Kiara Candyla

I'm 19 years old, Latina, pronouns she/her. I'm completely obsessed with Squid Game, specifically Gi-hun, my beautiful baby who deserves all the chocolate milk in the world! (And In-ho. But I hate him. And love him.)

Feel free to send me a direct message or ask! I love chatting, especially about Gi-hun, In-ho, or any character played by Lee Jung-jae and Byung-hun, or the actors themselves! I love interacting, so don't be shy about sending me a long message, I'll always read it!

You can ask me anything, but avoid topics involving scat, farts, or vomit (the character can vomit, but without emphasis on it). And be careful with topics involving explicit gore or amputations, it was a trigger until recently and I can still feel a little sick, but it's allowed!

Despite this, this is NOT a place to intimidate people with these preferences. Everyone has their place in the fandom, no matter if I don't like or support the preference/ship. You will be blocked.

I know I always say that, and that I have about 14 drafts I never finished, but... seriously. I have a lot of concrete ideas—not just plots—to write about. I have two assignments left to turn in for college, but my part is already done. I’m going to try to get back to writing today and publish my draft that’s been gathering dust for a month (ever since college started overwhelming me on a daily basis).

I really hate what the Brazilian national team has become. I hate how the players were chosen based on their names rather than their skills. I hate how there are great players who weren’t called up. And I can say this with authority: this isn’t Brazil

I’m not saying there aren’t any good players. Vini Junior, Endrick, and Gabriel Cunha are incredible players with a lot of potential and a strong presence on the field—we get really excited just knowing they’re going to play. But there are players, like Neymar and Casemiro, who shouldn’t be there.

Neymar is a disgrace. He was a very promising young player, with high hopes of bringing the trophy home, but he’s not a kid anymore. He’s a man, and he insists on acting like a brat. He hasn’t played in ages, relies on his name to get special treatment, is disrespectful to the fans, and most importantly, HE’S NOT FIT TO PLAY. Damn it, it’s not enough that he’s injured—HE’S NO LONGER IN SHAPE. He just goes to parties with booze and hookers and skips training. How is he going to last through a game? The guy can’t even run. He’s out of shape; he shouldn’t be on the field. Alisson, the goalkeeper, used to be better, but he’s not in good form right now—there are good goalkeepers here who WEREN’T CALLED UP.

This infuriates me. Why has the national team’s soccer become a source of popularity, of mockery, of thinking it’s okay to do the bare minimum? There’s no fire in their eyes, no grit, no pride—the very things that used to drive us. You know where it is?

It’s in the soccer played here. It’s in the local teams. It’s in street soccer. It’s in the kids who play on the sidewalks, in interclass tournaments, and in PE classes. It’s in the players who arrive there with the dream of honoring the jersey, who aren’t afraid of what they’ll face, who train like hell. I doubt those guys would even run on a treadmill.

Soccer has become a media spectacle. Then the World Cup comes around, and we’re mortified because Brazil used to be great. Brazil IS GREAT, but there’s no point in being huge if what matters isn’t soccer anymore. They put an injured player on the field just for the media attention. They keep old players around during a slump just for publicity, when there are so many good ones right here just waiting for a chance.

They lack that fire in their eyes. You know where you can see that? At the Olympics. People who don’t have it handed to them on a silver platter, unlike those sons of bitches who wear the national team jersey without knowing its true weight. When you watch the Olympics, you see them warming up, raising their eyebrows, going out to compete, and performing flawlessly. When you don’t give up in the first match. When losing becomes fuel for the next one. When you win and cry, honoring those who came before you, those who helped you get there.