the thrill of victory!

It isn’t an accident that every neo-Nazi, white nationalist and anti-Semite in the United States seemed thrilled to no end by Trump’s candidacy and his victory. His campaign was built on antipathy toward immigrants and foreigners and Muslims. He made Steve Bannon, head of the white nationalist website Breitbart, the CEO of his campaign and then his senior adviser in the White House. His rhetoric about America being controlled by a shadowy cabal of “elites” resonated deeply with anti-Semitic conspiracy theories, whether that is what he intended or not.

a klance/side-shallura fic idea I’ve been holding onto for months but I Can’t Write so I’ll just post this:

Shiro teases Lance about his obvious crush on Keith, but Lance quickly throws it back by teasing him about Allura. The two end up making a bet to see who can ask out their crush first. Lance struggles a little at first because the person who knows Keith best is Shiro, whom he can’t advice or anything. 

Keith ends up asking out Lance first. Lance is thrilled and wants to announce his victory, but Keith tells him he doesn’t want anyone to know yet, especially Shiro (Keith is shy and just wants their new relationship to be private for a bit). Lance doesn’t tell Keith about the bet.

So Lance not only has to pretend that he and Keith aren’t together, but he also has to pretend to Shiro that he’s still trying to win by flirting at Keith, the person that’s also pretending like he wants nothing to with Lance.

Shiro thinks he’s winning. Hunk, Pidge, and Coran spectate. Keith is a little angry because he thinks Lance is trying to blow their secret. Lance is dying. 

(When Shiro finds out, he insists that the bet is a draw because Keith asked first and not Lance)

The underaged in Slytherin spent a total of 12 hours in the dungeons during the Battle of Hogwarts.

When they finally emerged from their common room in the afternoon of 2 May, it was to the wake of battle and the swaths of the fallen. They had missed the brilliant sun-lit hours in the morning and during noon when the thrill of victory was still high; there was only the cold afternoon and mists of the Scottish countryside, glowing with the afterimage of magic.

From the time that Headmistress McGonagall had announced the evacuation of the students, the Slytherins had formed a pact, silent and unannounced, that bound them to each other and to their school. Because it was so, just as much as it was the Gryffindors’, the Ravenclaws’, and the Hufflepuffs’. It was also their family out there — fighting in the offensive forces, but no one said anything about that.

Much of the surviving defensive force had left, along with the war criminals captured after Voldemort’s defeat. Those that remained were aggrieved families and lost souls heavy with what had transpired. The corridors were empty as these few flocked to the Great Hall and outdoors, where a procession had transported the remaining dead onto the lawn.

This was the moment. The one where the young Slytherins broke down, one by one, and dispersed to search for recognizable bodies. But no one did, and the snakes stood in a shadowy pack just outside of Hogwarts’ doors, a dark blot against the green lawn and light grey sky.

Inside of joining the other students in the passage that led into Hogsmeade, the Slytherin prefects had led the way back to the Slytherin Common Room, and they waited and waited as they pretended not to hear the sounds of battle above them. No one had come to get them when it all ended.

A few of the stragglers looked toward them, the ones who had fought on the side of the Boy Who Lived. There was no outburst, no reaction between the families of the dead and the families that had killed them. Only numbness and the swish of robes against grass as the Slytherins moved as a single entity among the rows of the fallen, stopping at each familiar face as the child grieved, and then moving on to the next one.

When they returned the next year, and the years after that, it was in silence but spirit as well because Slytherin House knew how to be unified. The word was not forgiving, but they found pride in themselves. After all, they had lived through war too.


Goliath Slayers


The All Blacks Are Not Invincible! 

David Has Come Forth!

Erin Go Bragh!

Woof, Baby!

It’s been a lively afternoon at the Altiel Battle League; with intense action pulling the audience members to the edge of their seats and filling the air with their thunderous cheers with every battle, it was a satisfying day of thrills and entertainment for all.

Oriel, Lixue, and Masou all soundly claimed victory in their grasps in their sequential battles. After nearly an hour following their individual results, each of the three Valorous Hearts members claimed their spoils for the day, quite satisfied with their earnings. The three Pokemon gathered together after each of them were finished to relish in their winnings, with Alyx not too far behind.

“Ah? Is… is there a particular reason you wish to see our paychecks, Alyx…?” inquired the Gardevoir with a quirk of her brow.

“You remember that time I beat that one Hitmonlee, right?” Alyx reminded with a folding of his arms

“Oh yeah, I remember that!  You were… upset about SOMETHING, right– … Ohh… you weren’t paid enough, that’s right.” The realization hit Lixue with a bob of her ears.

“Yeah, I just want to see how each of YOU did and see if there were any different pay amounts like there was with me.”

“Sssss… we all made the same amount, but if you insissssst.”

To reassure their fellow team member, the three presented their paychecks to Alyx, with the Gallade looking agitated from the result.

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The Beauty Of Man

Whether It’s Just Two Friends Enjoying The Company Of Each Other, The Embrace Of Lovers, Mates Celebrating A Hard Fought Game, Or The Quiet Moments Between Men, I Celebrate Man In All His Wondrous Beauty!

Thank You, Baby!

Here I am, being a good student and getting my work done, when I hear the sounds of the basically non-functional pinball machine running downstairs. Dad was messing around and got the thing up and running again. This is bad, I dropped so many fucking hours on that machine I do not need this now. I can block tumblr but I cannot block the thrill of victory when I achieve multiball.

Since VM won’t let him get away with hiding in the bushes for long, Taryon’s either going to get a hard wake-up call about the REAL dangers of adventuring that shake him to the core, or he’s going to surprise everyone by being REALLY helpful in a fight and finding the actual danger makes the victory far more thrilling.


Chinese swimmer Ning Zetao claims historic win at world championships

China’s Ning Zetao took home a historic win at the World Swimming Championships in Kazan, Russia on Thursday, grabbing gold in the men’s 100-meter freestyle in 47.84 seconds.

This is the first time that an Asian swimmer has broken the 48-second barrier in the event, and the first time a Chinese has won the event.

22-year-old Ning, a lieutenant in the Chinese navy, did a smart military salute to the national flag during the medal ceremony. “Winning the gold is like a dream,” said Ning, “I made it. And I showed the world that Chinese men can also win in short distance swimming.”

China has already made some breakthroughs in long distance swimming. At the 2009 Rome World Championships, Zhang Lin claimed China’s first world gold by breaking the record in the men’s 800m freestyle. At the 2012 London Games, Sun Yang won China’s first Olympic gold in men’s swimming.

Ning’s victory is being compared by thrilled Chinese net users to Liu Xiang’s winning in the 110-meter hurdles at the 2004 Athens Olympics, which was also a significant breakthrough in Chinese sports history.

Of course, the netizens didn’t forget to praise Ning using their favorite online catch phrases:

“He can obviously depend on his looks, but no, he chooses to make his way with his ability,” remarked @Xingzoudepangyatou

“My mom asked me why I had to kneel in front of our TV. [Heart] [Heart] [Heart] [Heart] ” commented @_Fanersai, implying that he was totally overwhelmed by Ning’s performance.

“No one in this world looks better than Ning, topless.” @yyangguangchuantoulexin

In Thursday night’s tough final, Australian swimmer Cameron McEvoy became runner-up with 47.95, and Argentina’s Federico Grabich took the bronze at 48.12.

(With inputs from Xinhua)

The soot comes off her after enough scrubbing, but the bone-deep ache lingers well into the night. She’s exhausted, depleted, drained. The thrill of victory cut right through any soreness, but alone in her bed it’s all she can think about. Physically, she’s battered and bruised and still tender. Emotionally, she wonders if it would be weak to find Ruby and confide in her how much Flynt’s words hurt, how much she still thinks about what her parents have done, how she can’t ever wipe away that target on her back.

Pulling out her scroll, she blinks away the tears. Types out the message. Deletes it. Rephrases it.

Finally, she just texts Yang, I’m cold.

She hears her own ringtone on Yang’s scroll. Not three minutes later there’s a heavy thump of feet landing on the floor, and without another word Yang curls up behind her, arms tucked around her waist.

catullus two (pentilyet)

Rating: G
Word Count: 1256
Pairing: Cassandra Pentaghast/Josephine Montilyet

A commission for the lovely @sweettasteofbitter, who requested a pentilyet first kiss (with a healthy dose of pining mixed in); if you’d like to commission me, all the information you need is here. <3

Read on AO3.

The end of the world is a bacchanalia.

At least, Cassandra can find no better word to describe it; warm bodies filling the hall with their misty breath, milling and mingling, the masks adorning many a narrow face askew and gleaming in the light of a thin, wispy moon. The patches of night sky visible through the windows are tinged a faint green, and have been for days; some fading scar, already half-scabbed, an afterimage of calamity. Wine and ale flow in streams, bards pluck half-drunkenly at lutes, warbling slushy waltzes, and the breathless thrill of victory supersedes old borders, at least for this handful of heartbeats; Orlesians and Fereldans rub shoulders with only a modicum of grumbling, a tentative not-quite-camaraderie, and the night, for once, belongs to them.

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Congratulations to Captain Richie McCaw & the team All Blacks! I for one, am extremely thrilled about the victory! With Smith’s yellow card, I was like “noooo!” but Carter gave some breathing space with the drop-goal. Combined with the try-goals by Nehe, Nonu & Barrett it was one of the most memorable RWC finals ever…


Way to Go, Skipper!

Kieran Read Can Afford to Rest On His Laurels…

For Now!

The Taste of Victory Is Sweet, Baby!