Apart from dd&md, what other games di you like to play? And how do you keep Stanley from cheating when you okay with him?
Oh you know, chess, checkers, backgammon, dominoes, all the classics.
As for Stanley, I’m on to his tricks. We also have some stipulations we both follow: no long sleeves during a game, keep your hands on the table when it’s not your turn, show the other player your palms after you move. Even with those rules I have to watch his every move intently and practically memorize the board, and sometimes he still gets away with it. We don’t even bet money on these games, I think he just likes to cheat to show me that he can bypass all my extra rules.
Imagine Komaeda playing board games or games like chess with Hinata and for the first time really enjoying them. Normally his luck lets him win, so it’s never really been a challenge for him - but now Hinata’s luck cancels out his own, so it’s unpredictable and fun.
Reasons why Queen of Katwe is the best movie about Africa to date
- They hired actual African musicians to compile the soundtrack instead of some white man (I’m looking at you Clint Eastwood)
- They hired a TON of Ugandan actors to play Ugandan characters. The non-Ugandans were almost all from roughly the same region of Africa
- THEY SHOT THE MOVIE IN UGANDA (and a little bit just outside Johannesburg), so it FUCKING LOOKED LIKE UGANDA
- The director is a woman of color (Mira Nair) who has spent significant time in Uganda and other parts of Africa and she actually GETS the way African light works and visibly has deep affection for uniquely African landscapes. So the movie looks and feels utterly authentic. Unlike SOME directors I could mention *glares significantly at Clint Eastwood*
And that’s just the technical side of the storytelling.
- There is no white savior in the movie. There’s just the chess coach and Phiona’s mother going to extraordinary lengths to lift their families and communities
- That’s where African success stories come from. White people love to sweep in and paint a school and drop off a bag of shoes, but Africans are the ones who know how best to serve their own damn communities. That’s what the movie captures
- It’s also not just a movie about a war or a genocide or a dictator. It’s excruciatingly real about the effects of those dictatorships, but it’s also optimistic.
Hotel Rwanda and Tsotsi are the only two movies that come close. It’s that small a field. Which is a shame.
Summary: Jamie and Claire Fraser are peacefully living out their empty nester lives. When all of their children, Fergus, Faith, Brianna, William, and Robert come home for the holidays one accounts something odd a teacher at Uni said to them. This causes Jamie and Claire to tell their children the real story of how they met…
@bushlaboo They’ll tell the story of tonight - let’s have another round tonight ;)
Quentin usually hated the Queens. He had every right to. They were one of the richest, most stuck-up families in Starling City, often flaunting their wealth at charity galas by providing fat checks and half funding most of the emergency services within the city - including SCPD. And that meant that the Queen family had influence - which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Oliver Queen had been a thorn in Quentin’s side since he had first met Laurel and Sara, teaching his youngest daughter how to do the monkey bars and then comforting her when she fell and cried. He’d grown into a pretentious, idiotic little twat that gained a reputation for using and hurting woman, and acting like he was above the law. Whenever the drunk kid was taken into custody for drink driving or sometimes, even worse things, the charges went away - due to Moira and Robert’s money providing a route to freedom.
Then when Oliver had been shipwrecked, Thea had taken over the pretentious behaviour. That said, she was only acting that way out of fear, heartbreak and loneliness, and Quentin had done a lot of stupid things due to that as well, so he couldn’t judge.
During those five years of Oliver being missing, Quentin’s view of Moira had transformed from protective, warm mother into cold, heartless bitch. Walter had been seen as a quick replacement husband, simple arm candy for her, married because of his position within the family business.
Quentin could now happily say that he considered Oliver an ally, Thea a sort of surrogate daughter and Moira and Walter his friends. Spending time at Table Salt with the Queen matriarch and the Brit had resulted in probably one of the most enjoyable meals and evenings the detective had had in quite a while.
Which was why, when Moira invited him over to her campaign office, Quentin agreed. The three of them had quietly discussed over their desserts how much evidence Leeson had gathered, and Quentin had curiously asked if he could take a look at them - although that was mostly because he was concerned that Sara would be photographed and therefore incriminated along with Oliver, Mr Diggle and Miss Smoak. He pretended not to notice the worried exchange of glances between Moira and Walter as they finished up and paid for the meals.
They had just clambered back into the sedan, Walter and Moira brushing sides and hands touching as they slid in beside each other, when Quentin gathered his courage and questioned quietly, so the driver couldn’t hear, “Sara was in some of the photos, wasn’t she?”
There was a silent beat, and then Moira sighed in defeat. “Yes, she was.”
“We didn’t want to worry you,” Walter explained apologetically.
“It’s fine,” he responded, gazing out the window. He wasn’t angry, as such. More like disappointed. And anxious. “Kinda knew it was highly likely she would be in some of the photos, considering the amount of time she spends with the team and working with the Arrow.” He chuckled darkly. “A miracle that Leeson wasn’t able to get any photos of me with him, to be honest. Oliver’s been helping out with more than a few cases that Hilton and I have been struggling on.”
The rest of the drive was spent in a comfortable silence, most of them looking out the window, but Quentin couldn’t help his eyes wandering over to settle on the ‘couple’ in front of him. Moira and Walter were holding hands. They didn’t even seem to notice they were doing it. They turned to smile softly at each other every so often; it was almost as if they could sense each other’s emotions. It was admirable - Quentin didn’t think he’d ever reached that level of connection and understanding with Dinah when they had been married… and Moira and Walter weren’t even married anymore.
They reached Moira’s office and were greeted pleasantly by David Francis, who asked if he could talk to Walter for a minute about some financial issues that had popped up, nothing too pressing or worrying, just something he’d like to smooth out. He shot Moira a look, one that she must have understood, because she motioned her head for Quentin to follow her through to her office.
As soon as they stepped inside, Moira stopped dead. Quentin’s hand immediately went to his belt, settling on his hand gun, as he caught sight of the Queen matriarch’s face. There wasn’t a way he could properly describe her expression - it was a mixture of confusion, horror and fright all at once. Gently shouldering past her into the room, he knelt down to pick up the open jewellery box, which had a beautiful pearl bracelet inside of it.
He raised his gaze to meet Moira’s shocked eyes, questioning, “This yours?”
“No,” she whispered.
“Was this here when you came earlier?”
She shook her head again. “No.”
The protective streak in Quentin flared. “Who’s had access to your office?”
“Just the usual people,” Moira answered shakily. “David, a few members of the campaign staff, Oliver and -” She cut off, hand flying to her mouth. “Thea. She - she asked if she could come here to pick up some paperwork for the club whilst we were at dinner.”
And Thea Queen did not seem like the type of girl to drop and leave a priceless piece of pearl jewellery on the floor.
Moira’s eyes suddenly widened in undisguised panic as she gasped, “No,” and staggered hurriedly towards the personal safe next to her desk, opening it up with trembling fingers and snatching the contents out of it. Photos spilled out of the folder she grabbed and tipped over onto her desk. Frantically, she began counting them. A few of them caught the detective’s eye - one with Oliver in his leathers, smiling softly down at Felicity, his arm on her elbow, another one with Sara talking to Oliver whilst they swapped weapons.
The unexpected, choking sound Moira made startled Quentin out of his musings. “One of the photos is missing,” she said. “There were eighteen - there’s only seventeen in here.”
“You think it was Thea?” Quentin asked carefully.
“Only three people know the code to this safe - me, Walter and Thea,” Moira bit her lip. “It was Thea.”
“Shit,” Quentin muttered.
So Thea had seen the photos, and taken one of them. She now knew that her big brother was the infamous green archer protecting the city - but how would she react, was the biggest question. His mind had immediately gone to the Arrow’s legacy when he had first discovered the identity of the vigilante: the kill count and all the dead and tortured people he had left behind in the dirt, innocent people he had accidentally dragged into conflicts and fights; would Thea’s mind have done the same?
Walter appeared in the doorway, but seeing his ex-wife practically shaking, he rushed forwards to her, taking hold of her elbows and turning her towards him. As the Brit tried to calm Moira, brushing his hands up and down her forearms soothingly, Quentin explained quickly what they had discovered.
“David told me that he saw Thea rushing out of here only twenty minutes ago,” Walter informed them gravely. “He said she looked upset - and angry.”
“She just discovered her brother is the Arrow,” Moira shook her head, her eyes squeezed closed. “She has the right to be. Oh god, I knew I shouldn’t have left the photos in my safe. I was being sentimental and stupid.”
“It’s done now,” Walter sighed, rubbing the small of her back with his thumb. “There’s nothing we can do to change this, dear. Our daughter knows.”
Quentin hated having to interrupt their little comforting, bonding moment, but they needed to cut to the chase. “Where would she have gone?”
“To confront Oliver, I presume,” Walter answered, looking stricken. “This would have not gone down well with her, at all. After everything that happened with the Undertaking, she hates liars.”
“And Oliver told her the biggest lie that there is,” Moira finished softly.
Quentin ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. They needed a logical plan, fast. If they were underestimating how furious Thea was, there could be awful consequences - like Team Arrow in handcuffs, for example. The detective didn’t think that Thea would leak the photos and throw her brother to the dogs like that, but who knew. Anger made people do inexplicable things.
“We need to intercept her. Talk to her, try to explain,” he reasoned. “Do you two think you could could calm her down, bring her around?”
Moira looked completely helpless. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “After everything that’s happened… she was already teetering on the edge, this might have broken her.”
“She’ll want answers,” Walter added. “She’ll want the truth. No matter what we say or do, Thea won’t stop until she gets that.”
That was not reassuring; Quentin grimaced. “Where would Oliver be at this time in the evening? Or more importantly, where would Thea think he would be?”
“At the club,” Moira and Walter replied in sync. Moira added, “He set up Verdant to use as an alibi for his nights out as the Arrow, and a cover for his secret lair underneath.” She paused. “Well, that’s where we suspect it is.”
Okay, that was definitely new to Quentin, but he pushed it aside; it could be addressed later. The current matter at hand was handling this situation. “Then let’s head to Verdant.”
“Thea left earlier, she’ll get there before us.”
“How well does she know the streets around the Glades?” Quentin raised an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his face. He led the two of them out of the office as soon as Moira gathered the photos and put them back in the folder, this time deciding to take it with her in her purse rather than leave it behind. “Not as well as I do, I reckon. Using the main streets to get there, it’ll take Thea - what, twenty minutes? Maybe longer with traffic.”
“And you can get us there faster?” the Brit questioned, as they strode out into the fresh air. The night was darkening, leaving the faint tangerine and pink of dusk behind, transforming the sky into a pale nightingale blue.
Every other month or so you have to take a day to dust everything and it takes 2 people…a lifetime pursuit. My first world problem. Feel no empathy. My choosing. Ian takes the lower shelves and I take the upper shelves. We break and have lunch and chill and play chess and watch silly cartoons and anime and by the end of the day we are done and proud and the price is a visit to Mastermind for a purchase.
Today was hilarious. Why? Jason came in and took a book to reference something and then happend to put it back in the wrong place (3 books over)…well, it came from the one of the lower shelves and HE WAS TOLD by his first born.
The disgust on Ian’s face was priceless as he slammed the book back to the right place (4 books to the left in actual fact not 3)and asked to be excused to go read in his room before dinner. That’s my kid. Pre-emptive strike on his part. You cannot give a time out to someone who raises their voice to a parent, if he volunteers. LOLOL.
“I’m not sure who you remind me of, but… well, can say the same about you,” Kyle thoroughly examined her. “If only I could remember! If only there was the way out. I had a family… of course I did!”
“But wait, you still possess some skills that you’ve learned growing up?” Eveline asked. “Full memory loss means not even remembering how to speak. Your case is recoverable, and you should be optimistic. Well… for example, do you know how to play chess?”
“A little bit,” Kyle’s spirits suddenly jumped up as he grasped what she said. “Wanna check?”
“Yeah, it’s been a while since I’ve played with someone close to my level,” Eveline snickered. “Lainee always wins against me, I’ve stopped playing with her long ago.”