#this was supposed to be a warmup if you believe that

[spoofymcgee]

waiting for night

Roy is good at waiting.

Nobody expects it. Every coach and manager he's ever had had been surprised at how easily he could settle in and let time pass, on a hallway bench or in a bus seat.

He's patient with time, not people, is the thing. Time is going to go as quickly as it will, and knowing that lets him use it to his advantage. People are just stupid. Roy would know, he certainly is.

One or two of his girlfriends have asked him what he thinks about, when he goes quiet and still and stands to the side of time passing. They didn't believe him when he said it was nothing.

He wasn't lying, though. His brain just kind of shuts off, piece by piece, like a screen dimming and going into sleep mode. He'll wake if you tap him–and probably tap back harder–but until then it's necessary systems only.

Doctor Fieldstone says this doesn't mean he's stupid, but Roy thinks otherwise.

He's not useless, he knows that. He can fit information into his skull well enough, and it stays there for the most part, no matter how many balls he's taken to the head. He's fit enough; used to be better, of course, but he's not bad for forty, and the important part is that his muscles know what they're doing once he trains enough. They settle into expected grooves, connecting with the situation quick and figuring out what to do.

But he can't think. Can't visualize, which is the big difference between him and Jamie.

Jamie's told him he dreams in football, sometimes. Countless scenarios, puzzling out what to do. He watches the game tapes and rarely ever makes the same mistake in the same way twice, because he can turn it over in his head and figure out exactly what he should have done.

Learning how to include other people in his mental game, and giving his body the strength and flexibility it needs to meet his imagination has made him so much better because of that.

The drills don't hurt, but Jamie never gets the ball without knowing exactly what to do with it.

Roy, when he played, had no clue what was going to happen until it already had.

He'd thought it would make him a shit coach, and he hadn't been wrong, exactly, but only in that he couldn't visualize everything. The board, describing it out loud and talking it over, it worked. He knew his way around a field, knew everyone's strengths and weaknesses and it turned out all the rest was up to them.

The difference is what makes Jamie so good at what he does, and what had made him such a prick. It was a special kind of dickhead who was so sure of himself he thought he could see the future, and the fact that it worked made it worse.

But it also made him dedicated as fuck when he set his mind to it, in a way that Roy still marvelled st sometimes. If he could imagine himself doing something he'd go for it, and if he wasn't there yet he'd work until he was.

Roy had to charge in headfirst and hope it worked out, but he could tell Jamie to climb a tree and he's know he'd make it to the top before his hands hit the bark.

Everything from laps to strength training to drills to his fucking meal plan, he listened to Roy and slotted every word into his brain and pulled it off flawlessly.

It was like a work of art, Roy would think, staring at a marble statue and knowing someone had made it with two hands and a chisel but unable to believe it because it looked so perfect.

And then Jamie would trip on his own laces and fall flat on his face and get up with the most offended expression and Roy would flip from awe to something uncomfortably close to affection so fast it made him dizzy.

And that was the fucking problem, wasn't it?

Roy knew pretty much everything there was to know about himself at this point. One of the benefits of being fucking forty was having had more than a few years to figure out how his brain worked and who he was, and he was pretty solid on it.

He was Roy fucking Kent, decent at football and not bad at cooking and kind of shit at most everything else. Not a big talker, not too quick on the uptake with most things, a lot of cursing, an unfortunate weakness for shit reality tv shows.

And he was falling in love with Jamie fucking Tartt.

It hadn't been a problem at first. He'd hated how much Tartt threw off the team balance they were working hard on, no matter how good he was, and then he hated his stupid, stuck-up arse for his personality, and then he was gone for a bit and Roy could get on with his life.

Only he'd come back, and suddenly Roy was getting up at 4am for some fucking reason, hobbling out with half a yogurt and two ibuprofen in his stomach to counteract the ache in his knee, because the truth was, Jamie was good.

Whatever he'd been through since he left had pared away enough of his shitty attitude that he was bearable, and the team could really, really use him. They were good, but Roy could feel the rough edge Jamie could square away, and make them even better.

More than that, he'd asked. Looked Roy dead in the eyes and asked him to train him, said that he wanted to get better, that he wanted to listen.

And he did.

Plenty of grumbling, especially in the beginning, but that cut out if he got him out of breath enough, and the way he fucking—opened up like a flower in the sunlight or some shit, it was a little addictive.

Roy watched him get better and better and pride spread, warm and comfortable low in his chest, knowing he had something to do with it. It was Jamie's work, Jamie's dedication, doing what Roy told him.

And then they were having breakfast together after training, and Roy was fucking cooking for him, watching the way he reacted to every new ingredient the same way he did with new exercises in training, remembering what flavors he liked, ignoring the way something tightened in his chest when he told Jamie to get him a knife and he didn't have to ask where they were.

And it turned out the little shit was kind of funny when he wanted to be, and so fucking smart no matter how many self deprecating jokes he made about his maths skills. Roy felt like he could write a book, sometimes, about the look in Jamie's eyes as he cocked his head to analyze something.

He started hopping up to sit on the counter and chatter while Roy worked and Roy started having to ignore the little voice in his head wishing he'd been the one to pick him up and put him there, too.

He made good coffee and started carrying around tylenol and instant cold packs after Roy complained about his knee once, and said the stupidest things sometimes and then turned bright red from his neck to his ears.

Roy wanted to touch the tips of them, see if they were as hot as they looked.

He might have been stupid, but he wasn't that stupid. He knew what falling in love felt like.

That didn't change the fact that it was a bad idea.

A horrible, terrible, impossible idea, and Roy was used to loving people who would never love him back, but that was exactly the issue.

He knew Jamie by now, had listened as best as he could to things Jamie hadn't told anyone else, ever, had seen him exhausted and deliriously happy and crying and furious, knew his favorite kind of apple and that he got sick in stop and go traffic and the rotation of songs he hummed while doing the washing up, that he was scared of his dad but more scared of him finding his mum and hurting her, that he laughs when he's not sure what to say and sucks up at the smell of sewage.

And he's pretty sure Jamie's at least a little bit in love with him.

Between the way his eyes stray to Roy when he's done something he wants him to see, how he drifts unconsciously to his side when he's nothing better to do, the way he glows when Roy tells him he's done well, and the kind of blokes he glances at in the pub, Roy's almost definitely got a chance.

Which pretty much only serves to make everything worse, because he's well used to ignoring feelings he can't do anything about, but he could, and so he can't get the thought out of his head.

He dreams about pulling Jamie into his lap and kissing him, and wakes up feeling like a clump of hair in the shower drain. He puts his hands on Jamie's trapezius to correct his stretching posture and the desire to sink his teeth into them hits him so hard it almost bowls him over.

He turns the corner into his own living room one night, two beers held between his fingers, and the sight of Jamie socked out on his sofa aches. He wants to keep him there forever, tuck him in with a fucking blanket and make him tea. He wants to tell Jamie to pick his fucking socks up off the floor when he wakes up, to wash them and keep them there so he has to come back to get them.

He wants to keep Jamie, and he's nearly certain Jamie would let him.

It would work, even, he thinks. Roy is needy, he knows, but Jamie soaks up his attention like a cotton swab and alcohol, just about ready to combust with it. They play off each other well, know how to move together in the same space and never run out of things to talk about.

But Roy is his coach, and fifteen fucking years older than him which feels like it should be some sort of crime when he thinks about it for too long–not because they aren't both adults or because he's so much more wise or mature than Jamie, but he knows the kinds of faces people make about relationships like that, and the fact that he could drink before Jamie had all his baby teeth weirds him out.

Beyond that, Jamie deserves someone who can keep up with him. Roy's under no illusions about what kind of state he'll be in when he's older; he knows how it goes for football players. He's on the downward slope, and Jamie's just hitting his prime.

It would be worse, he thinks, to give Jamie everything he wants to give him and then just. Leave him alone, in however many years they'd have.

No one in Jamie's life would be thrilled with him being with Roy, and he doesn't want to be another reason his mother is disappointed in him.

These are all things he tells himself over and over, late at night when his brain won't stop writing Jamie's name across his eyelids, but nothing is more convincing than the simple fact that Roy doesn't want to lose him.

As sure as he is of himself, as much as he's nearly certain about Jamie, there's always a chance he'd say no. There's a bigger one Roy would screw everything up the way he always has before.

Jamie is already embedded so deep into his life that if he ripped himself away Roy thinks he would bleed out, all the joy and stability he's gotten used to vanishing like so much mist in sunlight.

So Roy waits.

He doesn't get in his own way as much these days, but he's happy, and he likes the way he lives no matter the ache in his throat and the words he locks behind his teeth.

If something's going to happen, Jamie will have to be the one to do it.

He can be patient, even if it means waiting for the end of the world.

Jamie, for the first time in his entire fucking life, or at least as long as Roy's known him, keeps him mouth shut and his hands to himself.

And it's good. It's better, even, and Roy's only a little miserable about it because he has Jamie, and he really couldn't ask for more because for the first time in his life he has someone who won't laugh too much when he says someone dumb, who's always there when he needs to talk and when he needs to sit and be silent for a bit, who knows more or less everything about him, and he's so fucking happy most of the time.

It comes to a head, finally, one evening in Roy's kitchen.

Jamie has soap suds up to his elbows and on his nose, hair pulled back with a sparkly black headbands Phoebe had given him a month back, the last dregs of sunlight streaming through the window and catching on the planes of his face.

Roy grips the doorframe like a lifeline, a thread and a smile away from being on his knees.

Jamie turns, meeting his eyes, and fuck.

Fuck.

The thing about being in love is that it fills you up, all the way, like a universe crammed under your skin, splitting you open at the seams until every thought shows plain on your face.

Like now.

"Hey," Jamie says softly, eyes crinkling at the edges. The light outlines him, golden-orange and getting lost in his hair, and Roy can't do this anymore.

"Jamie," he says, too low, too rough, and he doesn't have the words; he never does, they all get lost on the way from his head to his tongue, so he just looks at him, and hopes, his heart thudding in his throat.

"Ah," Jamie says. "Done waiting, are you?"

"...Yeah," he admits, and it feels like falling, stepping off a cliff and nothing there to catch him.

And then Jamie's across the kitchen, pushing him up against the counter by the doorway and fucking lifting Roy until he's sitting on it, which makes him feel like the bottom's dropped out of his world.

He grins at whatever face Roy must be making, and pulls the little step stool over from the corner with his foot so he can clamber up and then he's in Roy's lap, knees spread to rest on the counter on either side of him, weight settling just above Roy's knees.

He pressed their foreheads together, and it hurts Roy's eyes, seeing him up this close, but he might never close them again anyway. "What took you so long, old man?"

"That," Roy says roughly, after taking a second to process that he can feel the movement of Jamie's chest as he speaks. "A hundred other things."

"Don't care," Jamie says, easy as breathing. "Got you now. I'm not letting go. Never have, have I?"

"Like a fucking dog with a bone," Roy agrees. It comes out softer than he means. "Are you—"

"Yes," Jamie says, impatient. "I've been sure, can I fucking kiss you now you dickwad, I've only been waiting for years."

"Yes," Roy says, faster than he means to, and doesn't even have time to say 'wait, years?' because Jamie's lips are on his and he's shifting, pressing himself into Roy as close as he can get, and he's so fucking warm because he runs hot, and his hands are in Roy's hair and on the back of his neck and it's—

It's nothing like he thought it would be, messier and less coordinated but he thinks even Jamie's imagination couldn't live up to this, how it feels right down to his bones, like Jamie lives in the marrow of them now, or like he's cracked them open just to see what was inside and Roy wouldn't mind if he did.

He pulls back, already smirking, and Roy leans his shoulders back against the cabinets to free up his hands and pull Jamie back down by the hair before he can say anything.

He kisses him deeper this time, and Jamie fucking whimpers into it, which makes Roy feel like he's melting inside, nothing more than candle wax on the surface of the sun. He catches Jamie's lip between his teeth when he starts getting lightheaded with the lack of air and bites down lightly before letting go.

Jamie rocks back, looking thunderstruck, which is better.

"Holy fuck," he swears, shaking his head.

"Not yet," Roy says, before he can think better of it, and then feels himself turning red. "Uh—"

"As soon as fucking possible," Jamie informs him, eyes lighting up. "Man, that's gonna be brill—we ain't got plans for the evening, you know—"

"Too fast," Roy interrupts, but can't seem to keep his hand from straying down to Jamie's jaw and leaning in for another kiss, light and quick. "I want to. Don't want to go too fast."

Jamie pouts, bottom lip sticking out. It's red, teeth marks fading into the skin on the underside, and Roy runs his tongue over his bottom teeth. He did that to Jamie. "Fine. But I ain't doing the rest of the washing up until you make up for all the kisses you owe me for the past fuckin' year of waiting, you prick."

"Year?" Roy asks, and Jamie flushes, ducking his head.

"Or something. Fuck you, like you didn't want to shag me from the beginning, you wanker."

Instead of answering he tips his chin up and closes his teeth over Jamie's earlobe, earning himself a high pitched keen.

"Fuck, Roy," Jamie says, breathless in a way Roy never wants to stop hearing. "Ah! You're just bein' mean now."

"You expect something else from me?" he asks, words sliding against the underside Jamie's jaw.

"Hhhhhhhhh, no," Jamie says, going boneless against him. "Fuck, you're gonna give me beard burn on me face."

"Good," Roy says, and tries his best to do exactly that as the light fades.

They'll talk about it, when the kitchen is blue with twilight, ever fear Roy's had and how they've been waiting for each other, find whatever words they can manage and understand each other anyway.

Roy is good at taking things as they come. He has Jamie to do the dreaming for him.

[kathlare]

surprise in the spotlight

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Amelie takes the stage at Governor’s Ball, basking in the electric energy of the crowd and her passion for performing.

Wordcount: 1.1 k

Warnings: fluff, smau

full masterlist // request over here!

June 10th, 2024 - New York City, NY

The New York City skyline was breathtaking as the sun began to set over Randall’s Island. Amelie stood backstage at Governors Ball, adjusting the small in-ear monitor in her left ear while her stylist gave her outfit one last glance.

The energy backstage was electric, with crew members darting back and forth, performers rehearsing last-minute cues, and the hum of the crowd growing louder with anticipation. Amelie’s heart raced, not from nerves but from adrenaline. This was her element.

She did one final vocal warmup as her band took their places. The setlist had been carefully curated: a mix of songs from emails i can’t send and her newer tracks, Espresso and Please Please Please, which had already taken on a life of their own on TikTok. She smiled at the thought.

—Alright, Amelie,— her manager called out, giving her a thumbs-up. —You’re on in five.—

Taking a deep breath, she nodded, gripping the microphone in her hand.

The crowd roared as Amelie stepped onto the stage, the first notes of Read your Mind ringing out. She scanned the sea of faces, soaking in the energy. People were singing along, their hands in the air, the glow of phones lighting up the twilight. It was overwhelming in the best way possible.

By the time she reached the middle of her set, the energy had only grown. She was halfway through Please Please Please when she caught a familiar face in the crowd. Her heart skipped a beat.

There, standing near the barricade with her team, was Lando.

He was wearing a casual black hoodie, the hood pulled up in an attempt to blend in, but she would have recognized that cheeky grin anywhere. His arms were crossed, but when their eyes met, he waved like an excited kid.

Amelie nearly missed a lyric, her mind momentarily distracted by the unexpected sight of her boyfriend in the crowd. He wasn’t supposed to be here—he’d just raced in Canada the day before!

A smile broke across her face, and the crowd erupted even louder, thinking it was for them. She kept singing, but her eyes kept darting back to him, unable to believe he’d flown across countries just to surprise her.

After the final song, Amelie stepped off the stage, breathless and exhilarated. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in her ears as she made her way backstage. Her manager approached, congratulating her on a killer performance, but she could barely focus.

—Where’s Lando?— she asked, glancing around.

—Out front,— her manager said, grinning. —He’s been trying not to draw too much attention, but good luck with that.—

Amelie laughed, making a beeline for the barricade where she’d seen him. As soon as she stepped out, there he was, leaning casually against the fence like he hadn’t just pulled off the sweetest surprise.

—You absolute idiot,— she said, grinning as she reached him.

—You’re welcome,— he replied, pulling her into a tight hug.

She buried her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him mixed with a hint of travel. —What are you doing here?—

—Had to see my girl,— he said, his voice soft but playful. —You crushed it, by the way.—

—You’re insane,— she said, pulling back to look at him. —You just raced yesterday!—

—Worth it.— He gave her a lopsided smile, and her heart melted a little.

—Come on,— she said, grabbing his hand. —Let’s get out of here before someone recognizes you.—

Back at her apartment, the energy from the festival still buzzed through her veins. Lando flopped onto the couch, stretching out like he owned the place.

—You know,— he said, watching her as she moved around the kitchen, —you could’ve warned me that seeing you on stage would be that hot.—

Amelie rolled her eyes but smirked. —Oh, so this is about you now?—

—Always,— he replied, sitting up and reaching for her hand. He tugged her onto the couch, pulling her into his lap.

—You’re so full of yourself,— she said, but her tone was teasing.

—Only because you make me feel like I’m on top of the world,— he said, leaning in to nuzzle her neck.

—Cheesy,— she muttered, laughing, but her laugh turned into a soft sigh as his lips brushed against her skin.

—I mean it,— he said, his voice dropping. —You’re incredible, and watching you tonight? I couldn’t take my eyes off you.—

Her cheeks flushed, and she tilted her head to meet his gaze. —You’re not bad yourself, Mr. Norris.—

He grinned, his hands sliding to her waist. —Not bad? That’s all I get?—

—You can have this too,— she said, leaning in to kiss him. It was slow and sweet, but the moment their lips met, it ignited a spark that neither of them could ignore.

Lando deepened the kiss, his hands exploring her back as her fingers tangled in his hair. The intensity grew, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other.

—Lando,— she whispered, pulling back slightly.

—Hmm?— he murmured, chasing her lips.

—I can’t.—

His brows furrowed, concern flashing across his face. —What’s wrong?—

—I’m on my period,— she said bluntly, biting her lip.

Lando froze, blinking at her before groaning dramatically and flopping back against the couch. —Are you kidding me?—

She burst out laughing, sliding off his lap but staying close. —Sorry, lover boy. Bad timing.—

—This is a tragedy,— he said, covering his face with his hands. —The worst day of my life.—

—You’ll survive,— she said, patting his chest.

He peeked at her through his fingers, a sly grin forming. —Doesn’t mean I can’t still kiss you senseless.—

—Try it, and I’ll throw you out,— she said, but her laughter betrayed her.

They spent the rest of the night curled up on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder as they talked about everything and nothing. Lando might have been overdramatic, but deep down, he was just happy to be there with her.

--------------

liked by gracieabrams, manudayman, and others

ameliedayman: Gov ball that was one of the biggest loudest most playful crowds l’ve ever seen. so grateful for each and every one!!!! Thanks for having us!

View all 9,506 comments

landonorris: So grateful for this view too 😏🔥 → ameliedayman: @landonorris Keep hyping me up, babe. It’s working. 😘

alexwolffofficial: And she ate. Left no crumbs. Per usual. 🔥 → ameliedayman: @alexwolffofficial Love you, hypeman 🖤

livinforf1: She really said “watch me shine,” and Lando said “I’m blinded.” 😂

hatersgonnahate: Honestly, she’s overhyped. Crowd was probably just drunk. 🤷‍♀️

lovers44: Imagine performing for thousands and your man still makes it all about him. 💀

chillvibes101: She’s so iconic. Lando, you’re punching. 😌 → landonorris: @chillvibes101 I know, and I’ll keep punching if it means she’s mine.

teamamelie: The vocals, the energy, the LOOK. Gov Ball wasn’t ready for you, babe!

landoarmy: Lando probably sent her 100 texts after this. Let her breathe, king. 😂

[greynatomy]

outside perspective

katie mccabe x reader

third part to my mccabe fic. there wasn’t supposed to be a second or third but i’ve just liked to write this.

part 1 part 2

———

Casey is attending an Arsenal game with three of her friends. Decked out in jerseys of their favorite players, posters in hand, they make their way to their seats, right by the field.

Arsenal walks onto the field to warm up. Fans start to cheer. It was very cold out so most fans had on big puffy jackets and scarves. As Casey converses with her friends, a figure sits in the open seat next to her.

Looking to her left, she tries not to freak out seeing Y/N Y/LN sitting next to her. She’s surprised to not see you in a private box. She was hoping to see you, especially after the instagram live incident, and see you watch Katie be captain today.

“Good evening.” You greeted Casey. Breaking out of her shocked state, she greeted you back. “It’s freezing out right now. Wish I brought a thicker jacket.”

“I surprisingly came prepared for the weather.” Casey replied, not really believing who she’s talking to.

“Who’s the one player you’re hoping to meet?”

“Oh, Alessia Russo. She amazing.”

“She is, isn’t she?”

The players have just finished warmups and walking back into the tunnel. Katie, spots where you told her you’d be sitting.

“‘ey there, lovey.”

“Hey, baby.”

Katie reaches over and pulls you in for a hug. She frowns, feeling you shivering.

“You’re shivering, baby.”

“Just a bit cold. Didn’t realize how cold it was gonna be.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Casey watches as Katie runs away towards the tunnel. Not even a minute later, she comes back with the big red windbreakers all the nonstarters are wearing.

“Put this on.” Katie didn’t let you say anything and just started putting your arms through the sleeves, flipping the hood over your head.

“I look like a marshmallow.”

“You look cute. But I’ve got to go now. See you after?”

“Always.”

Casey’s heart nearly melted hearing the conversation. Her heart actually melted when Katie leaned down to give you a kiss.

“You guys are so cute.” The statement came out before Casey could stop herself. She slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. You just laugh, thanking her for the compliment.

You were fairly quiet, scrolling through your phone until the teams walked out of the tunnel. Everyone was screaming and cheering, but you could be heard over every single person.

“My girl’s lookin’ sexy with that armband!”

She saw Katie throw her head back, laughing loudly, giving you a flying kiss, which you ‘caught’ and put it in your (Katie’s) jacket pocket.

After the game, Katie came straight to where you were and you give her all your love.

“Would it be possible to get a picture with you?” Casey asked, shyly.

“Of course. Kate, get in here.”

After the picture, you pull Katie close to whisper something in her ear. Couple second later, she comes back with Alessia by her side.

“Hey, Lessi.”

“So good to see you.”

“This is Casey. A big fan of yours.”

“Well, hello Casey. How are you?”

Casey tries not to freak out. Here she was, talking to her favorite footballer, all thanks to you.

“Thank you so much.”

“No, thank you for being great company.”

“Can I hug you?”

“Of course. Come here.”

Casey watched you, Katie, and Alessia leave. She freaks out with her friends, squealing, laughing, and jumping.

The best day of her life.

———

“Guys. I just got back home from the Arsenal game and it was the best experience of my life. I sat next to Y/N Y/LN and let me just say, she is the nicest person ever. I don’t care what you all have to say, she’s become one of my favorite people.

I freaked out when she sat next to me. Katie came over to give her her jacket cause it was freezing. The whole game, she was fangirling over Katie and it was the cutest thing ever.

After the game, still so cute, but earlier I told her that Alessia was my favorite, and she asked Katie to bring her over, so I got a picture with them all and Alessia signed my jersey!”

comments

user that’s so sweet

user ugh so lucky

yourinstagram thank you for being such great company! hope to see you again soon!

↳ katie_mccabe11 sorry you had to deal with her the whole game

↳ yourinstagram sleeping on the couch

↳ user ohh katie’s in the doghouse tonight

alessiarusso99 so good to meet you!

↳ caseyinstagram im freaking out! lovely meeting you!

user she’s not even all that. katie could do so much better

↳ yourinstagram that “follow back” really says something - katie

↳ yourinstagram katie!

↳ alessiarusso99 the mums are fighting @/leahwilliamsonn

↳ leahwilliamsonn i’m on y/n’s side

↳ katie_mccabe11 oi! i’m your teammate!

↳ caseyinstagram not you guys fighting in my comments

[cathumanthing2]

List of things my orchestra, chorus, and band teachers have said:

"I need your bows to be infused with the power of christmas and stretch out" (orchestra 1)

"i guess I'll be practicing all week instead of doing homework" "atta girl, you got your priorities straight!" (band)

"it needs to sound like 'ho ho ho' not 'ho ho those damn kids keep takin my cookies'" (orchestra 1)

"you're making it sound like the wrong sleigh! its 'sleigh ride', not" *plays the chord from psycho* (orchestra 1)

"dont drink and run, kids" (orchestra 1)

*mewing* (chorus)

"you guys are so zesty" (chorus)

"it sounds like if you took a box of ornaments and just dumped it all over the tree then threw the tinsel on and then it catches fire and your house burns down" (orchestra 1)

"thats a good mama" (chorus)

*weird voice* "i have flower" (orchestra 1)

"YES, ill let you take my job today" (orchestra 2)

"if you're gonna fart... pose" *strikes some weird pose* (band 2)

"you're supposed to do *makes petting motion* kittyyy kittyyy, pet it gently, not *fucking WHACKS the invisible kitten* animal abuse" (orchestra 1)

"yes, im evil and made this warmup to make you smack yourselves in the face" (chorus)

"i want you to burp so loud and long that even your dad is impressed" (band 2)

"i guess we're teaching sign language now" (orchestra 1)

*steals people's sheet music* "im doing you a favor" (band)

*day before long weekend* "you did so good that im giving you Monday off of school" *collective groaning noises at an overused joke* (band)

*chases oboist around the band room* (band)

"who do you think it is?" *calls on kid with hand raised* kid: "is it-" "its not [name2]" (chorus)

"i need you to pretend you're throwing up" (chorus)

"i cant believe im saying this but... percussion, can you perhaps be louder?" (band)

"I have a funny story...my dad died and when my mom got married again she didn't invite me to her wedding." (orchestra 2) (NOTE: i never had this teacher, i joined orchestra the year after she retired)

"do you know how hard it is to make frosty the snowman sound like frosty the snowman instead of frosty the big wet sad puddle?" (orchestra 1)

"We will accept bribery" (chorus)

"guys, will you PLEASE stop hitting kittens" (orchestra 1)

*at a baritone who has his arm resting on the back [name]s chair* "[name2], i dont think [name] wants to go on a date with you" random kid: "yeah, [name2] is like 'hey, wanna go to the movies and put our hands in the popcorn bucket at the same time'"

SO. thats what i have so far. this is FAR from a complete list. the band 2 is for an extra band where the teacher isnt the same one or one of the ones for band, and orchestra 1 and orchestra 2 are completely different and numbered based on when i joined. 1 is after school and not really a school orchestra, and 2 is a school orchestra.

bonus: things they say a lot

"snailed it!" "open up your vowels, sopranos" "you SLAYED" "does anyone have any hot tea?" (chorus)

"SHAPE IT" "less talking more rocking/less conversing more rehearsing" "lets go! *loud clap*" (orchestra 1)

[insert dad jokes here] (band)

[allekha]

Fun With Jump Arm Variations

When jumping, different skaters put their arms in different places, but generally they are pressed flat against the torso, especially on higher-revolution jumps. This compressed shape increases the skater’s rotational speed, which is important for attempting triples and quads.

But as anyone who has watched much skating has seen, you can jump with your arms in different positions, too. There are two main arm variations you will see in modern skating programs:

One arm above the head - these are nicknamed ‘tanos’ after Brian Boitano, who did not invent but did popularize the variation. Ones where the arm is bent a lot may be derisively nicknamed ‘helicopter tanos’, as some fans don’t like how they look. (Brian Boitano 1988 Olympics SP, Brian Orser 1988 Olympics SP, Petra Burka 1965 FS, Wendy Burge 1976 Olympics FS, Ekaterina Kurakova 2022 Euros FS)

Two arms above the head - these are nicknamed ‘rippons’ after Adam Rippon, who also did not invent them but popularized them when he started doing it on his lutz. (He did tanos on it for a while, but then started using both arms when he trained with Brian Orser, because he felt bad doing ‘tanos’ in front of Orser, who famously took silver behind Boitano at the Olympics.) (Adam Rippon 2016 GP France FS, Midori Ito 1988 Olympics SP, Ting Cui 2018 JGP Ostrava  SP, Sihyeong Lee 2021 Nebelhorn FS)

However, there are also other arm variations. These are all rare nowadays, although if you watch older programs, you are more likely to spot a variation that’s not a tano or rippon. Ones I’ve seen include:

Hands on hips - these used to be much more popular back in the day but have fallen out of fashion. I would guess it’s because they slow down rotational speed too much, as every one I have seen is a double except this one by Michael Chack, but I don’t know for sure. (Jill Trenary 1990 Worlds FS, Michael Chack 1992 USNats FS, Rory Flack 1988 USNats SP, Tonia Kwiatkowski 1988 USNats SP, Midori Ito 1987 Worlds SP, Anna Kondrashova 1988 Olympics SP, Yuzuru Hanyu 2010 JPNats FS)

Helicopter arms - this one has been used as a warm-up by Yuzuru Hanyu, and I’ve spotted it in competitions a couple of times with single and double jumps (Rory Flack 1994 US Open Artistic Program, Yuzuru Hanyu 2012 Finlandia Trophy SP warmup)

Arms behind back - I’ve only seen this one performed by Jason Brown in his Riverdance program, where depending on the event he placed either one or both arms behind his back during the second jump of this combo (2013 SA FS, 2014 Nats FS)

Arm switching midair - I’ve only seen this one in this lovely axel variation by John Curry (1976 Olympic SP)

Hands by the head - I believe I may have seen this used by at least one other skater, but the only example I have at hand is this one by Nancy Kerrigan (1990 Goodwill Games SP)

Beginning in 2009, ‘varied position in the air’ became a positive GOE bullet point for jumps. This was because they are supposed to add to the difficulty of a jump, although I’ve seen arguments back and forth from skaters about how true that is for some arm positions (and even if which arm is raised makes a difference for tanos). Years later, they exploded in popularity, particularly in the women’s competition. The trend had its beginning around 2014 or so; the previous season, junior World medalists Evgenia Medvedeva and Serafima Sakhanovich were given programs constructed to include raised arms on a couple of jumps, which wasn’t too unusual, but in 2014, their programs contained many more of them. Medvedeva would go on to dominate the senior circuit for several years and notably used raised arms on most of her jumps during that time, which started the trend in earnest among other skaters.

This GOE bullet point was removed for the 2018-2019 season. But if arm variations no longer get that bit of GOE, why do we still see them so often? There are probably a few reasons:

Skaters who trained them for GOE a few years ago got used to doing them that way and don’t want to mess with their muscle memory

They can add to a program aesthetically

Skaters and their teams may still hope to impress the judges by using them

Skaters have said that rippons help straighten their jump axis

I’ve also seen speculation that rippons can be used to help muscle jumps using the upper body in some cases

I would also like to shout out arm variations on jump exits that aren’t the standard check-out position. These aren’t as common as mid-air variations nowadays and rarely get talked about as their own thing - probably in part because they were never a GOE bullet - but they can add difficulty to the exit as well as give a nice choreographic touch to a program. You can see a few in the above gifs, but here’s a few more:

(Petra Burka 1965 Worlds FS, Yuzuru Hanyu 2021 “White Nights” EX, Anett Pötzsch 1976 Olympics FS, Hana Mašková 1968 Worlds FS, Claudia Kristofics-Binder 1976 Olympics FS, Brian Boitano 1988 Olympics SP, Vladimir Kovalyov 1976 Olympics SP)

[brighteststar707]

pressure cooker

a quick warmup maybe based on real life events ✧

When Saeyoung enters the kitchen to see what his 606 is up to (and to see if he can sneak a taste of what it is she’s making this time), he finds her sitting at the table across from the cooker, eyeing a pot on the stove warily.

When she hears him entering, she beckons him to join her.

“Don’t go near that thing, Saeyoung.”

“The pot? What is it?” From where he’s standing, it looks quite harmless.

“A pressure cooker. It’s a mysterious beast, capable of great dishes, but great danger also,” she says, with the cadence someone narrating a nature documentary. “I don’t trust it.”

He laughs, but she doesn’t join in. She keeps eyeing the pot like she’s expecting it to pounce on her at any minute.

“Is it new? I’ve never seen it before.” It doesn’t look like any of the other pots they have.

“This kitchen is filled with gadgets and things you’ve never used before.”

“Touché.”

The pot suddenly starts hissing and they both jump.

“See what I mean?” She says, leaning even further back. “It’s a fickle thing.”

“Is this what’s supposed to happen?”

“I think so… I think I’m supposed to start timing it now.” She reaches for the kitchen timer (a cute kitty one they bought while first stocking the kitchen) and twists it.  

Saeyoung eyes the pot warily. “What happens if something goes wrong?”

“The pot explodes,” she replies, voice deadpan.

“So many good cooking methods, and you choose to use a bomb.”

She lightly socks his arm but doesn’t disagree – or take her eyes off the pot. It does feel a little like they’re waiting for a bomb to go off (as if they don’t have enough experience with that), with the steady tickticktick of the timer and the pot still hissing.

“It will be worth it.”

He believes that, at least. Since she moved in, she has been cooking the three of them meals more and more often. Home cooked meals are still a novelty to him, especially after living off of fast food and snacks for the past few years.

When the timer finally goes off (and makes her jump again), she grabs a kitchen cloth off the back of the chair and stands up.  

“Now’s the moment of truth, agent Seven. You ready?”

He nods dutifully, “Ready, agent Six. I’ll follow your lead.”

Slowly, they approach the pot, Saeyoung keeping himself well behind her. Despite her hesitancy, he trusts her instincts more than his in this situation. After turning off the heat, with her arm outstretched to keep her face as far away from the pot as possible, she flicks open the vent and watches as a stream of steam escapes the pot. Saeyoung watches her over her shoulder.

Finally, she lets herself relax.  

“I think we did it.”

He cheers and wraps his arms around her, sweeping her off her feet. She halfheartedly swats him with the cloth but he can hear her laughing now, partially from relief and partially because his excitement is contagious.

He puts her down, but keeps his arms around her.

“So, agent 606, what’s the next step? Flambéing with the robo-dog? Chopping with double-sided knives? I’m ready for more adventure!”

[cringetownusa]

I have a Yax writing request. How about after Yakko flirting with Max so much, Max flirts back and turns Yakko into a flustered, stuttering mess? (Maybe have his sibs tease him on the side?)

Still taking drabble requests! They're making for good warmups when I'm stuck with normal writing! thanks for sending this in!

--

Flirting was something Yakko did often, and in his opinion, well. He might not have been successful in the past, well- ever, but he had no doubt in his abilities. He was still going to do it.

Plus the amused, but slightly embarrassed look on Max's face when Yakko took him particularly off guard with a well timed pick-up line or compliment? That was something he didn't intend to give up anytime soon.

And that was the norm. Max would do something funny, charming, or stunning, and Yakko would cover up the the way his breath stopped in his chest and the heat on his muzzle by putting up his familiar barrier of flirting and wit. It was a good way to get out his real feelings under the guise of a joke, and to make his friend smile at the same time.

Today however, was not the norm.

The Warners three were lying on the top of the water tower watching the clouds go by. The sound of metal creaking and soft grunts signaled the arrival of their favorite Disney, but none of them bothered to move from their spot as Max made his way up the ladder.

His face pops up over the side of the roof minutes later, and with a grunt, he leapt and grabbed the lip to swing himself over onto the ledge beside Yakko.

Yakko sat up and clapped. "Very impressive!" All three of them hold up signs to give him points. Yakko's holding a black 10, but his siblings' at 9. "Well there's no accounting for taste I suppose, you'll have to show me your "Parkour Skillz" sometime, I'm afraid with just jumping directly on the tower, I'm a little rusty."

Max, now placed between him and his sister, laughs and returns the joke. "If I could teach any old man how to pull it off, it'd be you. I'll show you sometime."

Yakko's heart swelled at the compliment. He deflected it off with a joke. "Then it's a date."

What Max said next, what Max did next was something new. He turned one way to dot and cocked a hand out toward her, then spoke much like one would expect for a gossiping hairdresser. "Oh my GOSH, darling can you believe it? After all this time, And here I thought he didn't like me!"

Dot, ever the one to pick up a bit quickly, sat and faked painting Max's nails, replying in that same tone. "Oh lucky you! You'll have to bring the boy 'round here sometime, let him meet all the girls!"

"Goodness will I ever, you know I introduce you to all my new boyfriends Margaret."

Whatever Dot said next, was lost on Yakko. The continued mentions of date and boyfriend, were a bit much for his heart to take. He felt much like a teapot. Emotions bubbling and ready to scream.

"Well your nails look lovely now if I do say so, you'll be all ready for your date with that Yakko boy."

Yakko was thoroughly flustered now, only able to watch in shock as the bit continued.

Max blew at the tips of his gloves and pretended to admire them. "Thank you so much Margie, they're as beautiful as ever." 

Dot and Wakko both decide now was a good time to make their departure. Traitors, leaving him alone to deal with the racing of his heart. As they jumped down, his little sister made two more comments. "You must tell me how your date went when you're here next." Then again, in her normal voice, laced with sincerity. "You must, Max."

He swallowed, and waved her off. "Um, yeah, if he'll let me."

If he does the what-the who now? Let him? Yakko? Let Max? Take him on a date? Let? As if that wasn't the deepest secret clutched behind the bars of his sole since they'd met?

"D-do you, do you maybe- um. I mean if it's ok..." Yakko trailed off. He was hopeful, but he really didn't want to be made an idiot if he'd misread everything that just happened.

"Make it a real date? I'd love to."

[thelediz]

Sonic Underground Episode 25: The Hedgehog in the Iron Mask

I’m watching Sonic Underground in search of inspiration to finish a fic I’ve been writing forever. It’s a sad state of affairs. See the recap of the first three episodes here, if you're interested!

The plot (for want of a better word): The triplets rescue a mysterious hedgehog who claims to be a long-lost relative, and spurs thoughts of what life will be like after they regain their birthright. Will the Sonic Underground be able to overcome their sibling rivalry, and remain a team forever?

Yeah… this episode should have been so much more plot relevant than it ended up being.

So Aleena starts this episode talking about how we secretly hide our ambitions from other people, and how it takes courage to let the world see who we really are. It’s… interesting. The first half of her little monologue sounds quite suss, and then the second half is inspiring. One could make too much of this, Aleena!

The triplets are breaking into some kind of prison on the idea that Aleena was once imprisoned there, and there will be clues as to where she is now. Meanwhile, there’s a guy doing opera warmups and preparing for a show.

The triplets are going to be surprised he’s an actor later, but the audience is, as always, way more aware than them. I wonder if that was supposed to be a running theme or point at one point?

The triplets are confused when they hear him, because Robotnik doesn’t normally imprison people—guys, you literally just said Aleena was imprisoned here—and he howls when he calls out, and Sonia finds his voice familiar. None of this will stop them believing him later.

Manic jokes about Sonic’s off-key singing. This is not the only time they will make a joke like this. Now, granted, I would probably not say I enjoy any of the triplet’s vocals, and as I said once, when I was a kid I liked Manic’s best (I no longer know why), but this is such a strange joke that comes up every so often. It’s the sort of thing I’d work up into a big thing about Manic and Sonia resenting Sonic being the front man of both the band and the Resistance, except it’s not. It’s just a random joke. And it’s bothered me since the first time I heard it.

Moving on.

Gotta say, the flow of the animation in this episode is not terrible. Character models are still awful, and they are reusing frames where they can, but the flow is good.

Oh look. An orange item in the middle of the room. A suspiciously moving curtain off to the side. Whoever could have seen this ambush coming.

Dingo is a great actor. I just want to say that. When the triplets tie him up and interrogate him, he spits his lines about how the prisoner is important but did nothing wrong brilliantly. Give that man a Tony.

The Song: Part of the Problem. Another rare Sonia lead, with a pretty funky brass backing. They’re singing to the crowd to try and get people to tell them who the prisoner is. This of course will not really help because there IS no prisoner, but it’s a good propaganda song for the Resistance, so uh. Cool.

But of course it doesn’t work, so of course they need to break back in to rescue him. Which is not very hard, given that’s Robotnik's whole plan.

The prisoner is wearing a metal headcovering, which he claims is a bomb that will explode if it’s removed. And he, in a complete turnaround from literally everyone else in the series, does not recognise them as Aleena’s children. Now, at this point, even if we didn’t know he was an actor, I’d be suspicious, because EVERYONE knows these kids EVEN WHEN THEY SHOULDN’T.

Also, he’s not a great actor. He barely avoids saying the word 'GASP'.

He gives them some golden rings that ‘bear the royal family crest’ which—I remind you—was established last episode as the Royal H. They do not have the Royal H. But this may just be poor continuity, so whatever. They're tracking devices, spoilers.

Now. Now. He gives a speech here which is totally made up but I clearly internalised and took it as gospel. He claims to be the queen’s twin brother, and that there’s a law that says there can be only one ruler, so he was sent into exile. This is to sow conflict between the siblings, obvs, but is also legitimately contrary to the Council of Four. In my story, I very much make this a point, because triplets don’t just come out of nowhere, genetically – you will tend to see twins and triplets throughout family lines. But we NEVER hear of any other family members. So I, being the problem that I am, take that to mean that problematic heirs are quietly removed from public life once they stop being important backups and lose their legitimacy to the throne. Because this royal family has PROBLEMS, folks.

Meanwhile, no sooner has the actor said his lines than the triplets start bickering, with Sonic assuming he’ll be ruler, Sonia laughing at the idea because a “ruler needs to have some CULTURE”, and Manic stating that he’s the “real representative of the people”. So, you know, effective plot building on their pre-identified internal conflicts (except Manic, but we’re pretty sure that’s just fumbled characterisation, not actually out of nowhere). It’s not a bad setup for an episode, is what I’m saying.

I also obsess over the fact that Sonic is the only one of the three who focusses on how he won’t banish the other two. Manic and Sonia DO NOT MENTION THIS ISSUE. Sonia, in fact, is being SO SHALLOW this episode, claiming she gets the crown because the other two would suck and she looks best in finery, while Manic is just getting all resentful.

Oh, oh, oh, I love Sonic and Sonia’s argument so much for my purposes. Sonia snaps that Sonic would drive Mobius to disaster (which he would, to be fair), and Sonic is the first to say that he’ll banish HIMSELF if Sonia becomes queen, and points out how he never needed anyone before and doesn’t now (which again, is true, to be fair), while Sonia is clearly throwing a tantrum and runs off on her own. Manic, as always, just goes along with it, and so the triplets split up.

Manic, naturally, lasts about five minutes before he gets captured. Sonia needs a bit of a guilt trip, but then gets caught too. But when the actor tries to finish up by catching Sonic, Sonic’s suspicions kick in, he decides he’s had enough of this ‘uncle’, and recognises the rings as homing beacons. But as he fights the ambush off, the actor throws himself in the middle of Sonic’s attack and Sonic brains himself on the helmet.

Yes, that’s right, Sonic actually doesn’t just save the day this episode! They’re actually going to bring the Sonic Underground back together to win this time! THIS EPISODE ISN’T GOING TO DEFEAT THE WHOLE STORYLINE OF THE SERIES!

So now that the hedgehogs are caught, the actor has served his purpose and is thrown with prison along with them. Without his mask, revealing himself to be “Luke Perrywinkle” (oh honey. Luke Perry was not this hammy thespian.) that Sonia was a huge fan of and Sonic thought was a ham. Manic had no idea.

Sonic with a sword, Sonic with a sword, Sonic with a sword!

So of course they have to work together to get out, and the actor announces he’s going to join the resistance, and the triplets decide they will rule together, and we end happily once more.

And I... I'm...

This…

Guys.

This was an actual good episode, guys.

Like… still low budget and still a bit messy, but… guys, this was… actually good? Like… it had story and character progression and a lesson that the siblings actually learned that would legitimately lead them toward The Council Of Four and…

It was COMPETENT???

WHAT THE HELL, TRASHFIRE. I AM OFFENDED, HOW DARE YOU.

Tomorrow better be back to form, or so help me I might actually have to give you credit for trying.

[blondebeardtheparent]

Captain’s Log

Stardate 20240711

Day 109

I haven’t written in a couple days because I haven’t really had the extra processing power to do so. Monday, we went to the hospital for our last checkup; in the evening we went go-karting. Tuesday we got the results (everything looks good), brought Simon to the King of Starbucks, booked our flight home, and went to an indoor playground. Wednesday, we packed up everything like a family tornado, returned all the stuff we borrowed to three different locations, and somehow managed to catch our 3:00PM flight (with about 20 minutes to spare). We finally arrived home around 8PM.

Looking back, it is hard to imagine that it has only been month since we left for Shanghai. In that time, we have moved three times, done a major surgery, chemotherapy, and CarT. Rae said the past month felt like a year, and she’s completely right. I have lost all track of time. The days blur into each other. Today, we decided to just take a day to veg. Tomorrow, we will try to meet up with friends, but right now, it’s just good to be home.

Next week, I will be pursuing my green card application and trying to figure out what kind of job to get next so we can move back to Shenzhen. I’m completely burned out on education. Photography doesn’t generate a stable income. Writing is fun, but there’s a reason professional authors generally die slow deaths in obscurity. Selling material objects has about as much appeal to me as being a garbage man—actually, I think the garbage man is more socially beneficial. About the only thing that I’m truly interested in at this point is ministry, but you don’t get paid for that in this country. If I went back to the US, I might be able to rectify that, but round trip airfare for a family of four plus living expenses costs about as much as a new Chevy Spark.

I can’t see the way forward, but that just means I’m probably right where I’m supposed to be. When I left school 20 years ago, I would never have been able to predict coming to China. When my heart was broken twice over, I would never have been able to predict my epic love story. When I came to Shenzhen with nothing, I would never have been able to predict getting my dream job at the university. Now, I’m unemployed and battered by three rounds of cancer, but I’m not out of the game. I believe God has plans for us, and all of this is just the pre-game warmup. If you’re reading this, help us pray it through—whatever it is.

[pyrriax]

sometimes you have to write abt the blorbos and let the influence of the fics youve been reading shine thru

This isn't love, this is kicking in teeth. It's tasting blood on your tongue, feeling it run thick and coating everything in brilliant crimson as all you can do is grin. Really, it's a beautiful thing, especially when it's his blood, all familiar when it's smeared on the dirt and dipping into the cuts on your own hands. You don't believe in wrapping your hands before you swing, you'll end up with split knuckles regardless, so you embrace it. Adrenaline keeps you going long past exhaustion, and really, you probably could've quit a long time ago, but his face is just this side of punchable, and you'd rather kill the bastard than let him go.

^ anhedonia!mapicc, btw. i had a single line and im running with it. it was supposed to be a title but this is my warmup so its allowed to weave itself in. 1k warmup and then i go to sleep because i need to get the words going and remember to just let go and let the fic write itself instead of shepherding it too much

[angelcloves]

Your writing is so good! I could never take the prompts you receive and write them half as good as you do.

its a challenge sometimes! ive gotten requests that ive just stared at for hours wondering 'how am i going to make this work' but thats kind of why i take them to begin with! its supposed to be a challenge! it makes you a well rounded writer! i recommend trying this as a writing exercise if you want to improve but pick a random word and give yourself a hard 500 word (give or take ten or so words) limit to make it work! you can use that word as a central theme or in the dialogue as long as it inspires you! and if youre stuck on generating words ive compiled quite a list that i like to use for my own warmups and writing event generation so just throw me an ask and ill give you a word! an unbiased one! and if you want to post the fic you came up with absolutely go for it! if not thats cool! thats what practice is for! but seriously practice will take you so far! its just a matter of finding the right exercises sometimes. youre not going to put out a masterpiece of overarching fiction all the time and thats alright. even i write stinkers. so its not a mystery how i got here. practice practice practice. i believe in you!!!!!

[btheleaf]

Writing warmup that got out of hand. One day I'll be capable of doing something without it getting out of hand (not).

Suzin AU oneshot that only makes sense in my head. 1.2k words Read it on AO3

The man in the barn

=/\=

He hadn’t thought much of the man when he first met him. Just another beggar that ended up in the village after falling on hard times. These things happen.

The woman he was with might have been his, but the child she carried in her arms certainly wasn’t. The man had Tribe eyes, the woman had eyes of the Kingdom, and the baby looked Fire Nation. But at the end of the day, it wasn’t his place to judge, and truthfully, he didn’t really care. The beggar jumped at the promise of a hefty bag of rice for a week’s worth of work, and the farm needed the extra hands.

Chang stared at the beggar now laid up on the piles of hay in the shady barn. The other men had helped bring him inside after he collapsed in the heat. Or he thought it was the heat that caused him to pass out, but the longer he sat there trying to spoon water into his mouth, the angrier his stomach sounded.

It made sense now why he always showed up in long sleeves and headband. There was so much he was trying to hide under those clothes. As if the litany of scars and the seamless metal cuffs and collar weren’t bad enough, the tattoos running all over his body were. Maybe the tattoos were supposed to mean something significant, maybe they were like a brand on an animal, an indication of who owned him before. Chang wasn’t sure what they meant, but he saw them for what they were right now, a massive target on the man’s back that he was desperate to hide.

The man, “Li” as he called himself started to come to. He curled in on his side, pressing his tied hands into his stomach, likely trying to fight off hunger pangs. Chang threw him the half a loaf of bread he was planning to feed to the wildebeast pig later and the man snatched it up and started to eat the stale thing, dirt and all.

“You want to tell me how the most wanted man in all four nations ended up on my farm?”

Pale blue eyes turned to him and Chang thought for a second that he should have done more than just tie his hands and feet together with leather straps from the mule horse saddle. The wanted posters labeled the man “extremely dangerous,” and had the mark of the White Lotus, the Southern Tribe Chief, and the Fire Lord on them so everyone knew it wasn’t a joke. The bounty on his head was no laughing matter either. Although the amount did seem high for someone who appeared to be a slave, enough yuan were promised for turning the man into the authorities that Chang could buy himself and his whole family a new life in a fancy city. The posters said he was an airbender, the son of the previous avatar. Chang wasn’t sure if he believed that though, it didn’t seem likely that the son of Avatar Aang and this mess in his barn were the same person.

The look in the man’s eyes made a chill run down his spine despite the heat. Only the elders in the village who lived to see the end of the war had eyes like that.

“You can tell me,” Chang said. “I haven’t made up my mind about what to do with you yet.”

That much was true. This man, this “Tenzin” as the posters called him, was a hard worker and he clearly hadn’t been stealing food if he was starving. He was evidently trying to do an honest day’s work to care for the woman and the baby, and Chang didn’t take lightly to snitching to the police, especially if this was going to escalate to some kind of international incident. Some men just needed to be left alone to sort through their own shit and he didn’t need soldiers stomping around his grounds.

But that price tag was a little more than tempting…

The man looked down at himself, shirtless now after the men peeled off his sweaty clothes to help him cool down in the shade. There was hardly an inch of him that wasn’t covered in scars, and the metal around his wrists was clearly still leaving bruises on him from time to time judging by the purple and yellow skin above his hands

“Let me leave and you’ll never see me again.”

His voice was dry, maybe it was the dehydration that got to him. Chang made a show of the fact that he had a knife and moved the water bucket closer. Just like with the old bread, his captive didn’t hesitate to partake. The water ran down his unkempt beard as he used his dirty hands to bring it to his lips, and he finished by splashing some through the dark hair on his head.

“Everyone’s looking for you. What did you do?”

“I ran.”

“Here?”

“Away.”

“What from?”

“Everything.” He tested out the straps binding him and got very quiet. “Are the authorities on their way?”

“I haven’t called anyone, but I wouldn’t put it past the others to go trying to collect your bounty. Everyone saw that blue ink of yours.

“Then I need to leave. Now.”

“Did you kill anyone?”

A long pause. “No.”

Chang shifted uncomfortably. “Are you the son of Avatar Aang?”

“Not anymore.”

He made a sweeping motion with his hands and hay kicked up everywhere. Chang’s small stool tipped over and when he righted himself the man was standing over him, now with only his hands tied. Chang swallowed hard as hay lazily floated down from the ceiling. He always thought air sounded like a silly element, but apparently it had its own virtues. The man watched him for a moment and Chang decided it might be best to remain very still.

“Thank you for the bread and water.” He started towards the door.

“Wait!” Chang scrambled off his ass and put the knife away.

The man stopped to face him and stood there while Chang undid buckle and strap he used to bind him.

“Pay day came early. Come get your bag of rice so your lady friend and that baby don’t starve.”

For a second there Chang thought the man would cry, and he knew he made the right decision. Cold-blooded killers didn’t cry over bags of rice, and the man hadn’t even laid a finger on him even though he clearly could have done some damage with his bending. The man grabbed the shirt and headband from outside and put them on as they went across the property to the food stores. Chang handed him the sack of rice and the animals by the entrance to the farm started hooting and hollering.

“Someone’s here, you should go out the back.”

Tenzin put the sack down for a second to bow and hold his hands together in some kind of gesture Chang had never seen before.

“I won’t forget you. Thank you.”

Chang showed him out the back entrance and went to go play one of his favorite games, lying to the cops.

[lokiofsalvation]

[The epilogue. In the viewpoint of Alistair, calling of an archer but one of a hero.]

White light blinded me. Before the light, I heard the insertion and piercing sound of multiple polearms through layers of skin and bones. A hand reached to where the light emerged— it was mine, my eyes registered as I blinked, and I realized the light was the doing of my brain; to hide the sight I wouldn't be able to bear.

I thought of the prophecy that Priest Asanovich declared to me the moment I turned twelve, the age where one could comprehend the world around them.

When the apocalypse comes, it is the sign of the times. A figure with eyes of molten gold shall emerge, wielding a voice that whispers promises of deceit and safety.

His eyes were glazed, no sign of a working heart or brain in them. Of course, both had been pierced by humongous arrows. One, two, three, four… I could count the protruding ribs of his now thinly frail body. His skin was a pasty white like a vampire’s, but unlike a vampire, he was not immortal.

Beware their gaze, for they are the harbinger of darkness as dark as their hair. The Antichrist, he might be. Devastation and despair shall follow in their wake.

Perhaps there is some truth in the prophecy. Maybe he is the Antichrist. I dug crescents on my palm as I thought so. He wasn't kind— not kind enough to be with me and our companions I suppose. What about Keiros? His humongous art forms that were once on paper have turned into real life. A place people lived in, even. Revi, the one that was actually talked about by the prophecy? He might as well be your child! Shame on you. Shame on you, []. For leaving us! For forging promises you'll never withhold! You dare leave for months then arrive back perished? You don't think of us. You…

You don't think of me.

Unbeknownst to all of us, you had turned into one none of us cannot recognize! Your slight tan had turned into deathly paleness, and your dark, neatly kept hair had turned long and raggedy.

Tell me, oh, do tell me, [], my dear. I barked at him internally, torturing myself more as I looked at his corpse, nerves swollen around my face, out of fear and grievance. Our worlds collided, and when it did, we met. We were not on good terms at first. But the more I saw your raging confidence and strength, I was in awe. You were beautiful. Yet it all crumbled down when I realized you were a fraud.

The world will succumb to their temptations, forsaking truth for falsehoods.

Yet again, I let you wallow in my trust, my hope. You were punished too much, I thought, when I saw you the first time you attempted sacrifice.

Your mother was a wood sculptor and your father, a carpenter. Arms spread on wood, you were nailed into ebony! In those could-be last moments, as the cross you lied on elevated from the ground, did you smell the wood through the metallic smell of blood and thought of home?

Now, at this moment, when I struck you down, unaware that this creature I encountered was you, did… did you still believe that I was a hero? A renowned archer, a hero? Me?

-

On a nearby building, Alistair the archer relaxed his body weight on the warm railings, one hand on the bowstring and the other on the helm. Eyes straight into the target, a thin humanoid creature with long limbs and walking on its hands and feet like a spider. With its long dark hair and hollow eyes with hints of yellow and dirty, stiff wings, it looked like a fallen angel, no, a ghost.

Loading the bow that was almost his size with three lengthy, almost like spears, arrows into it, he elongated the string, thumb steady, and let go.

The creature hoarsely shrieked, penetrating its ear to the ear drum to the brain. Strings of intestines ruptured away from the main body through the arrow, the body dropped to the concrete. The wings cracked and shattered as if it had dried.

The blood is red unlike any fiend, Alistair pondered before his eyes widened to oblivion.

(Haven't written in a while. Warmup.)

[declanfs]

November 1, 2023

Hard to believe its November! Where has this year gone?! I haven’t typed a bunch in a while because we are always so busy doing all of the things, but I made myself this velcro chore chart thing for extra accountability, and I am a stickler for streaks and crossing things off my list, so here I am! (A Tumblr post is on my weekly list)

This might be too much to share with you because its mental health related and it might shatter the fourth wall or whatever because I’m a parent and an adult and I’m supposed to have everything figured out, but lately I am having lots of fear around not being here to watch you grow up. I have no reason to really have these thoughts because I’m as fit as a fiddle, but I guess because I’ve had some people get sick and/or pass away in my circle of friends and family. But I guess my biggest fear of all surrounding these thought processes is that you will have to grow up without me and not know how much I love you and how much I cherish our days and nights together. You are a ton of work, there is no downplaying that fact, but you have brought about the most meaningful and life changing work of my whole life. Some days are really hard, but a lot of days are so great and filled with little magics and I feel like I am so good at being your mom. So the purpose of this little paragraph is just to let you know that if something ever happens and I am not here, I hope you can read this and know that if it was matter of fighting and trying to stick around for you, I would move the heavens and earth and mountains and stars to be here for you as long as I can. To be here if you need my help, or to listen to your stories, to share in your joy, or to just be your biggest fan and cheerleader from the closest you’ll let me sit in the stands. I tell you every day that I love you forever and always, no matter what, but I just wanted it here in writing in case you forget and need this reminder.

I love how you curl into me and say ‘I love you mama’ 5-15 times right before you fall asleep. I will pick you uppy as long as I can, even though you are getting quite tall (39”) and growing stronger and bigger everyday (31.5lb). I will never say no if you ask me to read to you, and Dada or I will sleep with you until you decide that you are ready to sleep alone. I didn’t know it at the time, but YOU and this exact brand of motherhood is exactly what I signed up for and better than I could have dreamed.

Yesterday was Halloween and you did not really want to go. You definitely did not want to wear your costume at all. You were crying as I helped you get dressed and said you wanted to stay home and watch Paw Patrol, and I told you that I hoped you could trust me and give it a chance and if we got out there and you still didn’t like it, we could take your costume off and come back home. Once we got outside and you saw that dada was coming too, you seemed happier, and then you were happier still when we got to Jace’s house and you saw him and Cami and Paula. You probably would have been content to just run through the leaves and stay in their yard until it got dark, but I asked you to trust me again and give trick or treating a chance.

It took you a few houses to warmup, meaning dada had to carry you up to the front door and hold out your bucket for you, but then you saw Jace and cami running around and after that I had to chase you up and down the streets. It got dark pretty quickly and our neighborhood is not well lit so it was a bit scary to think about losing sight of you! You got 68 pieces of candy (not counting whatever you and dada ate before we got home), and you even said trick or treat and thank you as you went up to people. It was fun to watch and your little “thank you” is super cute and sweet.

We got home around 7:45 and I don’t think you fell asleep until close to 9 because we stayed up to look through your candy and eat some and so I could make that reel to commemorate the day. You slept hard but woke up a few times in the night telling me that I messed up your trees. I asked you about it in the morning and you were talking about the farm toy rotation and said I took your trees and put them on the couch or something? I’m not sure, but its so funny when you talk in your sleep.

Today we just had an easygoing day at home. For the past few weeks you haven’t wanted to leave the house as readily as usual. I’m hoping its just a phase, but I also recognize that you need days to just chill and play at home so I can’t and don’t want to have things planned every day of the week.

A normal day:

6:30 wake up to the birds on your hatch sound machine. Sometimes you just want to lay up there and snuggle and “hide.” Some days you bolt upright at the first bird sound and you say “it’s morning, time to wake up”

Sometimes you go to the gym and play on your climbing gym while dada and I do our workouts, but some days dada has already done his workout and you and he play while I do my workout. He chases you, or hides with you, reads books, builds magnatiles, whatever your little heart desires. You’ll have a smoothie or are starving and eat 3 pancakes or French toast sticks or eggs.

8:30ish I have my breakfast. Sometimes you join me, but sometimes you are already done eating and just wander around while I eat.

We play inside or I convince you to go to the library or the park or the gymnastics gym or Pop and Deedees or more recently the AmFam pool area

11:30/12:00ish is lunch.

After that is done, sometimes 20 min, sometimes an hour and a half, we make our way upstairs to nap. For a while you really wanted to sleep in your teepee and that was not super comfortable for me or dada, but we would do it for you.

You’ll nap for 90 min or 2 hours. I have been sneaking out lately to work on programming or other random house projects that a bit easier to do when you are asleep.

Lately, you wake up still tired I think, so you are pretty sad and needs lots of hugs and love for 20-30 min after you wake up. Sometimes we read books in your room or watch videos on my phone, sometimes we hide in your downstairs fort, sometimes I can distract you with something or take you outside right away and then you are content to play.

6:00 dinner

6:45 bedtime vitamin and bath or shower, then books. The past few nights you have wanted to read Our Birth Story book that titi Nelly made for us, which has been very special and sweet to look through with you. It’s fun to hear what stories you are learning go with each picture and how you were growing in my belly and dada and pa buried your willow tree and how we didn’t have any toys in the backyard because we were waiting to see what kind of toys you would like.

Tonight was a tough one because the lights went off at 7:30 but you didn’t fall asleep until 8:20. You tossed and turned and were cold then hot and you didn’t like the blanket and your feet were too hot. You said “I love you mama” about 9 times and after you flopped around for the 10th time, I asked if you wanted me to sing you some songs and you said yes. This is my magic trick. I’m not sure why it works, but you ask me to sing the little blue truck song, which is me singing the words to Little Blue Truck Leads the Way (I have it memorized because we read that book every night for like 2 months straight), and it takes about 3 minutes. Usually by the end of that, you will be asleep. But tonight it took a few extra songs: Row your boat, twinkle twinkle, head shoulders knees and toes, and finally you are my sunshine. It feels so good to be able to do this for you. It feels so good that my arms and my voice and heartbeat are the things that help you feel safe and comfortable enough to fall asleep. I know you and dada have your own things for bedtimes and wakeups, but this is how it always works for us. Sometimes you fall asleep in 10 minutes, and sometimes it takes over an hour. Usually its closer to 30 minutes.

So anyway, this post was a bit unusual and next time I’ll share more about the funny things you do and say, but this needed to be said. I love you forever and always, no matter what. There’s no problem so big that we can’t solve it together.

[friendshipstates]

(I wrote a little something after seeing the promo for Otona Precure...)

(The idea of seeing Pretty Cure being allowed to age got me in a writing mood. Please enjoy)

The Tuesday of Our Dreams

[TXT-Dreaming Girl] Can you pick me up from work today?  My car is in the shop. [TXT-Superstar] Gladly. Welcome back, by the way. [TXT-Dreaming Girl] Thanks. Dinner’s on me.

Yumehara Nozomi smiled as she looked over those texts in the parking lot for the studio. After several months on an international press junket, her good friend Kasugano Urara had returned to her home studio for a few months.

Nozomi checked in with the security guard and walked towards the waiting room behind the stage. The red light was still on, so she brushed a strand of pink hair from her eyes and looked around the room.

An older gentleman practicing lines for his next scene. A young girl and her mother, working through some vocal warmups, Kisaragi Gentaro, a grandmother who…wait, go back one.

The sound that came from Nozomi’s lips was an undignified squeak and Gentaro recognized it immediately.

“I was wondering when you were going to spot me here, Nozomi!” Gentaro stood and gave his friend and fellow teacher his friendship handshake. Nozomi immediately followed this up with a tight hug.

“Sorry, Gen. Sometimes tunnel vision kicks in, especially after a day in the classroom. You know how that is!” Nozomi pulled Gentaro away from the stage door. 

“I sure do. But you’re forgiven, Nozomi. Man, what’s it been?” Gentaro laughed.

“About five months. I haven’t seen you since the big event at Alice’s place.” Nozomi recalled how Gentaro had left from a side door and had always wondered what had caused that reaction.

“Yeah, that one was on me.” Gentaro let out a breath that sent a ripple through his hair. “Do you want to know why that happened?”

“I guess, if you’re willing to tell me.” Nozomi rested a hand on his shoulder, though she had to reach up quite a ways to do it.

“One of the wealthy people at Alice’s party made a comment about how teachers would never be on their level…” Gentaro began.

“Well, I mean we know…but hey!” Nozomi interjected.

“Exactly. But it didn’t stop there. Everything he said just made my blood boil and I finally just pulled Sebastian aside and asked for a quick exit. I apologized to Alice the next day, but I just didn’t want to risk running into other rich people with a similar attitude.” Gentaro admits. “I mean, that means I missed out on quite a few parties at the Yotsuba Manor.” “They were a lot less interesting without you, Gen.” Nozomi tapped him on the shoulder playfully. “So, what are you doing here?” “One of my students is an extra for a scene today and I’m supposed to bring her home today.” Gentaro took a cup of water from the fountain and offered it to Nozomi, who just shook her head.

“That’s a nice thing to do. But is there anyone else who can bring her home? Why you?” Nozomi questioned.

“My student is the daughter of alien ambassadors, and she’s been targeted by a group of ‘Humans First’ terrorists who style themselves after knights.” Gentaro deadpanned. Nozomi blinked once, then again. “I don’t know what’s worse. That you can say something like that with a straight face, or that I believe you without hesitation.” Gentaro shook his head. “It’s not even in the top twenty weirdest things that has ever happened in our lives, and we both know it.” “Right, Of course. There’s nothing normal in our field of work. There’s only ‘weird’, 

really weird’ and ‘Tuesday.’”

“And Tuesdays are just the worst” They said together, sharing a years-long inside joke.

“So, does Urara know you’re here? She’s going to be super excited to see you, Gen.” Nozomi asked, finally taking the offered water.

“No, I figured that would be a surprise for her…” Gentaro looked up as the red light went off. “Lead her around the corner, please?” Gentaro moved about thirty feet down the hall, leaving Nozomi to watch as Urara exited the stage, with a dark-skinned girl following her. “I didn’t realize it would require that many takes.” Gentaro’s Student Kilena said. “There were a lot of moving parts, to be sure. Our actress had to hit just the right point on the stage, and stumble in just the right way to throw the cake up in the air. Then the cameras needed to be set up for a shot where it could record everyone’s reaction, especially yours. I have to say, looking at the final shot, your face was the most genuine.” Urara said with a grin as she spotted Nozomi.

“That’s just because I was thinking about the poor craft services baker who had to make seven cakes just to watch them get ruined.” Kilena said as she looked around. Was her teacher here yet? He said he would be. “Nozomi! Meet Kilena Akralis. She’s one of our extras today and she did a wonderful job.” Urara gently pushed the young girl forward. “Yumehara-sensei!” Kilena said with a grin. “Sorry, Kasugano-san, but we’ve already met. She’s been a substitute teacher at my school when my Sensei is ill.” “Hey, kiddo! You’re well on your way. First an extra role, then you’ll be doing commercials for toothpaste. Then, the big time.” Nozomi teased her part-time student. “Ready to go, Urara?”

“Yes, lead the way, Nozomi.” The two ladies turned the corner, and Urara finally saw that all too familiar pompadour. If Nozomi’s reaction had been a squeak, Urara’s was a prolonged “EEEE” altered only by the Doppler Effect as she ran up to give him a humongous hug. “Good to see you too, Urara.” Gentaro gently disengaged. “I’m here to take my student home, but I’d be happy to spend some time with you after that.” “Oh absolutely! We have so much to catch up on, Gen-chan! We’ll see you at the…” Urara looked to Nozomi for confirmation.

“Bistro La Salle.” Nozomi answered. “Great. Let me get Kilena back and I’ll see you there.” They traveled together down the hall a bit longer until they reached the parking lot. However, before Gentaro could even put a helmet on Kilena, all four of them got that sense that something bad was about to happen. “Is this a bad time?” The “Knight” said as he charged up his laser spear. “Give up the alien and I’ll let the rest of you leave.” “Nah.” Gentaro, Urara and Nozomi all said at the same time. No words wasted on a single foe. “Your organization sent one knight to kill me.” Kilena stood tall in the midst of her teachers and heroes. “They should have sent more.” A belt extended around Gentaro’s waist. A rocket charm was pulled from Kilena’s necklace and a pair of magical cellphones appeared. “3..2..1..Henshin!” “Pretty Cure, Blast Off!” “Pretty Cure Metamorphose!”

The enemy knight was defeated exceedingly quickly, running with his armor in tatters. The two senior Pretty Cure looked at their junior. 

“Were you casting around the same cosmic energy as Fourze, Cure Nova?” Cure Lemonade asked.

“As far as I can tell. We’ve never really measured it though.” Cure Nova smiled.

“If it is the same energy, it certainly chose a worthy host.” Cure Dream patted Cure Nova’s head

“Of course, this had to happen on a Tuesday.” Cure Lemonade sighed and all three adult heroes chimed in “Tuesdays are just the worst.”

“Tuesdays, huh? Strange. In my circle, it’s the Thursdays that we just can’t get the hang of.” Cure Nova laughed as she canceled her transformation. “Let’s get me back before my parents start to worry, Kisaragi-Sensei.”

“Sure thing, Kilena. Ladies, I’ll see you at the Bistro La Salle in about thirty minutes.” Gentaro gave his student a helmet and Nozomi and Urara a small salute,

Urara looked at Nozomi as Gentaro left. “I think we can afford to take the long way around to Bistro La Salle, can’t we?” Nozomi smiled. “Of course. Better we all get a table at the same time. How about we surprise him? I can get Rin down there to meet him at least.” “That works for me, Nozomi. I’ll contact Karen and Komachi as well.”

[donnerpartyofone]

A few years ago I paid to take this mushroom class led by a woman who I believed to be a real educator, someone who ran a business farming and foraging and making various culinary and medicinal preparations. On the first day we all introduced ourselves and I said something like "I'm excited to go beyond the usual trendy hobbyist trivia and really gain some knowledge about mycology," and there was this odd silence from the group, which should have been my first clue that actually most of the "class" was just the instructor's buddies who seemed to be using it as an excuse to hang out. They were all irritating young hippies, some of them were rich actually, and I never learned anything that I couldn't have found out from Wikipedia. I kept going because I wanted to believe that the cost of the class would be justified eventually, but it just got worse and worse. The last session was an excursion to go spot mushrooms in a park that was about an hour and a half from me, on an extremely humid day that felt like it was about 110 degrees. I was the only one who showed up on time, and when the hippies arrived they all started doing these like improv warmup exercises, and gave me dirty looks when I just went and sat somewhere to wait for them to finish. We finally got going more than an hour later, and the instructor kept encouraging everyone to "make friends" and "hang out" with the mushrooms, and all the hippies kept talking to them in baby talk and singing goofy made-up songs to them. The instructor identified some herbs and things with certain traditional purposes, and everybody was talking about "plant medicine" and when it obviously wasn't part of most of their actual heritage or lifestyle. I saw this girl gathering big fistfulls of mugwort and I said, as nicely as I could, I don't know what you're planning to do with that but it's incredibly invasive, you probably already have it in your neighborhood but if you plant it, it could wind up being the ONLY thing in your neighborhood. Of course this just pissed her off. Anyway about half way through this nightmare we ran into another mushroom group called the Death Angels who had their own tote bags and shirts with really cool designs, they were all in their 50s and 60s and knew what they were talking about and had collected a bunch of awesome specimens because they had gotten started bright and early like we were supposed to do. I was desperately trying to figure out how to get them to adopt me, but I left with our stupid group and suffered with them until it was over. I think about this every time I am reminded of the death angel mushroom.

Death angel (Amanita virosa)