#why are they all holding hungary trophies

[acrosstobear]

mclaren A big day at the MTC today! 🏆🧡

[nyoomfruits]

‘shush’ maxoscar or lestappen!

[ shush ] for a kiss to silence the other party

“The lease on my apartment is ending,” Oscar says, drops it in the middle of Max’s weirdly fond rant about the cats having developed the ability to open doors and using it mostly for evil. They’re sitting on the couch in Max’s apartment, Max’s toes tucked under Oscar’s thigh, Oscar’s feet resting on the little pouf in front of the couch. They’re both holding a half-eaten plate of stir fry, one of the few dishes Max can make without making Oscar wince repeatedly, half-watching an old episode of Friends on the TV.

“Oh,” Max says, frowns. “The Monaco one, you mean?”

Oscar nods. He got it last year, when he was in his second year of F1 still, and even though he’d just signed a multi-year contract with McLaren, it had felt presumptions, to assume this was going to be his home for a long time. And so he’d rented an apartment, just for the year, and see how he felt after.

And then Max had happened, right after the Hungary Grand Prix. Oscar had bumped into him at the party, mixed feelings about his own win, Max angry about his race, and they’d collided in something that was really only meant to blow off steam, on both sides really.

But then it had happened again. And again. And again. And then Oscar had started sleeping over at Max’s place more and more. They started spending time between races together, they started spending all of their time between races together. Oscar has a key now, to Max’s place, right next to the keys to his own apartment. One he hasn’t really been to in the past three months or so.

One of which the lease is ending soon.

“Yeah,” Oscar says. And he’s not asking any questions, because he’s bad at asking these questions, but Max has always been exceptional at reading him, so.

“Well, we will have sell most of the furniture, I think,” Max says, placing his fork down, because he still refuses to try and eat noodles with chopsticks. “Unless you want to keep some of it. But I hope not. That couch is quite ugly.”

“Thanks, Max,” Oscar says, but he can’t help but smile behind his own bite of noodle. It is a bit of an ugly couch, truth to be told. He hadn’t put that much thought into styling his apartment, just let the stylist at the store decide what he needed.

“You’re welcome,” Max says, smiling. “Anyway, do you think we would need a truck? Your clothes are mostly here already, we’ll have to take some of the decorations and stuff, the trophy’s obviously. Do you still have those plates from the one time I actually came over to your place for lunch? I quite liked those, maybe bring those. Maybe a truck is a bit much, I can ask Lando, he has this ridiculously large Range Rover for some reason, he might let me borrow it, we can shove all the stuff in the back. It’s not that far from your apartment to here, so it’s shouldn’t take us that long-“

And that’s, belatedly, when it hits Oscar. What Max is talking about. Why he’s so concerned about Oscar’s furniture and how he’s going to move it all and what he’s going to keep. Because to Max, the only really logical explanation is that he moves here. All Oscar had wanted was to open the conversation, talk about their future maybe. But to Max, their future has always been crystal clear.

It’s them. It’s here. It’s forever.

Oscar purposely puts his plate aside, leans forward, slow deliberate, takes Max’s plate away from him as well, and then, right in the middle of Max’s rant about Oscar’s decorative bed pillows, kisses him full on the mouth.

“Hey,” Max says, when he pulls away, looking slightly confused. “What was that for?”

“I love you,” Oscar says, because he doesn’t really know how else to say ‘I want that too’ and ‘thank you for everything you are’ and ‘you are my favorite person in the whole world’.

Max smiles, slow and soft and fond, and presses another kiss to Oscar’s lips. “I love you too,” he says, and then, just because he’s Max, adds, “Roomie.”

Oscar laughs, one that releases all the tension he’d been feeling about bringing this up, let’s his head fall forward against Max’s chest, takes in the familiar scent of laundry detergent and Max. “Don’t,” he warns.

Max laughs too, rubs his hand over Oscar’s back as Oscar picks his head off of Max’s chest and leans in for another slow, long kiss.

Roomies. Oscar will take it, if that means he gets to have this.

[in-love-with-charles-leclerc]

(last edited on 15/11/24)

Mini Masterlist for CL16

This is basically a post with all my charles posts divided into different categories so it's easier for you guys (and me) to find content :))

-> Rambles: monaco (may 19), f1 app bug (may 26), dotd (may 26), charles lechair (may 31), so happy this gp (july 28), photoshoot (august 3), non platonic (august 10), club edits (august 14), prince of monaco & king of monza (september 3), lc8 race suit (september 22), sun of maranello (october 6), charles is the sun (october 7), champion material (october 8), whore (october 13), obsessing over max (november 6), contract signed (november 15), gladiator premiere (november 15)

-> Pics: race suit (march 28), umbrella (march 28), miami helmet (may 3), holding trophy (may 19), monaco win (may 26)

-> Vids: take your clothes off (august 10), good with your hands (august 10), marry me (october 19), austrian gp (october 20)

-> Live blogging:

Imola (may 19): post race words

Canada (june 9): p11, p19, +85 sec, retiring, sobbing, C2 next time

Austria (june 30): p11 sobbing, why is charles last, 3rd pit stop, 15th is were lucky, charles with 3, charles on 12, gonna get points, p18, collecting pit stops, where the fuck is charles, pitted 4th time

UK (july 7): condolences

Hungary (july 20-21): monaco curse, p4

Netherlands (august 25): p3

Monza (september 1): charles p1 monza

Azerbaijan (september 14): pole pole Charles

US (october 20): austin gp

-> Other: piano music (april 6), supermarket (june 7), leclerc fam (july 4), carte blanq (july 15)

Miniseries:

-> Charles birthday celebration posts (october 16):

Pt. 1 - Happy birthday to Charles Leclerc

Pt. 2 - It's been a hell of a year!!

Pt. 3 - SCUDERIA FERRARI ERA

Pt. 4 - Charles Leclerc ♡♡

-> Carlos resorts to violence (march 28):

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

[polarishq]

Meet LENORA BAKER. They are SEVENTY-THREE years old and hail from SZEGED, HUNGARY. Lenora embodies the constellation, CYGNUS. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is FLORENCE PUGH.

Cygnus reminds me of high heels click-clacking on hardwood floors, perfectly pretty tiaras atop perfectly curled hair, lifting half your body through the sun roof of a car as it speeds down an open road, baby pink lipstick, the weight of a family name you never asked to bear, black coffee simply for the aesthetic, rumpled bedsheets, winged eyeliner so sharp it could cut glass, and the sheer, unbridled anger of an interrupted youth.

BIOGRAPHY

(Trigger Warnings for abuse and talk of arranged marriages)

The concept of kingship has largely died down in Western magical culture, but among those who reside in Europe and can trace their roots back far past the witch trials of old, there is still a small yet prevalent society of royals. Nowadays, the terms King and Queen, Prince and Princess, only mean something in terms of social standing. In their hay day though, magic folk practically ruled Central and Eastern Europe from behind the scenes. The Péks clan had a strong hold in Hungary that faded as more and more of their kind died out, but their aristocratic role in magical society is still strong to this day. When Eleonóra Péks was born alongside her twin brother only a few years after the end of the seven and world war, every witch and wizard in Szeged shares in the family’s joy.

Eleonóra was as much of a princess as one could hope to find. With her money and status, she never wanted for anything material. And people often remarked that even if she wasn’t their princess, her looks would be enough to warrant the royal treatment all on its own. And Eleonóra ate that attention up. It was better than the treatment she received behind closed doors. Her father Irme Péks, who was the main reason Szeged held steadfast to it’s magical monarchy to this day, vividly recalled a time where their people had lived openly and freely, only to later be persecuted by the mortals who feared rather than respected them. He wanted nothing more than to return to those ways, and made it known to his children that their mission was to help make that happen. Her brother was raised to eventually be ruler, and Eleonóra was raised to some day marry one of the few remaining “princes” still around to strengthen their family. When her constellation mark took the form of the Swan, she was viewed as even more of a prize. Irma was very clear that he viewed his children as chess pawns more than anything else, and any hint of falling out of line was met with physical disciple as he saw fit. On the other hand, their mother was everything Eleonóra feared becoming: cold and disengaged, complicit in their father’s abuse.

instead, Eleonóra turned angry. At her parents, at the people who treated them like they were on some sort of pedestal rather than in pain, at herself for being so goddamn ready to just take everything that was doled out to her. She could play nice in front of the public eye, but once home, she was constantly throwing harsh words at her extended family (never her parents — an insult at her father was a death wish waiting to happen). To know your existence is just a trophy for someone else is a horrible way to live, and it’s the only thing Eleonóra knew for decades. The breaking point came in the early 2000s, when her father’s increasing age made him more volatile than ever. So when he came to Eleonóra one day, still a child for all of her fifty plus years, to tell her she was to be married, things escalated quickly. One angry, uncontrollable comment fueled by her anger, and that was it. The altercation that followed between Eleonóra, Irme, and her brother who came to his sister’s aide was loud, painful, and ended with Eleonóra and her brother quite literally fleeing the home. Eleonóra’s years of anger overflowed and she told her brother, in tears, that she refused to go back. So they didn’t

In the Péks family, and truly among the magical society in Szeged overall, their abilties were viewed as power. Magic wasn’t a gift, and while the “children” had been given the best education possible, it was based in history and combat and control rather than respecting it. When the Péks left Szeged, it took a few months of making their way through Europe before they considered Polaris. They’d heard of it, of course. It was one of the best training grounds for magical being in their world. But Irme had always insisted that his children could be taught the best at home; they didn’t need anything else. More than word of Polaris’ renown, they had also heard whispers of the current Ursas — strong and kind, willing to open their doors to anyone. Eleonóra was hesitant at first. Going to Polaris would mean following their rules and ideologies. Why should she run from one prison to what may very well be another? Eventually though, with her brother’s urging and the realization that they had nowhere else to go, the Péks headed towards Vermont.

She’ll tell you that changing her name was a means of creating her own identity. — Eleonóra to Lenora, Péks to it’‘s anglicized form Baker, all of it a new version of her that she had control of. That’s not entirely true, though. In reality, Lenora changed her name because she was scared. If her father found her, she knew that he could very well kill her or overpower her. His fire magic, although not based in a zodiac, was fueled by rage she’d long since learned to fear. Changing her name didn’t guarantee she’d be safe forever, but it gave her some sense of security. At the very least, it put some distance between her and her life back in Hungary.

Although she’s been at Polaris for decades now, Lenora is still slow to warm. By now, it’s more out of habit than any prior need to protect herself. The hardest adjustment has been in how she views magic. Back...well, not back home, but back in Szeged, her status as Cygnus (always a beauty) was more prevalent than her actual abilities. Here, she’s come to learn what she’s truly capable of. Lenora can often be found up in one of Caeli’s towers, sat beside an open window and feeling the wind on her face. Her element may be air, but Lenora feels as if that has always been misplaced. Air is meant to be wide-open and freeing, always circulating. But Lenora has never quite felt that level of freedom. Even now, she still can’t help but feel trapped. In her anger, in her fear, in her memories. She won’t admit to that, though. It’s easier to pretend to not care rather than admit how much there is to you.

INCLINATION

Much like the swan that symbolizes them, Cygnus possesses a charm unlike few others. Some have described them as ethereal, others simply find themselves at a loss for words in their presence. While physical beauty does tend to be a common trait among it’s sponsees, their natural ability to entice and entrance can be chalked up to the stars as well. Their magic tends to reflect this, with a knack for glamor spells and charms. This can lead to an inflated ego which may or may not be warranted, but Cygnus rarely cares about that aspect. In addition, as the air that commands them and the swan that embodies them, Cygnus tend to be able to learn levitation much easier than others — they just need to be aware of keeping their heads out of the clouds.

CONNECTIONS

Twin Brother: Lenora’s anchor, truly. This is the only person who Lenora trust completely, because he’s the only one she’s ever felt cared for her without any ulterior motives. He’s also the only person who can get away with calling Lenora out on her nonsense, and likewise, he gets a version of her that’s as close to nice as she’s capable of.

Jilted Fiance: Another member of the small, old-school aristocracy that still lives sprinkled throughout Europe. In the early 2000s, Lenora was told that her father had promised her hand to this character (or rather, this character’s family), and she quickly fucked away after that. Maybe they never met prior to this, maybe he and Lenora had been childhood friends. Either way, he was left dealing with the fallout of their broken engagement while Lenora seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet.

Calming Presence: Lenora isn’t kind to anyone other than her brother, but this person does have a somewhat uncanny ability to ease some of her typical frustration. And Lenora, for all of her arrogance and short-tempter, can’t find it in herself to be a true bitch to them. She’s blunt, yes. Tactless, sure. But somewhere in the little black box that is her emotional storage container, she holds some care for them.

Filling the role of Eloise Delaurentis’s polarizing force.

Penned by Jeanne ★

[somestorywriter]

Daughters of Darkness

My submission for the August round of @hetaliacc

My prompt was: Daughters of Darkness by Halestorm (which is such an awesome song!)

Read on AO3

Read on FF.net

Words: 2,100

Rating: T

Overview of human names used:

Erika: Liechtenstein, Eliza: Hungary, Natalia: Belarus, Anya: Ukraine, Mei: Taiwan, Manon: Belgium

And then of course for the guys, Alfred: America, Gilbert: Prussia, Mathias: Denmark

Erika looked down at the red cup in her hands. The whole drinking alcohol thing was exciting already, but she would have preferred to know what was in her cup. It looked like water, but already her head was spinning and there was a mild nausea creeping up on her. Was this the mysterious vodka she'd heard about?

"So, I heard something about you being in a girl group or something?"

Erika's eyes shot back up to the blond she'd come for. Alfred, one of the most wanted jocks in the school, had personally invited her to his house party. She'd been so nervous to go, and even more so when he pulled her aside. He wanted to get to know her, he'd said. It was like a fantasy come true…

"We're called the Daughters of Darkness," she said. Was she supposed to take a sip from the alcohol? Or would drinking it be uncool?

"The Daughters of Darkness?" he asked, a slight chuckle in his voice. "What kind of group is that?"

"We hang out, and we travel, and we have sleepovers…"

There was a louder chuckle. Erika briefly wondered if she wasn't being mocked. But Alfred wouldn't do that to her, right?

"The more girls the merrier, I always say. Why don't you invite them over?"

"Really?"

"Yeah." He moved closer. "You know, I've been wanting to talk to you for the longest time."

"You have?"

"Yes. I've been having a bit of a crush on you."

Erika nearly crushed the cup in her hands.

"I'm so glad you could make it here tonight." He leaned in closer.

She couldn't believe what was happening. Was her crush about to kiss her? Relax, she told herself. Act cool. She waited while he came closer, closing her eyes and lifting her face to meet his.

Then there was something in her face.

She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was Alfred doubled over in laughter. There was something resembling shaving cream on his hand, and she realized that was what was sticking to her face now.

"She totally fell for it!"

"Alfred?"

Gilbert and Mathias jumped out, startling Erika. "Look at her face!" Gilbert snickered. He came at her with a handful of confetti, and before she could stop him, he threw all of it onto her face. The paper stuck to the shaving cream.

Mathias was busy taking pictures of her with his phone. "You should frame this one."

"You should have seen her face!" Alfred said, still laughing. "She thought I was going to kiss her!"

"Send it to everyone!" Gilbert said.

"Wait, no!" Erika came forward. "Please, don't send it!"

"Too late!" Mathias held up his phone.

Erika's stomach dropped to the floor. Everyone would see her like this. The thought made her want to throw up and she had to get out before it would happen. She dropped her cup on the floor and ran to the door.

"Oh, come on! My mom will kill me if she finds vodka on the floor!"

She wasn't hearing him. Everyone had seen the picture and some were even taking pictures themselves as she made her way through the crowd toward the backyard. Once there, she leaned over the bushes and threw up.

She sank to the stone terrace, her back against the wall. What was she going to do now? She couldn't go back inside there… Was it too dramatic to change schools? Or at least not go until this died down?

She took out her phone, encased in a violently pink cover with glitters and cat ears on the top. Yes, it was probably time to go home. She dialed the number.

"Hello?" There was a lot of noise going on in the background.

"Eliza?"

"Erika? Is everything okay? Everybody, shush, it's Erika!" The background went quiet at once.

"I want to go home…"

"Did something happen?"

"I don't like parties anymore…"

"Stay where you are. We're on our way." She hung up.

Erika hugged her knees to her chest. She hoped they'd be here soon…

Erika heard the sound of the motorbikes. She knew it like no other. She looked up when two heavy boots walked up to her. "Natalia?"

"How's it going, girl?"

"Everyone's so mean. I want to go home."

Natalia crouched down beside her. "Is that shaving cream?"

"And confetti…"

"We should clean that off. You know where the bathroom is in this place?"

"Yes, but… Everyone will see me again."

"We'll shield you."

Eliza, Anya, and Manon came around the corner as well. "Who did this to you?" Anya demanded, crouching down as well.

"Alfred…" Erika started sniffling.

"Oh, poor thing. Don't worry, he will pay for it."

"Let's get her to the bathroom," Natalia said.

They helped her up and together they entered the house.

The party was still in full swing, but some people turned to look at the company that had just walked in. Four girls, dressed in black, their leather jackets spelling out their name—the Daughters of Darkness. And there, in the middle of them, was little Erika.

"Move," Natalia snapped when a group of guys was too busy staring to step aside. They made a path to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them once they were there. The conversation downstairs was all about them now.

Manon made quick work of the shaving cream, using one of the expensive towels from the cabinet.

"The curls we made still look beautiful," Elizabeta said, brushing Erika's hair aside so it wouldn't get shaving cream on it.

"They do?"

"Yeah. It looks good on you."

Erika perked up a little bit. "Alfred didn't even notice them."

"But he's a jerk. And he'll pay for what he's done."

"And his friends too?"

"All of them."

"Yes!" Erika wiped her tears away. "He did tell me it was okay to invite you guys."

"And right he was."

Anya held up a leather jacket. "You mess with one of our sisters, we crash your whole party. It's the law, we can't help it."

Erika giggled as she slipped into the jacket. "You know, his mother doesn't want him to make a mess of the house."

"I like the sound of that," Eliza said.

"He freaked out over me spilling vodka."

"He gave you vodka?" Anya asked. "You're too young to drink."

"I thought it was water."

"Alright, that's it. This is war now."

Eliza whipped out her phone. "I'll tell the others to come inside. And then we'll have some fun."

The guests looked up when more girls with leather jackets poured into the house. One of them attracted the most attention: an Asian girl with flowers in her hair and a massive back tattoo visible from underneath her cropped tank top. She entered the room with a baseball bat.

"Mei?" Erika asked. "You're out of jail?"

"They couldn't find evidence."

"Awesome!"

"Mei," Eliza said, "can you get this party started?"

"Sure. Here, hold this." She handed Erika the baseball bat. "I'm sure you know where he keeps his sports awards."

"I do!"

"Go on, then. Make me proud."

Erika ran upstairs with the bat.

"We're all ready."

"Excellent. Let's get to it."

Mei spat out her chewing gum on the designer carpet and walked over to the table. She rolled her shoulders, grabbed the wood, and flipped the table over. All eyes were on her at once. Some shifted uncomfortably, preparing to leave. "Now, who of you wants to dance?"

Anya grabbed the vodka and poured it out over the TV. Eliza turned the music way up and high fived Natalia after the latter threw a vase into the dishware cabinet, shattering them both. "I always hated posh houses," she growled.

"What the hell is this?" Alfred and his posse appeared at the top of the stairs. "This is my house!"

Manon climbed the stairs, lighting a cigarette. "And that's our sister you're messing with."

"What? Who?"

Erika ran out of a room, dragging the heavy baseball bat behind her. "I got them all!"

"What? What did you do to my trophies?!" Alfred ran into the room she'd come out of. "I'll kill you!"

Manon wrapped an arm around Erika's shoulders. "If you want to get to our sister, you'll have to get through us first."

Erika looked up at the cigarette. "Can I have that too?"

"No. Don't ever start." She put the cigarette out on the staircase, burning a hole in the oak wood.

Alfred came at them, but Mei caught up with them. "Oh, you're a tough guy? You want to fight?"

"I wouldn't do it if I were you," Erika said to Alfred. "She's good."

"I can handle some girl!" He tried to grab Mei, but she evaded him and took his arm into a tight hold. With one move of her leg, she had him on the ground, unable to escape.

"Wow! That was awesome!" Erika cheered.

Mei blew a strand of hair out of her face. "My old man taught me a thing or two." She took Alfred's phone and gave it to Erika. "Have fun."

Erika looked over the balustrade. She threw the phone down, and it landed straight into a bowl of punch. "I did it!"

"Nice shot," Manon said.

She turned back to Alfred, wanting more. "I want him to say sorry."

"Who? Alfred?"

"Yes."

Mei grabbed Alfred's arm tighter. "You heard her."

"Go to He—ouch!"

"Apologize. Now."

"S-Sorry…" Alfred whimpered.

"Now throw him in the pool!" Erika said, bouncing with excitement.

"Alright, into the pool with you." Mei pulled Alfred up and dragged him down the stairs, Erika and Manon following behind. A lot of the guests had escaped before it got too bad, others were staying to watch the chaos unfold. Alfred's friends were nowhere to be seen.

"You're insane!" Alfred shouted.

"A little insane. A little misunderstood." Mei put Alfred on a desk chair. "Who would like the honor?"

"Me!" Erika grabbed the back of the chair.

"I'll help too," Natalia said. "We want him to make a good splash."

Eliza grabbed her phone to start filming. "Go ahead."

They started running, pushing the chair forward while Alfred screamed and tried to get out, but not knowing how to do so without crashing onto the stone. They let go at the last moment and the chair flew over the edge of the swimming pool, crashing right in the middle of it.

"We did it!" Erika cheered, watching Alfred come back up, his glasses lost somewhere in the water.

"Come on, let's get out of here," Mei said.

They headed to the front of the house where the once stylized bushes were now burning like torches. Anya emptied a bottle of wine on the white front door and threw the bottle into the garden.

They got onto their motorcycles, the sounds of them revving their engines enough to wake up the whole neighborhood. "Hop on up," Eliza said.

Erika climbed behind her on the motorcycle. "I can't wait to have one of my own."

Eliza chuckled. "You'll need a license first."

"I know. I'm already saving up."

"We can help."

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're our sister, motorcycle or not. We'll always be there for you."

She smiled and hugged Eliza from behind.

They stopped a few houses away from where Erika lived. "That was awesome," she said, climbing off the bike. "Best party ever."

"Glad to hear you enjoyed it," Eliza said. "Don't let anyone walk over you the way that Alfred boy did."

"I won't."

"Good. And if he ever bothers you again, just give us a call."

"Will do!" She went around the group, hugging and saying goodnight. "I'll see you all tomorrow!"

"Finish your homework first, though," Anya said.

"I will."

"And no skipping class."

"Nope." She yawned and pulled her jacket tighter around her.

Eliza smiled. "Hurry. The sun will come up soon."

"Bye!" She hurried to her house.

The girls waited until Erika was safely inside. "We could have gone harder on that boy," Mei said. "This is our sister we're talking about."

"She's satisfied, though," Manon said. "That's all that matters."

Mei nodded and turned her bike around. The rest followed, and soon the street was filled with the sound of their engines as they rode away.

And with that, the Daughters of Darkness disappeared into the night.

[go-vivek-jain-universe-blog]

LABORATORY INSTRUMENTS

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[cbk1000]

tagged by @heidiamalia

1. how tall are you? 5′ 5″, but I cheat and wear boots with 2″ heels at all times because I’m intensely displeased that I’m not taller. I like to be able to look down on people.

2. what color and style is your hair? Blondeish, waist-length, and wavy.

3. what color are your eyes? Hazel

4. do you wear glasses? Not currently, no, although I did wear them as a kid.

5. do you wear braces? Nope; I’ve never had them.

6. what is your fashion style? Jeans, T-shirts, some boots, and if it’s cold, a leather jacket I’ve had since I was like 18.

7. full name? Jennifer Juan Julio Jose Jacinto Gonzales-Consuelo III 

8. when were you born? 1/29/1987, at an indeterminate time. It was either in the morning, the afternoon, or the evening, though.

9. where are you from and where do you live now? I’m from Washington state and I live in Washington state.

10. what school do you go to? I don’t.

11. what kind of student are you? When I was actually in school I was easily bored and a huge procrastinator, but for the most part I was a decent student.

12. do you like school? No; I never liked the structure of it. I always liked to just go off on my own and learn whatever I liked however I liked.

13. what are your favorite school subjects? English and history were always my favourites. I did enjoy science as well.

14. favorite TV shows? I’m really enjoying The Road To Cavalry at the moment; The Sniffer; The Umbrella Academy; HTGAWM is less compelling than in its earlier seasons, but still entertaining; Sense8

15. favorite movies? Goddamn, ok, so, I know this is probably bizarre, but I have seen very few movies. I’ll watch maybe a couple a year. So, to be perfectly honest, off the top of my head...I couldn’t tell you. 

16. favorite books? How fucking long do you have??? I’ll try for just a few that left a very large impression on me: ‘Les Miserables’, Hugo; ‘War and Peace’, Tolstoy; ‘Life and Fate’, Vasily Grossman 

17. favorite pastime? Reading till my eyeballs attempt to fall out of my head.

18. do you have any regrets? Ok, so there was one time I put a pebble in my mouth that I thought was a piece of taco meat I had dropped on the floor (it was really dark, ok, and I wasn’t really paying attention, I just picked up an object in the area into which the piece of taco meat had fallen, and popped it into my mouth). Also, once a fly flew into my mouth, and I freaked out and ran to the sink to spit it out and rinse my mouth. My family stood, completely perplexed, wondering why the hell I was screaming, as none of them had witnessed the event. When I explained what had happened, my grandma said, “Well, that’s what happens when you never close your mouth.” I have a terrible family, very mean, not appreciative at all.

19. dream job? Trophy wife.

20. would you like to get married someday? I assume so, seeing as I was married almost three years ago.

21. would you like to have kids someday? That would be a fuck no.

23. do you like shopping? I like book shopping.

24. what countries have you visited? Well, the States, obviously. Canada, Ireland, Scotland, England, Germany, the Netherlands, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Slovenia, Hungary, Croatia, ummmm...I’m pretty sure I’m missing a couple. Technically I’ve also been in France and Belgium, but I don’t really count those as I was just passing through on my way to Amsterdam.

25. what’s the scariest nightmare you’ve ever had? I used to have this recurring dream when I was a kid that I was being strangled by a bunch of ghosts while my dad was pottering around with our boat in the driveway and I kept calling for help and the fucker kept ignoring me, and I still hold it against him to this day.

26. do you have any enemies? I would hope so.

27. do you have an s/o? Yeah, some bearded guy made me adopt him like 12 years ago and won’t leave.

28. do you believe in miracles? Not really. 

[borisbubbles]

08. France

Haaaaah, it’s great to enjoy the off-season, so now that the Academic year has started, I’m able to fully FOCUS on my bachelor thesis/teacher training internships..

...

...wait? I still... have to write? Eight, you say? *gulp* k FINE!!! (but I won’t force myself to do footnotes unless I need to. Sorry if you enjoyed those eek.

Anyway,

08. FRANCE Madame Monsieur - “Mercy” 13th place

Let us dive in, in medias res, for “Mercy” is nothing less than a fantastic song. Even if “Mercy” weren’t an original, fun, captivating song with a clever, mature take on a hot, politically, sensitive topic and was instead about breaking glass teapots with overheated camomile tea or the joys of yodel therapy, it still would’ve ranked high!!! Well okay, perhaps not *eight*, but you get the gist of it. 

Fortunately for all of us, “Mercy” really was way more than just a pretty sounding-melody. During the preshow, I labelled it a “harrowing humanitarian hymn” and that assessment still stands. Now let me get out of the way that I don’t REALLY care all that much for the topic at hand. War, Peace, Death, Loss of a Family Member, Political and Humanitarian Themes, etc, all fall under the moniker of “Charity Songs” and I generally do NOT like those type of  messages!! “Are you kidding me? This isn’t, like, wellfare, it’s not our fault that you, like, suck at life.” -- Courtney Yates -- me. 

The reason for my dislike of the “Charity Song” runs two-fold. One, the intentions: Often such songs are written specifically for the contest, with the idea of drawing in sympathy votes. Sanitizing (or trivializing) the problems at hand, and not raising awareness are merely collateral damage. In other words, they’re a fucking SCAM. Most Charity Ballads in this group are deliberately vague and rhetorical (remember “What if?” my sympathies if you do.) Second, the way the message is brought is also important: Even if you are well-intentioned you can’t be condescending (”Wars for Nothing”), aggressive (”Wars for Nothing”) or obnoxious (”Wars for Nothing”) (or heaven forbid, all three.) This is why I don’t like “Non Mi Avete Fatto Niente”, as you may remember. MetaMoro had good intentions, but I could do without the incoherent yelling, no fanks. 

“Mercy” passes both of these checks with flying colours. “Mercy” is a really brave entry.  It doesn’t shun confronting the issue with lyrical imagery. It’s not *that* noticable because the song is performed in French and the message hollered down our ear canals alongside an obnoxious PowerPoint overlay, but... translated lyrics such as “I am all the children that were taken by the sea” conjure up the image of dead toddlers washing up on desolate beaches and that’s some seriously real stuff to be addressing in a camp circus such as Eurovision, man.

Providing SOME levity to all of that heavy thought porn is the act, which I found simple but effective. Standing together in the the midst of smoke wearing a trouser-skirt(?), transposing into THIS

which is easily my favourite moment in the entire finale? Brought by sweet Goblin princess Emilie and her half-Elven paramour Jean-Karl, “Mercy” is bathed in maternal warmth. It’s elegant, stylish and graceful. It’s a huge pity Europe wasn’t feeling it, because I don’t think Europe will come up with such a clever entry in the next few years. 

So why do I rank them 8th and not higher? Well,... for me nothing has changed since November last year, when I first heard the song. There hasn’t been any evolution in sentiment and other entries I either already liked more or have grown on me. There was no French journey, you know? It would’ve been different had “Mercy” won in what would’ve been an EPIC and 100% deserved victory, but alas, people just weren’t feeling it all suppose. 🙄 Praying that they develop better taste before they mindlessly hand Kristian Kostov the trophy in eight months from now. 🙄

RANKING SO FAR:

08. France (Madame Monsieur - “Mercy”)

09. Hungary (AWS - “Viszlát nyár”)

10. Finland (Saara Aalto - “Monsters”)

11. Bulgaria (EQUINOX - “Bones”)

12. Denmark (Rasmussen - “Higher ground”)

13. Malta (Christabelle - “Taboo”)

14. Cyprus (Eleni Foureira - “Fuego”)

15. United Kingdom (SuRie - “Storm”)

16. Serbia (Balkanika - “Nova Deca”)

17. Portugal (Cláudia Pascoal - “O jardim”)

18. The Netherlands (Waylon - “Outlaw in ‘em”)

19. Ukraine (MÉLOVIN - “Under the ladder”)

20. Macedonia (Eye Cue - “Lost and Found”)

21. San Marino (Jessika ft. Jenifer Brening - “Who We Are”)

22. Sweden (Benjamin Ingrosso - “Dance You Off”)

23. Austria (Cesár Sampson - “Nobody but you”)

24. Latvia (Laura Rizzotto - “Funny girl”)

25. Azerbaijan (AISEL - “X my heart”)

26. Israel (Netta - “Toy”)

27. Norway (Alexander Rybak  - “That’s how you write a song”)

28. Montenegro (Vanja Radovanovic - “Inje”)

29. Armenia (Sevak Khanagyan - “Qami”)

30. Poland (Gromee ft. Lukas Meijer - “Light me up”)

31. Greece (Yianna Terzi - “Oniro mou”)

32. Georgia (Iriao - “For you”)

33. Belgium (Sennek - “A matter of time”)

34. Italy (Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro - “Non mi avete fatto niente”)

35. Romania (The Humans - “Goodbye”)

36. Ireland (Ryan O'Shaughnessy - “Together”)

37. Croatia (Franka - “Crazy”)

38. Belarus (ALEKSEEV - “Forever”)

39. Russia (Julia Samoylova - “I Won’t Break”)

40. Spain (Amaia & Alfred - “Tu canción”)

41. Iceland (Ari Ólafsson - “Our choice”)

42. Australia (Jessica Mauboy - “We got love”)

43. Czech Republic (Mikolas Josef - “Lie to me”)

FOOTNOTES

1) I suppose I can’t spare some time to discuss the one thing I couldn’t fit in the write-up: “Eva” and how well it could’ve done. Well, I personally don’t really care? Like, I loved “Eva”, just like how I love “Mercy” (actually, I loved “Eva” as much as I love “Mercy”? 🤭🤭🤭) and neither would’ve won anyway, so who the fuck cares. I do think “Eva” would’ve finished where Cesár would have (3rd) and no, NOT because Lisandro and Csár are both black guys, but because Lisandro defo would’ve won the jury vote, but still not by a wide enough margin to beat Eleni, let alone Netta once the televotes are added to the mix. Having said all that, picking “Eva” would’ve just been more of the same GENERIC SAFE SHITE that’s polluting this Eurovision Era and no fanks. So while I don’t like “Mercy” THAT much more, it holds my pref as the French entry because it was different and out there. We will have plenty of “Evas” in the next few contests. Will we ever have another “Mercy”, thought? I doubt it. 

2) However, let’s face it they should’ve just picked Emmy Liana (IDGAF THAT EUROPE WOULD’VE SPAT HER OUT BECAUSE SHE’S NOT WHITE/CHICKEN/CONFORMIST ENOUGH, SHE’S FREAKING OSSUM!!!!!).

[tkmedia]

Forget the past, England want to make history against Germany

10:00 AM ETContained within a video montage shown to the England squad on their first day at St George's Park this summer was the moment that defined manager Gareth Southgate's playing career. His decisive penalty miss against Germany in the semifinals of Euro '96 gave the centre-back an unwanted place in the catalogue of disappointment that has stretched back 55 years since England won their only major international trophy, the 1966 World Cup.Southgate has meticulously attempted to redefine the national team's relationship with its past, deconstructing his personal experience by underlining why penalty shootouts are something to be prepared for rather than pathologically feared.But one of Southgate's biggest challenges during his time in charge has been to instigate a mental shift from the burden of the weight of history to creating their own in a high-pressure environment.2 RelatedSouthgate took over from Sam Allardyce (who was in charge for one game) after Roy Hodgson's England were knocked out of Euro 2016 by minnows Iceland at the round-of-16 stage, with Tuesday marking a five-year journey to the same point. The occasion takes place against a backdrop of countrywide Euro '96 nostalgia, which has taken on greater prominence since it was confirmed Germany would be England's opponents (noon ET; stream LIVE on ESPN/ESPN+).In many ways, contests against Germany down the years encapsulate the eternal struggle in the English sporting consciousness, with the joy and lasting hope created by winning the 1966 final balanced against tournament exits in 1970, 1990, 1996 and 2010.Germany certainly revelled in the moment 25 years ago, appropriating England's "Three Lions" anthem by singing "Football's coming home" on the balcony of Frankfurt's Civic Centre when celebrating with the trophy. The song reached No. 16 in the German charts that summer and could be heard ringing out in Berlin as recently as 2014, when around half a million fans celebrated as Germany paraded the World Cup.- Euro 2020 on ESPN: Stream LIVE games and replays (U.S. only) - European Soccer Pick 'Em: Compete to win $10,000 - Euro 2020 bracket and fixture scheduleHowever, the general perception is that Germany view this sporting rivalry differently. England's lack of pedigree in the latter stages of tournaments -- they have won just one knockout match in the Euros, compared with Germany's 11 -- means the four-time world champions winners place greater importance on those in closer proximity, such as Netherlands, France and Italy.And while the English public has spent the week stirring up images of Southgate's miss, Sir Geoff Hurst's 1966 hat trick and Frank Lampard's "ghost goal" of 2010, the squad have appeared somewhat bemused by the entire conversation.Southgate has placed great stock in reconnecting with the fan base after acrimony created by past underachievement, but this is one instance where he will be more than happy that his players are seemingly able to emotionally disengage from the noise around them.play1:19Marcus Rashford says that Jadon Sancho's experience in Germany will help England on Tuesday at Wembley.Dominic Calvert-Lewin put it bluntly, when asked by a reporter approaching 50 years old, how he perceived the dynamics of England vs. Germany. "It's not as personal as perhaps someone of your age," said the Everton striker with a smile. He isn't wrong: Eleven players in England's 26-man squad were not alive during Euro '96.Many of this group have cited memories of Lampard's strike in 2010, though. England were 2-1 down in their round-of-16 match in South Africa when the Chelsea midfielder's shot hit the crossbar and bounced down over the line, only for the officials to wave play on. With FIFA resisting the implementation of goal-line technology, England were left with a sense of injustice as the match slipped away, eventually losing 4-1.For today's England players, it was merely an isolated incident, rather than the latest entry in a long-running German grievance, but Southgate & Co. can learn from their worst performance at Euro 2020, which was against another team where the intensity of the rivalry was supposedly confined to the stands.Scotland came to Wembley and deserved a 0-0 draw, with England seemingly inhibited by their tactics or the event itself. Since then, Southgate has publicly claimed that the "unique occasion" may have been a factor; if so, there is an element of uncertainty how the second-youngest squad at these finals will handle a similar environment of booing anthems and disparaging songs.Yet hostility from the assembled 45,000 -- twice the number present against Scotland -- will be weighted heavily in England's favour and it is undeniably an advantage to play in their home stadium for the fourth consecutive game, one that some in Germany believe has been exacerbated by UEFA's decision not to allow Joachim Low's side to train at Wembley before the game.The governing body insists this is down to the amount of rain expected in London in the 36 hours before kickoff, but it counts as another small win given England have two exact replicas of the playing surface at St George's Park.Conditions look inviting for England, then, down to the chaotic feel of Germany's qualification from undoubtedly the toughest group: losing to France, hammering Portugal and scraping a draw against Hungary. The structure Southgate has instilled in England looks serene by comparison, even if it has come at the expense of some attacking intent. It should therefore come down to a question of whether England can truly inhabit the moment. Germany have a habit of peaking when the serious stuff starts; England, categorically, do not.The FA has sought to address in recent years by arranging high-profile friendlies. Since Southgate took charge in October 2016, England have played exhibition games against Spain, Germany (twice), France, Brazil and Netherlands, with one won (1-0 vs. Netherlands in March 2018.)There was further progress in the inaugural UEFA Nations League, defeating Spain away from home and beating Croatia at Wembley, with the ultimate aim being that England acclimatise themselves to the toughest challenges so the gap does not feel as big when tournament football comes around.Marcus Rashford, who scored in that Nations League victory in Spain, believes the approach has reaped dividends and was perhaps a key factor in England reaching the 2018 World Cup semifinals."I think it has helped massively," the Manchester United striker told ESPN. "I remember a few years ago, we were performing well but we weren't getting results against the big teams."It was something that we had to concentrate on and try and change. In recent times, we've got that a bit more, we've got better results and played better against them. It is the fact that we've been exposed to these games which is probably why we feel calmer going into this game and ready for the game. Germany are obviously a top team with top players but we are not going to let that hold us back in any way. We are just going to go and try to win the game; try and be positive."play0:50Gab Marcotti feels Gareth Southgate may lose his job if England are knocked out of Euro 2020 by Germany.Both sides have key decisions to make. Low is facing calls to replace Ilkay Gundogan with Leon Goretzka in midfield after his match-saving contribution against Hungary, while Leroy Sane's place on the wing is under threat from Thomas Muller as he continues to recover from a knee injury.Germany are likely to retain their 3-4-2-1 shape, posing the conundrum for Southgate whether he switches from 4-2-3-1 and matches up with something similar -- as England did in many of those preparatory friendlies -- to give greater control in midfield.Phil Foden is pushing for a recall alongside Harry Kane and Raheem Sterling, but forwards Jack Grealish and Bukayo Saka performed well against Czech Republic, as did centre-back Harry Maguire on his return to the team following an ankle injury.Whatever he plumps for, Southgate says he gives his players the same message before every game.Writing on The Players' Tribune, Southgate said: "The reason that I repeat it is because I really believe it with all my heart. I tell them that when you go out there, in this shirt, you have the opportunity to produce moments that people will remember forever. You are a part of an experience that lasts in the collective consciousness of our country."He knows that better than most. Read the full article

[beethoventhemovie]

Interesting dream 6/19/16

June 19, 2016 11:19am

I woke in a car that’d been parked on the sidewalk of a city like New York and Philadelphia. I had parked it there for “safe keeping,” I remembered slowly, from drunk driving I would’ve done that night. I knew something wasn’t real or something was different, like I was in a dream, maybe. People weren’t reacting to what I’d done in a way that made sense to me. They didn’t notice, mostly. The car kind of disappeared and the scene changed to a cross between 419 Oklahoma Rd and 7001 Brentwood Dr (houses I lived in as a child). Scary-looking men with big sunken eyes and camping gear were walking around the woods in my backyard. They all looked really distinct, like people I’ve never seen. It was dark and raining and early in the morning. Mom was getting ready for an airplane trip to Hungary. She’d talked about it the week before, but in a way that was hard to get details out of her. She wanted to keep this trip a secret. The men were walking in and out of the house, sometimes carrying stuff in and sometimes carrying stuff out and back to the woods, like this was their job. Mom looked sometimes like herself but more often like Sheila (current neighbor) or grandma—slender with short gray hair. She seemed more preoccupied with her appearance than normal. Neither she nor dad were making any sense to me. Mom kept responding with weird unrelated aggression—I called her out on making nonsequiturs twice. I just wanted to know where she was going. I felt like she was going to either die on the way there or she was building a secret life there, that she would soon assume permanently. I think I tried to tell her those things and she’d yell a nonsequitur-type comment, but it wouldn’t really upset her at the same time. Dad just seemed to be treading water around her, looking for bags to carry to the car, not really knowing how to act, but clearly wanting to respond/understand more than he was. There was a bag of 15-20 donuts of different sizes, all cut in half, in a small wax paper baggie in the refrigerator. I began eating them, knowing Dad had bought them for Mom, I think trying to get their attention by doing this.

I kept going out to the porch to think about what was going on and try to make sense of it. I didn’t understand how my car had gotten there from the city, or why I’d parked it in the city, but these things seemed banal and annoying to my parents. It was dark and foggy/misty. The men in the woods all seemed like they were homeless but by choice, or something, like they were spirits of the woods. One of them stood on the porch by the porch swing, holding what I thought were “trophies” and may have been toys. He started saying something to me about henna ink/henna tattoos, which, like everything else, I was having a hard time understanding the significance/appropriateness of. Mom seemed to understand him when she came out and saw us and I think then tried to get me interested in dating him.

The whole time I felt plagued by a feeling of wanting to stop Mom from leaving, or push past her nonsequiturs, to understand why she was leaving. She alluded vaguely to it being for a doctor’s appointment, and that she was going to spend a few days in another country after that, to “kensora” (a word that meant “shopping,” that my ignorance of seemed to inconvenience her). She kept referring to ways that I annoyed her, from maybe old fights I don’t remember, like “Megan’s [tendency to think of things as ‘wood’ not ‘wooden’],” which would then stop our conversation.

Mom called me from the train to New York, and suddenly it made sense to me that she was not going to Hungary, but New York, to have some procedure done, maybe, but had wanted it to seem more glamorous/dramatic. I watched her train derail from the perspective of flying over it. I thought if I could hold onto just a little bit of it that would be enough to slow the train, or keep it from falling down the cliff. I looked in the window of the train car I was holding onto and there were no passengers. 

Back at the house, the man from the porch followed me upstairs, talking with a softer and softer voice while I walked backwards into my room. I got the feeling that another man was in my room, in a corner or something, but it was too dark to see. I pointed to a grocery store clear plastic box of salad and said something about Mrs. McClelland, because the label said “McKeldin” or “McKlellind,” which I took to mean it was a typo for my fourth grade teacher. The man said she was great. I said I hated her. We started an amiable casual conversation about this, like on Seinfeld. He lunged at my neck and bit it hard, like a dog would, not letting go but if he would it felt like some part of my skeleton would be exposed. Woke scared. Now it’s 12:00pm and I feel on the verge of sleeping again.