nominate for the Tickle Olympics

Josh Tarling: Lost out on the cycling time trials due to a puncture, maybe he can make up for it during the Armpit Endurance competition. Or perhaps the Stocks Decibel Derby.

Carlos Alcaraz: He may be storming ahead in doubles tennis, but Carlos will have to prepare to face the Tickle Olympics alone. Ain’t nobody in those bondage chairs but you, feeling every stroke, pinch and wiggle. Nobody to lean on but your own resolve.

Matty Lee: Sadly not taking part in this year’s olympics…so let’s get him in double the events at the Tickle Olympics. Something tells me feathers will be a killer on this smooth diver.

Casimir Schmidt: I’d love to see his attempt at the Ring Drop endurance test: shirtless, grabbing onto the two gymnastic rings far above a pool of water with other contestants, feathers fluttering all over your torso, whittling away your stamina until there’s one hunk left dangling.

Nathan Zsombor-Murray: picking just one of this year’s hot synchronised divers was a struggle, but I think Nathan just about edges out the competition. Get this talented hunk and his tight budgie-smugglers to the Humilator stat. Maybe the two hot Mexican divers he just beat to a bronze medal can get their revenge by making this Canadian howl for mercy 👀

[jmdbjk]

Episode 7: Still Purple

Beyond the Star, produced by HYBE Media Studio

"Every single one of our performances was significant to us, they are all precious memories." – Jimin

The song Butterfly starts and I know this episode is going to be hard to watch because I'm already tearing up.

This is a long post. Apologies. There's a lot to say about it.

They are talking about what concert memories mean the most to them:

Hobi says it was their first stadium concert at the Rose Bowl which was the most significant memory for him as far as which concert was the most memorable.

Jungkook says it was Chicago when it was the first time they'd ever performed in the rain:

Jin says it's when they perform IDOL that is his favorite concert memory.

Jimin says even though fans would see what he's talking about through photos but in real life, what they see from the stage is so beautiful, words can't do justice to describe it:

They reminisce about their concert at the Olympic Gymnastic Arena and recalling the emotions they felt then, that they had reached the top in 2016 are a very precious memory to them

Concerts are what they were made to do. Their type of performance, the big choreography, the big songs... big performances... belong on the live concert stage.

And now we're at the series of concerts that were to be their last before they really embark on Chapter 2: PTD Las Vegas.

BigHit/Hybe pulled out the stops for this one. The city of Las Vegas was all in and being the party city it is, it was one of the most fun and extravagant things I've ever witnessed.

I 1000% regret not going. I didn't know it was going to be the last chance for a long time.

They get to do things like attend a few concerts and visit the Bellagio Fountain when the fountains of water are set to the rhythm of Dynamite and Butter. I know Hobi has a video of Jungkook and Tae vibing to Dynamite at the Bellagio Fountain on his camera roll! Show it to us Hobi!!

Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon went to the Silk Sonic concert.

I think it's curious that they do not mention the 2022 Grammy performance or event at all. When they left Seoul for this trip on March 28, 2022, Hobi was not with them because he had tested positive for covid prior to departure. Jungkook wasn't with them because he'd left the day before for the purpose of a work schedule but I don't remember what it was, and upon landing in the U.S. he tested positive for covid and had to quarantine until he had a negative test.

They were to perform at the Grammy Awards show on April 3, 2022. They were missing two members up until the day before the performance. Thankfully Hobi tested negative in time to catch a plane to Las Vegas:

Jungkook tested negative the day before the performance and was able to practice ONCE with the group. Here he is doing a Vlive while quarantining in his hotel room:

And after all that, they gave a performance of a lifetime during the Grammy Awards:

Anyway... I digress... just curious they make no mention of it at all...

Jungkook brought his boxing coach (Coach Tommy) and this might be the workout he was doing prior to joining Hobi, Tae and Jimin for that Vlive following one of their concerts.

Jungkook says the only thing he regrets about the previous 10 years was that it took him a while to realize certain things and then put them into practice.

Namjoon wonders what it would've been like had they ended things after ON and Yoongi reflects that they would've taken a break from November 2020, if the pandemic had not happened and they would've been on a break for about two and half years (for enlistment). They didn't expect the pandemic to go on for so long (none of us did).

Namjoon wonders if he stayed true to the lyrics he wrote in ON while living his life. He thought they were running straight ahead all this time but as it turns out, they had gone in a circle and were back at the starting line. He contemplates what to do to run forward again.

The last PTD Las Vegas concert is bittersweet for all of us. So much has happened to culminate with this.

Tae says it's time for them to organize their thoughts so they can come back with a better image and performance and they aren't saying they are done, they are saying they've worked hard and now they need the time to grow.

And then we see Jimin in the car, on the way home after their last PTD Seoul concert on March 13, 2020. He is on the phone inviting someone over. Guess who?

It looks like he's taken a shower. He shows us a pot of fish cake soup his dad made for him. Jimin prepares three place settings, fetches 3 bottles of soju, and pardon me but the fact Jimin has a can of spray cheez in his auxiliary kitchen changes everything for me.

Why is he consuming that and why does he store it above the kitchen sink in is extra kitchen? Why do these expensive apartments have two kitchens? Jimin barely needs one kitchen but he has two...

Anyway, Jungkook arrives and they proceed to eat and drink.

While they are having a conversation about what time they go to bed and wake up, Jimin says he might sleep until 4 pm and then this ensues:

When Jungkook makes the remark that he sounds like Yoongi, off-camera, you can hear someone stifling their wheezing laugh. Staff camera man is in on the joke and the documentary editors are too as they cut briefly to Yoongi eating take out chicken.

The editors were wrong for that! HAHAHAHAH!

Then Tae and Namjoon talk about and show us their living spaces and how they feel living on their own.

Namjoon is very particular about his space and he says its very precious to him. He says the way one curates their living space speaks a lot about their personality and taste. I agree 100%. He says he wants to show us his space so we can know what kind of person he is.

Tae says he decorated his own space, commissioning art pieces for it. He has an extensive collection of vinyl records and puts on a yellow vinyl disc that appears to be Betty Wright, a recording of a live performance. He says boredom can be a given when living alone and he says he looks for Small but Definite Happiness in his daily life. SDH. We should all strive to do that.

Then we're back at Jimin's and Jungkook is cooking more food, chopping vegetables. FYI, that Miele induction cooktop is about $3,500.

Watching Jimin retell the story of when one of his friends pointed out that he seemed depressed, was not himself, was one of the most revealing things we've ever heard from Jimin.

And now he feels he's in a very healthy place. I'm gonna elaborate on this in another blog post when I'm done with this series.

All in all, the members had to learn to live alone after living together for 8 years or more for some of them.

Yoongi reflects on running so hard in their 20s. He wonders if they shouldn't have enjoyed themselves more and not let the pressures become overwhelming. Regardless, now that he's reached 30, all those worries and thoughts have disappeared and he feels liberated.

I've realized some of these interviews for these episodes were conducted on the day they traveled from Seoul to Las Vegas because they are wearing the same clothing.

Episode 8 coming soon... and more.

[houseofbrat]

Well, isn't that convenient?

[archive link]

Princess Kate is eyeing up her next public appearance, as she’s keen to head to Paris to watch some of the 2024 Olympic Games. The Princess of Wales has made two major appearances since her shock cancer diagnosis at the start of the year, stepping out at Trooping the Colour in June and the Men’s Singles Final at Wimbledon a month later. Kensington Palace has not set a date for her to return to royal duties, as Kate revealed in June that while she continues to undergo chemotherapy she has “good days and bad days”. But she wants to make the most of feeling well and endeavours to attend events over the coming months if she feels able to. One such event is attending the Paris 2024 Olympic Games, as a source close to the princess reveals she is keen to travel across the Channel to watch some of the action. “The Princess would love to go to the Olympics," they said. "She has such fond memories of London 2012 and is keen to go to another Games while it's so close to home.” The newly-wed couple were regular faces at the home Games, as they were jubilant when Chris Hoy secured his sixth Olympic gold at the velodrome and also enjoyed watching the tennis, hockey, swimming, athletics, gymnastics and football. But the insider was keen to stress that no decision has yet been made as Kate’s attendance is conditional on her health and whether her doctors give her the go-ahead. This mirrors the approach taken when the Princess attended the Wimbledon men’s final last month, as aides only confirmed her appearance the day before. Prince William is expected to travel to France to watch some of the Games next week, and as his children are currently enjoying their summer holidays its likely that their two eldest, Prince George, 11, and Princess Charlotte, nine, will join him.

Yes, it's not confirmed at this point (02 August 2024) that Kate will attend the Olympics, and, yes, this is published by a UK tabloid. However, the effects are just the same.

It doesn't matter if it doesn't pan out, and she doesn't attend. The perception of her right now is that she would do something like this, even though she is allegedly being treated for cancer.

Did you know that there is a subreddit called "KateMiddletonMissing"? It has 7,400 members currently, which is undoubtedly a larger number than the surviving Wales "fandom" on tumblr. Numbers that will likely increase over the coming weeks and months while Kate hides from the public. There is a thread discussing this rumor of Kate attending the Paris Olympics, and people aren't buying what Kensington Palace and Kate are selling, even if she has no actual plans to attend.

And what is the top comment in this thread?

"I don’t believe she ever had cancer"

That's the top comment. That's the perception of Kate among people who follow British royals enough to join a subreddit but are not blind followers of the drivel coming out of the Kensington Palace comms team.

And take photos of all the family frolicking on the beach jumping 8 foot over spiky plants. But too ill to partake in any cancer charity work. Hmm 🤔

I'm kind of hoping the French play Gojira's song about Marie Antoinette on the big screen while Kate and/or William is at the Olympics. They're really shameless to claim abdominal surgery in January to skip work until Easter, but then changed it to cancer when things got heated. Now they're playing the cancer card, cherry-picking glamour events, and putting it down as 'work'. Instead of helping cancer patients and creating awareness about testing and getting symptoms checked, Kate has only showed up at the Trooping, the Wimbledon men's final, and now possibly another men's tennis match featuring Andy Murray. These are not decent people.

She's crap like the rest of them. You'll never convince me she ever had cancer.

This is absolutely bonkers. No one cares about the optics of this, which is wild to me. Is the, "They're Diana's boys, such a tragedy," well of sympathy and sycophants ever going to run dry??? Kate being adjacent to this and a direct recipient of it.

Watching tennis on the royal box, sunbathing in mustique and not giving a ficking damn about not working for anything is a well known treatment for cancer.

My opinion only. Kate is totally complicit in all of this. I don't see how she's under duress or in any way being forced to tell the world she has/had cancer. She shows up at two major events looking fully healthy and smiling. Quite a contrast from the "bench video" where she looked pale and spoke in a somber tone. I believe that was also the one and only time that she has said anything about others having cancer. It just doesn't look good at all and seems disrespectful to those struggling with cancer.

Even in the much larger RoyalsGossip subreddit, which forbids any speculation on Kate's "health condition," has comments in disbelief about Kate's "cancer diagnosis."

Impressive that her medical team is okay with her attending crowded sporting events during treatment but recording a short Zoom video for a patronage is too much to handle

And especially now that there’s a spike in Covid cases. I know sick people who are not allowed to go to crowded places.

Interesting that's she is well enough to travel to Paris but not to do zoom calls eith her patronages? Or support her charitable endeavors? What about the First Five Years?

They don't call her "Duchess Do Little" for nothing

So she still can’t do any real work but can attend men’s sporting events. We see you Kate

It's really only the Wales fandom who buys the "health condition" excuse about Kate coming out of Kensington Palace.

Oh, yes Charles and Camilla "are wearing down the monarchy." LOL!

Charles and Camilla are doing their actual jobs while William is on vacation all the time.

Just more proof that the Wales fandom lives in their own Disney-esque Puritan bubble where Charles & Camilla are terrible because their first marriages didn't work out. Except even Camilla has done more work than William ever has as a working royal.

Except actual Brits (instead of fawning twenty-somethings in Latin America) believe William is the one "wearing down the monarchy."

Because more and more people are not buying the story Will & Kate have been telling people about themselves.

Most people with functioning brains outside the Wales fandom can see through Will & Kate's problematic behavior.

Looks like the shit is going to hit the fan regarding Will & Kate's reputations later this month.

Can't wait.

[oonajaeadira]

questions tag game

Lol thanks for the tag, @insomniamamma, @grogusmum, @katareyoudrilling, @toomanytookas, and @ace-turned-confused. I missed playing games!!!

Do you make your own bed? Only if I have rehearsal that day. My rehearsal studio is in my garage and the only toilet's inside the house. Our back door goes directly into the bedroom, so if people have to pass through our bedroom, I'd like it to look neat. But otherwise no. I actually like to throw the covers wide and let the sheets air.

Favorite number? Truthfully, numbers are weird to me. I don't get 'em. It's a long story. I guess the only one that catches my notice is probably 17 because my birfday, but I don't know if I'd say it was a favorite.

What’s your job? I work with performing artists. Fewer than 300 people on earth have my job and probably fewer than half of those even use the same job title. But I love love love my job; I'm good at it and it feels like I was made to do it. I get to spend my days working to make it more accessible for artists to present their work, organizing arts events, and fighting on their behalf to keep arts programs running.

If you could go back to school, would you? A few years ago I might have said yes. But now, probably not. I'm content to take classes, but I don't have the time, money, or energy. I wouldn't want the pile of checkboxes and deadlines again, that's for sure.

Can you parallel park? Pretty well, yes. Bonus for being able to parallel park in February when the snow's all built up on the side of the road and I have to gun it through plow drifts.

Do you think aliens are real? Statistically speaking, the probability of there deffo being aliens is astronomically high. (See what I did there)

Can you drive a manual car? Yes. I learned in/took my test in/first owned a stick. My dad taught me to drive and wanted to make sure I could always drive whatever vehicle I got in. It was his way of protecting me--if I ever got in a scrape and suddenly needed to drive a car, I'd be able to, no matter what. It actually came in handy in college because I was a pretty straight shooter, so my friends could drink and toke and I was always there to drive them home, even if it wasn't my car.

What’s your guilty pleasure? Most of my pleasures are guilt free because idgaf. But I do love staying up late knowing that I'll be tired in the morning. And I do love having a lazy day even though I know being sedentary isn't good for me. I love love love flying when I go on vacation, but I know my carbon footprint is deep. And I love shopping on Amazon and Shien and...well...*capitalist guilt*

Any phobias? Centipedes. Stick around my blog and you'll hear me scream about it often enough.

Favorite childhood sport? I was a water baby, so I loved swimming and would get into the water any chance I could. I was on swim team and gymnastics team in junior high. Loved riding my bike anywhere I could get to. And I was big on roller skating and downhill skiing...until I found theater and then I couldn't imagine risking breaking a bone and being in the wrong kind of a cast for six weeks....

Do you talk to yourself? All. The. Time. In the third person. Both admonishment and praise as well as practicing imaginary conversations with others. Sometimes it's a back and forth battle between two voices that are both me playing devil's advo. And sometimes I talk out fic dialogue in the shower or in the car. I get caught at it all the time. Whoops.

Tattoos? One on my back that I'm thinking about covering up with a Darksaber/watercolor tat. Now that I'm at the point in my career where I don't have to keep my body "marketable" (an actor's life is bizarre, yo), I'm thinking of getting a set of matching forearm tats.

Favorite color? Lemon yellow.

Do you like puzzles? I love brain puzzles. Sudoku, crosswords, anagrams, logic puzzles, escape rooms. Complex scheduling lol. Anything you have to think through. I usually wake up and play my way through most of the New York Times daily puzzles first thing in the morning. I am not as fond of trial-and-error puzzles like jigsaws and rubiks though. Those just feel like work to me.

.

tagging: @feathersandfoxtails @songsformonkeys @yespolkadotkitty @julesonrecord @writeforfandoms

@honestly-shite @lowlights @ithinkwehitametaphor @moonlitbirdie @the-blind-assassin-12

[stateofcharles]

Natália Gaudio from Brazil🇧🇷 performing at the 2016 Olympic Test Event

photo credits: Rede do Esporte via Wikimedia Commons

[beefromanoff]

Project Mockingbird Ch. 1

summary: Natasha identifies a girl who needs their help and makes a case to the rest of the team. the problem? the girl who needs the help was genetically engineered to oppose their friend.

pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC

chapter list

________________________________________

Three Months Earlier

The team filed into the conference room at The Avengers’ Compound in their usual order: Steve and Vision (fifteen minutes early), Peter, Bruce, Wanda, and Sam right on time, and Tony striding in five minutes late. 

“I have to admit, when I heard you wanted to see me, I was hoping for more of a one-on-one situation.” Sam joked as he plopped down in his chair. 

“Keep dreaming, Wilson.” She shot him a side-eyed glance, a shadow of a smile on her face. 

The room held a strange energy, remaining unusually quiet as everyone waited for Natasha to explain the reason for calling the meeting. Steve and Tony had historically been the only ones to call official team briefings. 

“I found a girl.” Natasha slid a stack of folders across the table. 

“Hey, love is love. As long as I can watch.” Tony grinned. 

“Shut up.” She ignored him and clicked a button on her computer, bringing a set video footage to life on the screen behind her. “Her name is Charlotte Julianna Rossi. She’s 21 years old, according to her Drivers’ License. According to her birth certificate, she’s closer to 100.” 

The room fell quiet, Steve and Natasha exchanging a sobering gaze. The screen on the wall showed several clips at once, all featuring a pretty young girl. Her hair was different colors across all of the clips, some showing her with long, blonde locks and some showing a cropped dark haircut with severe bangs, others showing varying shades of red. 

“She’s hardly been on the radar until the past two years. In that time period, she’s been hospitalized seventeen times for injuries consistent with overuse and extreme fatigue. Rhabdomyolysis, kidney damage, severe muscle strain, dehydration, the list goes on. Every single time, she’s admitted in a critical state but checks herself out against medical advice less than 24 hours later.” 

As the team shuffled through the documents in front of them, putting pieces together, Natasha continued. 

“I found her because she made headlines earlier this year after getting kicked out of Team USA Olympic trials for women’s gymnastics. They tried to cover it up, didn’t want to get any questions they didn’t have an answer for. From what I was able to gather, she came out of nowhere, competed at the last National Championship meet as an unaffiliated gymnast, and won every event with a perfect score. The entire gymnastics community was up in arms about it. They tried to figure out where she came from, where she trained, but there was nothing. No record. Of course, Team USA begged her to come to the tryout, she blew them away. Somehow, one of the families of the gymnasts at risk of losing their spot got her kicked off for use of performance enhancing drugs. The thing is, there’s no record of her ever even being tested.”

“No offense, Nat, but we aren’t exactly looking to start a Cirque Du Soleil Troupe here.” 

“Tony, shut the fuck up and let me finish.” She gave him an austere look as he put his hands up defensively. 

“Since then, she’s won a dozen amateur MMA matches, three boxing matches, and won fifteen straight games of poker before being banned from the majority of Vegas casinos. She’s making her money drifting, picking up random things and kicking everyone’s ass at them. Clearly, it’s not without a toll, if you look at her hospital records.”

She clicked a button and the screen shifted, sending a chill down everyone’s spine. A grainy document had been scanned in, the HYDRA symbol emblazoned on the top of the letterhead. 

“Project Mockingbird. It was pioneered two years after the Winter Soldier project. Specifically, it was initiated only ten days after a record seventeen HYDRA agents were critically injured trying to contain their primary test subject during an attempted escape.” 

Wanda spoke slowly. “You mean…”

“Bucky.” Steve breathed out. 

“Right.” Natasha was solemn. “I didn’t want to leave him out of this, but I didn’t know how he’d handle it. I figured it was better to tell him once we have more information.” 

Steve nodded, brow knit together in concern. 

“Okay, so I think I’m tracking all of this, but if you could - just so I’m clear, what exactly does all of this mean?” Peter leaned forward nervously. 

Taking a deep breath, Natasha answered. “This is just a hypothesis, but I don’t see much wiggle room. It appears that when HYDRA was working on the Winter Soldier project, on Bucky…they had difficulties containing him. Controlling him. When it became apparent that ordinary agents couldn’t do it, they took to experimenting on others. Orphans, mainly. People no one would miss. Trying to create something…someone to be able to stand against him.”

She pulled out a chair and sat for the first time, regarding all of them seriously. “They had dozens of test subjects. The majority of them didn’t survive the initial round of experimentation. A few others suffered complications in cryo. She’s the only one left.”

“Forgive me for being so forward,” Vision spoke up. “But, if I’m understanding correctly, we have reason to believe that Ms. Ross, she was created to oppose Sergeant Barnes.” 

“Yes.” Natasha avoided Steve’s eyes like her life depended on it. “I believe that Charlotte Julianna Rossi was enhanced by HYDRA as a sentient weapon with the primary purpose being containment and control of The Winter Soldier.” 

Present Day

“Thank you.” Natasha gave a polite smile to the driver as he opened the car door for her to step out. They’d arrived at the Wynn, one of - if not the nicest hotels on the Las Vegas strip. 

She’d wasted no time after the mission was approved, spending the majority of the flight putting on full glam and finishing it off with the perfect red lip. Black cocktail dress, gold heels that caught and reflected all the Vegas lights, studded clutch purse with cash, lipstick, and a pistol. Tony had offered to book her a hotel room through his connections, but she’d waved him off. 

They’d be back in New York by sunrise. 

It didn’t take long for her to locate Charlotte. Though 8pm was early by Vegas accounts, the casino was lively. Natasha dodged several attempted pick-up attempts by drunken gamblers as she wove through the tables to her end destination: the high stakes room. A sultry smile paired with her low cut dress made quick work of gaining entry. It wasn’t unusual for beautiful women to be welcomed into the high stakes room. The only thing rich men loved more than blowing money was doing it in front of a pretty audience. Nat slipped into the intimate room, the air full of cigar smoke and jazz music. 

Seated at a small table was a pretty brunette, eyes dark with smudged shadow and lips glossy. A martini sat in front of her, completely untouched, judging by the lack of a gloss print on the rim. Charlotte tapped the table in front of her, signaling for the dealer to give her another card. She already showed a nineteen, meaning standard play said she shouldn’t hit. The crowd murmured, exchanging glances. In the betting circle was a stack of $1,000 chips that Natasha estimated to be around $20,000. 

To the shock of everyone but Natasha and Charlotte, the dealer flipped a third card to reveal a two of diamonds. Blackjack. 

Charlotte grinned, leaning back and relishing in the applause as the dealer paled and began counting out chips to pay her. Nat cracked a smile but immediately felt a jolt in her stomach. The dealer had given a nod to the guard at the front, who was now touching his earpiece and speaking softly. She couldn’t hear him over the music, but his lips read clear as day: She must be counting. 

Acting quickly, Nat stepped to the table, making herself wobbly and heavy lidded.

“Ohmygod, THERE you are,” she put a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, who immediately tensed. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, c’mon, the girls are waiting with the Uber,”

She squeezed Charlotte’s shoulder and briefly broke character to give an urgent look, hoping she’d pick up on the fact that the drunk persona was intentional.

“Oh, look at the time,” She said in mock surprise. “It’s been fun, don’t have too much fun without me!” Her manicured hands slid stacks of chips into her purse, a few falling to the floor with wide-eyed spectators locked onto them. 

“Get yourself something nice, Gary.” She flicked a purple $1,000 chip to the dealer who fumbled to catch it. Out of the corner of her eye, Natasha saw two men approaching them from across the casino floor. She elbowed Charlotte, who tracked her gaze and clocked them immediately. 

Waving her arm, Natasha knocked the still-full martini glass onto the felt of the Blackjack table. The gin spewed across the cards and glass splintered on contact. “Oh, jeez, I’m so sorry, I really shouldn’t have taken that last shot,” She called the apology over her shoulder into the chaos that descended over the mess, linking her arm through Charlotte’s as she fumbled to close her small bag around the massive amount of chips. 

They slid out the door under the cover of the bachelorette party walking past, slipping right into the middle of the drunken parade. 

“What’s going on?” The brunette hissed through a fake smile, keeping the facade up. 

“You were about to get busted. I thought I’d help a girl out.” Nat said through her own plastered smile, eyes darting around the room in search of their next problem. 

“I know what I’m doing.” 

“I know. That’s why I’m here in the first place.” 

Charlotte side-eyed her as they walked through the casino, still covered by the herd of pink boas and giggles. 

“Stark sent you.” 

“No.”

“I’m not stupid, I-”

“He’s the stupid one. I wanted to come in the first place, it was him who thought the testosterone brigade was the way to go. We can get into that later, but right now we’ve gotta move. There’s two coming up -”

“Yeah, six o’clock. Two more probably waiting around the corner up ahead. If we cut through the floor, we can make it to the cashier before they get to us.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, impressed at how they jumped to the same wavelength. “You still want to cash out?”

Charlotte grinned, a wild gleam in her eye. “Duh.” 

A few minutes later, they’d steered the group of girls to the cashier and fanned them out so that each of the six windows had two girls standing in front of it. Each of them with roughly $4,000 worth of chips in their hands. They got through the exchanges in record time, leaving the bachelorettes in a flurry of drunken “iloveyou’s” with a stack of bills to show their appreciation for the help. 

“That should cover the rest of their weekend.” Nat smirked as they strode quickly to the lobby, positioning her body slightly in front of Charlotte so as not to draw attention to the thick wads of cash she was zipping into her bag. 

“I don’t know, I can blow three grand pretty quickly on my own, let alone with ten of my closest friends.” 

“I don’t think I want ten friends.” 

Charlotte matched her pace, the bag finally zipped. “I don’t even know ten people, I just thought it sounded good.” 

They reached the front doors, nodding at the valet who held the door open for them. 

“I have a driver, this way.” Natasha cocked her head to the front of the valet line, full of sports cars and sleek SUVs. Glancing over her shoulder at the casino, the men seemed to have lost them in the crowd. Charlotte weighed her options quickly, deciding that taking a getaway car with the Avenger was preferable to whatever awaited her if she stayed.

They slid into the backseat of the black sedan, breathing quickly from adrenaline. 

“You’re back so soon, Ms. Romanoff.” The driver called from the front seat. 

“It was getting stale, figured I could find something more fun.” 

The driver’s eyes crinkled in a knowing smile in the rearview mirror. Charlotte had a feeling he knew much more than he should, choosing to live in ignorance. 

“You hungry?” the redhead asked nonchalantly. 

“Starving.” 

_________________

The duo sat in a secluded corner booth of a dark bar. The remnants of two burgers sat strewn across the plates, a few leftover fries getting cold. Natasha signaled to the bartender for another round of martinis, extra dirty. 

“Who knew the best burgers in Vegas would come from a strip club?” Charlotte downed the remnants of her drink to make room for the new one. 

“Hey, I’m no stranger to Vegas.” 

“So I can tell.” She shifted to sit up straighter. “Do you wanna get into your sales pitch now, or should we wait for the drinks?”

Natasha remained casual, leaning against the pristine leather of the booth. “There’s no sales pitch. Just an offer. Take it or leave it.” 

“And the offer is…?” 

“Come with me. Back to New York. Live at the compound. Be around people like you.”

Charlotte shook her head. “There are no people like me.” 

“Spare me the pity party bullshit.” Nat leaned in. “I don’t know the specifics of your story, but I know enough to tell you that we are like you.”

Taken aback by her forcefulness, the brunette narrowed her eyes. 

“Enhanced individual? Pretty much all of us. Dark, twisty past? We’ve got ‘em. Done things we aren’t proud of? Goes without saying. No friends, no family? We have a very dysfunctional Thanksgiving of our own.” She gave a small smile. “Experimented on, dehumanized, controlled, stripped of autonomy? Specifically by one particular Nazi rogue science division?” Natasha changed her tone, speaking gently. “One of my very best friends knows a little something about that, too.” 

Charlotte tensed, eyes glazed as she stared into the dark room in front of them. “James Barnes.” It wasn’t a question. 

“We call him Bucky.” 

Chewing her lower lip, Charlotte seemed lost in her thoughts. A cocktail waitress interrupted with two fresh drinks, setting them down with a smile. Eyes still defocused, she reached out to sip the drink slowly. 

“I don’t think it’s smart.” 

“Why?” Natasha took a sip of her own. “There’s nowhere safer for you. The Compound is literally the most secure place on Earth, except maybe Wakanda, and before you say you’re worried about hurting someone there - don’t. We live with Dr. Banner, who you probably know as the Hulk. I’m sure you’re a force to be reckoned with, but I can assure you that even on your worst day you wouldn’t be putting us at risk.”

She spun the wooden stick adorned with olives between her fingers, thinking. “I don’t want to be an Avengers. I’m not a hero. I don’t want to fight.” 

“Then don’t.” Natasha shrugged. “I’m not a military recruiter. I just remember what it was like to be alone, scared. Unsure where to go or who to trust. I’m offering you a home and a group of people you can count on. Anything else is up to you.” 

Charlotte smirked. “You’re much better at this than the last three.” 

“Story of my life.” She rolled her eyes.

“So, what would happen if I said yes? Hypothetically.” 

“Well, hypothetically, I have a jet waiting at the private airfield. We’d go to whichever hotel you’re renting the penthouse out of, get your stuff, and fly back tonight.” 

“Why do you assume I’m renting out a penthouse?” 

Natasha grinned, biting an olive off the stick. “It’s what I would do.” 

Narrowing her eyes, Charlotte cocked her jaw. “I’m at the Cosmo.”

“Great choice.” She held her martini up, signaling for a toast. “How about this, we go out tonight. Do Vegas right. Do it big. If you have fun, you come back with me and try living with us. If you don’t have a good time, I’ll accept that I’m no better than the guys and go back on my own. We won’t bug you anymore, but the offer will always stand.”

“You know, a bet predicated on having fun in Las Vegas seems like a very unfair advantage.” She raised her own glass.

“I’ve never been much of a gambler.” 

“That makes one of us.” Charlotte grinned. “You’re on.” 

_________________

It was just after 4:00am when their dutiful driver opened the door on the tarmac. Heels in hand, two sets of bare feet walked up the steps into the sleek jet, Stark Industries emblazoned on the side. 

“I still can’t believe they kicked us out.” Charlotte rubbed her temples as she sunk into the white leather seat. 

“Well they don’t really encourage doing backflips off of the craps table.” Natasha sat down across from her. 

“Here I thought Vegas was the one place where anything goes.” She dropped her purse on the table in front of them, the thud echoing in the empty cabin. “At least we made out alright.” 

“I expect a cut for saving your ass.” 

“I’ll consider it.” 

“You like pancakes?” Natasha punched a few buttons on a screen embedded in the wall.

“Um, who doesn’t?” 

Grinning, the redhead slid her feet onto the seat, getting comfortable. “They’ll be ready in fifteen. Probably best if we get something in our stomachs besides tequila.”

“If I knew you were offering private jets and pancakes at four in the morning, I might have been an easier sell.” 

“What are you talking about? You hardly put up a fight.” She winked. 

“Whatever, you won fair and square. I’m just holding up my end of the deal.” Charlotte tucked her knees under her, relaxing into the chair as the plane ascended.

“We’ve got a couple hours back to New York. Eat, rest, and we’ll be there before you know it. If you aren’t up for meeting people when we land, I’ll sneak you to your room. You can socialize when you’re not coming off of an all-night bender.” 

“What, you don’t think I’d make a good first impression right now?” She joked, fully aware of her smeared eye makeup and tousled hair. 

“Au contraire, I think you’d make too good of an impression. I’m just trying to give the guys a fighting chance here.”

Giggles subsiding, Charlotte looked out the window at the pinpricks of light shrinking beneath them. The smell of pancakes and overly sweet syrup filled the air as a stewardess wheeled the food out towards them. 

“Natasha?” 

“Hm?”

“I’m glad you came.” 

She smiled, warmth extending to her eyes. 

“Me too.”  

[bittersweetcanary]

Artw Fun Facts, Lore Tid Bits, and Game Tips

A collection of those Game Tips that flash by while the game is booting up that I can never manage to read before they disappear so I screen shotted them and typed them down because FUN FACTS!! LORE TID BITS!! AND SOME ACTUAL GAME TIPS!!

(I posted the images once before but I decided to just type them all down because this makes it easier to quickly read in my opinion, and less clunky. I'll update this if I see any new Game Tips in the loading screen.)

Sirius

“The name of the emoji that sorcerers use is Polar Bear’s weird Magic School Life.”

“Arcturus is easily deceived but he is not ashamed”

“In the suburbs, you can often see Sirius carrying a candy case.”

“Unlock Milky Way and get various rewards!”

“Forbidden magic is forbidden for a reason. Memory magic as one of them is…”

Alpheratz

“Be careful! Alpheratz might cling to when he is helpless.”

“Change the icon! Various icons are waiting for you!”

“Please help Apheratz if he is clasping his hands. He would be worrying about something bothering him.”

“Be careful as to not get caught by a Professor when you have a dorm war!”

Vega

“Ruled by the seven archmages of Ursa Major. The North Boundary is a land of snow and ice.”

“Is Vega fiddling with his earrings? If so, it means he’s calming down.”

“Vega does gymnastics every eary morning. Wait, gymnastics… … ?”

“Once every 24 hours! Don’t miss your chance to get a free scouting opportunity in the Possession Room!”

“If you need help while playing the game press the ? Shape above!”

“It doesn’t mean that you can give a psychology test just because you’ve taken Magic Psychology”

Arcturus

“Green Blossom Hill on the East Boundary that’s where Arcturus learned to shepherd.”

“Check the diary if you want to know more about the Sorcerers!”

“Lookout for disasters from beyond the universe.”

“Eating meat is prohibited on the East Boundary. We are only allowed to eat meat on commemorative days.”

“Stay tuned for Scouts what will be updated seasonally!”

Spica

“Spica personally has a managing office for Mythical Creatures.”

“Spica’s average sleep per day is 4 hours and 30 minutes.”

“The first disaster started from the collapse of the Tower of Babili when a rusty herald appeared.”

“Contell Acedemy of Magic has an annual event for each period.”

“You can check the affection, clothes, and profiles in the closet!”

“There are many large and small islands in the sea facing the southern border.”

Pollux

“Be careful not to get lost in the tower of Babili.”

“Sometimes we come across short stories after the visit.”

“Of five siblings in the noisy red-roofed house, Pollux and his twin brother are the only sorcerers.”

“Calls are made when certain conditions are met! Save up your story keys!”

“When the festival is held in the Viaduct Plaza of the central zone, guests from all over the world star to gather.”

“Pollux named his magic weapon Dioscuri.”

[freifraufischer]

The New Zealand Problem

Sometimes you can see the issue that will light the gymternet on fire a mile away before anyone has even seen the smoke. And sometimes that fire had always existed.

In gymnastics one of the paths to qualification at the Olympics goes to the single highest all around placement at each continental championship from a country that did not qualify a team already. This is fairly straight forward in most places but gets dicey in one corner of the world. The Oceania Gymnastics Union is essentially a continental federation of 2 countries. Yes there are other members (Guam, Tonga, Fiji, Cook Islands, and America Samoa), but there are no elite gymnasts from those countries. Australia qualified a women's team to the Olympics, so by default that means a Kiwi WAG gets an Olympic spot. At least according to FIG. But they aren't the only ones who get to decide who is an Olympian.

I've talked about "No Olympic Tourist" Policies before, and people may have run into them in regard to Sweden and ice skating, but many small to medium sized countries have policies to limit the size of their own Olympic teams for budget reasons. These national Olympic committees (NOC) set criteria that are higher than the general qualification rules for a given sport. Sweden's is often considered the most extreme (you have to show you are in the top eight in the world, meaning you can make an Olympic final and contend for a medal. The reason they're called No Olympic Tourist Policies is because you wont be sent to the Olympics just to be there.

New Zealand has had a No Olympic Tourist Policy for decades, and while their criteria is less extreme then Sweden's it works similarly. You have to convince the NZOC that you are within the top 16 in the world (the ability to make a semifinal in athletics or swimming where races are 8 lanes wide). In 2012 Jordan Rae was one of the last gymnasts to qualify at the London Test Event, but NZOC turned down her spot and it passed on to Đỗ Thị Ngân Thương of Vietnam who finished behind her and who went on to compete in London.

In this interview from 2016, Rhythmic gymnast Tanya Moss-Barry who represented New Zealand in Los Angeles describes how initially they believed that New Zealand would send no gymnasts to the Olympics that year. Only a top 8 finish at an event in Tokyo convinced the NZOC to send her, and she believes it was at the expense of equally deserving WAG and MAG gymnasts. They would send only one of them.

It appears that Courtney McGregor was sent to Rio on the basis of her vaulting competitiveness. Which itself suggests that the people making the decisions at the NZOC don't really know much about gymnastics. McGregor came in 4th on vault at the Rio test event and 17th at 2015 Worlds. But as anyone who knows gymnastics knows... vault fields are much smaller than other apparatus and a finish in the teens doesn't mean you are as competitive as one on the other apparatus. But more power to them if they were able to get the Olympic committee to send her on that basis.

So the problem for 2024.

The WAG Olympic Qualification road has handed an Olympic spot to New Zealand by default. There are no other elite gymnasts in the region it can go to and no mechanism for that spot to be reallocated to anyone outside of Oceania. And based on the results from Worlds it is highly doubtful that the NZOC will consider either Madeleine Marshall (93rd in the AA and 110th on beam) or Reece Cobb (102nd in the AA and 56th on beam) to be competitive. Courtney McGregor is making a comeback but without competing elite in years I'm not sure how she makes that case either.

Georgia-Rose Brown recently changed countries from Australia to New Zealand but she almost certainly is banking on making an argument for her competitiveness based on her bars results (she came in 4th and 5th on bars at two World Cups in 2023). Maybe the people making a choice at NZOC wont know that 2023 World Cups aren't evidence of competitiveness. Her best bars result of the entire quad would have put her in 22nd on bars at 2023 Worlds. If she qualifies here is to hoping she can make a case. But it does raise the question of if she knew about the NZOC policy before changing countries or if she saw the automatic NZ WAG qualification spot as an opportunity and didn't realize there was an extra step. I have to believe she went into it knowing though. The NZOC is pretty well known in Kiwi circles.

So what happens to this spot if it goes to a Kiwi and the NZOC turns it down? Well... that's not clear. It could go unfilled. Or FIG could ask the IOC permission to let them revert it to the Worlds AA results as Australia's team means that Oceania already had representation.

Or some smart cookie NCAA gymnast with ties to Guam or Fiji could make a country change REAL soon and find themselves at the Olympics with a relatively easy path.

[hecate-spawn]

I hope the next mix event is MafuEmu centred. I hope Mafuyu breaks down in front of Emu because Mafuyu just can't take it anymore. I hope Mafuyu tells Emu what's happening.

Like, ever since Emu figured out something was up with Mafuyu that she'd find out about Mafuyu and her home life

Because Emu could help in her own way. Sure, she doesn't have massive amounts of depression or trauma. But Emu knows what it's like to feel powerless but she pushed forward. I think she wouldn't let the other wxs members know, at least not right away, but she'd probably try to put on a show to make Mafuyu smile or feel "warmth"

And I think she'd be able to pass the Mafuyu's mom test. Like yeah, she knows her mom is a bitch but I don't think she'd act the way Kanade did. (Not that what Kanade did was wrong)

I feel like an interaction they'd have would go like this:

Emu: hey Ms Asahina?

Asamom: yes Otori?

Emu: do you think being a doctor will make Mafuyu smile?

Asamom: yes, why?

Emu: she doesn't seem very smiley to me. But when she's making music she seems happy

Asamom: don't be silly. I'm her mother. I would know

Like, Emu is the daughter of a successful business man, sister to the PXL CEO and she can do things from art to acting to singing to gymnastics. She also goes to the same school as Mafuyu. I think Mafuyu's mom would be okay with Emu and Mafuyu hanging out as long as it doesn't distract Mafuyu too much.

also the idea of Emu putting on a show to make Mafuyu smile is just very "her" and might be something Mafuyu needs.

Also when you think about it, Emu and Kanade aren't too different. They're two short people who care very much about Mafuyu, they care a lot about their friends in general, they want to reach people/make them smile and their ridiculously kind and seem to have a positive streak.

But yeah, I really need Emu to know more of what's going on with Mafuyu. And I just really think Mafuyu interacting with Emu the way she interacts with nightcord would be good for her