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theartofdreaming1 · 3 years

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Whoo, so let’s get back into it, folks!!!💪 Chapters 13-15!!! (I definitely had planned on illustrating more scenes from these and the last three chapters during the hiatus, but didn’t find the time to finish any of it... maybe I’ll post those belatedly, whoops😅)

My two cents regarding this week’s prompts:

Best: see drawing 😊🥰

Worst: The revelation that Darius is an avox now (followed by Katniss not getting to say good-bye to her loved ones) 😢

Funniest: I find myself in the position of having to console them [the prep team]. Since I’m the person going in to be slaughtered, this is somewhat annoying. (Ch. 15) - Katniss is hilarious! 😂

Beautiful: Let them [Katniss’s loved ones] go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return. (Ch. 14) - That’s some beautiful imagery! I’ll go into more detail on that passage in my thoughts on this chapter

As usual, my (extensive) thoughts on chapters 13-15 are below the cut:

Chapter 13

My body reacts before my mind does and I’m running out the door, across the lawns of Victor’s Village, into the dark beyond. [...] Where? Where to go? The woods, of course. I’m at the fence before the hum makes me remember how very trapped I am. [...] The next thing I know I’m on my hands and knees in the cellar of one of the empty houses in Victor’s Village. [...] I’m cold and wet and winded, but my escape attempt has done nothing to subdue the hysteria rising up inside me. It will drown me unless it’s released. I ball up the front of my shirt, stuff it into my mouth, and begin to scream. How long this continues, I don’t know. But when I stop, my voice is almost gone. - Katniss’s visceral reaction is absolutely gut-wrenching. Interesting how Katniss does not go to her former home, but to Victor’s Village after realizing that she can’t escape into the woods

I see the wooden box in the little boy’s hands. President Snow drawing out the yellowed envelope. Is it possible that this was really the Quarter Quell written down seventy-five years ago? It seems unlikely. It’s just too perfect an answer for the troubles that face the Capitol today [...] - Honestly, this move just shows how desperate Snow is to hold on to anything resembling control in Panem; it’s such an obvious and sloppy move on his part (for someone who didn’t want to stage an “accident” for Katniss after the berries because it would be too obvious, this is pretty transparent, at least for the people in the districts) -Yes, victors are our strongest. They’re the ones who survived the arena and slipped the noose of poverty that strangles the rest of us. They, or should I say we, are the very embodiment of hope where there is no hope. And now twenty-three of us will be killed to show how even that hope was an illusion. - Sure, the victors are strong for having survived the Games, but how many actually survived/truly lived after the Games?! At this point, of course, Katniss hasn’t really met any victors aside from Haymitch, so she still views them from an outsider perspective (notice how she says that the victors ‘slipped the noose of poverty that strangles the rest of us.’) We will learn later that being a victor is not all it’s cracked up to be; their wealth and glory might be highly visible, but their trauma and the way they are being oppressed are not; at least not to your average Joe (Katniss will have to learn that she is not the first victor who has had to endure unspeakable repression after coming back from the arena)

I’m glad I won only last year. Otherwise I’d know all the other victors, not just because I see them on television but because they’re guests at every Games [...] most return to the Capitol each year for the event. I think a lot of them are friends. - Katniss being glad that she doesn’t know the other victors/her fellow tributes because it will make it so much harder being forced to kill them in the arena is similar to how she didn’t ‘bother’ to learn her fellow tributes’ names in her first Games (like how she didn’t know Marvel’s name until the Victory Tour) - the more she knows a person the less likely she is able to kill them, even for her own survival; also, Katniss talking about the older victors attending the Capitol as ‘guests’ when we later will learn that they are actually victims, being forced into prostitution and the like - big oof 😖; it also makes sense that the victors would form a strong bond with each other - nobody else can even fathom what they are going through (also, because many of them are probably trying to keep these horrors secret from their loved ones - if they have still have some left - for protection... it’s awful and sad 😢) - Whereas the only friend I’ll have to worry about killing will be either Peeta or Haymitch. Peeta or Haymitch! I sit straight up, throwing off the sheeting. What just went through my mind? There’s no situation in which I would ever kill Peeta or Haymitch. - Katniss’s semi-detached, analytical assessment of her future opponents comes to a screeching halt once the thought crosses her mind that she might have to worry about killing Peeta and Haymitch - because she could never actually do that (they have become part of her family; they are literally the people she wanted to take with her into the wilderness when she had planned on fleeing D12)

I already know what will happen. Peeta will ask Haymitch to let him go into the arena with me no matter what. For my sake. To protect me. - Katniss knows Peeta so well; this selfless, selfless boy 😭

“I’ll admit, it was easier for the boy. He was here before I could snap the seal on a bottle. Begging me for another chance to go in. But what can you say?” [...] I bite my lip because once he’s said it, I’m afraid that’s what I do want. For Peeta to live, even if it means Haymitch’s death. No, I don’t. He’s dreadful, of course, but Haymitch is my family now. - This was Peeta’s immediate reaction; this boy truly is too good for this world 😭 In a way, it was easier/more straightforward for Peeta, though - he argued for sacrificing himself; Katniss would have to ask someone else (Haymitch, a person she cares about a lot) to sacrifice themselves for Peeta (also someone she cares about) - and she can’t bring herself to do that (that she would sacrifice herself for Peeta in the Games is not even a matter of discussion for her, though - Peeta and Katniss are too pure for this world).

“Maybe it should be you,” I say matter-of-factly as I pull up a chair. “You hate life, anyway.” “Very true,” says Haymitch. “And since last time I tried to keep you alive... seems like I’m obligated to save the boy this time.” - Haymitch saying ‘very true’ reminds me of this scene in THG (Ch. 8) after Katniss shot that arrow at the apple of that roasted pig and was worried there would be consequences for her mom and Prim: “More likely they’ll make your life hell in the arena.” “Well, they’ve already promised to do that to us anyway,” says Peeta. “Very true,” says Haymitch. And I realize the impossible has happened. They have actually cheered me up.; it’s one of the first moments of them working as a team and being each other’s support system

“Peeta’s argument is that since I chose you, I now owe him. Anything he wants. And what he wants is the chance to go in again to protect you,” says Haymitch. I knew it. In this way, Peeta’s not hard to predict. - Peeta cashing in the favor Haymitch ‘owes’ him for Katniss 😩 (this boy lives for others, especially Katniss; like how his token this time in the arena is a locket with photos to remind Katniss what - or whom - she has to stay alive for 😭 Also the line of Peeta not being hard to predict for Katniss in this way reminded me of Katniss thinking: He [Peeta]’s very hard to predict, which might be interesting under different circumstances (THG, Ch. 19) when she’s looking for Peeta after the 2-winner-rule has been announced - on the one hand, it shows how much closer they have grown over the past months, that it has become so much easier for Katniss to understand and predict his actions; on the other hand, I think it also shows that while Katniss is still intrigued by the way Peeta views the world and chooses to act in it (remember her fascination with that ‘intense look’ he would get while working on the plant book) and still can have a hard time predicting what Peeta will do (looking at you, strict trainer-Peeta! ;), the core of who he is (selfless, protective, loving her) is perfectly clear to her, and is made up of all the good things (he’s dependable in that way, but exciting in others... that’s a good combo to have in your significant other)

There’s something else I want from Haymitch. “Okay, I figured out what I’m asking,” I say. “If it is Peeta and me in the Games, this time we try to keep him alive.” Something flickers across his bloodshot eyes. Pain. “Like you said, it’s going to be bad no matter how you slice it. And whatever Peeta wants, it’s his turn to be saved. We both owe him that.” - Poor, poor Haymitch: he had spent most of his life as a victor in lethargic agony, then actually had some tributes he had a chance of bringing home (hope!), actually managed to get both of them out of there and now here he is, having to send them back into the arena, with a huge chance at least one of them won’t make it (also, having to watch his other victor-friends die) and then these two kids also have the audacity to be so pure and selfless, trying to rope him into helping them keeping their respective tribute partner alive 😭 And Katniss being adamant that this time, it’s going to be Peeta who’s going to be saved; these two... They are turning this cynical/sarcastic German saying on its head, for sure: “If everybody takes care of themselves, then everybody is taken care of.“ With these two, they are both taken care of because they are taking care of each other 😭😭

“It’s not too late [to run away],” he [Gale] says. Over his shoulder, I see my mother and Prim clutching each other in the doorway. We run. They die. And now I’ve got Peeta to protect. End of discussion. “Yeah, it is.” - Boy, the matter-of-fact way Katniss just accepts what just an hour or two ago caused her to have a total fit of hysteria because she’s come to the conclusion that this is the only way to keep her loved ones alive... Chills

I turn on the shower and stand under the warm rain for a minute before I realize I’m still in my underclothes. My mother must have just stripped off my filthy outer ones and tucked me in bed. [...] My hands sting, and that’s when I notice the stitches, small and even, across one palm and up the side of the other hand. - another example of Mrs. Everdeen taking care of Katniss and Katniss seems to be very accepting and chill about this - their relationship has come so far!

I’m not ready to see my mother and Prim. I have to pull myself together to be calm and reassuring, the way I was when we said our good-byes the day of the last reaping. I have to be strong. [...] They appear in the doorway, holding tea and toast, their faces filled with concern. I open my mouth, planning to start off with some kind of joke, and burst into tears. So much for being strong. - Katniss, there’s nothing wrong with crying in front of others, especially if they’re people you trust and feel safe around; it doesn’t mean that you aren’t strong - My mother sits on the side of the bed and Prim crawls right up next to me and they hold me, making quiet soothing sounds, until I am mostly cried out. Then Prim gets a towel and dries my hair, combing out the knots, while my mother coaxes tea and toast into me. They dress me in warm pajamas and layer more blankets on me and I drift off again. - I love this moment of the Everdeen ladies just comforting and taking care of each other here (mostly directed at Katniss, of course, but being able to take care of Katniss, at least in this moment, has to provide Mrs. E. and Prim with some comfort, too)... It’s really sad when you think about the fact that Haymitch and Peeta don’t have anyone to give them that sort of care 😢

My mother ladles out a mug of broth for me, and I ask for a second mug to take to Haymitch. - Sweet how Katniss thinks of Haymitch :)

a few minutes later Peeta comes down and tosses a cardboard box of empty liquor bottles on the table with finality. “There, it’s done,” he says. It’s taking all of Haymitch’s resources to focus his eyes on the bottles, so I speak up. “What’s done?” “I’ve poured all the liquor down the drain,” says Peeta. This seems to jolt Haymitch out of his stupor, and he paws through the box in disbelief. “You what?” “I tossed the lot,” says Peeta. “He’ll just buy more,” I say. “No, he won’t,” says Peeta. “I tracked down Ripper this morning and told her I’d turn her in the second she sold to either of you. I paid her off, too, just for good measure but I don’t think she’s eager to be back in the Peacekeepers’ custody.” - Damn, Peeta can be a hard-ass when necessary! But I see you, bread-boy, giving Ripper money also to make sure she’s got some resources, with her business at risk of running dry - you’re still a goody-two-shoes underneath that tough-guy act ;)

I don’t know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A few hugs and kisses. A little comfort maybe. Not this. I turn to Haymitch. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you more liquor.” “Then I’ll turn you both in. Let you sober up in the stocks,” says Peeta. - Lol, Katniss being all shocked (TM) at Peeta’s businesslike approach when she was so certain she was going to get some comforting snuggles from her boo 😂

“The point is that two of us are coming home from the Capitol. One mentor and one victor,” says Peeta. “Effie’s sending me recordings of all the living victors. “We’re going to watch their Games and learn everything we can about how they fight. We’re going to put on weight and get strong. We’re going to start acting like Careers. And one of us is going to be victor again whether you two like it or not!” He sweeps out of the room, slamming the front door. - Peeta’s been busy! Arranging things with Ripper, talking to Effie, coming up with a plan of action for the upcoming weeks... Did he allow himself any time to fall apart, at least a little? Or did he immediately switch into problem-solving mood, putting his feelings aside for the most part?

Peeta takes copious notes, Haymitch volunteers information about the victors’ personlaities, and slowly we begin to know our competition. Every morning we do exercises to strenghten our bodies. We run and lift things and stretch our muscles. Every afternoon we work on our combat skills, throwing knives, fighting hand to hand; I even teach them to climb trees. [...] Peeta and I excel under the new regimen, though. It gives me something to do. It gives us all something to do besides accept defeat. My mother puts us on a special diet to gain weight. Prim treats our sore muscles. Madge sneaks us her father’s Capitol newspapers. [...] Even Gale steps into the picture on Sundays, although he’s got no love for Peeta or Haymitch, and teaches us all he knows about snares. - Honestly, this would have made for an awesome training montage on screen... Oh well; I love how their training truly is a group effort, also involving Mrs. E., Prim, Madge, and even Gale

One night, as I’m walking Gale back into town, he even admits, “It’d be better if he were easier to hate.” - Come on, Gale, don’t be so effing petty 🙄 - “Tell me about it,” I say. “If I could’ve just hated him in the arena, we all wouldn’t be in this mess now. He’d be dead, and I’d be a happy little victor all by myself.” - Would you be happy, though, Katniss? Would you? I don’t think so; you felt bad for killing Marvel and for Cato’s painful death and you didn’t even like these dudes one bit... and if Peeta hadn’t been the kind boy (with the bread) that he is, you might not have even been there in the first place, soo... I’m calling BS on that one - “And where would we be, Katniss?” asks Gale - Gale... this isn’t about you or your romantic feelings for Katniss, geez... Katniss and the gang are in the middle of training for another flipping death match and you bring that stuff up again although she told you that in the world as it is right now, she can’t focus on these kinds of things... So. Let. It. Go.

“Hunting. Like every Sunday,” I say. I know he didn’t mean the question literally, but this is as much as I can honestly give. Gale knows I chose him over Peeta when I didn’t make a run for it. - Lol, does Gale know, Katniss? There she goes again, assuming without communicating... Also, why is not running away = choosing Gale? o.O You’ve barely seen Gale since the whipping, while spending loads of time with Peeta - why would Gale think that you chose him? The only definite choice you’ve made so far is that you are going to protect Peeta at any cost

Since I don’t plan on making it back alive a second time, the sooner Gale lets me go, the better. I do plan on saying one or two things to him after the reaping, when we’re allowed an hour for good-byes. To let Gale know how essential he’s been to me all these years. How much better my life has been for knowing him. For loving him, even if it’s only in the limited way that I can manage. - Katniss shouldn’t have to feel bad for loving Gale in the way she does; she truly cares about him, just not in a romantic way, but his repeated prodding has made her feel deficient in the reciprocity that used to be a staple of their relationship... She wants him to know how important he has been to her and she wishes he’d let her go sooner rather than later so he won’t be as hurt once she dies - she’s really trying to be considerate of his feelings, and yet she feels like it’s never enough... Whereas Gale is still hinting at/bringing up the potential romance angle, although she has explicitly expressed that it makes her uncomfortable. Honestly, in this regard, Gale kind of gives me Boldwood-ish vibes, focussing way too much on what he wants out of their relationship than what his counterpart wants or feels ready to give (maybe just because I’ve just recently finished reading Far from the Madding Crowd, or maybe because I’ve read this interesting post by @lost815 on the similarities between Peeta and Gabriel Oak); Gale is a lot less creepy than Boldwood, of course, but still he’s being super tone deaf when it comes to what Katniss wants and needs right now from their relationship

Chapter 14

I remain at the window long after the woods have swallowed up the last glimpse of my home. This time I don’t even have the slightest hope of return. Before my first Games, I promised Prim I would do everything I could to win, and now I’ve sworn to myself to do all I can to keep Peeta alive. I will never reverse this journey again. I’d actually figured out what I wanted my last words to my loved ones to be. How best to close amd lock the doors and leave them sad but safely behind. And now the Capitol has stolen that as well. - It’s so awful how this time, Katniss didn’t even get the chance to say good-bye to her loved ones on her own terms, when at least this time (in contrast to her first Games) she had the time to prepare something for the occasion :(

“We’ll write letters, Katniss,” says Peeta from behind me. “It will be better, anyway. Give them a piece of us to hold on to [...]” - Peeta does have a point that a written letter can serve as a tangible memento; unfortunately, it’s not a medium that is going to work for Katniss, but I really hope that Peeta got to say his good-byes to his family this way (since he will never see them again, albeit not for the reason he’s assuming here; although it might mean little to Peeta since they probably never received his letters by the time D12 gets bombed) - I nod and go straight to my room. I sit on the bed, knowing I will never write those letters. They will be like the speech I tried to write to honor Rue and Thresh in District 11. Things seemed clear in my head and even when I talked before the crowd, but the words never came out of the pen right. - Perfect example how Katniss is basically just able to speak from the heart in the moment, as we will see in MJ - Besides, they were meant to go with embraces and kisses and a stroke of Prim’s hair, a caress of Gale’s safe, a squeeze of Madge’s hand. - Also an example of how Katniss uses her actions to get a lot of her feelings across. (I love how Madge has been added to the roster of people close to Katniss’s heart)

Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return. - This is some beautiful imagery (also, some bird-motif again); I wonder what Katniss exactly means by ‘protective cages inside me’ - what or whom do these cages protect? Do they protect the birds/her images of her loved ones from something outside of them (in that way, it kinda makes me think of how the Capitol will pry open those cages inside Peeta, to distort his image of Katniss into something horrible), or do these cages protect Katniss, because the people she loves are what she falls back on when she has to remind herself what/whom she’s living for (think of how her promise to Prim kept her going in her first Games and how she lost her will to live after Prim’s death)?

“I love your new hair, Effie,” Peeta says. “Thank you. I had it especially done to match Katniss’s pin. I was thinking we might get you a golden ankle band and maybe find Haymitch a gold bracelet or something so we could all look like a team,” says Effie. [...] “I think that’s a great idea,” says Peeta. “How about it, Haymitch?” “Yeah, whatever,” says Haymitch. He’s not drinking but I can tell he’d like to be. Effie had them take her own wine away when she saw the effort he was making - Such nice moments that make you appreciate Effie a lot more; she’s making a fashion statement to emphasize that she views the four of them as a team (not bad for someone who hoped they were going to get promoted to a “better district” after Peeta and Katniss’s win) and she also re-enforces this through her actions (i.e. turning down her drink in solidarity with Haymitch); it’s very sweet (although I couldn’t help but snort at the absurdity of Effie suggesting an ankle band to the guy with one leg 😅 - she’s got the spirit, though)

Effie makes hushed, distressed comments like “Oh, not Celia” or “Well, Chaff never could stay out of a fight,” and sighs frequently. - A first hint that the Capitolites might not be too on board with the premise of this particular Quarter Quell, since they grow attached to their victors

I just sit there watching Peeta rip out the pages of the victors who were not picked. “Why don’t you get some sleep?” he says. Because I can’t handle the nightmares. Not without you, I think. - Katniss basically admits here that she needs Peeta, that he helps her dealing with her trauma, just by being there for her! Which is a big admission, coming from her. - They are sure to be dreadful tonight. But I can hardly ask Peeta to come sleep with me. We’ve barely touched since that night Gale was whipped. - You lying liar, Katniss! After Gale got whipped, Peeta kissed you in front of the Peacekeepers, carried you around your house and tucked you into your bed... He only turned all businesslike when the Quarter Quell was announced. On the other hand, you apparently decided in your mind that you “chose Gale” after he got whipped and now you’re upset that Peeta’s not making any ‘moves’ on you?? Make up your mind, gurl ;) And technically, you could ask him to come sleep with you; he told you that he also sleeps better with you in his arms, sooo... - “What are you going to do?” I ask. “Just review my notes awhile. Get a clear picture of what we’re up against. But I’ll go over it with you in the morning. Go to bed, Katniss,” he says. - Peeta reassuring Katniss that he’ll go over his notes with her in the morning makes me wonder whether he thinks that she is stalling going to bed because she wants to be up to date on everything (which is probably something he’d value highly, after being left out of the loop the last few times; and also because he’s in rational problem-solving mode right now, rather than his more emotionally mature people-person mode); Peeta insisting that Katniss should go to bed is a more grounded, rational expression of his caring for her (Katniss needs her rest)

within a few hours I awake from a nightmare where that old woman from District 4 transforms into a large rodent and gnaws on my face. I know I was screaming, but no one comes. Not Peeta, not even one of the Capitol attendants. - It’s so weird to have Katniss have this nightmare starring Mags, of all people... Also, someone’s a little pouty that no strapping young man with strong arms is there to provide comfort, hmh?😉

Peeta rises and flips off the tape when he sees me. - Okay, but it’s kind of hilarious to imagine that even that far into the future, their ‘old recording technology’ is still tapes 😂 - “Couldn’t sleep?” “Not for long,” I say. [...] “Want to talk about it?” he asks. Sometimes that can help, but I just shake my head, feeling weak that people I haven’t even fought yet already haunt me. When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. - I think it’s interesting how Peeta first turns off the tape (research for their problem), then offers a more, hmh, let’s say directed approach to deal with her nightmares (’want to talk about it?’), and then offers physical affection to comfort Katniss; I also feel like from this moment onwards, Peeta drops the tough trainer routine completely (it’s not necessary anymore; the tributes have been chosen, they have done all the preparation that was in their power once his notes are finalized; after that, it’s just rolling with the punches) - It’s the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. - Katniss, this guy is literally preparing to die for you and you accuse him of dropping any pretense of being your friend??🙄🤦‍♀️ It’s called tough love and I can tell you are not a fan of it ;)

I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. - We know that you missed Peeta’s affection, Katniss, but haven’t you considered that the poor boy might also have been missing these moments? - Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go. - Katniss absolutely craving and basking in Peeta’s affection - how can people (including Katniss, lol) think that she’d chose Gale over Peeta?!??

And why should I? I have said good-bye to Gale. I’ll never see him again, that’s for certain. Nothing I do now can hurt him. He won’t see it or he’ll think I am acting for the cameras. That, at least, is one weight off my shoulders. - It’s been weighing on her how showing any affection towards Peeta could potentially hurt Gale; just goes to show how much she cares (platonically) for Gale, but also how much Gale’s continued lingering on the potentiality of the development of a romantic relationship between him and Katniss has affected/impeded Katniss in being more affectionate and open with Peeta (I’m sure it was not really Gale’s intent, but it’s still a pretty uncool move on his part)

“What’s with him [the Capitol attendant that brought the warm milk]?” I say. “I think he feels bad for us,” says Peeta. “Right,” I say, pouring the milk. “I mean it. I don’t think the people in the Capitol are going to be all that happy about our going back in,” says Peeta. “Or the other victors. They get attached to their champions.” - Peeta’s intuitve people skills are on to something here - I think this is when he realizes that the Capitol/Snow is severely underestimating the power of human connection (of course, the Capitolites generally aren’t truly empathetic towards the victors, their attachment is more of a selfish kind of “love”, but it’s an attachment nevertheless) and this is actually something that can be used to their (Katniss’s, Peeta’s, and just the victors’ in general) advantage and will ultimately lead to Peeta dropping that baby bomb

“We don’t have to tell Haymitch we saw it [the recording of the 2nd Quarter Quell].” “Okay,” Peeta agrees. He puts in the tape and I curl up next to him on the couch with my milk, - reminds me of Katniss and Peeta watching the replay of their Games: I sit so close to Peeta that I’m pracitcally on his lap, but one look from Haymitch tells me it isn’t enough. Kicking off my sandals, I tuck my feet to the side and lean my head against Peeta’s shoulder. (THG, Ch. 27) - Only this time, there’s no Haymitch to tell Katniss to sit close to Peeta; she’s doing that because she wants to

then I hear the name “Maysilee Donner.” “Oh!” I say. “She was my mother’s friend.” [...] “I think that’s your mother hugging her,” says Peeta quietly. And he’s right. As Maysilee Donner bravely disengages herself and heads for the stage, I catch a glimpse of my mother at my age, and no one has exaggerated her beauty. Holding her hand and weeping is another girl who looks just like Maysilee. But a lot like someone else I know, too. “Madge.” I say. “That’s her mother. She and Maysilee were twins or something,” Peeta says. “My dad mentioned it once.” I think of Madge’s mother. Mayor Undersee’s wife. Who spends half her life in bed immobilized with terrible pain, shutting out the world. I think of how I never realized that she and my mother shared this connection. - I feel like this is one of these moments where Katniss really realizes the trauma that also shaped her parents’ generation; it’s easy to be mad/upset with your parents for not doing enough/what you deem the “right thing” and expect from an adult when you are a child/teenager and totally forget that parents have been children/teens, too, who might have their own burdens to bear and which might impede them in their later life, that you, as their child, are not really aware of

But since Haymitch is going to be the victor, we get to see one full exchange between him and Caesar Flickerman, who looks exactly as he always does in his twinkling midnight blue suit. Only his dark green hair, eyelids, and lips are different. - Okay, Caesar still looking the same after 25 years is just kinda creepy

That’s when we hear Maysilee begin to scream. The alliance is over and she broke it off, so no one could blame him for ignoring her. But Haymitch runs for her, anyway. He arrives only in time to watch the last of a flock of candy-pink birds, equipped with long, thin beaks, skewer her through the neck. He holds her hand while she dies, and all I can think of is Rue and how I was too late to save her, too. - Okay, so the bird thing is super creepy and sounds like something the Penguin would come up with 😧 Haymitch evidently caring despite projecting an aloof personality just shows how similar (younger) he and Katniss are, as Katniss says: “It’s [using the forcefield to kill the last tribute] almost as bad as us and berries!” [...] I think I finally know who Haymitch is. And I’m beginning to know who I am. And surely, two people who have caused the Capitol so much trouble can think of a way to get Peeta home alive. - I’d love to know what Katniss has learned about who she is at this point; since she didn’t really have much of a concept of her identity beyond keeping her family alive and fed before her first Games and feeling at loss for who she is on the way back to D12 by then end of the first book. I wonder how exactly she views herself now - it definitely involves a bit of rebellion against the Capitol and a fierce determination to save Peeta, but no definite specifics so far...

Chapter 15

At some point during the prep, each of them [the prep team] bursts into tears at least twice, and Octavia pretty much keeps up a running whimper throughout the morning. It turns out they really have become attached to me and the idea of my returning to the arena has undone them. [...] The idea of being strong for someone else having never entered their heads, I find myself in the position of having to console them. Since I’m the person going in to be slaughtered, this is somewhat annoying. - Lol, you’ve gotta love Katniss’s dry humor 😂

It’s interesting, though, when I think of what Peeta said about the attendant on the train being unhappy about the victors having to fight again. About people in the Capitol not liking it. [...] They certainly don’t have a problem watching children being murdered every year. But maybe they know too much about the victors, especially the ones who’ve been celebrities for ages, to forget we’re human beings. It’s more like watching your own friends die. More like the Games are for those of us in the districts. - It is indeed interesting, Katniss! Peeta’s on to something here... To avoid solidarity and attachment, the Capitol diligently keeps apart the districts from each other, as well as the Capitol apart from the districts; BUT! because of the cruelty they inflict on the districts (the Games), they are providing the districts with a common goal/enemy to bond over (Katniss will make use of that when she’s talking to that man at the Nut in D2) and because by providing the Capitolites with this sick entertainment, they have created a contact point for people from the districts and the Capitol - and recurring exposure to something/someone creates a sense of familiarity (-> “familiarity principle”, also sometimes called the mere-exposure effect) and increases our liking of said thing/person. Blanchet and Vaage (2012) have even postulated in their publication “Don, Peggy, and Other Fictional Friends? Engaging with Characters in Television Series” that repeated exposure to characters in tv shows (vs. limited exposure to movie characters) would suggest that tv series have a greater potential for the viewer to bond with the characters on screen. They argue that this recurring exposure could have a similar effect to that of the “shared history account of love and friendship”, one of the criteria for the forming of friendships, which could explain why we sometimes feel like we have a sort of pseudo-friendship with fictional characters (who would have thought that I would end up citing a paper I referenced in my master’s thesis here, huh? I certainly didn’t ;) - since the Capitolites just barely acknowledge the victors as people and mostly know them from the detached viewings, I feel like this analogy could fit

the moment he [Cinna] walks in the door I snap, “I swear if you cry, I’ll kill you here and now.” Cinna just smiles. “Had a damp morning?” “You could wring me out,” I reply. Cinna puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me into lunch. “Don’t worry. I always channel my emotions into my work. That way I don’t hurt anyone but myself.” - love that banter-y aspect of Katniss and Cinna’s relationship; but also, Cinna’s remark about channeling his emotions into his work so he can only end up hurting himself hits different when you know what is to come 😢

I’m hoping to find Peeta and Haymitch, but they haven’t arrived yet. Unlike last year, when all the tributes were practically glued to their chariot, the scene is very social. The victors, both this year’s tributes and their mentors, are standing around in small groups, talking. Of course, they all know one another and I don’t know anyone, and I’m not really the sort of person to go around introducing myself. So I just stroke the neck of one of my horses and try not to be noticed. - As a hardcore introvert, I feel this moment in my bones - the only people I feel comfortable around are not there and there are a bunch of people who have known each other for a long time, talking with each other? I’ll try my best to disappear into the background (instead of a horse, I generally have a book) 😄

Because of his [Finnick’s] youth, they couldn’t really touch him for the first year or two. - Well, I’d hope so, but I get the feeling that the Capitol used those two years to let Finnick ‘know’ that there was no choice but to sign up for what they had in mind for him... or else 😟 - But ever since he turned sixteen, he’s spent his time at the Games being dogged by those desperately in love with him. No one retains his favor for long. He can go through four or five in his annual visit. Old or young, lovely or plain, rich or very rich, he’ll keep them company and take their extravagant gifts, but he never stays, and once he’s gone he never comes back. - It’s strange how Katniss first frames Finnick as a victim or as someone who needed to be protected (e.g. Capitol first couldn’t touch him for the first two years, Finnick being ‘dogged’), but after that, it doesn’t seem like she continues the thought that he might not be enjoying that lifestyle at all and might actually be forced into it; Maybe because Katniss can’t even fathom the horror of a 16-year-old boy being forced into prostitution, maybe because she’s still ignorant of how shitty the regular victor’s life is post-Games, or maybe because she’d never consider that a guy could be forced into prostitution (as in D12, it’s basically just a thing some women resort to, as the “market” for that kind of thing was basically just Cray, from what we’ve learned)

I can’t argue that Finnick isn’t one of the most stunning, sensuous people on the planet. But I can honestly say he’s never been attractive to me. Maybe he’s too pretty, or maybe he’s too easy to get, or maybe it’s really that he’s just be too easy too lose. - Sounds like you’re more interested in a more steady and safe type of guy, Katniss... Hmmh, I wonder who could qualify as such...🤔😉 I also love how Katniss has no problem admitting that Finnick is objectively hot, while still being genuine when she says that she’s not into him (she talked similarly about Gale in the first book)

He’s draped in a golden net that’s strategically knotted at his groin so that he can’t technically be called naked, but he’s about as close as you can get. - Lol, this reminds me of the Grimm’s fairytale “The Clever Farmer’s Daughter” in which a king asks said farmer’s daughter to come to his castle “Not undressed, nor naked, not on horse, nor by carriage, not on the road, nor off it", so she ‘dresses’ herself in a net, ties it to a donkey’s tail and let’s the animal drag her to the king’s castle, with only one of her toes touching the road 😄

“You’re absolutely terrifying me in that getup. What happened to the pretty little-girl dresses?” he asks. He wets his lips just ever so slightly with his tongue. Probably this drives most people crazy. But for some reason all I can think of is old Cray, salivating over some poor, starving young woman. - Oh boy, Katniss is way off here... 😩😭

“What did Finnick Odair want?” he [Peeta] asks. I turn and put my lips close to Peeta’s and drop my eyelids in imitation of Finnick. “He offered me sugar and wanted to know all my secrets,” I say in my best seductive voice. Peeta laughs. “Ugh. Not really.” “Really,” I say. “I’ll tell you more when my skin stops crawling.” - Evidently, Finnick’s line of flirting is not appealing to neither Katniss nor Peeta ^^- “Do you think we’d have ended up like this if only one of us had won?” he asks, glancing around the other victors. - Peeta wondering about this really showcases his empathy and how he doesn’t really view the victors as ‘other’, unlike Katniss still does at this point

“Sure. Especially you,” I say. “Oh. And why especially me?” he says with a smile. “Because you have a weakness for beautiful things and I don’t,” I say with an air of superiority. - Says the woman who lamented having to kill a beautiful lynx and a beautiful deer and who waxed poetic about Peeta’s eyelashes 👀 -“They would lure you into their Capitol ways and you’d be lost entirely.” “Having an eye for beauty isn’t the same thing as a weakness,” Peeta points out. “Except possibly when it comes to you.” - Leave it to Peeta to manage arguing Katniss’s point while also dropping a flirty compliment - what a multitasker! 😉

“Shall we?” He holds out a hand to help me into the chariot. I climb up and pull him up after me. “Hold still,” I say, and straighten his crown. - Cuties! Peeta being a gentleman and helping Katniss up the chariot first, followed by her helping him up in return and adjusting his crown because they’re a team and basically married at this point 😭 (I know I’m exaggerating, but still.. it’s so cute)

“Are we supposed to hold hands this year?” I ask. “I guess they’ve left it up to us,” says Peeta. I look up into those blue eyes that no amount of dramatic makeup can make truly deadly and remember how, just a year ago, I was prepared to kill him. Convinced he was trying to kill me. Now everything is reversed. I’m determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life [...] Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one. - 😭😭

Before either of us says a word, she [Seeder] embraces me. I know somehow it must be because of Rue and Thresh. Before I can stop myself, I whisper, “The families?” “They’re alive,” she says back softly before letting me go. - Aww, Katniss checking with Seeder how Thresh’s and Rue’s families are doing is exactly why Seeder went into this hug in the first place - Katniss is so kind 🥺

Except for her forest green slippers, she [Johanna] doesn’t have on a stitch of clothing. “That’s better.” We end up on the same elevator with her, and she spends the whole ride to the seventh floor chatting to Peeta about his paintings while the light of his still-glowing costume reflects off her bare breasts. When she leaves, I ignore him, but I just know he’s grinning. - Lol, somebody’s jealouuusss!!!😏 And Peeta’s just super amused 😂

I toss aside his hand as the doors close behind Chaff and Seeder, leaving us alone, and he breaks out laughing. “What?” I say, turning on him as we step out on our floor. “It’s you, Katniss. Can’t you see?” he says. “What’s me?” I say. “Why they’re all acting like this. Finnick with his sugar cubes and Chaff kissing you and that whole thing with Johanna stripping down.” He tries to take on a more serious tone, unsuccessfully. “They’re playing with you because you’re so... you know.” “No, I don’t know,” I say. And I really have no idea what he’s talking about. [...] “You’re so... pure,” he says finally. “I am not!” I say. “I’ve been practically ripping your clothes off every time there’s been a camera for the last year!” “Yeah, but... I mean, for the Capitol, you’re pure,” he says, clearly trying to mollify me. “For me, you’re perfect. They’re just teasing you.” “No, they’re laughing at me, and so are you!” I say. “No.” Peeta shakes his head, but he’s still suppressing a smile. I’m seriously rethinking the question of who should get out of these Games alive when the elevator door opens. - Geez, Katniss, calm down ^^ Although it would make sense that she’d feel upset over the other victors not taking her too seriously - being taken seriously has been an integral part of her approach in the last Games (think of how she took a lot of pride in showcasing her capability in the arena) and now that she’s hell-bent on saving Peeta it would also be important that any potential allies (or threats) take her seriously, too (of course, you can tease someone and still respect their skills, etc. but in Katniss’s defense there have been already 3 people trying to throw her off her game and it seems to have worked at least a little)... I wonder if Peeta might recognize this kind of playful teasing from his time on the wrestling team - I’m sure there was plenty of that happening there ^^

#thgagain #thg #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #thg meta #everlark #my sketches and drawings #thg fanart #haymitch abernathy #effie

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wheresmynaya · 4 years

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Lost in the Lights Ch.1 | Brittana

Looks like I’m back at it again! Honestly it’s only because it’s currently (American) football season and I’ve been wanting to write QB!Britt for SO LONG and Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince gave me lots of feelings about it.

Also the Steelers are still undefeated so I’ve been in a good mood.

Summary: Brittany S. Pierce is new to WMHS and quickly finds that the students there aren't as open-minded as the ones she's used to, especially when she takes over as the Titans' starting quarterback. Many heads are turned including Cheerios Co-Captain Santana Lopez who has some obstacles of her own to tackle.

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x)

Once Brittany taped up the last box and set it aside for the movers to take, she took the rare moment she had alone and reminisced. She knew this day was bound to come. Since her father’s passing earlier in the year, Brittany’s mother – Whitney – had begun making the arrangements to move closer to Brittany’s grandparents in Ohio. Aside from a handful of friends, they didn’t really have anyone else close by and with Brittany’s little brother – Pete – still too young to stay home alone and Brittany busy with school, Whitney needed the extra help.

The move made sense, but Brittany dreaded it in silence. She was going into her Senior year and being the new kid at school wasn’t how she planned on spending it. She kept her feelings in check though as she boxed up her whole life and said goodbye.

Brittany didn’t want to make things harder by digging in her heels, so she put on a brave face for the sake of her family and finished her Junior year without making any complaints. Instead, Brittany did everything she could to help make the transition a little easier.

With a light knock on Brittany’s door, Whitney made her presence known.

“You ready to go, Britt?” Whitney asked gently.

Brittany could feel her throat tightening. Was she ready? The answer was obvious and deep down, Whitney knew that. She closed the distance and gave her daughter a hug.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Whitney whispered.

Brittany just nodded and held on tighter.

It had been a long drive and it seemed like everything started to look a little greener the further they got from the coast. Even the trees changed from the bushy palms Brittany grew up with to tall oaks, but after what felt like a million hours the Pierce Family finally made it to their destination.

“It’s a good looking house, right kids?” Whitney asked cheerfully as the family stretched their achy limbs in front of their new home.

It wasn’t anything special, just a typical three bedroom, two bath. The siding was white, the shutters were blue and the wooden fence looked relatively knew. At a quick glance, the house looked like any other on the block. Brittany didn’t have any complaints though and when she glanced down at Pete, neither did he.

“It’s cute,” Brittany agreed with a smile then nudged her brother, “What do you think, Petey?”

“I like the windows,” Pete pointed up at the shutters, “Blue’s my favorite color.”

“Mine too,” Brittany winked.

“Well, go pick your rooms,” Whitney instructed.

She didn’t get a chance to tell them that they were the exact same size, one just faces the backyard and the other faces the front. The two took off towards the house giggling the whole way while Whitney just shook her head and trailed after them.

It took them a couple weeks to settle into their new place with the help of Brittany’s grandparents, but it was finally starting to feel like home even if she felt like something was missing.

Or rather, someone.

Some nights she could hear the soft whimpers coming from her mother’s room and some nights Petey makes his way into Brittany’s bed because the dreams keep him up at night. Everyone misses him and that makes the transition a little harder. The nights are usually hard for everyone, but they manage to get by together.

It’s better during the day when it’s light out and there’s less time to overthink things. An Ohio summer has nothing on a Florida one, but Brittany doesn’t complain about that either. She can catch a tan wherever the sun shines, so she does just that.

She and Pete find a park within walking distance of their house and visit often while Whitney is out job hunting. Most days, Pete has more energy than Brittany can keep up with so the park really comes in handy. On the rare occasion, Pete sometimes would rather sit with Brittany on a blanket under one of the big trees there and color.

Sometimes, Brittany joins him because as Pete would say, “You’re never too old for coloring.”

One day while they’re at the park, Brittany spots a couple of guys that look to be around her age. They’re a little ways away, tossing a football back and forth. She can just barely hear their voices, but they’re muffled and mix with the sound of her music playing from her phone.

“How’s this look, Britt?” Pete asks as he holds up his coloring book.

Brittany nods, “Excellent color choice for the hair.”

“I thought so too,” Pete grins and goes back to his scribbling while Brittany lazily flips through the latest issue of Sports Illustrated.

She switches from reading articles to watching the guys play. She notes their form and posture and she can’t help but critique them. Their throws are pretty average, but they aren’t too bad and she goes back to reading.

“Watch out!” Brittany hears one of the guys yell. She braces herself and holds out a protective arm over Pete’s head. Soon a football bounces down just a couple feet away from her blanket and rolls to a wobbly stop beside her.

“Way to go, Sam! You almost hit them,” The lean guy yells back to the shaggy-haired blonde.

“I thought you had that!”

“It was overthrown! Do you think I’m seven feet tall?”

“You could’ve jumped.”

“This is why you’re third string when we don’t even have a second.”

“Whatever Mike, I’m just having an off day,” The blonde grumbles as he trails his friend.

“You always say that,” Mike shakes his head and starts to jog over to Brittany and Pete, “Sorry about that!”

“That’s alright,” Brittany smiles as she reaches for the ball and pushes to stand. The leather feels familiar in her hands and it’s just now that she realizes she hasn’t picked up a ball in so long. Her fingers automatically slide into position between the laces though like they’re magnets being drawn together.

Brittany sets her eyes on Mike and draws her arm back to throw a perfect spiral.

The pass connects with the intended target – obviously – but the looks on both of the guys’ faces is priceless. Brittany smiles proudly as they whoop and holler. She didn’t realize she kind of misses that.

“Show off,” Pete teases though he matches her proud smile.

“That was an awesome throw!” Mike applauds as he rushes over, “Like Woah! Sorry, I’m Mike. That’s my friend, Sam.”

Sam’s still a little ways away but he waves as he jogs over, his blonde shaggy hair bouncing with every step. He kind of reminds Brittany of a golden retriever, eager and a little dorky.

“I’m Brittany,” Brittany greets and pats Pete’s head, “This is my brother, Pete. We just moved here.”

“Oh, I think we’re neighbors!” Mike grins, “The house with the blue shutters?”

“Yeah, that’s us.”

Sam finally joins the group, “Great throw! Can you do that again?”

Brittany shrugs casually, “Yeah. Probably.”

Mike and Sam drop their jaws in disbelief.

“My sister’s a quarterback,” Pete informs them, “She’s the best at school.”

“I was the best at our old school,” Brittany corrects and ruffles up his blonde hair.

“You were a,” Sam blinks, “I’ve never met a girl quarterback.”

Brittany tries to keep from gritting her teeth at the way he says girl. She knows he didn’t mean any disrespect, but it still makes her skin crawl. She forgets that some places aren’t as progressive as her old school, so she keeps the polite smile on her face.

“You have to try out,” Sam insists, “You’re better than half of those guys and no girl has ever tried out before. It would be so cool!”

“You saw me throw one time,” Brittany chuckles.

“Exactly, that’s how much we suck!”

“Hey!” Mike shakes his head and gives Brittany an encouraging smile, “You’d be great on the team.”

Mike seems genuine enough, they both do, but Brittany’s unsure of how she’ll be received here. She’s already going to be the new kid in school, she didn’t really want to add on to that by being the first girl to try out for the team.

“I don’t know,” Brittany looks unsure and glances down at Pete, “I wasn’t planning on playing this year.”

“You’ve got to,” Mike adds, “You have a killer arm.”

“Would totally bench Hudson,” Sam jokes with Mike.

Mike nods, “Without a doubt.”

“Is Hudson your current QB?” Brittany wonders.

“Yeah, for three years and we haven’t made a single playoffs appearance,” Sam answers with the shake of his head.

“Sam was going to try and play him for the starting position,” Mike explains, “Clearly he needs some work though.”

Sam scoffs and punches at Mike’s shoulder.

“Clearly,” Brittany chuckled. She liked these guys. They were kind of dorks but harmless and they seemed friendly.

“Well, we don’t want to pressure you if you don’t want to play,” Mike says a little more seriously, “But if you change your mind, try-outs are next Tuesday at William McKinley High at noon. See Coach Beiste.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brittany replies, “Thanks.”

“Cool. Well, how about one more for the road?” Mike suggests and holds out the ball to Brittany.

Brittany was happy to oblige and slaps her palm against the leather, “Go long.”

The guys took off running, playfully shoving at each other as Brittany took her stance and got into position. She let them get a few more yards further before drawing back and letting the ball fly.

Again, it was a perfect throw.

When Sam caught it this time, Mike cheered while Sam did a celebratory dance. It wasn’t the smoothest thing Brittany had ever seen, but it was the funniest and it had her and Pete laughing harder than they had in awhile.

That night at the dinner table with Whitney, Pete talked animatedly about his and Brittany’s day. Brittany always loved how excited he got about the smallest things and he always told stories with so much detail. They were worried that it would fade with their dad’s passing but Pete was still so full of love and light.

“We made friends at the park today too!” Pete said which piqued Whitney’s interest.

“Oh really?” Whitney smiled and looked to Brittany, “Making friends already?”

“I wouldn’t call them that,” Brittany chuckled as she picked mindlessly at her plate, “A couple guys from the high school here were playing catch. Apparently one of them is our neighbor too.”

“Mike!” Pete clarified.

“Yeah, Mike and Sam. They tried talking me into trying out for the football team,” Brittany explained, “I don’t think I’m going to play this year though.”

“What? Why not?” Whitney asked worriedly, “You’ve played every year since middle school.”

“I know, but I want to be able to help out here if you need me to,” Brittany reasons and glances over at Pete, “I don’t want to get stuck with football like I always do.”

“You love it, Britt, and you’re good at it,” Whitney tells her, “You should try out.”

“What about Pete?” Brittany questions, “No one will be home when he finishes school.”

“Gran will pick him up,” Whitney suggests easily.

“But – “

“No buts,” Whitney gives her a stern look, “It’s your Senior year and you love the game. If you want to play, you should. Isn’t that what your dad always said?”

Brittany feels something clench in the pit of her stomach and she isn’t sure if it’s a good feeling or a bad one. She can still hear her dad’s voice gently guiding her and maybe that’s what helps her decide this time too.

“Okay yeah, I’ll try out,” Brittany announces and it’s the first time she finally feels like herself again since moving to Ohio.

It’s a muggy Summer’s day when Brittany arrives at her new school for try-outs. She can already feel all eyes on her as she walks through the gate and joins the others on the field. She spots Mike and Sam with a few others and they wave at her while the others give her curious looks. Brittany gives them a nod but stays focused. It feels like it’s a hundred degrees there, but she’s use to the heat after growing up in Florida. She stands tall with her chin held high as she makes her way over to the Coach.

She’s pleasantly surprised when she finds that the Coach is also a woman.

“Coach Beiste?”

“Cheerios try-outs are held in the gym,” The woman tells her without a second glance.

Brittany bites her lip and tries to shake the nerves, “I’m not here for a cereal ad, Coach. I want to try-out for the team.”

The woman pauses and eyes Brittany curiously as she says, “This is football try-outs.”

“I know,” Brittany nods resolutely, “I’ve played before.”

“Position?”

“Quarterback.”

Coach looks impressed, “What string?”

Brittany smirks, “I was the starter.”

The woman blinks and it’s similar to the look Sam gave her.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Brittany. Brittany S. Pierce.”

“You just move here or something?” Beiste asks as she jots down Brittany’s name on the clipboard, “I haven’t seen you around.”

“Yes,” Brittany nods, “I just moved here from Florida.”

“Alright. Well, you won’t get any special treatment on my field,” Beiste tells her sternly, “You’ll run the drills, same as everyone else and I’ll see how you go. You throw up, it’s an automatic out.”

“Of course,” Brittany grins, “I don’t want it any other way.”

It’s no surprise to Brittany when she aces try-outs. She’s always been pretty athletic and she starts every morning with a run so she’s in tip-top shape and breezes through the drills. Even the team’s resident quarterback – Finn Hudson – struggles to keep up with the others. Brittany notes how uncoordinated his movements are and starts to understand why the team hasn’t made a playoff appearance.

Finn’s saving grace though is that he has a pretty good arm, but Brittany is confident that hers is better. Actually, she knows it is. If they’re going to compare stats, Brittany has him beat in every category but she lets her talent speak for itself. No one likes a cocky new kid on the block.

“You’re promising, Pierce,” Coach Beiste tells her after the third day of try-outs, “Between you and me, you can run circles around Hudson and I have no doubt you can outshine him.”

“I appreciate that, Coach.”

“But, he’s been our starter for nearly three years now. He’s got the team’s respect and trust,” Coach Beiste reasons.

Brittany nods. She hates how she has to start from scratch here. At her old school, she didn’t have to prove anything to anyone, they just knew she was talented because they grew up with her. Here, they don’t know anything about her and that puts her at a real disadvantage.

“You can’t just come in like a bat outta hell and snatch it from him,” Coach continues, “You’re going to have to play for it; prove yourself to me and the team that you can do a better job. You’ve got to really earn this.”

Brittany saw that coming too so she nods, “I understand.”

“I took a look at your record. I hope you don’t mind,” Coach Beiste says, “It’s very impressive, Pierce. I haven’t seen talent like yours in awhile around here. I almost forgot what it was like to see stats like yours.”

“Thank you. I’ve been playing for a long time.”

“I can tell, so this is what I’m going to do. There’s a pre-season game coming up,” Beiste tells her, “I want to put you in, see what you can do. If I like what I see, you might just be able to nudge Hudson out. There are a lot of Seniors on this team, I know they’d love to see the Championships and I think you can get them there.”

“I know I can,” Brittany says without a second thought.

Coach pats her hard on the shoulder pad, “That’s what I like to hear. Go get cleaned up.”

While Brittany gets packed up a little while later, she feels someone standing close by. She waits for some off-handed comment – she’s heard a few of the guys mumble them under their breath – but it never comes. She figures it’s either Mike or Sam but when she turns, it’s neither of them.

“Hi,” The guy greets. His voice is meek, almost angelic and it takes Brittany by surprise.

“Hi,” Brittany smiles back though as she stands.

“I’m Kurt,” He says and does a showy kick, “I’m the kicker.”

Brittany notes his small stature compared to the other guys. There’s not an ounce of muscle on him it looks like, typical for someone on special teams.

“I’m Brittany,” She replies, “Not sure what I am just yet.”

“I hope you’re going to be our knew QB,” Kurt grins and takes a seat next to Brittany’s duffle as she continues packing up, “I’m rooting for you. I know there are a few others that are too, they just don’t want you to know about it. I don’t really understand the point, we all want to win.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” Kurt nods and starts to admire Brittany’s keychain, “Oh! We play for the same team.”

“Obviously or this would be pretty embarrassing,” Brittany says with a straight face.

“No, I meant – “

Brittany grins slyly as she watches his face turn red. She glances down at her rainbow unicorn keychain in his hand and meets his gaze, “I know what you meant.”

Kurt laughs it off awkwardly and tries to recover, “It’s nice to finally have someone to talk to on the team.”

Brittany can hear just a hint of sadness in his tone and looks up, “They don’t talk to you?”

“They do, but it’s not the same. We don’t have much in common. All they want to talk about are video games and hot chicks,” Kurt scrunches his nose like there’s a bad taste in his mouth but then he looks at Brittany and relaxes, “Then again, you might be able to relate with that last one.”

Brittany chuckles as she reties up her hair, “You think so?”

Kurt eyes her and nods to the keychain again, “I don’t know many female quarterbacks that are straight. Actually, I don’t know any female quarterbacks.” Kurt ponders for a moment then looks to Brittany apologetically, “I’m sorry, that was intrusive. I apologize.”

Brittany gives him a pat on the knee as she stands. She pulls up her heavy duffle and adjusts the strap on her shoulder, “You’re not wrong, but I’m here to play football. Not drool over girls, no matter how pretty they are.”

Kurt smiles, “Good to hear. It would be nice to win for a change.”

“I’ll do my best,” Brittany tells him, “I’ll see you at practice.”

Whitney and Pete are in the stands along with Brittany’s grandparents on the day of the game against Crawford County Day. Brittany’s been sitting on the bench for a whole quarter and her knees are bouncing at the opportunity to get on the field.

She watches her team in action and it’s almost embarrassing how ununified they are. It’s like no one’s taking charge – no one’s leading – and it hurts to watch.

“Blitz! Blitz!” Coach yells, “Watch the blitz!”

Brittany can see it coming, but Finn doesn’t change plays.

The ball is hiked and Finn hands it off to their Running Back – Noah Puckerman – but the defense slips through from all sides. Puckerman is swallowed up in an instant.

It’s a loss of three yards, third down.

Brittany glances over at Coach and her face is beet red.

The next play is even worse. It’s meant to be a simple slant pass, but the lack of communication between Finn and the receivers – Mike and Sam – has everyone on different pages. When Finn drops back, no one is open and the pocket collapses in on him for a sack.

Brittany cringes at the hard hit and shakes her head.

“Damn it, Hudson!” Coach snaps and throws her hat on the ground.

The Titans finish the half down by 13 points.

It’s the longest twenty-minute halftime Brittany has ever endured. Coach just tears into the team for being so sloppy. Apparently Crawford County Day is meant to be one of the easiest teams on their roster so the fact that the Titans are behind already isn’t really a good sign.

“Good thing this is just a scrimmage!” Beiste yells, “I’ve never seen so many poorly executed plays in my entire career. What the hell was that out there?”

“They’ve gotten better, Coach.”

Brittany presses her lips tight together to keep from laughing at Finn’s excuse.

“I am captain of the U.S.S. Kick Ass, not the U.S.S. Back Talk,” Beiste said pointedly and looked at Brittany, “Pierce, your starting.”

“Wait, Coach!” Finn argued, “You can’t start her, she’s…she’s –“

Brittany arched her brow at him, waiting for a lame insult to come tumbling out.

“She’s gunning for your job, Hudson,” Beiste cut in.

“You can’t be serious!” Finn crossed his arms, “We don’t even know if she can play.”

“You just keep your eyes on me then,” Brittany smirked as she pulled on her helmet, “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Woah!” Sam cheered and high fived Mike.

“Shut up,” Puck shoved at them both, “Have some respect.”

“You’re one to talk,” Kurt replied meekly.

Puck rounded on him, “What was that, Hummel?”

Kurt just lifted a dainty hand and admired his nails quietly.

Brittany just smirked. Maybe she didn’t have the entire team on her side yet, but she liked her odds so far.

At first, things were a little rocky. It seemed that the offense wasn’t use to someone taking charge – they weren’t use to her taking charge – but Brittany kept at it and it started to pay off.

Once she got into her groove, she could read the defense so easily and adjust accordingly. She’d hear the grunts of disbelief whenever she’d call an audible, but by the last quarter she felt like she had finally made ground and gained some of the team’s trust.

Because by the last quarter, the Titans were up by 3 points.

She could play it safe with just seconds to go, but this was just a scrimmage and she wanted to make a lasting impression. She didn’t just want to win with a field goal attempt, she was confident that she could put more points on the board before the final.

Brittany straightened up and motioned for a timeout. The ref blew the whistle and Brittany gathered the team for a huddle. She took out her mouthguard and looked around at her teammates.

“I want to try Blue 80,” Brittany tells them.

“You’re ballsy, Pierce!” Matt Rutherford – the Tight End – said but it came out as a compliment.

Mike and Sam looked between each other before Mike spoke up, “We’ve never made a completion with this play.”

“Guess we should change that,” Brittany shrugged.

“You really want to blow the lead?” Dave Karofsky – the Right Guard – mocked.

“It’s the last play of the game,” Sam defended, “The worse that could happen is it gets intercepted and they run it all the way –“

“Shut up, Evans!” Azimio – the Left Guard – snapped, “Don’t jinx us.”

“It’s all or nothing,” Brittany reasoned, “Scared QBs don’t make plays and I think we can put more points on the board. You with me?”

She held out her gloved fist and waited for the other’s to join her.

Puck was the first to hold out his fist, “You pull this off, Pierce, and I’ll tell Finn myself that you’re the better QB.”

“You’re on,” Brittany smirked and watched as the rest of the team joined her, “Titans on three. One…two…three!”

“Titans!” They yelled out in unison. Brittany was impressed, she was already making them a more cohesive team.

Everyone got into their positions, what looked to be a simple running play. The defense fell right for it and adjusted accordingly. When the ball was snapped, Brittany faked the hand off to Puck and swiftly dropped back, watching as the other team went after him instead of realizing she still had the ball in her possession.

Meanwhile, Mike and Sam broke away from their defenders and jetted up the field. Both were wide open, but Mike crossed into the endzone just before Sam did. While the pocket still held, Brittany made her decision and let the ball fly before it could collapse in on her.

She hoped and wished and prayed to anyone who was listening that Mike would catch this thing. So much was riding on this; the team’s trust, their respect, solidifying her position as the new quarterback. Mike needed to catch this.

The relief she felt when he did was unmatched!

The crowd roared and Brittany’s chest swelled with pride. She glanced up at the sky and smiled, her dad would’ve loved that play.

Soon she was swarmed by her new team and they hoisted her up on their shoulders as they chanted her name, “Pierce! Pierce! Pierce!”

“Hate to say it, bro,” Puck said as they carried Brittany off to the sideline where Finn was close to throwing a tantrum, “But the girl’s got mad skill. She’s got my vote.”

“Who cares about a vote. That’s not how we do things,” Finn scoffs, “It’s up to Coach.”

“Easy, Hudson, you could learn a lot from her. Kid’s on fire,” Coach Beiste smiled proudly and patted Brittany on her helmet, “You got the job, Pierce. Titans, your new quarterback.”

“Thanks, Coach!” Brittany grinned while most of the team cheered.

After the game once everyone had changed out of their uniforms, Brittany was surprised to see Puck approach her with an interesting offer.

“Yo Pierce! Wait up,” He called after her.

“Hey,” Brittany nodded.

“I’m throwing a party this weekend before school starts up again,” He says, “I wasn’t going to invite you because didn’t know if you were cool yet.”

Brittany gives him an unbelieving look but it goes over his head.

“The whole team’s going and considering you’re our QB now I figured it was only right that I let you in on it,” Puck then gave her a sly grin, “Lots of hot babes will be there if that’s your thing. Is it your thing?”

Brittany chose to ignore the question, “Thanks for the invite. I’ll try to swing by if I can.”

“Not to brag, but my parties are usually pretty awesome,” Puck flaunted, “If you want to start off on the right foot at this school – being the new kid and all – you’re gonna want to show up.”

She couldn’t decide if that was meant to be a threat or that he just sucks at persuading, but Brittany shrugged it off. She was beginning to get the impression that Lima might live up to the stereotype of being a small town.

Brittany didn’t waver though, “I’ll keep that in mind, Puck. I’ll see you around.”

\\\\\

As a Cheerios Co-Captain, Santana Lopez knew that there were certain social obligations that she had to keep up with. One of those obligations being the End of Summer party Puck always threw. Only the top dogs of McKinley were allowed to attend and if you didn’t it was basically social suicide.

With everything that happened last year, Santana couldn’t afford to miss it no matter how much she hated going. It was like her reputation had been in freefall and she was barely holding on. She couldn’t have that – not for her Senior year – so she sucked it up and told her parents she was sleeping over her best friend’s house.

Quinn Fabray – the other Co-Captain of the Cheerios – was the only person it seemed like that kept Santana sane. They considered themselves the hottest bitches McKinley had to offer and most of the student body couldn’t help but agree. They had the looks, the smarts, the snark; they were the perfect duo and were set on ruling the school.

Santana hoped that last year was just a minor blip in their legacy. She had high hopes coming into Senior year, she already felt like she had hit rock bottom and she was over feeling sorry for herself.

The best way to feel on top again? Attend Puck’s party.

Of course, it was easier said than done.

The music is loud and there are people everywhere. Honestly, Santana has no idea how these things have never been shut down. She thinks maybe the dopes down at the Lima Police Department are just too swamped with real crime-fighting to deal with Puck and his shenanigans for the millionth time.

That’s obviously a joke. Nothing interesting ever happens in Lima, the LPD are just a bunch of lazy fucks who apparently don’t care about a couple dozen kids drinking underage.

Santana sits with Quinn at the edge of Puck’s pool and they just people-watch as they dangle their feet in the cool water. It’s a hot night and there are already a couple drunken idiots wading in the shallow end, singing along to the music at the top of their lungs.

She looks down at her red solo cup and swirls the amber liquid. She barely has a buzz so she takes another gulp in hopes that she’ll catch up and finally start enjoying the party.

Quinn watches her wearily but does the same. Neither of them want to be there but appearances are important, especially to them.

Speaking of appearances, Santana spots a leggy blonde across the way through the glass double-doors. She’s dressed casually in cut-off jean shorts and a white t-shirt. Santana raises her brow; she wishes she could show up to a party looking like that. It took her an hour alone to do her make up, let alone pick out the right outfit.

Santana continues to watch her – though she feels a little weird for it. She’s never seen the girl around here before and decides that’s the reason why she can’t take her eyes off of her – she’s just curious. A little piece of her deep down inside calls her out for lying.

Still, Santana just assumes the blonde came with one of the football players since that’s who she seems to gravitate to. She notices the familiar faces from the football team – Sam Evans in particular – and watches as he hands the blonde a red cup.

The girl smiles in return and wow, Santana’s a little star-struck by its brilliance. Sam must’ve said something dorky because now the girl’s laughing and shaking her head at him. Santana’s never seen someone so effortlessly beautiful and she has to bite her cheek to keep from smiling too. This girl, she has one of those infection kind of smiles and it’s trouble.

Mike Chang walks up next and clinks his cup against the girl’s and together they begin to chat.

Santana quickly glances to Quinn to catch her reaction. Mike and Quinn aren’t exactly official, but it’s obvious they have a thing for each other.

Quinn’s not looking though and Santana feels a little relief. She can’t deal with a jealous Quinn tonight, and a little part of her doesn’t want this new girl to have to deal with that either.

When Santana glances back, she recognizes Sugar Motta – McKinley’s resident Richie Bitch – pulling the blonde girl in to dance and suddenly Santana’s watching a little too closely.

This girl can clearly dance and the way she moves with Sugar is so graceful. Sugar on the other hand isn’t as fluid, but their hands smooth over each other teasingly. When the blonde’s hands land on Sugar’s hips, they start to sway together and Santana can just tell that the blonde’s the one leading now.

Santana can feel this coil within her tightening the longer she watches, her mouth getting drier at the way she takes control.

Then the song changes and the two laugh and carry on so carefreely as if nothing happened. Their moves mimic the steady rhythm and they start to bounce with their fists pumping at the air in time to the pounding bass.

Santana frowns at the slight pang of jealousy; she used to be like that, so uncaring and full of life. She danced with whoever she wanted – boy or girl – and it didn’t matter, but now…now it does.

“Who’s she?” Quinn asks, her gazing lining up with the blonde talking to Sugar.

“No idea.”

“Should I ask around?”

“No!” Santana blurts and Quinn eyes her suspiciously. Santana adjusts, “No. I’m sure we’ll find out sooner or later. She’s hanging around Sugar and you know she can’t keep her mouth shut for more than two seconds.”

Quinn smirks, “True.”

When Puck finally rears his ugly mug, Santana’s surprised they were able to dodge him for so long.

“Hey ladies,” He greets with his signature smirk, “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

There are beer stains on his open button-down and Santana can smell the tanning oil on him from where she sits. He’s got a nice body or whatever, but that doesn’t mean he needs to strut around basted in Hawaiian Tropic. She can’t really talk though, she and Quinn have both made out with him at some point in time.

“Scram, Puckerman,” Santana replies with a roll of her eyes, “I’m not drunk enough to deal with your lame ass.”

“Is that any way to talk to the host?” Puck mocks and squeezes in to sit between the Co-Captains.

Santana groans and shuffles away from him, but he throws a heavy arm around her and Quinn’s shoulders. She can smell something stronger than beer on his breath and scoffs as she gets out from underneath his arm, “You’re gross.”

“Whatever. I’m not here for you anyway,” Puck brushes off and leans heavily against Quinn instead, “I know you’re not on the menu anymore or has that changed?”

Santana’s taken aback but her heart begins to pound wildly at the accusation.

“Choose your next words carefully,” Santana warns.

“What?” Puck laughs, “You still trying to hold out on me?”

“Puck,” Quinn snaps and shrugs out from under him too.

He’s too drunk and wrapped up in his own bullshit to notice that he’s crossed a line, but his voice grabs the attention of those surrounding them.

Santana suddenly feels small, trapped even. It feels like everyone’s staring now and listening to Puck’s drunken words.

“All I wanna know is if that phase is over with now?” He says and it’s like the final blow for Santana.

She shrinks back and her vicious words that use to come so easily for her die on her tongue. There’s a crowd gathering now and she notices the blonde girl from before eyeing them too.

“It’s not a phase, asshole,” Quinn snaps and surprises everyone watching by pushing him into the pool.

Santana’s eyes go wide as she sees the big splash. She’s never been so thankful to have Quinn as her best friend.

“What the hell, Quinn!” Puck grumbles as he resurfaces, “I had my phone on me still!”

“Shouldn’t have been a dick then,” Quinn shrugs and hooks her arm with Santana’s, “Let’s go, the beer’s flat here anyway.”

Santana finally kicks into gear and nods, “Yeah. I’m not trying to be hungover for practice tomorrow.”

Santana doesn’t know why, but as they turn to leave she looks around for the mysterious blonde. To her disappointment, she’s nowhere to be found.

They make their way to the street and begin the short walk home in silence. Santana’s heart is still racing even though they’re so far away now that she can’t even hear the low thrum of the music emanating from Puck’s place. She hopes that no one saw her choke on her words, maybe they’ll be too distracted by Quinn’s actions to remember.

It’s not until another ten minutes later when they’ve arrived at Quinn’s house that Santana finally finds her voice again.

“Thanks Q,” She says quietly. She knows she doesn’t need to elaborate and she’s thankful for that too.

Quinn only lifts her shoulder in a lazy shrug, “You would’ve done the same for me.”

\\\\\

The first day of school rolls around quickly for Brittany, but despite being the new kid she makes friends relatively easy. Kurt’s in her first class and she’s honestly so relieved to see a familiar face.

He takes it upon himself to show her around and introduce Brittany to his friends. So far, Brittany’s met a Tonya or Taylor – she’s not very good with names – but she’s nice. There’s also Mercedes – she remembers that name – who Brittany met in her Astronomy class and alongside Kurt guide, they guide Brittany through McKinley High.

It’s a total Mean Girls moment and Brittany finds herself laughing at how eager they are to show her around.

When they get to lunch, she notices that everyone is pretty cliquey which is something she isn’t use to. At her old school, everyone mingled with everyone. It didn’t matter if you played sports or if you were considered cool, people just hung out with whoever they wanted.

At McKinley High, that’s clearly not the case.

All the football players sit together but instead of joining them, Kurt leads Brittany and Mercedes to a different table close by. They get a couple of curious looks, but all Brittany can focus on is what they’re wearing.

“Why have they got on their letterman jackets?” Brittany questions with a laugh, “It’s so hot outside, they have to be melting.”

“How else do expect them to establish dominance?” Kurt says sarcastically, “I only wear mine on game days. You don’t have one yet, right?”

“No,” Brittany answers, “But I do have my own number now.”

“Oh good,” Kurt grins, “It’s official now.”

Kurt and Mercedes are still trying to give her the rundown, but Brittany’s starting to reach her peak when it comes to taking in all the new info. Whatever they’re saying now is kind of going in one ear and out the other, the only thing that brings her back is spotting the familiar brunette she saw at Puck’s party.

Even if Brittany drank a little more than she anticipated, she was still sober enough to remember the saddest looking girl at the party.

“And those are the Cheerios,” Mercedes tells Brittany as if she could read her mind, “McKinley’s cheerleading squad and top of the social food chain.”

“I haven’t seen them at any of the games,” Brittany looks to Kurt for an explanation.

“They don’t bother with pre-season,” Kurt answers, “They’re basically the only ones here winning any titles. Coach Sylvester practically lets them get away with murder.”

Brittany notes all the high ponies and uniforms, everyone’s make up is on point and there’s not a single hair out of place. They all look immaculate, but Brittany focuses on the two that she’s most familiar with.

“Who are they?” She asks.

“The blonde one is Quinn Fabray,” Kurt informs her in a hushed tone, “She’s Co-Captain along with the brunette – Santana Lopez – and both of their families are loaded. They’ve been best friends since ever, you rarely see one without the other. Quinn’s kind of a prude and Santana’s – “

“A complete bitch for no reason most of the time,” Mercedes finishes for him.

Kurt shakes his head, “She has a reason.”

His cryptic words interest Brittany. Hell, she’s been interested ever since she saw Quinn push Puckerman into the pool.

“Doesn’t give her an excuse to terrorize us,” Mercedes reasons, “The girl is trouble.”

Kurt bobbles his head from side to side and looks back at Brittany, “It’s best if you stay out of her way, Brittany. It’ll make your life a whole lot easier.”

“You think?” Mercedes asks, “She’s on the football team, the quarterback even. You think Santana will mess with her?”

Kurt shrugs, “She still messes with me doesn’t, she?”

“That’s true,” Mercedes frowns.

Brittany just nods, but that doesn’t extinguish the curiosity that has blossomed within her.

And maybe someone above is testing her, because when Brittany arrives to her final class of the day she finds the exact person Kurt and Mercedes have been warning her against interacting with: Santana Lopez.

And to make matters even worse, the only available seat left in the room just so happens to be the one right next to her. Brittany shakes her head and glances at the board to double check she’s in the right place.

Creative Writing – Miss Holliday Room 215

Brittany’s definitely in the right place and lets out a sigh.

Might as well bite the bullet, Brittany thinks as musters all the confidence she has left and she approaches the table. She’s been rushed at by guys ten times the brunette’s size moving at full speed on the football field and yet, she can’t help but feel a little nervous when she comes to stand before the Co-Captain.

“Hi,” Brittany greets with a polite smile, “Can I sit here?”

Santana glances up at her like she can’t believe the audacity Brittany has. She eyes her up and down then goes back to filing her nails, “No.”

Brittany nods, so Kurt and Mercedes might’ve been right.

“There aren’t any other seats left,” Brittany adds.

Santana doesn’t even look up this time, “Sounds like a personal problem to me.”

Brittany has to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. This girl is something else but Brittany’s never been one to back down.

Unfortunately her teacher – Miss Holliday – approaches, “Are you seriously starting off the year by being a pain in my ass, Lopez? Don’t give the new kid a hard time. Move over.”

“Fine,” Santana rolls her eyes and slides her books closer to her side of the table.

Brittany looks back at the teacher and smiles, “Thanks.”

“All good,” The woman says casually. She’s young and reminds Brittany of one of her favorite teachers at her old school, “Have a seat, Sweet Cheeks.”

Brittany does as she’s told and gets settled next to Santana. She can feel the tension radiating off the Cheerio, but tries to ease it by introducing herself.

“I’m Brittany,” She tells the brunette and adds a friendly smile for emphasis. If she’s going to be stuck sitting next to her for the rest of the year, they can at least be civil. Right?

Wrong.

“I didn’t ask,” Santana retorts and spends the rest of class giving Brittany the cold shoulder.

For some reason though, that only makes Brittany want to get to know Santana even more.

Afterall, she loves a challenge.

\\\\\

It’s the last Cheerios practice indoors and Santana and Quinn soak up the privilege of conditioning in a space with A.C. There are many reasons why Santana dreads having to join football team outdoors for practice, one being that it’s hot as hell still during this time of year and also she can’t stand the cat-calling.

With Coach Beiste as the acting head coach now, the guys are a lot more tame but Santana still hates how she feels like she’s being watched all the time. Some of the other girls on the squad don’t mind it too much though, they’re all about teasing and the pleasing apparently.

“How’s your schedule this year?” Quinn asks between stretches.

“It’s alright,” Santana shrugs, “Super easy. I got Holliday and Schuester again.”

“Lucky!” Quinn says, “I got Hagberg. I wish she would just retire already.”

Santana agrees then she remembers her last class of the day and how the mysterious blonde from Puck’s party now has a name, “Hey. Remember that girl we saw at Puck’s?”

“The blonde one?”

“Yeah, her. Brittany,” Santana murmurs the name, “I have a class with her.”

“Oh! Is she cool or something?” Quinn’s intrigued, “She’s pretty and she’s got some moves. We could get her on the squad?”

Pretty, Santana thinks it’s an understatement now that she’s seen her up close. She’s never seen eyes so damn blue and that smile – again, wow.

Quinn catches her swept up in her thoughts and quickly plays it off, “Hell no.”

“Really? Why not?”

“She’s just…,” Santana racks her brain for an excuse but she’s blanking, “She’s just not Cheerios material.”

Quinn calls her bluff, “How would you know?”

“I just do,” Santana scoffs and continues to struggle for a reason, “There’s something different about her, okay?”

“Different is good though, right? We could use that.”

“God Quinn, just drop it alright?” Santana snaps and walks off.

Quinn just laughs in disbelief, “You’re the one that brought her up!”

The rest of the week is a little of the same. Santana goes through the motions of her day although a hidden piece of her longs for her last class with Brittany. She still ignores the blonde’s attempts to make conversation, but it doesn’t seem like the girl is giving up anytime soon.

Quinn still presses for Brittany to join the squad, but Santana’s not having any of that either.

Quinn can’t understand why Santana’s being so adamant about the decision. Santana doesn’t know why either. In fact, there are a lot of things Santana doesn’t understand when it comes to Brittany, but she’s not exactly ready to unpack any of that.

If anything, she’s afraid of what it all could mean.

It isn’t until Friday night that things begin to get a little clearer for them all.

It’s the first regular season game which means it’s the first game the Cheerios make an appearance in. The Titans are pumped but Santana isn’t sure what’s gotten into them, they never win so cheering for them always feels like a waste of time. There’s a different air about the team this year though, but Santana doesn’t think much of it as the game kicks off.

Santana and Quinn and the rest of the Cheerios do what they do best and breathe life into the crowd like always, but they find that they don’t need to work as hard to keep morale up because the Titans are actually winning for a change.

In fact, Santana has to check the score twice to make sure she’s reading it correctly.

Home: 9 Away: 0

“What the hell?” Santana bumps Quinn with her pompom, “We’re winning?”

“Weird, right?” Quinn replies and nods over to the Titans’ bench, “Wonder if it has anything to do with that?”

Santana blinks, “Is that Finnocence?”

“Yeah, it is.”

Santana snaps back to the field, “Then who’s out there?”

“Sam?” Quinn questions but they know he’s #6 and #6 is on the other side of the field catching a perfectly thrown pass.

They both look to the quarterback and Santana asks, “Who’s #12?”

“No idea,” Quinn shrugs, “But he’s killing it!”

Santana doesn’t know much about football but she does know a lot about winning and whatever this guy is doing seems to be working.

Santana and Quinn spend the rest of the game trying to figure out who’s beneath #12’s helmet, but decide that someone already on the team must’ve been given a new number with the promotion to quarterback.

There’s really no other explanation.

All that though is quickly forgotten as the game ends and the Titans come away with their first win of the regular season. It’s practically unheard of considering their losing streak. The stands erupt in applause and Santana watches as the Titans go wild too. Sam and Mike hoist #12 onto their shoulders as the quarterback pulls of his helmet.

When Santana sees long blonde hair cascade out from underneath it, she just about faints because the Titans’ new quarterback isn’t some random guy: it’s Brittany.

“Well,” Quinn’s equally surprised and bumps Santana with her shoulder, “Looks like you were right about her being different.”

#cant stop wont stop lol #no really its bc im still unemployed and writing is the only thing that makes me feel like i'm doing something productive while i job hunt #Lost in the Lights #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction

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johannas-motivational-insults · 5 years

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Adora might be autistic too

Alright, most people in the SPOP fandom agree that Entrapta is autistic, as her coding is extremely obvious. However, some of us also believe that our beloved protagonist Adora is on the spectrum as well. She comes off as quite the aspie, and while Asperger’s is no longer a diagnosis in the DSM-V (but is in other manuals), it falls under the blanket diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and its diagnostic criteria is still useful in analyzing people for signs of the disorder. In analyzing Adora’s character I will refer somewhat to both disorders, with the understanding that Asperger’s is a specific manifestation of ASD.

I would like to preface this by saying this is a headcanon and people are free to disagree with me. Some of these characteristics I’m going to bring up could also manifest because of her very sheltered upbringing in a cult-like atmosphere or mental illnesses such as anxiety and complex PTSD (both of which she arguably has). I am autistic myself, so obviously I am inclined to interpret these symptoms this way, but to each their own. It’s also worth noting that Adora has a lot of symptoms that cross over with AD(H)D, a cousin disorder to ASD, and it’s totally possible she has both.

In any case, there is now enough evidence hinting at Adora’s neurodivergence (especially now that the Rebel Princess Guide has been released) that I feel the need to explain this theory in detail instead of just occasionally mentioning it. So here goes...

She’s naive/easily manipulated

This one doesn’t really need explaining, we’ve all seen it. Adora assumes people are telling the truth because why would anyone lie to her? That is such a relatable spectrum feel. She was handily brainwashed by Shadow Weaver in the Horde, while some of the others didn’t seem to swallow the propaganda so easily. This is of course partly because of the special attention and affection Adora got from Shadow Weaver, but she had to be vulnerable to manipulation in the first place for it to work.

Later, she trusts Huntara easily in the Crimson Waste despite Bow and Glimmer’s warnings about her questionable character. Adora happily follows her into a trap even once Bow and Glimmer tell her they're going the wrong way, reasoning it’s probably a shortcut rather than reevaluating her misplaced trust. This can be partly explained by how she‘s gay af for Huntara, but still.

(Interestingly, the episode cuts straight from this moment to the obviously autistic Entrapta going against her own friend's advice and refusing to give up on the portal machine despite the obvious warning sign of Hordak’s violent dismissal. Parallels, much?)

Her difficulty understanding other points of view

A lot of Adora’s conflict with Catra is predicated on misunderstandings, and she has a hard time understanding the effects her actions have on other people, Catra in particular. For instance, she misunderstands Catra talking about ruling the Horde together as being purely about power, while Catra’s actual goals are safety and Adora’s companionship. That miscommunication is not just Adora’s fault, but it illustrates that she has difficulty understanding other people’s needs and motives without being explicitly told.

This isn’t just a problem with Catra, either. In general Adora has a difficult time understanding other’s motives and feelings. For instance, she doesn’t understand Glimmer’s insecurity over Bow’s friendship with Perfuma at Princess Prom, and she can’t fathom why Entrapta would choose to work for an evil faction, going so far as to assume she must have been brainwashed into it. This is because, just like with Catra, she doesn’t understand that some people’s priorities are not the same as hers.

Autistic kids tend to reach developmental milestones at different times than neurotypicals, sometimes being way ahead and other times falling behind. One such marker that is usually slower to develop and often stays impaired is theory of mind, our ability to a) understand that other people have different perspectives and b) understand those perspectives. Adora’s difficulties being able to put herself in someone else’s shoes definitely lines up with this symptom.

She’s clumsy

For someone so athletic, Adora sure lacks coordination. This is a commonly cited symptom of people with Asperger’s, though it shows up in people with other forms of ASD too. In general, autistic people often have difficulty with fine and/or gross motor skills, and this can lead to being accident and injury prone. According to Catra in 3x05, Adora bumps her head a lot. That may have just been a callback to 1x01, but either way clumsiness has been part of her characterization since the beginning, one of her many loveable, adorkable qualities.

Her lack of social and self awareness

Adora can be painfully oblivious to her own inappropriate behavior. There’s several examples of this throughout the series, one of the more costly ones coming at Princess Prom. Shocked by Frosta’s youth, Adora fails to register how maybe this (in front of Frosta, with all eyes on her) is not the time to remark on it. She immediately realizes this was the wrong thing to say (or at least not something she should shout), but that small delay causes both her and Glimmer a lot of embarrassment.

Part of the issue here is that she loses control of her volume, which in itself is a common problem for those of us on the spectrum. This isn’t the only time we see her have this problem, either, and it’s amplified (tee hee) when she’s drunk/infected.

More generally, one of the funniest examples of Adora’s poor social awareness comes when she barges into Huntara’s flirtation with the bartender in the Crimson Waste. She’s so focused on her task of recruiting Huntara that it doesn’t even occur to her that this is an intimate moment and intruding would be rude.

In the Rebel Princess Guide Adora also says she wishes Queen Angella would let her make some adjustments to the uniforms of the Bright Moon guards, which implies she tried to make these suggestions already. Maybe she figured She-Ra could suggest anything, but as both a newcomer and a royal subject that’s a bit of a faux pas. Chances are, that went right over Adora’s head.

She can’t read a room to save her life (literally)

This is another, more specific aspect of social awareness. Adora has difficulty picking up on the implicit rules (social norms) when she enters unfamiliar situations, and has a tendency to step on toes because of it. She also doesn’t understand when her friends try to nonverbally communicate what she’s doing wrong, and nonverbal communication deficits and problems with social awareness and insight are two major symptoms of ASD. One specifically listed example is “difficulties adjusting behavior to suit social contexts”, including:

Lack of response to contextual cues (e.g. social cues from others indicating a change in behavior is implicitly requested)

Unaware of social conventions/appropriate social behavior; asks socially inappropriate questions or makes socially inappropriate statements

Here’s a couple specific example of times where Adora misses or misunderstands nonverbal cues to change her behavior:

At her first Rebellion meeting she doesn’t realize that maybe she shouldn’t sit in the special-looking chair, and doesn’t clue in that that’s why everyone is freaking out.

In the Crimson Waste, Glimmer responds to the growling bar patrons surrounding them by suggesting that maybe these aren’t the kind of people they should be asking for help, but Adora persists. She jumps up on the bar and makes a speech trying to get directions (which is socially inappropriate for the context as well as dangerous), somehow missing all the scowls from the patrons as well as Bow and Glimmer’s wild gesturing.

Panic over unfamiliar social situations

Adora’s anxiety about going to Princess Prom could be attributed to many things, not just a spectrum disorder. Her obvious anxiety, for one, though to be fair there’s a high comorbidity between the two disorders. In any case, it seems the unfamiliarity of the situation is a sticking point for Adora in particular, while Bow and Glimmer are nothing but excited for their first ball.

Adora’s anxiety seems to stem mostly from being overwhelmed by the prospect of entering a new social situation with a whole bunch of unfamiliar rules to remember. She’s still learning behavioral norms outside of the Horde, and this is a huge jump up in terms of difficulty for her fledgling social skills.

To cope with her stress she goes overboard trying to prepare by making a conspiracy board of sorts, flash cards, and an obstacle course. And at the ball itself, it seems like she’s even rehearsed how to behave.

This probably isn’t only relatable to autistics, but it’s very relatable to us. Creating and rehearsing behavioral scripts is a common strategy to avoid embarrassing ourselves in public. Unfortunately, as we saw above, this works for about five seconds before Adora botches the whole thing by commenting on Frosta’s age.

Extreme stress over details

In general, Adora is a very anxious, perfectionistic person who hyperfixates on details, a very autistic trait. As mentioned above, this is wonderfully illustrated by her overpreparation for Princess Prom. She’s broken down the overwhelming list of rules in the invite into categories to make it more manageable, gone into detail categorizing people’s relationships to each other, and learned trivia about the guests in order to feel more prepared. Yet, somehow she missed the important fact that the hostess is only eleven years old.

Unfortunately this hangup doen’t only affect her, but also her friends and allies. The overarching theme in “Roll With It” is how debilitating Adora’s anxiety and perfectionism can be. Her eye for detail and ability to see flaws in plans is actually very valuable, but she gets so hung up on every possible thing that could go wrong that she can’t accept imperfect solutions with calculated risks.

Her propensity to be overwhelmed by too much information (like with the Princess Prom invite) shows up here too. Adora grows more and more frustrated and overwhelmed as more princesses join the planning session, adding more variables to deal with and more people to manage. She begins lashing out and shooting down every possible solution that doesn’t satisfy her need for perfection immediately. Her behavior looks like it may be headed for a meltdown until it culminates in an epic rant revealing all her anxiety and how it ties into her insecurities about her own imperfection.

Thankfully her friends are able to reassure her that she has support and doesn’t have to be perfect, but it’s an ongoing battle, one we already saw her struggle with in “Flowers for She-Ra” and “The Battle of Bright Moon”. It’s a strong tenet of Adora’s personality that is proving difficult to shake.

What she misses about the Horde

The recently published Rebel Princess Guide contains a list by Adora of things she misses about the Horde, and this list screams neurodivergent. I’ll go through it point by point, since there’s a lot to unpack here.

THINGS I MISS ABOUT THE HORDE

1. I miss the rigid schedule. It never changed, and I always knew what to expect.

Ritualistic behavior and an insistence on sameness are often seen in individuals with ASD. In fact, it’s a major symptom. Many of us have diifficulty adjusting to changing schedules, changes in diet, or even minor changes in our environment (such as placement of objects, boy do I have stories there). We need warning when things are going to change, and even if we know it’s coming it’s still a struggle to adjust.

2. I miss the constant sound of machines and whirring. In Bright Moon, there’s always music playing, or people laughing, and birds singing. It’s nice but it makes it hard to focus!

Autistic brains process sensory information differently from neurotypicals, that’s basically our disorder at its core. Over or under reactions to sensory input are common and in fact considered a major symptom, and this entry of Adora’s specifically refers to difficulties with sensory filtering. We have a hard time filtering out information that’s irrelevant to our current task, which makes us easily distractable.

3. Believe it or not, I miss my hard cot in the barracks. My bed in the castle is way too soft!

This ties into both the insistence on sameness and sensory issues.

4. Catra… sometimes.

This isn’t autistic, it’s just gay.

Speaking of which...

She’s gay

Adora's relationship with Catra has always been queer-coded, but any doubts about her sexuality were dispelled in season 3 by the way she fawns over Huntara like a baby gay over her gym teacher. Her obvious queerness might seem unrelated to the topic of autism, but those of us within the community can attest there’s probably just as many queer people among us as there are cishets. It’s so notable that there has been quite a bit of scientific research confirming people with ASD are more likely to be LGBT and gender atypical and exploring the cause of this link.

(This needs no proving at this point, but enjoy these gifs anyway...)

In conclusion

Overall, there’s a lot of hints and circumstantial evidence suggesting Adora could have ASD. Was this the creators’ intent? Hard to say. Adora is the protagonist and one of the most developed characters, so she’s definitely not a cardboard cutout or checklist for ASD symptoms (compare that to Entrapta, a secondary character whose behaviors can often easily be attributed to autism). It’s totally possible the creators just characterized her as naive and awkward and obsessive without realizing the implications of that cluster of traits together.

Regardless of authorial intent, it’s perfectly valid to look at Adora and see representation of the ASD community. The groundwork is there. And if someone else looks and doesn’t see it, or sees something else causing this behavior, that is also fair. No one is forcing anyone to accept this headcanon (or at least they shouldn’t be), but in return please don’t disparage it. Even if she is not autistic Adora is definitely autistic-coded, and we could use some more heros with the disorder, given how we’re mostly relegated to being villains and anti-heroes (not that there’s anything wrong with us filling those roles sometimes, but a little variety would be nice).

Adora is often referred to as a dumbass, but she’s actually quite intelligent, just sometimes slow to understand how she should act and how people feel. Still, she tries her hardest, just as she does with everything else. Adora is heroic and compassionate, even if she sometimes struggles to understand others. When autistic-coded characters are so commonly portrayed as cold and unforgiving, Adora is a sorely needed exception.

#spop #she-ra #she ra #meta #autistic adora #adora #autism #asd #asperger's #actuallyautistic

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

Text

The PyeongChang Triple (14/15)

It’s the Olympics. The. Olympics. And Emma’s running out of post-it notes to write schedules and plans on and there are more games and more expectations and not enough time for any of it. She’s fine. Totally. Absolutely. If she could just sleep. Or stop feeling as if her knees are going to give out every time she stands up. Or get Ruby to stop staring at her like that. It’s fine. After all Killian Jones, captain of Team USA, keeps promising it will be.

He’s going to win. Again. At the Olympics. And Killian’s not nervous. Not about that. It’s hockey. He could play hockey in his sleep. Probably. He’s never tried that. But he probably could. And, sure, there are expectations and games and schedules and barely any time for what he wants to actually be doing, but winning a Gold medal isn’t bad. After all, Emma Swan, temporary New York Rangers Olympics team social media manager, keeps promising it will be.

They’re fine. They’re going to win. Together.

Rating: Mature. Swearing, hockey-type violence, lotsa making out. Word Count: 9.4K of family fluff. Family. Fluff. AN: The final couple of moments in this chapter were sitting in the back corner of my brain from the very first moment I started writing this story, so I’m super psyched that they’re finally going to be out there on the internet. I cannot thank you guys enough for every click, comment, message, flail. All of it. It’s the best. You’re the best. I’ve written so much Olympic fic. This story would be nothing without @laurnorder & @distant-rose. Also on Ao3 and FF.net

“Cap!”

Killian’s head snapped up, eyes going wide at the sound of Ruby’s voice and the clack of her heels and he was half certain a reporter had been elbowed in the eye when she tried to push their way in front of his locker.

“God,” Ruby hissed. “Get out of the fucking way.”

Will chuckled, stuffing his gloves onto the top shelf and tugging a sweatshirt on over his team-branded t-shirt. “Lucas, you’re going to scare off that guy from SI, they’re doing some kind of super important, feature on Cap.”

“Shut up, Scarlet, jeez,” Ruby glared, shoving another reporter out of the way and the Sports Illustrated guy did look a little scandalized, eyes narrowing and pen flying across his notebook like he was taking stock of the chaos in the New York Rangers locker room. “Now, Cap,” she continued, kicking at his foot for good measure.

He hadn’t taken his skates off yet.

He hadn’t showered yet.

He’d scored two goals and answered questions about some kind of threepeat and tried not to think of the possibility of missing anything in the middle of the home opener, the pre-game walk down an obnoxiously blue carpet feeling just a bit longer than normal when he knew Emma wasn’t there.

Or, at least, wasn’t supposed to be there.

Killian had a sinking suspicion she’d been in her office anyway – walkie talkie in hand and several different lists on her desk. He’d caught sight of Merida at one point, in between signing autographs and posing for photos, hair a bit more wild than normal as she jogged back towards the stands and an anxious looking Mary Margaret.

David, curiously enough, was nowhere to be found.

“Uh, Killian.” He glanced at the voice – the Sports Illustrated reporter and his notebook and, really, who used notebooks anymore? Why was he worried about a reporter’s notebook? Ruby groaned loudly. “Do, you, uh,” he continued, glancing back down at the notes. “Do you want to just talk for a couple of minutes and then I can get out of your hair. I bet you want to shower and, uh, we can just follow-up later this week?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine Andrew,” Killian answered cautiously, hoping the guy’s name was actually Andrew. He was only half listening.

There was, after all, a game to play and a wife to worry about and it was October – three months after the elopement that didn’t really count as an elopement since everyone knew and there was a reason Emma wasn’t supposed to be at opening night.

October meant nine months and nine months meant Matthew Jones.

Oh fuck.

Killian’s thumb skid along the back of his palm, hand suddenly shaking too much to put his wedding ring back on and Ruby made some kind of impossible noise in the back of her throat, something that sounded a bit like I was trying to tell you, as he practically jumped off the bench in front of his locker.

“Got there, huh?” Ruby asked knowingly and he couldn’t breathe.

He was a walking cliché. Well, no, not walking. He couldn’t move. He was frozen to the floor in the Rangers locker room, pads clinging to his skin and hair matted to the back of his neck and the world was spinning far too quickly.

“You should probably shower,” Robin said, nodding at Killian and he still hadn’t moved. Will was practically cackling.

“Cap,” Ruby said slowly, taking a step towards him and he jerked back when her hand landed on his chest. “You’ve got to move. You know, at some point.” There were still reporters – a semicircle around his locker with phones out and recorders out and Killian could vaguely make out the sound of a camera clicking somewhere. That was probably Sports Illustrated.

“Shit,” he breathed and Will laughed even louder, doubling over as he clutched his side. Robin glared at him, taking a step around Killian to smack against his shoulder and mutter shut up, God.

Will hummed, smile still plastered on his face when he stood upright. “Right, right,” he said seriously. “Because this isn’t the funniest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” Ruby still hadn’t moved her hand and Killian knew he was breathing – he had to be – but there didn’t seem to be much proof that he was thinking, mind going blank before it raced forward, shifting ahead at some kind of impossible speed.

And all he saw was ideas – hopes and maybes that he’d come up with in the better part of the last nine months, a tiny boy with Emma’s eyes and a stick in his hand and it was always snowing. Every time he pictured it, there was always snow on the ground and they were always outside, on a patch of ice in the park with smiles on their faces and laughter hanging in the air and all of it had existed in some weird, nebula of maybe for as long as he could remember.

Until now.

“Shit,” Killian repeated, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes closed like he was trying to wake himself up. “We’ve got to go. We’ve got to go right now.”

Ruby rolled her eyes, throwing her hands up dramatically. “Yeah, see, that’s what I’m saying.” “When?” “Excuse me?” “When, Lucas?” Ruby shook her head, mouth hanging open slightly and her hands were still in the air. The camera clicked again. “Oh my God,” Killian sighed, tugging his pads up over his head and throwing them in a pile at his feet.

“Kristoff’s not going to appreciate that,” Will murmured and Killian glared at him.

“Deep breaths, Cap,” Robin said, hand falling on his shoulder. “Lucas,” he continued, glancing at the slightly stricken media relations director. “He’s asking if Emma was here when she went into labor.” Killian sagged forward slightly at the word, eyes going wide and it felt like the entire goddamn building had collapsed if the rushing in his ears was anything to go by. Robin’s hand tightened on his shoulder.

“Scarlet, go get him a shirt, will you?” Robin asked and Killian wondered when he’d decided to seize control of the entire situation. That was probably for the best. “And, uh, maybe go find, A too. His hands all fucked up.”

Will nodded deftly, a blur of team-branded merchandise and his phone already pressed against his ear. “My hand is fine,” Killian mumbled, tugging it back to his side so the small army of reporters around them wouldn’t start asking questions about the slightly nasty bruise that was blooming just above his wrist.

Robin hummed – a quiet agreement that felt a bit like he was just placating Killian – and Ruby had turned her attention to the scrum, shouting orders and denying requests for comments with practiced ease.

“Out,” she said sharply, pushing on the shoulder of a reporter and waving her other hand in front of a camera when a flash went off. “I’m serious. We’re done. You guys have to go talk to Arthur anyway. Don’t you want to talk to Arthur? Of course you do.” “She looks like the fucking Pied Piper,” Killian mumbled and Robin chuckled lightly. He still hadn’t moved his hand, but he’d pulled his phone out of his pocket at some point, screen flashing with half a dozen messages.

Henry kept popping up.

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s how that story goes,” Robin argued, laughing softly and his phone made another noise. Henry was calling now. “If I walk away from you right now, are you going to actually fall over?” “No, he’s going to make a goddamn fist,” Ariel shouted, appearing in the room as quickly as if she’d teleported there and for a group of people who, just a few minutes ago, wanted him to move, Killian suddenly felt like they were all one, giant obstacle.

“Red, we don’t have time for this,” Killian sighed.

“Can you not walk and make a fist at the same time? Because if you can’t do that then we’ve got even bigger problems on our hands. Ha, I made a joke.” “Ariel.” She widened her eyes meaningfully, pulling her hand away from his side and Killian hissed when she pressed her thumb against his wrist. “Jeez, relax,” she muttered. “She’s fine. They all went with her anyway.” “What?”

Killian’s head whipped back towards Ruby – an apologetic look on her face and the reporters were all gone, but Robin’s muted voice just a few feet away sounded like he was actually interrogating Henry.

“Middle of the third period,” Ruby said, finally answering Killian’s question.

He sighed, running his free hand through his hair and Ariel kept pressing her thumb against his palm, pushing his ring back down his finger. “She wasn’t supposed to be here,” Killian grumbled and Ruby shrugged.

“Ah, well, opening night. There was blue carpet to worry about. How did you not know she was here? Didn’t you leave at the same time?” “No,” Killian shook his head. They hadn’t. He’d left two hours before he was supposed to be on the ice for morning skate, Emma wrapped up in blankets and a small mountain of pillows behind her back, several stacks of paper taking over his side of the bed.

He hadn’t wanted to go.

It was, per the calendar on the wall, any day now territory and the last few preseeason games had been nothing short of terrifying, the prospect of missing something lingering in the back of Killian’s mind for the past week.

He hadn’t scored until the home opener. There was probably a cliché there. He’d have to ask Mrs. Vankald.

Oh shit – the Vankalds. Someone should call the Vankalds. He should call the Vankalds. And Liam and El and Anna and maybe David and Mary Margaret? No, no, they were at the game.

“Cap, you can’t flex your hand like that,” Ariel mumbled, prying his fingers apart and Killian blinked twice, refocusing on Ruby.

“I knew she’d try to get here,” Killian said, but there was a sense of pride in his voice that was probably obvious, even to the reporters sitting in post-game with Arthur.

“Of course she did,” Ruby grinned. “Waited until after you scored too. Something poetic about that, huh?” Killian sighed, but his pulse had picked up at some point and Robin was still mumbling on the phone.

A kid.

They were going to have a kid.

Killian smiled at Ruby, eyebrows lifted slightly and, well, there was something vaguely poetic about it. Maybe they’d let him keep that puck. He’d have to ask Kristoff.

“Here,” Will said suddenly, tossing a t-shirt in Killian’s direction. “Where’s Locksley? Why aren’t we leaving yet?” “We can leave now,” Robin answered. “Or, we should leave now.” Killian stared at him, a hundred questions on the tip of his tongue and Robin just nodded at him, twisting his lips when he tried to make a sound that was supposed to be encouraging.

“Should?” Killian repeated, a flash of terror shooting down his spine. She wasn’t supposed to be at the Garden. He shouldn’t have played. He should have been home and she should have been home and he should have been there when it happened.

Robin nodded again. “Henry said they got to the hospital like fifteen minutes ago. The doctors are in there now, and, uh, I guess we’ve got some leeway time-wise, but we should go. Put a shirt on, Cap.” “Henry’s there?” Killian asked and Robin chuckled lightly.

“David and Mary Margaret too. David is, and I’m quoting here, completely freaking out.” Ariel laughed softly, knocking her knuckles on Killian’s shoulder and he still hadn’t actually put a shirt on. Or taken his skates off. “You smell terrible,” she muttered. “And your hand is fine. How did that even happen?” “I just played a hockey game, Red,” Killian said, running his hand across his face. “God, where are my jeans?” “Cap, you didn’t wear jeans,” Will answered. He pushed a pair of dress pants into Killian’s hands and kicked his shoes closer to him. “Happy home opener.” It took an almost inexcusable amount of time to get his skates off, fingers trembling just a bit with anxiety and excitement and he had to squeeze his eyes closed at least three different times to try and keep his breathing even.

There was a car waiting for them outside the team entrance – he’d have to thank Regina at some point – and Killian somehow ended up in the middle of the backseat, Ariel and Robin on either side of him.

Will propped his feet on the dashboard, earning a quiet reprimand from Ruby as leaned into the backseat. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she promised. “Tell Em... “ She sighed loudly, shoulders heaving slightly with the force of it and Killian couldn’t even bring himself to make fun of the slightly glossy eyes in front of him.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, not sure if he was trying to convince himself or Ruby.

Ruby grinned, tapping her finger against his wedding ring. “Of course it will. You guys are...agh, whatever, sentiment is stupid. Make sure you let her know you won. She wanted to know what the score was when she left, probably texted you in the back of the goddamn car.” Killian nodded, mouth just a bit dry and smile tugging on the ends of his mouth. “Probably,” he agreed and he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d ever loved more than Emma Swan.

“Go be an awesome dad,” Ruby finished and Will’s foot fell off the dash. She slammed the door shut and Killian’s stomach flipped. Or maybe his heart sped up. And his lungs felt like they were shrinking and expanding.

None of it made sense.

They were going to have a kid.

Will was talking a mile a minute in the front seat, planning Matthew Jones’ life and his college options and the merits of being a defender in the National Hockey League and Killian didn’t hear any of it. He twisted slightly, trying to pull his phone out of his pocket without Robin or Ariel noticing.

It didn’t work – he could practically feel their eyes meet over the top of his head, knew they were staging some sort of unspoken conversation and, probably, just a bit concerned about his current mental state.

There were several dozen text messages – Mary Margaret must have updated the entire Vankald family, both Elsa and Anna demanding updates and status and time in between contractions and Mrs. Vankald had left a voicemail.

Killian barely stopped scrolling long enough to notice any of them, thumb tracing down the screen and Ruby had absolutely been right. He knew she was.

Emma had absolutely texted him in the backseat of the car.

Hey, so...I broke the rules. And I know you know because Mer was absolutely terrified you were just going to start yelling on the carpet pre-game. But breaking the rules also means I’ve kind fucked up our schedule here.

You see where I’m going with this? I hope so. Otherwise this is weird. And you’re on the ice still. Nice shot, by the way. Totally froze that goalie.

Henry said it’s because the Islanders are crap again. They are, but it was a nice shot too. Good first goal of the season.

Oh fuck. God, did the websites you read mention how much this fucking hurts? Like a lot. A shit ton.

Killian froze, thumb hovering over the top of the screen and he could feel Robin staring at him, heard the soft crack of his jaw when he opened his mouth to ask if everything was alright and he just brushed him off.

There were two more text messages.

Anyway. David and Reese’s are here and Regina took Rol home, but he thought it was a good goal too. And we’re leaving. Left. Past tense. Have left. Ruby’s supposed to pull you out of post.

I know I was supposed to be home when this happened and you were supposed to be home and the schedule’s all fucked, but...we really want you here.

He dropped his phone and Robin did ask are you ok and everything alright and Killian nodded slowly, heart, apparently, trying to work its way out of his chest.

“Drive faster,” he said, not sure if they could or how they’d get twenty blocks downtown with so much traffic on a Friday night, but he was absolutely positive he didn’t care.

Will chuckled and Robin leaned back against the seat, resting his head on the edge with a smile on his face. Ariel took a picture, muttering something about play-by-play and Colorado and Killian, almost, didn’t care about that either.

“Sure thing, Cap,” the driver agreed, weaving through cars, his hand never leaving the horn until they worked their way out of Chelsea.

“You’ll be fine,” Robin promised, leaning forward to push Killian’s phone back in his hand.

It took half an hour to get downtown and Killian’s ears were ringing from the sound of honking horns and near accidents and none of it mattered when he practically sprinted through the automatic doors of the hospital.

He didn’t know where to go.

They were there and he had no idea where to go – David hadn’t answered his goddamn phone.

“Come on, Cap,” Ariel said, nudging her shoulder into his. “There’s got to be a hotel directory somewhere. Or, you know, something for you to do than just pretend to be some kind of statue in the middle of the doorway.” “Ah, at least he’s promoting the team though,” Will muttered, shooting a smile over his shoulder when he brushed past both of them. “Emma’ll like that. Relating to the community even through impending fatherhood. Insert cliché about taking one for the team here.” Killian couldn’t even muster a shut up, Scarlet, far too focused on finding a human being who knew where Emma would be.

Or, rather, just Emma.

He just wanted to find Emma.

It felt a bit like those car horns – her name playing on a loop through his head until he was almost certain the letters were pounding on the inside of his brain, some kind of ridiculous mantra that he hoped would just set him moving in the right direction.

“There’s got to be a receptionist right?” Killian asked, gaze darting towards Ariel who nodded, supportive smile on her face like she was encouraging her eight-month old to stop throwing toys across the room.

“You want us to split up, Cap?” Will asked, mouth twisting slightly and Ariel hit him. The two of them glared at each other for half a moment and he wasn’t sure if that’s what did it – the fighting and the arguing and this stupid team, but Killian’s feet were moving before he’d even realized he’d decided, walking towards a waiting area and a woman in patterned scrubs.

She gasped softly when she realized who he was.

“Oh,” she mumbled, nearly knocking a chart off the desk in front of her and the sound of Ariel smacking Will again were only dimly noticeable over the rest of the waiting room. “You’re Killian Jones.” “I’m looking for my wife,” Killian said, bypassing greetings and anything even resembling polite. He just wanted to find Emma.

The woman's eyes widened and for one, vaguely terrifying moment Killian’s mind darted to all the things that could have been wrong, everything that could have happened in the half an hour it took to get downtown and David had never answered his phone.

There were shoes behind him suddenly and footsteps and two hands on his either one of his shoulders and they probably looked as ridiculous as Killian felt – Robin and Will flanking him and all three of them in a ridiculous amount of team-branded merchandise.

“He’s freaking out,” Will muttered traitorously, flashing the woman a conspiratorial smile.

Robin groaned loudly. “Emma Swan,” he added. “Probably came in about an hour ago. Two other people with her, teenage kid too.” “Absurdly pregnant,” Will continued. “Also likely shouting.” The woman stared at them, eyes still wide when she started typing and the computer in front of her made a noise that, apparently, it wasn’t supposed to. “Emma Swan?” she repeated and Robin nodded. “There’s no one here under that name.”

“What?” Will snapped, leaning over the counter like he was going to teach the computer some kind of lesson. Emma-protection mode, activated. “How is that possible? We’re in the right spot, aren’t we? God, listen, if you lost Emma, Cap’s probably going to rampage through this whole hospital.”

The woman shrugged slightly, tongue darting over her lips as her eyes bounced between all three New York Rangers in front of her.

Oh.

“Jones,” Killian said quickly and both hands fell off his shoulders. He could feel a pair of incredulous stares boring into the side of his head and he shifted on his feet, trying not to actually stutter over the words. “It’s, uh, she probably used Jones.” There was more clicking and a slightly different computer noise and the woman’s eyes weren’t quite as dangerously wide when she looked at them again. “Third floor. 331. Follow the yellow line on the ground until you hit the corner, take a left, another left and you should be right there.” Killian nodded, half turned towards the stairs with Will and Robin on his heels when he heard good luck, Cap echoing behind him.

He took the stairs two at a time – Ariel shouting to slow down, jeez, you’re going to pull something. He didn’t.

He practically jumped over the fucking last step.

“Yellow line, yellow line,” Killian muttered as soon as his feet hit the third floor and it wasn’t quite as loud there as it had been before, everything feeling a bit slower and more important and this was real. This was happening.

Mary Margaret found them first – she was probably waiting for them – leaping out of the seat she’d been slumped in and tugging on a fist-full of Killian’s t-shirt as soon as she reached him. “Is everything…” he started and Mary Margaret beamed at him.

“Go,” she said, nodding towards the room next to them. “You might have to fight David though. He’s gone full dad-mode.” “Yeah, that’s kind of my gig now,” Killian muttered before he could stop himself and Mary Margaret’s smile got even bigger. She pressed up on her toes, kissing his cheek quickly before pushing him bodily into the room with so much force he nearly stumbled over his own feet.

God, there were a lot of machines – everything beeping and the TV on in the background and David sitting in a chair next to Emma’s bed, reading something off his phone that sounded like in-game stats.

The floor creaked slightly when Robin and Will leaned against the door frame and David stopped talking abruptly, twisting around in the chair.

And it felt like everything stopped – frozen in the middle of a hospital room with an absurd amount of machines and half a hockey team a few feet away. Emma tilted her head when her eyes met his, the smile on her face shooting straight through Killian, like it had landed right in the center of him or something equally absurd.

“Nice shot,” she said, gritting her teeth tightly as soon as the words were out of her mouth.

Killian moved out of instinct, hand wrapped tightly around hers in an instant and Emma glared at the bruise on his wrist. “It’s fine, Swan,” he said softly, left hand reaching up to brush away the hair that had fallen across her forehead. “I’m fine.” “That makes three of us.” He nearly fell over. And he wasn’t sure who squeezed the other’s hand harder, trying to will every single human emotion into one movement.

“Yeah?” Killian asked and his voice felt like it scratched his throat.

Emma nodded. “I mean, saying better now seems pretty lame, right? So, yeah, we’re fine.” “The doctor?” “Around,” Emma shrugged and he sighed softly. She’d done it for the reaction. He knew it. “Was here a few minutes ago. Apparently we’re almost to the active stage, which sounded kind of menacing, but means there’s epidural options. So, you know, cool.” “Cool,” he repeated. He should probably stop doing that. He should probably remember a few other words. Or maybe sit down. He couldn’t sit down.

David had started reading hockey stats again.

“Uh, David,” Killian interrupted and Emma’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “I, uh, I got it. I was there. I can relay stats pretty easily.” It wasn’t the get out it probably should have been, but David seemed to understand, nodding slowly as he stood up. He kissed the top of Emma’s forehead, mumbling something under his breath that left her laughing slightly, body shaking on top of another pile of pillows.

“How’d you get so many pillows?” Killian asked after David left, nodding towards the collection behind her back.

“David stole them.” “Stole them? Emma nodded. “Went on some kind of room-to-room search, demanding their pillows for a needy expectant mother with back issues. It was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen.” Killian barked out a laugh, but he was still standing up, shuffling his weight between his feet and trying to remind himself how fine all of this was going to be.

“Sit,” Emma said. “You’re freaking me out.” “I’m freaking you out?” Killian asked and they were back to repeating. Emma twisted her eyebrows slightly, one side of her mouth pulled up at the challenge and Killian ran his hand through his hair, tugging tightly on the back so he wouldn’t start just yelling words at her.

“What happened to your hand?” “Got hit in the last couple of minutes. They pulled the goalie. Was trying to get the puck out of the corner.” Emma hummed in understanding and she couldn’t really cross her arms, but she had a tight hold on the sheet. “I didn’t see that part.” “So I heard.” She sighed softly, head sagging forward and he’d jumped so quickly from frustrated to worried, he was certain he actually had whiplash. Killian’s hand darted forward again, pulling her fingers away from low-thread count fabric and Emma’s eyes widened slightly at the vaguely ridiculous overreaction.

“Jeez, stand down,” she muttered, but there was a smile on her face again. “Still as fine as promised.” “Swan…” Emma clicked her tongue, squeezing his hand again and tracing her thumb over a raised scar, moving up towards his ring. “I totally fucked up, huh?” “What?” “You’re mad I was there,” she said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Mer said you looked somewhere close to terrifying on the carpet. She couldn't find a single picture of you where you weren’t glowering.” “Glowering?” “Her word.” “I wasn’t glowering, love,” Killian argued, tilting his head when Emma tried to shift to the side of the bed so he could sit on the edge. “God, Emma, stop moving. You’re going to hurt yourself.” “That doesn’t even make any sense.” “Just...stop.” “Ok, I know you’re mad I was there and I wasn’t supposed to be and I knew, I knew, everything was going to be fine,” she started, rushing over the words like she was nervous he was going to interrupt her if she didn’t. “And I get that. I shouldn’t have been there, but I wanted to make sure everything worked and the pictures went up and…” She trailed off slowly, huffing out her breath and staring at him with a distinct challenge in her gaze. “What?” Killian asked.

“I couldn't miss the home opener,” Emma whispered. “I mean, we’ve won every year and you guys were going to raise another banner and I couldn't...I know I wasn’t supposed to. There were rules about taking it easy or something absurdly old fashioned, but, well, I wanted to be there.”

He gaped at her, twisting slightly so he could try and meet her gaze or maybe kiss her and he didn’t get a chance – Emma wincing and squeezing his hand again and he hadn’t really been timing, but that seemed very close to the last one.

Active stage.

That’s what the website had called it.

“Swan,” he mumbled and she shook her head tightly, eyes squeezed shut. Her grip on his hand was probably doing damage to his blood flow. And that bruise just above his wrist – right where her thumb had landed.

“Don’t be mad,” she said, hissing out the words through her teeth and there was a knock on the door, the hinges creaking slightly when it opened.

Killian brushed his lips over the top of her hair, free hand finding the back of her neck and the curve of her shoulders and she thought she’d fucked up. They were the two dumbest people in the entire goddamn world.

“I’m not,” Killian promised and Emma made a disbelieving noise in the back of her throat. “I promise, love. I was...terrified.” “What?” “You’re right. You totally weren’t supposed to be there, but I knew you were and I knew why you were. That doesn’t change the fact, however, that I wasn’t there.”

The doctor had shown up at some point and was, quite clearly, trying to do her job – muttering instructions and something about shifting Emma’s feet and the time in between contractions – but neither one of them moved, staring at each other with something that felt a bit like wonder.

“I don’t understand,” Emma admitted.

Killian took a deep breath, the knot of something that had been wrapped around several of internal organs since Ruby found him in post loosening just a bit. “I wasn’t there, Swan,” he sighed. “I should have been there when it happened. Not on the ice, God. What would have happened if it had been last week?” He shook his head slowly, laughing in spite of himself and Emma stared at him like she’d never quite seen him before.

“I want…” Killian continued slowly, “I want to be there for everything, Swan. And I already wasn’t. The very first thing and I was playing a game.” She blinked once, tears falling down her cheeks and her mouth opened twice before she spoke again. “I can’t actually kiss you because you’ll probably tell me it isn’t safe or something stupid,” she said with a watery laugh. “And you didn’t miss anything. Nothing’s happened.” “Emma.” “No, no, we’re not doing that,” she said, pushing a finger against his arm. “You are...you’re not missing anything. And I know you won’t. I know you’re here.” “Indefinitely,” he promised and Emma nodded.

“Yeah, that was kind of the plan.”

It took six hours and forty-two minutes.

They were, easily, the longest and shortest six hours and forty-two minutes of his entire life.

Active stage had, apparently, been some kind of lie and Emma had rolled her whole head at that particular bit of news, grumbling under breath when the doctor promised an epidural soon.

Soon, however, was two hours later and then more waiting and then active and he didn’t move away from Emma’s side once, hand practically glued to hers.

Six hours and forty-two minutes.

Six hours and forty-two minutes later and there was crying in that hospital room, a noise that seemed to seep into every inch of him and through him and then back in – just to make sure that it hit all those dark, desperate spots that never believed he deserved any of it.

Emma slumped back on the pillows, hair sticking to her forehead and tears in her own eyes and Killian had lost track of all of his emotions, a mess of happy and overwhelmed and fighting the urge to scream about how goddamn lucky he was for the rest of his life.

They’d taken the baby away as soon as he’d started crying – the websites said they would – and Killian couldn’t pull his eyes away from the doctor, back turned and bent over a baby that didn’t have an officially announced gender.

Emma squeezed Killian’s hand, not quite as tight as it had been six hours and forty-two minutes before, and he bent down to kiss across her temple, brushing his lips over her forehead and the bridge of her nose and her mouth, tracing out some kind of nonsensical pattern over her entire face while he mumbled out every compliment he could think of.

Brilliant. Perfect. Incredible. Amazing.

He felt her smile against his cheek, hand coming up to rest on his forearm. “Is he ok?” she asked softly and Killian nodded before he could stop himself.

“Of course he is.” The doctor coughed quietly behind them and the crying hadn’t stopped yet. “Mr. and Mrs. Jones?” They snapped around at the sound and Killian was never going to stop smiling. Ever. Even if they didn’t win another game the rest of the season.

He ran into the waiting room ten minutes later, chest heaving as he rested his hand on the back of one of the plastic chairs. They were all still there – Ruby and Mary Margaret each with a head on one of David’s shoulders and Regina had brought Roland back at some point, both of them curled up against Robin while Henry and Will were sprawled out across two rows of seats, team-branded sweatshirts under their head.

Robin woke up first and Killian refused to even consider all the reasons for that, something about game-day schedules and spending far too much time together. He blinked blearily when he looked up, running a hand across his face, but his eyes widened as soon as he saw Killian standing there.

“Yeah?” Robin asked.

Killian nodded, a shaky laugh working its way out of his chest while he tried to stay upright. “It’s a boy.” “Class of 2036,” Robin said, glancing over his shoulder. “Scarlet,” he hissed. “Scarlet, wake up.” Will groaned, knocking his sweatshirt on the ground when he swung his legs off the seat. “What happened?” His head moved like it was on a swivel, darting between Killian and Robin and back to Killian. “Cap?” “Matthew Jones,” Killian said, a rush of pride shooting through his whole body.

“Holy shit.” Exactly.

Roland shifted against Robin, a soft grumble at the idea of being woken up, and Killian had no idea what time it was. It must have been early. Or late.

Six hours and forty-two minutes.

“Go,” Robin said, nodding back to the yellow line and Emma was a few away holding their son. They had a son. “We’ll wake ‘em all up and bring them in soon’ish.” Killian barely even nodded before moving back towards the half-open door around the corner, pushing open slowly and his breath caught in his throat when he took in the sight in front of him.

She was still holding him – Matthew Jones cradled against Emma and wrapped in a hospital-provided blanket that they’d have to switch out for the one Mary Margaret bought them before she came into the room. Emma didn’t move her head when he walked in, but the quirk of her lips made it obvious she knew he was there, finger tracing over the curve of Matthew’s arm and around his elbow.

“Any of them awake?” she asked, eyes darting towards Killian.

“Locksley and Scarlet.” “Figured as much.” Emma glanced up at him and all those organs that had been tied up and tied down and just a bit too close to self-deprecating a few hours earlier, felt like they were going to burst, emotion flooding every inch of his system.

“He stopped crying,” he muttered, leaning forward to brush his thumb across the top of a foot. God, he was tiny.

“Seems like a win already.” “Parents of the year. We should get a trophy.” “Put it in the kitchen.” Killian laughed softly, kissing the top of Emma’s hair and if this was it, if this was as good as it ever got, then he’d never be able to come up with a single complaint or regret.

“I love you so much,” he said, words mumbled against her forehead. Emma sighed, resting her head on his chest and he could hear footsteps on the other side of the door.

“I love you too.”

Mary Margaret knocked. Of course she did.

Emma laughed against his stomach, closing her eyes lightly, but there was still a smile on her face and no one had woken Matthew up yet.

Parents of the year.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret whispered, twisting around the doorframe with a hopeful expression on her face. “Can we see him?” Emma nodded, eyes just a bit glossy when Mary Margaret and David walked into the room. “Oh,” Mary Margaret breathed, hand finding David’s immediately. “He’s...oh, Emma.” “That’s super articular, Reese’s.” “Matthew,” she whispered, reaching out a cautious hand towards the blanket they hadn’t actually changed.. “Hey, Matthew.”

“Matthew Jones,” David repeated slowly and it sounded like he was testing out the name. “It’ll look good on the Cup.”

Emma glanced at Killian, lip tugged tightly in between her teeth and he nodded in response to her unspoken question.

They hadn’t told anyone that part yet.

David’s head snapped between them, eyes narrowed just a bit as he rested his hand on Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “What?” he asked.

“You didn’t ask his full name,” Emma muttered. David froze – detectives were, after all, good at picking up on clues. And Mary Margaret was somewhere in the realm of weeping, tears streaming down her face, leaving streaks through her slightly smudged eyeliner.

Emma rolled her shoulders, sitting up a bit straighter and it all felt incredibly official. “Matthew David Jones,” she said, emphasizing every letter and every syllable and no one said anything for what felt like several decades. Matthew had probably already been drafted.

David shook his head, exhaling loudly and he didn’t even try to hide the tears on his cheeks. “Em,” he said, a stunned sound that seemed to echo off the walls.

“Thanks, Dad,” Emma mumbled and the whole room was a mess – red eyes and tear-stained faces and Ariel had worked her way in at some point, camera shutter clicking in the somehow still-silent space.

Mary Margaret sniffled, dragging her knuckles underneath her eyes and Emma let out a shaky laugh, shifting the baby in her arms slightly. That woke him up – and the silent space wasn’t quite so silent anymore, filled with cries and half the Rangers roster and demands from all of them to see the baby and hold the baby and provide the baby with tips on how best to hold a hockey stick.

They were all ushered out half an hour later, promises of updates if anything monumental managed to happen in the next day and none of them looked particularly awake, but they’d all stayed. They’d all waited.

And there were murmurs of congratulations and a few more photos and promises that he’d go first overall before they did actually leave, Scarlet actually pushed out the door by a very determined nurse, and Killian sank onto the corner of the bed as soon as the door closed behind them.

“We did it,” Emma mumbled, head falling against his shoulder and there wasn’t nearly enough space in that bed for her, let alone both of them and a baby on her chest, but he’d be damned if any of them moved.

“He’s perfect, Swan.” “You’ll get no arguments from me.” “Good. I’m too tired for that.”

She scoffed, burrowing her head further against his neck and Killian’s hand fell on Matthew’s back. His legs were tangled up with Emma’s and the sheets and it all kind of hit him at once – almost like getting checked into the boards the night before.

He’d told her once – wrapped up in different sheets and a different bed on the other side of the country – that she was it, everything he’d ever thought he’d wanted in some kind of mythical happy ending, he’d found in Emma.

And he hadn’t been lying.

He’d meant it then with every ounce of him, every part of him that was so completely in love with her, he couldn’t ever quite believe it.

It wasn’t even remotely close to enough. Not if this was it. If this was it, if this was happily ever after, then Killian couldn’t even come up with the words to describe it, couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact adjective to describe the feeling and getting everything he wanted might be selfish, but it felt pretty damn good too.

“He’s going to BU,” Emma muttered sleepily. “So you should probably just tell Locksley that now. You guys are both going to lose your bet.

“Go to sleep, love.” “You’re only saying that because you know I’m right.” “You want to bet?” “Sure. Stakes.” “Nothing, Swan,” Killian answered honestly and Emma made a noise in the back of her throat at the abrupt shift from banter. “There’s not anything else left to get. And I’m not betting on any of this.”

“Sap,” she accused.

He hummed in agreement. “We’ve got a kid, Swan.”

“A perfect one.” “Exactly.” “I am kind of exhausted.” “Go to sleep, love,” Killian repeated. “I’ll be here.”

“This is easily the dumbest idea we've ever come up with,” Emma grumbled, hissing the words into the phone and Killian had to agree with her.

“Tradition, Swan. It’s supposed to be tradition.” “It’s stupid.” “You married a superstitious athlete, Swan, I don’t know what you expected.” “Exactly,” she snapped and Killian’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “We’re already married. This is some kind of weird, formality so our friends get off our backs.” Killian shifted, stretching his legs across the mattress and the bed was frustratingly large without another person next to him. “What? You don’t want to get married again? That’s romantic, love. Plus half of this idea was Mary Margaret’s, I refuse to take full blame for it.” “Yeah, well, she’s just as stupid.” “Sentiment.” Emma groaned, a bed creaking on her end of the phone. “They have given me the bed,” she admitted. “Something about getting beauty sleep or something absurd. We. Are. Already. Married. For two years! Almost two years. Whatever. Two years, Killian!”

“I’ve been here, Swan.” “You are impossible,” she sighed.

“And rumor has it your dress is somewhere close to incredible.” “Stop gossiping with Ruby.” “You know what my tux looks like,” he accused, grabbing another pillow to prop under his head and it was far too quiet in the apartment as well. That seemed like a problem. Killian sat up, eyebrows pulled low like he was waiting for the inevitable explosion or crash and it came five seconds later a shrill da coming from the room across the hall.

“There it is,” Killian muttered, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and Emma sighed softly on the other end of the phone.

“Dumbest. Idea. Ever.”

“He was asleep,” he reasoned.

“Was being the operative word here. And I know about your tux because Ruby doesn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.”

There was another cry – this one a bit more desperate than it had been before and Killian gripped the phone a little tighter when Emma made a noise in the back of her throat. “It’s fine, love,” he promised, but he was trying to reassure himself as well.

It was the dumbest idea in the history of the world.

“What’s the matter, Matt?” Killian asked, shuffling cautiously through the line of toys and Rangers gear and a, frankly, absurd amount of hockey sticks.

Everyone kept buying him hockey sticks.

It didn’t make sense at all.

They were all four feet taller than him.

“Mama?” Matt asked, eyes wide and hands gripping the blanket in his hands tightly.

Killian swallowed, the note of terror in Matt’s voice catching him off-guard and maybe they shouldn’t have done this.

He hadn’t really wanted to – the prospect of sleeping in that giant bed with too many pillows not entirely appealing at first consideration – but Mary Margaret had been adamant, something about tradition and the rules and Emma’s jaw had tightened when she’d referred to it as the do-over wedding.

It wasn’t a do-over anything.

It was an excuse to get dressed up and give into friends and family who’d been asking for two years. It was a repeat, that was all, a wedding defense that felt a bit like a penalty kill at the same time, fighting against the sheer force of Mary Margaret and Ruby’s combined will when it came to tradition and dresses.

So, they’d agreed to most of it – there would only be four appetizer choices – and nodded their heads at the prospect of sleeping in two different apartments before they got married. Again.

“She's just gone for tonight,” Killian promised, sinking onto the edge of Matt’s bed as he tried to pull his fingers away from the blanket.

Matthew made a noise that seemed to scream unconvinced and Killian’s heart hammered against his chest. “She’s with M’s and Uncle David. So that she can get ready with them before tomorrow.”

The explanation didn't really work, far too many complex words for a sixteen-month-old toddler who seemed determined to try and rip Killian's shirt apart, but there were some garbled words and the tears seemed to be slowing.

Killian hummed and Emma laughed several dozen blocks away. “We’ve explained this,” she mumbled, clearly trying to keep her voice low.

“It doesn’t appear to have sunk in,” Killian said softly, what felt like a glove sticking into the bottom of his spine.

“Retract that parent of the year, two years running trophy.” Killian scoffed under his breath and it was definitely a glove, one of the fingers bending when he tried to lean against the wall behind him. “Here, come here, kid,” he said, twisting his body in some impossible angle so Matt could crawl against his side, a pretzel of arms and legs that, somehow, both seemed to threaten hitting him in the face.

Matt mumbled another string of sounds, something that sounded suspiciously a lot like M's and Killian was slightly stunned at his son’s apparent ability to repeat words back verbatim.

“You hear that diction, Swan?” he mumbled and he could practically hear Emma rolling her eyes.

“Speaker,” she said sharply and Killian stuttered at the tone of her voice. There wasn’t much room for argument.

“Swan.” “Swan?” Matt asked knowingly. He was far too wide awake for whatever time it was. They seemed to be going backwards.

The phone clicked and Killian pulled back quickly, staring at a blank screen. She’d hung up. He was half a breath away from calling Emma back - ringtone in Mary Margaret and David’s loft be damned – when his phone started to ring, her photo flashing across the screen and he was smiling before he realized.

She was goddamn brilliant.

Matthew yelled, blanket forgotten in his determination to try and climb up Killian’s side and pry the phone out of his hands. Nearly two years and two seasons of hockey later and Matthew Jones might be the most advanced toddler in the entire world – at least when it came to FaceTiming his parents.

Road trips were, now, nothing short of torture.

“Hey, Mattie,” Emma smiled as soon as Killian swiped his thumb across the screen and the boy’s eyes light up in the dim glow of the phone.

“Ma,” he shouted, arms tightening around Killian’s neck.

“How come you’re awake?” Matt made a noise, burrowing his head into Killian’s shoulder and he wrapped his arms tightly around him, trying to hold him against his body while keeping a grip on the phone. Emma sighed softly and this wasn’t just a dumb idea, it was idiotic and stupid and they were already married.

“That’s not a very specific answer,” Emma muttered, a wry smile on her face that looked like she was trying to avoid falling directly into disappointment.

“I think he misses someone,” Killian said. Matt made another noise, a mix of a whine and an agreement and it was after midnight.

Emma scrunched her nose, holding the phone a bit closer to her face like she was trying to will herself several dozen blocks away. “That’s why I left after he fell asleep,” she grumbled. “You’ve got to go to sleep now, Mattie, ok? And try not to choke Dad.” Killian rolled his eyes, but Matt didn’t let go of his neck, a knee finding its way into his side for good measure. Matt mumbled something against the collar of his shirt and Killian tried to will the glove out of his back. There was no getting away from it.

“Matt,” Killian started slowly, sitting up to try and disentangle the limbs from his body. He was met with wide eyes – bright green and so like Emma’s it sometimes left him just a bit breathless. They, those eponymous people who knew what his kid looked like, were always quick to point out how much Matthew looked like Killian – dark hair and a very specific set of his jaw already that Elsa claimed would be perfect for intimidating goalies – but he never really noticed much of that.

Killian always noticed the eyes, staring up at him like he was the greatest thing to ever lace up skates.

“What if Mom came home?” he continued and Matt’s eyes, somehow, got wider, mouth dropping open like he was about to start yelling or possibly jumping on the bed. There wasn’t enough room for that. Killian’s legs took up most of the space.

Or like he understood those very specific string of words in that very specific order. “What do you say, Swan?” Killian asked, lifting one eyebrow and tugging Matt back against his side. Eventually they’d get him to learn how to smirk and they’d be able to take over the world. “Think you can stage a jailbreak?”

“I’m going to tell Reese’s you said that.”

Killian shrugged. “Come home, love. You’re right, this is stupid.” Emma didn’t say anything for a moment, lips twisted in thought as she glanced towards the living room where Mary Margaret and David were, likely, sleeping. She nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I want to do that.” She found them back in their bedroom – Matt draped across Killian’s stomach, with his head resting on his chest.

“I left a note,” Emma whispered, toeing out of her shoes and dropping her bag lightly on the floor. “Like I was sixteen and sneaking out of my parents house.” “Just think what a good story this makes, Swan,” Killian reasoned. “Perfect to tell the grandkids.” “Are we onto grandkids now? I hadn’t realized we time-jumped.” “Just planning, love.” “Yeah? And will this plan also require a lot of sentiment and stupid, antiquated traditions that don’t make sense for people who have been married for two years?” Killian stared at her, smile tugging on the corners of his mouth and bad luck be damned. It didn’t matter. He wanted to sleep next to his wife before they got married. Again.

“No,” he promised. “None of that.” “Trying to fall asleep without you sucked.” “It always does, Swan.” “So let’s not do that anymore, ok?” “Ok.”

Mary Margaret hadn’t been angry – shrugging and promising she totally knew Emma was going to end up back home by the end of the night. Killian laughed, the sound making his whole body shake as David pulled him towards one side of the loft, Matt trailing along behind them. Or, at least, he tried.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Killian muttered, pulling out David’s grasp to lean forward and kiss Emma as quickly as he could. “See you later, Swan.” “Jones,” she corrected softly, tugging on the bottom of the t-shirt he still had on. “For the last two years. Get with it, Cap.”

“I’ll see you at the altar, Mrs. Jones.” David sighed loudly, hitching Matt farther up his side and grabbing Killian’s shoulder tightly. “This is gross,” he muttered. “Come on.”

He didn’t complain once – not during the photos or while trying to get a one-and-a-half year old into a tux and a tie and into a seat with Mary Margaret when Killian took up his designated spot at the altar.

That last part didn’t last long, Matt practically crawling over Mary Margaret to get out of the seat and he stumbled up the aisle, nearly tripping over the white runner before Killian ducked down and grabbed him around the waist.

“Dad, dad, dad, dad,” Matt chanted, kicking his feet out like he was trying to settle into a skating rhythm. “Up. Up. Up!”

Mary Margaret sighed loudly, resting her head in her hand and Killian tugged Matt up, draping him across his shoulder in the way he knew would work a laugh out of him. It did.

And Killian’s heart nearly stopped.

Although he wasn’t sure if that was from the sound of his son or his wife at the end of the aisle, a small smile just visible through the veil over her face and Ruby had absolutely been lying. The dress wasn’t incredible.

She was incredible and it was, easily, the most sentimental thing Killian had ever thought, but he couldn’t stop staring at her, smile settling on his face and laughter ringing in his ear and Emma’s shoulders moved slightly when she took a deep breath.

Matt kicked his side, the toe of his shoe probably leaving a scuff mark on Killian’s jacket and Emma tugged her lip in between her teeth, head tilting at the sight in front of her. David kept her hand trained in his, twisting their arms up together and Killian would have to have a talk with Mary Margaret about the length of the aisle.

Matt tried to move – Killian grimacing slightly when his shoe landed in the vicinity of his thigh and a very large bruise that was still purple after blocking a shot two weeks before. “Ma,” Matt screeched, shouting the word more into Killian’s ear than at Emma.

She laughed softly, blinking when David pulled her veil away, brushing his lips across her cheek.

“He got impatient,” Killian explained, rolling his shoulder and inducing a fresh round of laughter.

“Yeah, so I can see,” Emma smiled. She reached up to tug on the back of Matt’s jacket, brushing her hands over the fabric. “He’s not a jungle gym, Mattie.” And they could have been back in their apartment and the only people in the entire goddamn world for as much attention as they were paying to anyone else. The officiant Mary Margaret hired several months before coughed pointedly.

“Oh, right,” Emma muttered, hand still on Matt’s back when she spun on the spot. “You know we’ve been married for two years already?” Killian laughed, Matt’s whole body shaking against him and he ducked his head before he could come up with all the reasons it would probably upset Mary Margaret, lips finding Emma’s easily and quickly and it meant as much as it had years before in a practice facility.

They didn’t buy new rings.

That was one of the things they’d absolutely refused.

Their rings were theirs and they hadn’t even taken them off before the repeat ceremony, something feeling decidedly wrong at even suggesting the idea.

He kept Matt on his shoulder through the entire ceremony.

And they were supposed to write their own vows, were supposed to stand up there in front of everyone they’d ever known and probably a few people they didn’t and dive into the deep end of sentiment, but neither one of them seemed able to come up with anything more than simple.

“I love you,” Emma said, shrugging slightly like she was admitting to it for the first time. “And...I just. I can’t picture anything except this.” “I knew I loved you two months after I met you,” Killian said. Matt’s arms knocked against his back. “It’s...it’s all I ever wanted, Swan.”

There were more words and cheers and no one really had to say you can kiss the bride because they’d been married for two years.

To be fair, they didn’t really wait for the words anyway.

Killian was never certain who moved first – him or Emma or maybe they both closed the space between them at the same time and that had happened more times than he could count, the ease to take that next step forward, always a bit desperate to be just a half a step closer.

“I love you,” he said again, resting his forehead on hers and it felt like he was trying to breathe her in.

“Straight to the point.” “Simple vows, Swan. The pinnacle of romance.” “Yeah?” “You tell me.” She pulled back slightly, nodding as Matt tried to shimmy down in between them. “Yeah,” she promised. “You want to scandalize all of them and make out some more?” “Absolutely,” Killian said, ducking his head and he could feel her laughter when he kissed her.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs #captain swan ff #cs fic #blue line olympics #will scarlet's instagram from the second wedding is epic #at least in my head #that sounds weird typed out #whatever #not changing it

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elaniadventuresinlondon · 4 years

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Thankful and delighted

I recently asked a friend to pray for me because he kept showing up in my dreams as if he has some advice for me but I couldn’t remember it when I woke up, so I messaged him asking if he happens to get any words for me id love to hear, and his words totally blew me away! He said he had been praying for me and actually wanted to share some things with me. Wow thank you God for those who can hear from you. Anyways he asked what are some things I have been most thankful for, so this post is for you!

Here are some things I’ve been so thankful for:

1. Father God has richly supplied for all my needs. My ark fam, my lodging, a new computer, fresh food, more health, the most beautiful location, even enjoyable work to do!

2. I’m thankful He has helped remove tensions of distrust that I was struggling with for a while. God challenged me to remove the walls of distrust I had erected to keep my mind safe from the differences I felt in our beliefs. But when I asked God why can’t I trust them? He said “because you don’t know them fully.” And when I asked “do you trust them?” He just said, “I love them very much.” Jesus has taught me that it’s possible to extend love without trust. That I had it wrong for thinking that trust was a prerequisite for love. God has really transformed my heart in this area and I feel so much clearer and lighter and happier! Praise the Lord!

3. I’m thankful to be living with folks who care so much about their health and what they eat. At first, I honestly judged my friends for being food elitists. I saw a parallel of how elitist I may come across when I only speak of how amazing it is to walk with Jesus and never invite soomeone and show them how they too can taste and see for themselves, the goodness of God. I was tired of “hearing” about all the great things they are doing to preserve their life by eating healthy and eating beautiful things. I thought “that life is only for the rich. What about all the poor people who can’t afford to eat like this? What a privilege it is to eat organic. I’ll just eat ramen because it’s cheap and I like it.” But God tapped my shoulder and told me I was judging and told me that I could eat healthy too, and that poor people can eat healthy too if I just feed them. God encouraged me that if I wanted to see the kind of care for others that I wanted to receive that I must learn how to fast and to give up my delicious healthy food to feed those who are hungry, and give drink to those who are thirsty. So I did, and I realized how much grace God gives each person everyday to live and move and have their being. I was filled with grace! I had grace to not eat, grace to give, grace to not judge, and grace over myself. And I felt God taught me how much he provides for his sheep and how much he desires them to be healthy. God gave me my body and I wasn’t stewarding it as much as I could. This is one gift I actually am super thankful for - that God has transformed my thinking of stewarding my body and health. It’s not selfish to eat healthy and take care of it. I can live on very little or a lot. And if that very little helps my body and does not harm it, then I am being a good steward. I can do both, live healthy and care for those who cannot make healthy decisions just yet. And if I preach good news, then the more powerful thing to do is to bring people in to experience it themselves.

4. God has given me more vision over my life than I previously had. I came with no plan, no agenda except to “come and see” to “follow him” wherever He was leading me. Meeting the folks here has opened my eyes to what it looks like to collaborate and build the kingdom of God together, globally. It looks like believing that one of our purposes is to redeem and reconcile the land and people back to God. It looks like introducing people to each other, even if they are across the world and saying hey you two should meet and God has knitted something similar in your hearts and share encouragements with each other. It looks like hopping on calls with people around the world to tackle problems that the Body of Christ has the ability to tackle yet we have given our strength and efforts to the man with money, instead of the King who desires heaven on earth and His will to be done. I haven’t had conversations like this in a while. I feel like I have received more sight, more vision, more collaboration across the global Church, more innovative possibilities of what it looks like to be missional and use our talents, giftings and calling to heal the bride and make her whole, unified and ready for the coming day!

5. I’m thankful I’ve been able to explore more of my artistic side here. I began designing some things for a friend, and started a 30 drawing challenge. Then started an Instagram! Check it out here if you want to see my doodles. This has awakened me to possiblities that I can be an illustrator and I can learn new tricks. 😂

6. I’m thankful for the many possibilities of what I can do here. One of the funniest things I have been doing is giving haircuts. It definitely seems that wherever I go, I give haircuts. I thank my mom for passing on her expertise to me and teaching me from highschool how to cut hair. I literally have customer bookings from people in the building I’m living in. I’m actually very excited to get to know random folks and share my story and hear theirs as well. Wow God you’re so good!

7. I’m thankful for the weather. Last time I came to London it rained so much and it was so windy and cold. I came at the same time last year... so I packed 2 rain jackets, 5 sweaters, 1 tank top, 1 shorts and 1 skirt. The point being I packed for cold weather. But when I prayed if I should go or not, God kept showing me blue skies and sunny days and nice clouds. I had no idea that it would be the reality of the weather im in now! It is blazing hot here! And I’ve been doing all the summer things like buying sunscreen, getting sunburnt, wearing the same one pair of shorts and the same tank top everyday. Lol but I’m so thankful my friend told me about Depop! I have since bought several summery things. Hehehe 😁

🌈 I drew the clouds I see everyday.

8. Thankful for the people here. At first it was hard for me to like the folks here haha. Can I be that honest? I really had my guard up. I’m the only Asian girl in the circles I’ve been in. I didn’t like how some people spoke about things, accusing me of bringing Corona to the country, etc. I felt like I was among immature believers who were offensive and didn’t know it. But God told me he loved all of these people and even those who said racist things to me, as I too have spoken racist things and needed forgiveness. And he forgives me, and has seen me change; so I should forgive others too and believe they can change too.

He began to show me how much I need to speak with a thought-filled global heart posture. So more grace has entered in and I have begun to like the folks here. In the house church, I mentioned how I have no context for anyone and was wondering if people knew each other’s stories, and they didn’t! So we have been sharing our personal testimonies and it has been revolutionary! I feel like wow God you’re so crazy! These peoples lives are so crazy! And you brought everyone to this group? It makes me quite excited about the global body of Christ and how fun it will be in heaven to swap stories!!! Truly it was be jaw dropping.

9. I’m thankful for my Ark fam. This is the first trip where I felt so connected even while being away. Most trips, I don’t hear from a single person but this trip, because of corona times, I’ve been able to be “present” as if I had never left. It’s been something I’ve always desired and I’m so thankful I now have a context for keeping in touch despite time zones and locations.

10. The future. I’m thankful that while I don’t know what will happen, I believe God has my best in store. It’s a daily surrender of expectations but I feel God’s hand on my future like he has it. And I can let go. I can ask and dream and ask, and dream bigger. Thank you God.

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conanobrien1963 · 7 years

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It’s show time By Nicholas Kralev, The Financial Times Magazine, February 10, 2001

NEW YORK — Conan O’Brien has no regrets that the longest election in US history is over. True, Campaign 2000 and the 36 agonising days that followed were a gift from heaven for late-night TV hosts. They were courted by both Al Gore and George W. Bush, who made “nice-guy” appearances aimed at winning young voters (keener viewers of late comedy shows than the prime-time evening news). At the same time they had a ball firing jokes at the candidates.

But now, with a new president in office, “it gets even better”, says O’Brien, beaming at the thought of the mocking monologues probably being born in the writing room of his show, “Late Night with Conan O’Brien”, as we speak.

“Presidents get funnier all the time,” he says. “Nixon was a lot of fun for comedians — a good target. But Clinton may be the funniest. The bonus when you are finally president is that you don’t have to come on these dreadful shows any more.”

As “Late Night”, along with other comedy programmes — such as “The Tonight Show with Jay Leno” on NBC and “The Late Show with David Letterman” on CBS — makes media analysts ponder the impact they have on voters, late-night comedians feel on top of the world. Having had Democratic vice-presidential candidate Joseph Lieberman sing Sinatra’s “My Way” on his NBC show, and made good use of all the negative points of White House contenders during the campaign, O’Brien says that his is “a good business to be in”.

The taping of “Late Night” has just ended, and we’ve swapped Studio 6A at NBC’s Rockefeller Centre headquarters in New York for O’Brien’s comfortable ninth-floor office. The 6ft 4in comedian has replaced his on-camera suit with jeans and a casual shirt, and is kicking off the post-production part of his evening with a cold beer. I notice that he’s neither as lanky as he used to be — his reported $2m salary has apparently made a difference — nor as carrot-topped as everybody describes him. “My hair is much more red on TV, from the lighting,” he agrees quickly. “It was never that red. It’s a misconception.”

Misconceptions are no novelty for O’Brien. Having watched him for an hour every night for seven years, millions of Americans have created an image of him based solely on “Late Night”. They expect him to joke and be funny all the time, and think that he’s kidding even when he’s serious. “Most people usually assume that I’m making a joke. When I try to complement someone sincerely, they think I’m being sarcastic. Sometimes I’d say, ‘You did a really nice job for me, thank you’, and they’d say, ‘Go to hell, how dare you, you are so mean’. And I’m just being nice.”

Another unpleasant consequence of having a job like his, he explains, is that, “when I walk around the street, since people see me only on the show, always smiling, they are not used to seeing me being just normal, and think that I’m depressed. I’m not — I just have this face, I’m neutral. I’m going to buy bread, or I’m walking my dog”. But he’s not, he’s quick to point out, one of those comedians who are “funny only during that hour they are on TV”, and “quiet and shy” in real life. “We always hear that Steve Martin, Woody Allen and others, who are really alive on camera, are introverted at other times. I don’t relate to that and don’t understand it. During the day, you’ll see me wandering in people’s offices, trying to make them laugh. I enjoy it.”

Most of O’Brien’s staff — about 60 people occupying the entire floor — are accustomed to his style. Some, however, never get used to the pressure of the daily deadlines and the speed, which often resembles that in a newsroom. “I have fired people who haven’t worked out,” he admits, “but not too many. I’ve had people murdered, but that’s a different story — it’s much easier.”

That, of course, is a joke. And it’s a perfect illustration of how others’ expectations of O’Brien sometimes force him to play the funny guy from the show, rather than be himself. His jokes, however, aren’t always easy to distinguish from his “serious speak”. To make it easier for me, he suggests holding up his hand when he’s serious. But things work out without hand intervention, as soon as I engage him in a meaningful, intellectual conversation.

If one keeps him serious for a while, the 37-year-old O’Brien can be thoughtful and philosophical about his job. Although now everybody takes his success — and his refreshing yet nervous boyish charm — for granted, it took nearly four years to prove himself to network executives, audiences and critics. After many 13-week contracts and reviews calling his show “lifeless and messy”, he finally signed a five-year deal in 1997. But when he started, in 1993, he was virtually unknown, and many people accused him of not having earned his big break.

“After the first tough years, I felt I’d paid for that studio,” he muses. “I bled for this show. I put my heart into it.” He says that he realised he was “in a lot of trouble” at first, but never contemplated giving up. “In such cases, you tend not to think too much — you just do. There was no time to sit around and worry. If you are trapped in a burning house, you don’t sit on the floor thinking what to do. You start running around, try to find an open window and get out. What kept me going was that I really wanted it to work. Deep inside I knew I could do this. I just needed time to develop the skills.”

Confidence was the key to his “dramatic transformation”, O’Brien says. “I used to live or die by what I said every night. If I had something funny to say, I felt like a hero. But if I didn’t get a laugh, I was visibly unhappy and upset. It took confidence to realise that not everything I say is funny. I learned to enjoy the mistakes as much as the success. Now I make fun of myself for not getting a laugh.”

Today, with the wisdom of an almost veteran, he counters the notion that the way to succeed in a job like his is to learn how to play a TV talk show host. “That’s not true. The way to succeed is to somehow figure out how to be who you always were, but in a very strange environment — in a studio, with cameras looking at you. My struggle was finding a way to take this part of me that was very natural and spontaneous, get control of it and make it look the same in this artificial surrounding.” Unlike on “Friends” and “Frasier”, where an actor plays someone else for half an hour, “on my show, it’s me for an hour every night”. So, inevitably, “people are going to see who I really am. I can’t invent a personality, but I can showcase the personality I already have”.

Although he has always liked performing, as a child O’Brien never though that it would become his profession. “I was very serious, and I didn’t know that you could do comedy for a living — it was something you did with your friends. My hometown was as far removed from Hollywood as you can imagine. I’d never met anybody in show business — or any famous person for that matter.” Born on April 18, 1963, in Brookline, Massachusetts (the Boston suburb known as John F. Kennedy’s birthplace), O’Brien was one of six children of a Catholic Irish family. His mother, Ruth, was a lawyer, and his father, Tom, a doctor, so Conan thought he’d do “something responsible”– “go to a good college, then law school, and then maybe get into politics”.

He followed his plan, but very briefly. He was a “smart student, with a good work ethic” and, after graduating from Brookline High School in 1981, he enrolled at Harvard, in neighbouring Cambridge. (“When I heard, as a boy, that there was Cambridge, England, I thought that they were copying us.”) He had written plays and sketches before, and performed them for his friends, but it wasn’t until he started working for the Harvard Lampoon, the university’s venerable comedy magazine, that he realised that “adults were taking this seriously”. He decided that if he could make $5 a day doing comedy, he’d go for it.

He eventually became the Lampoon’s editor — a position that helped him to get to know many of his fellow students. “Everybody assumes that only the smartest people in the world go to Harvard,” he says. “They don’t. It’s just a very unusual collection of people. A few years ago, when they caught the Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski, the news media were shocked that a Harvard graduate could be this weird, eccentric loner, who is bent on destroying society.’ I was the exact opposite: I said, ‘Of course he went to Harvard. I knew at least five future Unabombers when I was there.’”

Just before O’Brien left Harvard, the student newspaper asked him what he thought he’d be doing in 10 years. He said he’d have his own television show. He underestimated himself — eight years was all he needed.

He didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do after Harvard. He loved comedy and performing, but had no interest in acting. In 1985, he arrived in Los Angeles, where an acquaintance helped him to get a writing job on an HBO show called “Not Necessarily the News”. He also joined a local improv class — “Friends” star Lisa Kudrow was among his fellow students. Two years later, he began writing for the late-night series “The Wilton North Report”, but it had a short life, so O’Brien decided to move to New York. For three years from 1988, he worked as a writer for NBC’s “Saturday Night Live” (“SNL”). The show, featuring some of America’s top comedians, such as Phil Hartman, Mike Myers and Dana Carvey, helped him to make valuable professional connections. He appreciated the opportunity to create his own sketches, but when it came to performing he was allowed only fleeting appearances as a crowd member or security guard.

In 1992, O’Brien joined the staff of Fox’s hit animated series, “The Simpsons”, starting as a writer and producer, and moving up to supervising producer the following year. But he wasn’t happy there, either. “As great as the show was, I was speaking through all those other established characters, while at “SNL” I could create a whole new world, with no limitations. Another frustration was that “The Simpsons” had a much more controlled environment, because it’s animation. You can spend a year on an episode to get it right. I loved the show, but it wasn’t mine — there is a big difference between being the manager of a Hilton hotel in Hawaii and running your own bed and breakfast.”

His B&B chance came sooner than he expected. In 1993, late-night legend Johnny Carson retired from The Tonight Show and NBC sought a replacement. David Letterman, then hosting “Late Night”, was regarded as the heir apparent. The job, however, went to the little-known Jay Leno, and the deeply offended Letterman left the network, taking over “The Late Show” on CBS, which directly competes with Leno’s programme. The “Late Night” seat was now open, with no obvious front-runners. O’Brien begged executive producer and “SNL” creator Lorne Michaels to let him audition. He got the job immediately.

Having long been a fairly good writer but a “frustrated performer”, O’Brien had finally found the right combination. Although he would, for the most part, recite lines written by someone else, he could make a creative contribution at any time. But being in front of the camera made a world of difference. “When I wrote,” he recalls, “it was never over; I was always editing it in my head, torturing myself. Now, I can worry during rehearsals, but when the hour is over, the hour is over. It’s done, and there is another show to do tomorrow. It’s been good for me, because I needed to learn how to just let go of things — I’m obsessive and compulsive. I forget about what just happened and move to the next thing, and I do it as well as I can.”

With the initial scepticism forgotten, O’Brien’s show now attracts an estimated 2.5m viewers a night. Although “The Tonight Show” remains NBC’s premier forum for Hollywood celebrities — and, lately, for politicians — “Late Night” has had luminaries like Harrison Ford, Sylvester Stallone, Elton John, Sigourney Weaver and Helen Hunt. “The booking is a nightmare,” O’Brien complains. “Fortunately, we’ve been around long enough to get good guests. At the beginning, it was very tough, because we had to make it funny with unknowns. But no show can survive if it requires Tom Cruise or Madonna — those people have to be a nice, occasional surprise.”

O’Brien says that he avoids watching comedy on television: “It’s like a dentist going home and cleaning someone’s teeth for fun”. He prefers documentaries and “serious movies”. He’s cautious about trying to learn from fellow comedians, afraid that doing so would take away his “unique flavour”. Unlike broadcast journalism, for example, where “you can learn certain techniques, comedy is a very personal thing”, he says. “Once you start to alter too much who you are, to reach some professional quality, you lose what many people tune in for.”

His own celebrity is now part of the reason for “Late Night’s” popularity. He thinks that “it’s fair game for the media to ask about my personal life — I have nothing to hide — but I’m not an important historical figure, so it’s good to keep some things private”. He has been single since his last, nine-year relationship ended in 1999, though the tabloids have been speculating about new girlfriends. “I’m going out with Cher now. Please write this!”

O’Brien returned to Harvard last June, to give the traditional Class Day speech before the graduating class. “I was very much aware that someone else could have been speaking that day, and that no one might have remembered Conan O’Brien — a complete nonentity, who had graduated in 1985, with a degree in American history and literature, and had vanished. That keeps me humble. I feel really lucky — I’m the poster boy for luck. Getting this job was an extremely fortunate break.” (x)

#it's baaaby #conan o'brien #team coco #00s conan #cute #eca #news

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kuwaiti-kid · 4 years

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Exclusive: Dominic Pace talks The Mandalorian, SNL, and the 501st Legion

In 2019, Dominic Pace got to live out every Star Wars fan’s dream by bringing to life a character within the Star Wars universe. He hails from Ossining, New York, and currently calls Los Angeles home.

Pace began his career in 1995, studying with Actors Studio members, Mimi Turque and Susan Batson. He also studied under Terry Knickerbocker, during the late William Esper’s two-year program.

He has been steadily working in the industry for twenty years, lending his acting abilities to shows like NCIS, Desperate Housewives, and Superstore. But it’s his appearance in Chapter One and Three of The Mandalorian that has earned him a loyal fanbase.

Your Money Geek previously interviewed Dominic Pace about his role on The Mandalorian, and we are thrilled to have another chance to speak with him about his career.

Maggie Lovitt (ML): After you landed a one-of-a-kind Featured Bounty Hunter on The Mandalorian, who was the first person you told? Did you manage to keep it a complete secret?

Dominic Pace (DP): I sent a text to my family. I’ve been in the business for quite some time, so they all knew not to publish anything on social media. I wish I could say I enjoyed every minute from the start of the production, but there was a lot of ‘what ifs’ at that time. When you’re only featured, it’s not about you, so there’s a reason for hesitation to celebrate such a dream for any Star Wars fan completely.

You could be cut from the film, and the producers could choose that they didn’t like the makeup selected and cut you. There [was] also two-thirds of a chance they were going to put me in a helmet, which would’ve been a little less climactic. Then, there’s the anticipation of the camera covering you during the scenes.

It wasn’t until September of 2019, one year later, that I could genuinely celebrate being immortalized in the Star Wars universe. I received a text from a friend who saw me in the trailer. That was when I could officially announce as I did keep it a secret for a year for anyone other than family and a few trusted illustrators.

ML: As an actor, I had the surreal privilege of being part of one of my own favorite franchises. For you, being a Star Wars fan, what was it like being on set and becoming part of the legacy?

DP: It really was special, and it takes a Star Wars fan to understand the excitement and meaning behind it. I just had my first bit of snarky hate mail where this one man couldn’t understand what all the ‘hoopla’ was about.

He’s right in a way.. if it was any other project, less than one minute screen time really wouldn’t mean a thing. Star Wars is the only franchise where every character is unique, including the side characters.

Not to mention being a Bounty Hunter. The original six Bounty Hunters had the same amount of short screen time in The Empire Strikes Back. This is a universe where millions of fans gravitate towards and for a good reason. They want to know the backstory and species of every character. I’ve embraced the fans and also completely acknowledge this is not an acting accolade like my normal career as a TV character actor, but more of a fan experience of a lifetime.

ML: What was the prosthetic process like for becoming Gekko? How early were your call times?

DP: I would get in as early as 5 am. Brian Sipe is a prominent member of Legacy Effects. He, along with his amazing team, brought “Gekko” to life for about ten days of shooting. From makeup to wardrobe, it was about a two-hour process, but I was in my glory.

Normally 15-16 hour days would seem like work, and the costume would seem heavy and hot. The adrenaline was pumping each day as I knew I was part of something special. I have almost 100 principal television credits to my name. Still, the opportunity of being immortalized in the Star Wars universe was second to none, and I am so grateful for it.

ML: You have done a number of Star Wars podcasts since your appearance on The Mandalorian, how has that been?

DP: I’ve loved everyone, and I’ve embraced the fans and charities. The world is such a dark place, and what George Lucas has created has been a common denominator for people from all walks of life.

It’s about positivity, family, and the beautiful mythology of believing in yourself for all that is good. The podcasts have been similar to a die-hard sports fan talking about sports.. an absolute pleasure, and I’m so grateful for all the support and attention.

ML: Do you have any fun experiences from The Mandalorian set that you can share with us? Funniest moment?

DP: The nickname “Gekko’ came from a model/piece that Brian Sipe had done years prior. Initially, my Bounty Hunter was supposed to have bumps on its head, which looked similar to boobs. The other Bounty Hunters and I had a good laugh on the first day of screen tests.

I joked that there was a Bounty Hunter support group that empathized with my look. We chuckled, but as soon as I could, I begged Brian to change the look to some sort of horns if it wasn’t too inconvenient. Brian is one of the nicest and most talented makeup artists in the business. I was really grateful he changed the look, and I am hopeful it will make a great action figure someday.

ML: As a fan, what did you think of The Mandalorian? Where do you hope the series goes?

DP: I think Jon and Dave, along with their incredible team of directors, understand the fans as well as what makes a good story. Even observing from afar, you could tell their production team had it all under control. They were confident with what they were creating, and I think those eight episodes show.

I’m a fan of the original trilogy, so I always love it when they give the nod to legendary characters or species. I’d love to see some of the legendary Bounty Hunters show up and, of course, would love to return myself. Anything is possible.

ML: You’ve been in the industry for over two decades. Looking at your resume, you’ve had a lot of Prison Guard, Detective, Henchmen-type roles. Is that a character type you’re looking to break from, or is that the niche you love?

DP: Honestly, I’m just so grateful to work. It’s a joy to be on set and to be cast in what I play well. The opportunity to make a living at what I love is more than I could’ve asked for. Sure, I’d love larger roles here and there with some appearances, but I’m proud of what I’ve achieved and proud I’ve taken every opportunity Hollywood has offered me.

ML: Your first credit on IMDb is an uncredited role on Saturday Night Live (SNL) in the 90s. I feel like that’s a New York actor right of passage. What was that experience like?

DP: I was studying in New York at the time, and similar to today, I never turn down work of any kind. I’ve had agents over the years who have tried to persuade me to take Guest Starring roles or higher. I just love being on set, and that week with the SNL cast was no different.

Such amazing energy of excitement on that 8th floor at Rockefeller Plaza. Helen Hunt was hosting, and Jack Nicholson made a cameo appearance that night. I’m walking around the corner of the hallway, and I bump right into him. He gave me a nod, and I gave him one back. I went down to the lobby for a break one day of rehearsal and had the privilege of riding the elevator up with just Lorne Michaels and I.

The scene was a fun sketch where Chris Kattan was playing a little boy, and he wanted to become a baseball player. All these Major League Ballplayers start coming out of his closet along with Will Ferrell. I was holed up in a closet with these Major League Ballplayers and Will Ferrell. Such a fun time.

I played a basketball player who busts out of the closet at the end. The energy of the crowd that night was as if all the excitement of New York City was bottled up in one room. I remember standing on the X, where all of the stars have given their opening monologue. It was a week I’ll never forget. Studying in New York City during the mid-nineties was filled with great memories.

ML: I've always joked that I personally got into acting because of the catering on set. What has been one of your favorite meals on set?

DP: Kevin Costner and Tom Cruise have had the best catering where they spare no expense. I was a teammate of Costner in For Love Of The Game. There [were] literally ice sculptures during lunch by the food. I remember surf and turf one day, and that was really amazing.

Tom Cruise ordered an In and Out truck for Collateral, and I definitely packed on a few pounds while doubling Frankenstein on the set of Van Helsing. Food galore and sometimes that is definitely my weakness.

ML: What is one thing you have to have at crafty?

DP: It’s a catch-22 as I love the breakfast burritos in the am. The problem is you’ll be sluggish if you have a significant role. I’ve definitely splurged more than once so long as my wardrobe isn’t too tight.

ML: How are you handling quarantine? Have you and your sons been building Lego sets? Bingeing anything good on streaming?

DP: We have finished a 1000 piece puzzle of Thomas Kincaid, as well as completed out Lego Star Wars Galaxy in their room. I bought a large shadow box frame for some Mandalorian replicas I wanted to be displayed as well. I’ve been really active with the Star Wars podcasts as well as the fan base.

Sending videos to cheer up Star Wars fans, along with shout outs to so many charitable organizations involved with the Star Wars community.

I’ve been handling it ok, but like everyone else, just hoping to see the light at the end of the tunnel as this was supposed to be quite the year for touring the world. I had a 25-city comic-con tour I meticulously planned this past December. Though I’m disappointed, I think of those less fortunate during this time, and I am grateful for what I have.

ML: Over the past year, you have appeared at a number of conventions and also worked to raise funds with the 501st Legion. Are you currently working with any charities?

DP: I’m very humbled to have become inducted as an Honorary Member of The 501st Legion, The Mandalorian Mercs, The Rebel Legion, Sith Dynasty, as well as the Imperial Outlanders. Countless autographs handed out to their local charities, as well as their members who do so much for their communities.

I have donated a handful of personal items and original illustrations to benefit the Make A Wish Foundation for an event in September. That event will be in association with The 501st Legion of Oklahoma. So much more planned as soon as we are all out of the quarantine.

ML: What can fans see you in next?

DP: I will be making a fun appearance on ABC’s To Tell The Truth hosted by Anthony Anderson. The season premiere will be on Thursday, May 21st, on ABC. I am also starring in a feature film titled Anonymous Killers, which is scheduled for a theatrical release later this year.

As soon as the quarantine ends, I plan to return to a moderate convention tour, which will roll into 2021. I appreciate all the support from the Star Wars fan base.

Website: https://www.gekkothebountyhunter.com/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/dominicpaceofficial/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/DominicPPace Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dominicpace1

The post Exclusive: Dominic Pace talks The Mandalorian, SNL, and the 501st Legion appeared first on Your Money Geek.

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placetobenation · 5 years

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As many of you are aware, WWE Network is pretty packed with all sorts of content. And as you may also know, we here at Place to Be Nation love long term, in depth projects. So, as part of this initiative, members of the PTBN Staff are choosing programs that coincide with this week in history and after watching each program, they will share their thoughts, notes and recommendations with our readers. So, settle in and enjoy this epic ride through wrestling history!

Show: Mid South Wrestling 5/26/1984

Best Segment:

Dave Hall: The highlights of Magnum TA winning the North American Title stood out as the best moment on the show. The commentary highlighted how important this moment was, reminding everyone of the history between Magnum and Mr Wrestling, and putting over how significant it was that Magnum had finally captured the title. I never really saw Magnum in action down here in Australia, so this was a good moment for me, to see how smooth he was in the ring and how much charisma he had. Can clearly see why everyone holds him in such high regards

Calum McDougall: I like Jim Cornette’s interview after the tag title match. He was excellent in talking his way around the controversy (even though there shouldn’t even be controversy since it was No DQ) and it shows why Cornette is so highly regarded as a manager. The video issues didn’t bother me because at least we can still see this stuff in 2019. I’ve had never seen any Mid-South before this so that I can see any of it at a few clicks of a button on my phone is worth a small bit of video interference.

Jacob Williams: The early video package did such a great job of telling the story of Mr. Wrestling and Magnum TA’s feud. The voiceover was maybe a tad overbearing at times and could have let the wrestling breathe a bit, but it immediately orients you with the simple, effective story they were telling, and put over Magnum as a rising star.

Brian Bayless: The highlights of Magnum TA defeating Mr. Wrestling to win the North American Heavyweight Title were great. This was an amazing feud and had a ton of heat from the crowd pelting Mr. Wrestling with trash to erupting after Magnum TA foiled Mr. Wrestling’s plan by having Mr. Wrestling II (Hercules Hernandez under a mask) come out to interfere. I would love to see this entire match and if the WWE did acquire it in purchasing the Mid-South library it would make for a good hidden gem on the WWE Network.

Steve Riddle: I will go with the recap of Magnum TA winning the North American Title from Mr. Wrestling. The match had been built up really well with Mr. Wrestling taking Magnum under his wing and eventually turning on him, and this was a huge win for Magnum who was clearly being positioned as one of the new top faces of the company.

Chad Campbell: Magnum TA winning the North American Title was a big moment that was the first step to launching what should have been a HOF career. Mr. Wrestling was a good foil and unique character and the clips of the match from Tulsa that we saw looked good. I like how they transition the feud from Magnum vs Mr. Wrestling to Mr. Wrestling II by the end of the show.

Best Match:

Dave Hall: The Rock ‘N’ Roll Express vs The Midnight Express. There was only one choice on this show. Apart from really being the only match on the show, this was a good match anyway, with a unique finish. I like that both teams used the “No DQ” rule to their advantage, especially seeing Ricky Morton throwing someone over the top rope. Cornette’s interference was well-timed, and the out of the ring spot that “busted” Bobby Eaton open was very good. I loved how Cornette clearly showed everyone what he was doing with the rag, and then entered the ring to put Gibson out of action. The only issue I had with the match is trying to work out why the ref was not in the ring at that moment

Calum McDougall: With only one real match on the show it would have to be the Midnight Express vs. Rock ‘N’ Roll Express. It was a good match and you could tell that these two teams had great chemistry and could have even better matches given more time than what you could have on TV. It was a decent enough match even though it had a finish that El Gigante would be proud of with a rag of “medical substance”.

Jacob Williams: Well, we didn’t have to work hard to get to this pick. Despite not showing everything they had in this fairly quick TV match, the Midnight Express vs. Rock ‘N’ Roll Express match was still high energy and had enough to illustrate why this feud is so famous. I loved how they worked this frenetic pace while still selling and building heat. The ether didn’t come off as overly goofy to me, and it put the heat on the heels until the next episode.

Brian Bayless: Easy choice this week with the Rock ‘N’ Roll Express vs. Midnight Express in a match for the Tag Team Titles and $50,000 and the other match on the show being a quick squash match. Good match that saw the Midnights cheat to win back the Tag Team Titles as Cornette used the ether rag on Robert Gibson. Both teams had tremendous chemistry together and the RnR’s were insanely over with the fans to give this match a ton of heat. Their feud was also a blast to watch and one of the best tag team feuds of the entire decade.

Steve Riddle: With a limited list this week, it is a pretty easy choice and that is the battle of the Expresses for the Mid-South Tag Titles and $50,000. This was one of the best feuds of the 1980s and this was a good showcase for the two teams even though we didn’t see the whole thing due to being on TV with commercials. Having really only seen a lot of the Eaton/Lane version of the Midnight Express, this was a good chance to see Eaton and Condrey at their peak and they had really good chemistry together. Coupled that with the Rock ‘N’ Roll Express really hitting their stride as well, and you have yourself a solid no-DQ match and Cornette makes the difference as he helps his boys regain the titles and keep the money.

Chad Campbell: Slam dunk pick this time with only two matches and Landel vs. Ragin lasting about 20 seconds. This edition of the Midnight Express vs. RNR Express was a good sampler for someone that had never seen those teams mix it up before. The match only lasted around 10 minutes and had a great mixtures of RNR shine, Midnight domination with Morton as FIP and Cornette being an integral part of the overall proceedings. The finish feels a bit hokey now but was more unique and groundbreaking on TV in 1984.

Most Cringeworthy Moment:

Dave Hall: Sonny King’s interview. I really struggled with this interview. Apart from the fact that when he first appeared I thought it was Virgil, King made the whole interview about race. He was talking about Butch Reed’s attack on Junkyard Dog, which could have been put over as angry his friend was attacked, not good that such a popular competitor was attacked, but instead Sonny King focused on the fact that they are both black wrestlers and it was all about the impact of black men fighting each other. I really struggled with this interview

Calum McDougall: I felt uncomfortable watching the whole angle with JYD, Butch Reed and Buddy Landell and it’s not so subtle racial overtones. It was 35 years ago and not everything can age well but my god that was bad!

Jacob Williams: Watching JYD get tarred and feathered definitely made me wince a bit, especially given some of Watts’s past comments on race.

Brian Bayless: The racial overtones of the Sonny King interview and Butch Reed vs. JYD feud certainly do not hold up today and even considering the era was in really poor taste. And King’s promo itself was all over the place.

Steve Riddle: In today’s edition of “Stuff you would never see on TV in 2019”, we have the segment where Butch Reed and Buddy Landel tar and feather the Junkyard Dog. Now it worked back in 1984 and would lead to a pretty hot feud, but it was pretty uncomfortable watching it and JYD covered in feathers was a pretty bizarre sight. I will say though I don’t know which was worse, that segment or Sonny King trying to piece a promo together because he was terrible.

Chad Campbell: The tar and feather angle setup was one that Memphis liked to go to from time to time but it ages extremely poorly and brings back unneeded visions of huge racial discrimination divides in the South in the 1960s. Overall, race in this episode is something to ponder given Watts’ track record from a historical standpoint. There were plenty of African American talents showcased but most had one unfortunate stereotype or misstep, such as Ragin loving to dance.

Funniest Line/Moment:

Dave Hall: Once again we have Jim Cornette saving this award with his interview after the Midnight Express won. Jim Ross’ insistence to say that Cornette cheated when the match was a “No DQ” match annoyed me, and it looks like it annoyed Cornette as well. His line “We’d have a nice conversation if you stopped interrupting me” made me laugh out loud, and then his explanation that he “always carries a complete first aid kit at ringside” was hilarious. Thank you once again Jim Cornette

Calum McDougall: I had a chuckle when Watts said that the cameras would keep rolling during a commercial break and that we would get a video tape replay if anything happened. Very strange to hear this as a selling point when its just expected in 2019, but this would’ve been a big deal in ’84 and it gave me a laugh because of it.

Jacob Williams: Since there wasn’t much humor in the actual show, I’ll pick any time I could see the hyped up guy in the crowd sporting a full body confederate flag shirt and mask (maybe for Mr. Wrestling?) as my funniest moment.

Brian Bayless: Cornette was amusing at times in the post-match interview with Ross but Mid-South was not a promotion known for its comedy.

Steve Riddle: There wasn’t much in terms of this category, but I guess I will go with Buddy Landel getting no entrance while his opponent does and then he loses by intentional DQ in less than a minute.

Chad Campbell: Mid-South was known as a serious wrestling program and that is displayed in this episode with Watts and Boyd Pierce calling the action straight as an arrow. The only comic relief came from some one liners Cornette fired off against Jim Ross after the Midnights won the tag titles.

Highlights:

Dave Hall: The highlights are what has already been spoken of: The Midnights vs. the Rock “N” Rolls and the title win by Magnum TA really held this show together, along with the post-match interview with Jim Cornette. They also did a good job of pushing the Junkyard Dog vs Butch Reed feud. I was impressed with what I saw of Butch Reed, which was better than anything I saw of him in WWF/E.

Calum McDougall: I loved Boyd Pierce’s matching jacket and tie, it was a powerful statement outfit. In a time where you have to suffer sit through three hours of Raw every week, it was refreshing to watch a crisp and concise 40 minute program, and one with a pretty good match and title change to boot.

Jacob Williams: For what its worth, I did at least appreciate the intensity from everyone involved in the tar and feather segment. JYD stayed cool after the attack, and Butch Reed was on fire as a heel. Bill Watts does a great job of putting over the angles and stories on commentary. The interviewers were great too, always putting across how despicable the heels are to build heat. I liked Sonny’s involvement coming out to save Ragin. His shoutouts to my home state of Louisiana also earned him a few bonus points. Cornette proves here that he clearly had “it” from an early age, in both his work during and after the match.

Brian Bayless: Boyd Pierce’s suits are always a highlight on any Mid-South show. The North American Heavyweight Title switch had a great finish and its always great to see a crowd react that well to a win. Plus, they kept the feud hot by announcing Magnum vs. Mr. Wrestling II for next week. The Tag Team Title match was superb with a strong interview afterwards with Eaton’s head all bandaged up when he was busted open after getting rammed into the post. And I liked how later on in the show they had Watts tell us that despite what happened, the Rock ‘N’ Roll Express are going to be at the Superdome show to seek revenge. And Despite the racial overtones, the tar-and-feather segment did feature great character work by Reed and JYD.

Steve Riddle: It is always funny when they have an actual check available whenever money is involved; Bill Watts was a pretty solid commentator in the 1980s; Huge moment when Magnum TA won the North American Title from his mentor Mr. Wrestling; As cringy as it was, that was a unique moment seeing Butch Reed and Buddy Landel tar and feather JYD; Jim Cornette will always be one of the greatest talkers and managers in history; It is weird seeing young Jim Ross after seeing him so long throughout the last two decades; In terms of tag wrestling, it will never get better than the Rock ‘N’ Roll Express and Midnight Express; Funny they had to bandage Bobby Eaton up quickly since he had to be back out after the match for an interview; As bad as his promo was, they made Sonny King look strong by fighting off Reed and Landel; Good promo by Mr. Wrestling II setting up the match between him and Magnum TA next week

Chad Campbell: Boyd Pierce’s jacket is always a highlight. Butch Reed was the most effective heel we saw in the program besides the Midnight Express and he was a main event presence within Mid-South. I enjoyed seeing them use footage from the Memphis television program. We are around two months out from Black Saturday and it was imperative that the territories teamed up to combat the expansion of the WWF. The Landel/Sonny King/Butch Reed brawl was effective and showcased Sonny King in an effective manner.

Lowlights:

Dave Hall: The Buddy Landell squash match was very poor, with his opponent screwing up moves and looking very bad in the ring. Sonny King’s interview was horrible, as was his involvement “making the save” during the Buddy Landell match

Calum McDougall: I did not like Bill Watts’ commentary. I understand it was a straight-laced product but I found his commentary very dry. The dreaded over-the-top rope DQ rears its ugly head here in a pointless match and makes Landell look like a mug – he gets the jobber entrance, gets DQ’d albeit intentionally then can’t take advantage of a 2-on-1 attack.

Jacob Williams: Though I generally like Watts’s commentary, he did annoy me a bit with how much he would repeat certain points. After 300 times, we get that going over the top rope can be a DQ. I wished we could have gotten a little more wrestling on the show.

Brian Bayless: Pierce might have had a colorful wardrobe but he was practically non-existent on commentary. And Watts was overbearing as usual. The Buddy Landel squash to set up King coming out for the save probably did not need to take place. They could have set this up during King’s interview.

Steve Riddle: I know it was the 80s and we were still in the territory days, but the ring used during the Magnum/Mr. Wrestling match looks so bush league; Sonny King promo; You know it’s the 80s when there are issues with the video feed; Buddy Landel gets himself DQ’d in a jobber squash.

Chad Campbell: Ragin vs. Landel was a waste of a match as it was used as a setup to the angle that was going to follow. The finish of the Midnights vs RNR Express match could have seemed flat in 2019 eyes.

Wild Card Baby!

Dave Hall: It’s My Show, so I’ll do the talking: Bill Watts… At the start of the program we are informed that Bill Watts is the special guest commentator for this week’s episode. We are then subjected to Bill Watts essentially doing all the play-by-play, the analysis, the crossing to the interviews and the reviews of major angles. For a guest commentator, he sure didn’t let the main play-by-play guy do much. The way he went, I was surprised he didn’t get up and conduct the interview with Jim Cornette either. I know you are the owner and booker Bill, but this was overkill.

Calum McDougall: That Sinking Feeling When… You see the warning of “Suggestive Language” and you know that Bill Watts, a man known for making racist comment or two in his time is coming up, that’s a cause for concern.

Jacob Williams: Best Promo: Corny’s post match interview, where he gives an absurd explanation for why he had an ether soaked rag, was gold.

Brian Bayless: Best Tidbits: The WWE Network version of this show cut out an ad for the “Super Date at the Super Dome” show voiced over by Jim Ross that shows the Rock ‘N’ Roll Express in various poses while “Jump” from Van Halen plays. Ross puts over how you can win a date with the team and you can be eligible as long as you are an “unmarried” female that is 18 years old or older and have to send in a photo and in 25 words or less say why you want to go on the date as the address to send this flashes on the screen. Understandable that it was cut due to the music but this was truly amazing to see.

Steve Riddle: Creative Cheater of 1984: Jim Cornette using a rag to smother Robert Gibson and hide it from the ref even though the match was no-DQ.

Chad Campbell: Underrated Worker: I would expect given their WCW appearances that the Lane/Eaton Midnight version is the one that most casual fans are familiar with. I think from an overall package, the Condrey/Eaton pairing may be more effective based on their Mid-South, Memphis and World Class footage that is available. Loverboy Dennis is a more grounded heel that isn’t afraid to mix it up and make an ass of himself.

Final Thoughts:

Dave Hall: Overall I really enjoyed this episode of Mid-South. I had never seen one before, and the action was good. With the Midnights and Rock “N” Rolls dominating most of the show, I guess it would be hard not to enjoy it, but throw on top of that highlights of your new rising top star winning the major championship of the region, and coverage of a building feud between two top guys, and this was really good. I may take the time to watch some more Mid-South cards. 7/10

Calum McDougall: Overall I thought this was a pretty decent show. It was a quick and easy watch with some well known faces on show. The tag title match was good for TV and we got a title change, well, two if you include the Magnum TA/Mr. Wrestling highlight package. Most of the show was inoffensive, apart from the obvious, and it is far from the worst thing I’ve watched. 6/10

Jacob Williams: For clocking in at under forty minutes, this was an incredibly efficient show that gave time to multiple angles. It flew by, but at the same time, it felt like a lot of meaningful stuff happened in that short window, which is a testament to how well it was constructed. Add a legitimate, competitive tag bout to all of that, and it made for a pretty fun program that I wouldn’t mind returning to. 6/10

Brian Bayless: We saw two title changes on this show back in an era when they were taken more seriously and saw some of Mid-South’s best feuds in Magnum/Mr. Wrestling and Midnights/RnR’s. The racial stuff was not something I enjoyed but overall this was a fairly strong hour of television during a time when this promotion was putting out one of the most exciting products in North America. 6.5/10

Steve Riddle: This was a pretty quick watch and it was cool going back to watch this show as I have seen very little of Mid-South. This was a pivotal time for the territories as the WWF were a short time away from their national expansion, so the territories were about to be raided with a lot of their biggest names being taken away. Despite this, Mid-South still had plenty of talent to sustain their territory as we had the two best tag teams showcased here while also having their new young gun Magnum TA showcased as well. It was clear Magnum was being groomed to be a future star since the longtime star of Mid-South, the Junkyard Dog was going to be leaving soon so someone was going to have to fill that void. Overall, the show was a pretty basic TV show with a solid tag match and some good segments to highlight other things going on. 5.5/10

Chad Campbell: This was a breezy show clocking in at just 38 minutes. Mid-South produced exciting tv in a tight package around this time with tv matches that actually had stakes. It was unique among the territories and effective in rewatching. Watts and Pierce presenting everything as a serious sports manner also provided a differentiation to watching the product compared to other promotions. 5/10

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xtremedespair3d · 5 years

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Anime Fall 2018 Final Impressions + Plans for Winter 2019

We’re now at the end of the Fall season and 2018 as a whole, but for now let’s focus on the shows I’ve seen this season:

Normally I would write my warning that these lists may contain spoilers but surprisingly they don’t feature spoilers here (or probably haven’t been featured in the previous lists, to be honest). I also noticed there isn’t an ongoing from Summer, so that’s kind of surprising too.

AOTS #1-A: Gakuen Basara: I’m no Sengoku Basara person but I had a good time with this show, the animation is not the best, but the humor was gold. My only complaint is that it was broadcast on October 4 (my birthday), raw torrents were nowhere to be found and I had to wait until the next day and I watch the show on Fridays instead of Thursdays, well, at least I had Zombieland Saga. Despite the schedules and poor animation (like gratuitous CG background people), Gakuen Basara is everything I wanted it to be for a school parody anime since Attack on Titan: Junior High. (Maybe I should binge the Sengoku Basara anime sometime...) 8/10 - Rank: A-.

AOTS #1-B: Zombieland Saga: One of the best original anime I’ve seen yet and a solid birthday anime, and I barely see this as a Cygames IP as I kept watching it. Amazing performances, especially Mamoru Miyano, maybe his character is his best one yet.

I genuinely want a second season, the tease at the end is too good to pass on becoming a full storyline (or subplot), and I don’t care if it’s going to be as shit as Rage of Bahamut: Virgin Soul, I just want it, already. 9/10 - Rank: S+.

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5: FIGHTING GOOOOLD!!! Another solid part of JoJo, my only complaint with the JoJo anime in general is that I’m not fond with the voice actor changes, some of them are good, some of them aren’t, the thing is that I’m mostly associated with the games like All Star Battle and Eyes of Heaven, it’s a little weird for me but it’s true. 9/10 - Rank: S.

Goblin Slayer: It may have caused quite a controversy from the first episode alone, but overall, does the anime adaptation even work? Parts of the animation, like action scenes and all, aren’t that great, even Goblin Slayer is animated in CG frequently, but everything else looks decent even by White Fox standards (see Re:Zero, even that one looks way better than this). 7/10 - Rank: B-.

SSSS.GRIDMAN: I’m no tokusatsu person but this was a solid tokusatsu-based anime, and a solid Trigger show post-Franxx, speaking of which, seems like I haven’t seen a lot of hate like it did with Franxx, so I guess the reception for GRIDMAN is positive at best. Also, my Twitter timeline is always full of Rikka and Akane lewds, mostly Rikka’s (but I prefer Akane because I’m a boobs person). 8/10 - Rank: A-.

Gaikotsu Shotenin Honda-san: This one wasn’t in my radar until I kept seeing tweets of the old man buying a yaoi book for his daughter, that made me watch the show and it’s pretty good. This reminded me why I like going to the bookstore from a shopping mall. 7.5/10 - Rank: B.

Golden Kamuy season 2 (+ overall review): Everyone seems incredibly disappointed and offended with how the Golden Kamuy anime turned out, especially CG animals, but I found it fun and decent to make up for it. 7/10 - Rank: B-.

Senran Kagura Shinovi Master Tokyo Youma Hen: Aside from the fan service (which, not gonna lie, is something I always look for), I felt like I wasn’t a big fan of this storyline but I guess it was alright. 6.5/10 - Rank: C+.

Ace Attorney season 2: I had originally dropped the show at episode 5 but later I caught up until at episode 9 and I kept watching it. It was pretty weird for me to watch the entirety of season 1 but not watching season 2. 6/10 - Rank: C+.

Tokyo Ghoul:re season 2 (+ overall review): This second season is probably Tokyo Ghoul Root A 2.0 but much worse. Even if I haven’t read the manga, I had no idea what the fuck was happening. I genuinely prefer the first season more than this one. Once again, Pierrot fucked up. Season 1: 7/10 - Rank: B/Season 2: 5/10 - Rank: D.

If Sui Ishida were to make another manga (if he chooses to), I hope it could be adapted by a better studio than Pierrot. But to be honest, he seems better off working as an illustrator than a mangaka, just look at some records that the Tokyo Ghoul fan base was wild.

Dropped:

Bakumatsu: I don’t need to explain this one much since it’s a show that came out on my birthday, whatever show I watch, if they don’t convince me enough with the first episode, I’d drop them, and it’s basically what I did here.

Onto the show itself, this genuinely reminded me of Touken Ranbu with the time travel stuff, but everything else, eh... not much of my thing. The funniest thing I can highlight is that the characters have their factions imprinted on their hair lighting.

Honorable mentions:

Angels of Death: ...Yeah, there’s a good reason why do I have to bring Angels of Death like it’s some sort of ongoing, but it’s not actually a two-cour series, it’s actually 16 episodes, the 4 ONAs to end the series.

Honestly, I thought they were going to leave it at episode 12 on the TV broadcast and the final episodes should have been on Blu-Ray but they’re available online or something (They’re called ONAs for a reason...). At least they didn’t shoehorn 12 episodes of rushed story like Pierrot with Tokyo Ghoul.

You can read my final thoughts on the show overall on the previous post about the summer anime shows here.

Hiatus:

Attack on Titan season 3: Yeah, AoT somehow disappeared off the air... until Spring 2019. That’s the most baffling moves I’ve ever seen, but there has to be a good reason for it.

There might have been some sort of production issues or something, but it’s so weird that I’m gonna have to wait a long time to watch the second cour.

Now that the manga is gonna end, either there’s gonna be a 12-episode season 4 or WIT might rush to the finale or make an anime original ending or something.

At least they gave us the weirdest teaser for the second cour ever.

Now, let’s move on with my plans for Winter 2019! (Should really write down what shows to watch and when they’re coming out because I tend to forget some, I’m 19 and I got bad memory...)

The Promised Neverland - January 10th: While I don’t read the manga, I’ve always been following DemizuPosuka for her gorgeous art style, from what I’ve seen from CMs, the art style seems pretty faithful, I’m interested to see how this goes.

Mob Psycho 100 II - January 7th: I’m really happy it’s getting a new season, I wish One Punch Man S2 could have been a Winter anime so I could have a ONE combo but OPM being on Spring and Mob Psycho 100 on Winter is the closest I get to a ONE combo like I wanted.

I wonder if this season will adapt all the way to the finale, but if it’s going to be a one-cour season, I don’t think Bones would skip a ton of chapters and rush the story to the end a la Pierrot with Tokyo Ghoul, it may adapt the middle of it and if it gets a third season, that’s where it would adapt the final chapters. (Hasn’t read the manga at all.)

Kemurikusa - January 9th: With the departure from the Kemono Friends franchise (no thanks, Kadokawa), I wonder what would have been Tatsuki’s fate of making new anime (other than doing shorts and posting them on Twitter), but it seems like they were working on an anime project and it turns out to be an all-new series of the original multi-part web series. One question I’ve always had for a while was if this was a prequel or a reboot of the series, but we’ll find out when we start watching it and go through until the end.

Kemono Friends season 2 - January 7th: This one is either something I’m really not looking forward or cautiously optimistic, either way, I just want to see how will season 2 perform without Tatsuki. Many people are most likely gonna be boycotting this or definitely gonna watch it but for a different reason, being that the animation looks better than the first one (Please, don’t disrespect Tatsuki and the charm on studio Yaoyoruzu’s animation).

As of the writing of this post (Dec.11), the teaser trailer currently sits at 49k dislikes over 5.5k likes and over 8k comments, and at the same time, there was a BTS (Behind-The-Scenes) photo and from what I’ve seen in the replies, the reception is surprisingly positive albeit one Japanese person with the “Bring back Tatsuki!” mood, I do mean it because I thought it would always have negative press, but I think the teaser trailer is its own thing with negativity.

Still gonna watch it, regardless, because I’m on a mission to keep an eye on the future of the Kemono Friends franchise post-Tatsuki, at least on anime like the Japari Park short series, because games, like the Picross game released on October 4th (my birthday. Thanks, I hate it, Kadokawa) for the Nintendo Switch because I don’t own a Switch.

Kakegurui season 2 - January 8th: I’m still baffled how it’s getting a second season after the anime original ending from the first one. I really wonder if they’re gonna follow up from the anime original ending or they’re gonna retcon that ending and redo it with whatever went from the manga from the Yumeko vs Kirari match (Still haven’t read it and I’m lazy to do so).

Boogiepop wa Warawanai - January 4th: So I guess this is Shingo Natsume/Madhouse’s next anime besides One Punch Man season 2, huh? Regardless, seeing trailers of it, looks really nice, but then there were reports that the illustrator of the light novel series wasn’t really happy with the look of the character designs in the anime and it was all Kadokawa’s lack of communication, basically Kadokawa is back doing some property damages but not as scarring as Kemono Friends, so I think things are still gonna turn out alright.

Ikki Tousen Western Wolves - January 3rd: Kind of surreal there’s a new Ikki Tousen in this near-2020 age, as of the writing of this (Dec.10), I need to start binging the series now (even if there’s so many god damn seasons to get through and it’s gonna take me forever).

Manaria Friends - January 20th: This one seems interesting, it was in development since 2015 and it was supposed to come out in 2016 but for some reason it was put on hold, it was originally produced by studio Hibari but now it’s gone completely reworked by a brand new anime studio from Cygames called CygamesPictures. I never actually followed the news of Manaria Friends, so learning about it now feels kind of cheated.

I always thought it had the Rage of Bahamut in the title but it must have been removed (or maybe moetron always tweeted with the Shingeki no Bahamut title with it).

Regardless, after Rage of Bahamut: Genesis and Virgin Soul (the latter which is the most hated, I’m still confused why it is the worst season if I can even process what did I just watch, whateverl, like I care), Manaria Friends seems like it’s going to be a better Rage of Bahamut anime, I may be exaggerating but it could really be. (I’m not really a RoB person so can’t say...)

W’z - January 5th: This is GoHands’ next anime project, it’s going to either make or break as much as Hand Shakers. After the HS flop, I ironically want GoHands to succeed with new ideas and stuff besides the K series. Also, how the fuck do you pronounce W’z?

Mini Toji - January 5th: Thought I’d give up on Toji no Miko after the base show? Apparently not. This one’s a chibi spin-off and it’s going to feature the characters from the game, so it sounds interesting. At least this one is going to be 11 episodes long, instead of two-cours like the base show.

BanG Dream! season 2 - January 3rd: This one’s 50/50 because, first of all, I’d love to watch a new Sanzigen anime because I need more Sanzigen in my life, second of all, Bandori isn’t much my thing (I’m lazy to binge the first season and I got other anime to binge too).

...Despite what I just said, I think I might really consider watching it, after all and the third season in October, I don’t really need to watch the first season, I guess. (I lied, I might binge the first season now)

The thing about Bandori S2 and S3 being full CG is like a Monster Strike situation where the first season was 2D hand drawn and the second season went full CG, but the third season came back to be hand drawn with a bit of CG, it’s weird and inconsistent for Monster Strike, at least Bandori will remain CG.

Virtualsan Looking - January 9th: Okay, what the fuck, I did not expect this to exist out of the blue. I genuinely never expected an anime centered on VTubers, particularly centered on known names like Mirai Akari, Siro and others would one day exist and that day is here (No Kizuna AI and Kaguya Luna here, strangely).

On December 18th, the trailer, a preview of the opening and the website were launched (see thread by moetron). As for the opening, I felt like they could have chosen the hand drawn animation as shown in 5 seconds because I want to see a full series with the VTubers fully hand drawn animated, but oh well, maybe they would be faithful to their 3D appearances (but Tsukino Mito is kind of Live2D-ish but she was turned into 3D at some point).

Speaking of the trailer, it doesn’t show what the story is about or anything, it just focuses on the VTubers featured in it.

I mean, the concept of a VTuber-focused anime is a good idea and something I didn’t know I desire, but this one, even with its vague teasers, it has potential, could be fun or could be hot garbage, just saying.

Lupin the 3rd: Goodbye Partner - January 25th: I genuinely forgot this existed after it was revealed last month, but hey, there’s a new special happening. I still want a new season of Lupin the 3rd, hopefully as good as this year’s season or even better.

This concludes the list of what shows did I watch this Fall season and what I’m looking forward next season, in the next post, my New Year’s post, I’ll address my overall list of my personal best anime of the year, stay tuned and happy New Year.

Twitter: @HKomaeda.

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