#American Cup 2019

[meazalykov]

For me there is only you

esmee brugts x uswntplayer!R

warnings: this is a long one. gets a tiny bit spicy towards the end but nothing crazy lol.

Netherlands vs USWNT was a highly anticipated match in the 2023 Women's World Cup. The cheers and chants echoing through the stadium could’ve been heard from a mile away. This wasn’t normal for a group stage game. This is due to the two countries having history. The Americans and The Dutch faced each other during the 2019 World Cup final, which resulted in a United States victory. 

At the end of the 90th minute, the score is 1-1. Emotions ran throughout the two hour match but one player's frustration was palpable. Y/n L/n, a rising star on the US Women's National Team, had just finished a match against the Netherlands that ended in a draw. Despite her team's efforts, the result didn't sit well with her.

In the 72nd minute, Y/n had a wide open shot inside of the Netherland’s box. She uses her right foot to take a shot and the ball skyrockets towards the crowd, instead of going inside of the goal. At the time, she put her hands on her face in frustration and embarrassment. Considering how great of a striker she is, the missed opportunity came as a shock to USWNT fans. “Don’t stress it!” Y/n felt a hand on her shoulder, hearing the voice of her team captain over the loud crowd. 

As the crowd dispersed and the players stayed to greet other people in the stadium, Y/n took a moment to collect herself. She sat on the bench, head bowed, replaying the game's pivotal moments in her mind. Especially the goal she missed. The girl never missed a wide open shot before. She knows that the World Cup pressure is intense but there were no excuses for that miss. 

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Hey, tough game, huh?"

Y/n looked up to see a girl, around her age, wearing a Netherlands Orange jersey. #22. She had beautiful dutch braids that were frizzy due to the wind. Despite being on opposing sides just moments ago, there was a shared understanding in their eyes. They are athletes who know the highs and lows of the game.

"Yeah, tough one," Y/n replied with a faint smile.

Y/n got up from her seat and stood across from the girl. The girl introduced herself as Esmee. She explained she was a left back for the Netherlands team and had recognized Y/n throughout the match. 

"I have to say, you were impressive out there," Esmee said earnestly.

“Except for that missed shot, of course.” Y/n frowned at herself. 

“Everyone here has missed a shot before.” Esmee’s Dutch accent comforts Y/n. 

Y/n’s frustration began to melt away as she engaged in conversation with Esmee. They discussed certain moments in the match, their one clash before halftime where Esmee side-tackles the ball away from Y/n, their respective journeys in soccer, and other people they’ve known on the pitch. Despite being from different countries, they found common ground in their passion for the sport.

As they talked, Esmee revealed the reason why she came up to Y/n in the first place. 

“My friend, Ingrid, told me that you were going to join Barcelona after the World Cup.” Esmee confessed. Y/n nodded her head in familiarity, the girl met some of the FC Barcelona girls throughout the competition. Ingrid Engen being one of them.

“I am. I’ve already signed the contract because my contract at Bayern expired.” Y/n smiled and looked at Esmee, realizing the Dutch girl might be joining Barcelona too. 

“Wait–are you joining Barcelona too?” Y/n asked. Esmee nodded her head and smiled. 

They both laughed at the serendipity of the situation.

"Looks like we'll be teammates soon," Y/n said, a genuine smile spreading across her face.

Esmee nodded, returning the smile. "Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."

“Do you want to swap jerseys?” Esmee nodded at Y/n’s request. The American went to grab her white #17 jersey and pulled it from over her head. She passed it to Esmee as Esmee handed her the orange #22 jersey.

As Y/n slipped on her new friend's jersey, the fabric enveloped her in a sense of comfort. The faint scent of sweat mixed with a hint of Esmee's perfume lingered, adding a personal touch to the garment. Adjusting the jersey on her body, she couldn't help but appreciate the subtle reminder of Esmee’s presence. Even if the girl is standing four feet in front of her. To y/n, it wasn't a creepy fascination, but rather a fond appreciation for the new bond they’re sharing.

This interaction didn’t go unnoticed by other players and news photographers who took pictures of this interaction. Lindsey Horan, the United States captain, talked to her Lyon teammate Danielle Van De Donk. The shorter Dutch woman nudged on the blonde’s shoulder before pointing at Esmee and Y/n. 

Y/n didn’t swap jerseys with opposition players often. Usually, she will toss her jersey up to a USWNT fan in the crowd after a match. The Lyon teammates giggled before returning to their initial conversation. 

(pretend you’re aitana bonmati in the picture below)

wosonews

liked by arnselfan347, yn.hive, and 12,947 others

United States International Y/n L/n (Bayern Munich) is seen exchanging jerseys with Esmee Brugts (PSV Eindhoven) from the Netherlands Orange team. Both players are heavily rumored to be joining Barcelona after the World Cup. Thoughts? 🇺🇸🇳🇱🇪🇸

comments

ynbrugts78 to me this is confirmation of them both joining barcelona omg🥹

billybob27 they're both great players. barcelona will be stacked

vandedonkhive 😍😍

wosocouplespage I ship

bayernwomen.56 same icl

chelseabluezz i wanted y/n to join chelsea with mia fishel🥴

arnselfan347 spurs were trying their hardest to sign y/n. i don't blame her for choosing barcelona, thats a great opportunity too 💙

manchestunitedwomens7 esmee come to manchester united ❤️

----

It's mid-january and y/n settled into her new life at FC Barcelona pretty well. She impresses the soccer/football community with her quality and finishes in matches. Being the second highest goalscorer (behind Caroline Graham Hansen) in Europe wasn’t easy. 

Esmee came to Barcelona the day before Y/n did in August. The duo couldn’t be separated on and off of the pitch. Their chemistry was undeniable, their shared passion for football helped their bond too. Through it all, Y/n and Esmee found solace in each other's company. As they trained and shared moments in Barcelona together, their friendship blossomed into something deeper, something they couldn't ignore forever.

Back on a saturday in October, the Catalan sky painted in hues of pink and orange, when their love finally came to light. Y/n looked at Esmee and couldn't resist the urge to kiss her while she was talking. She leaned in on the dutch who kissed her back immediately, as if it was a natural feeling to them. Y/n pulled back and smiled before Esmee leaned into her, being the one to Ignite the second kiss.

Y/n’s birthday is coming up in a few days and everyone on the team is aware of it. They all had a plan which involved getting “Esmee and her together.” 

That’s right, the couple decided to keep their relationship away from the team. Esmee and Y/n believed in keeping their relationship to themselves before they’ll reveal it to everyone else. However, their attempts to act normal and platonic around each other didn’t work.

Ona, the second-closest person to Y/n on the team, teases her about Esmee. The entire team believes that their chemistry is undeniable too, why are Esmee and Y/n avoiding each other? 

The short Spanish national went to a few of her teammates to talk about it. Salma, Lucy, Aitana, Bruna, and Mariona to be exact. At first, Aitana brushed it off as the two 20 year olds having a silly crush on eachother, until Ona explained the amount of times she saw Esmee and Y/n hug for “a little too long.” 

Salma recalls Esmee jokingly tapping Y/n on the butt at training last week. When she asked Y/n about it, the American giggled about it and said that it’s just a “friendly joke.” 

Mariona recalled another time where Y/n slipped up about sleeping over at Esmee’s house. The American didn’t notice her slip up, so the Spanish woman didn’t confront her about it. She decided to just let it go until she heard about others on the team seeing them flirt together. 

Bruna came up with a plan that will start before the Levante game in the Supercopa tournament. At first, everyone agreed except for Salma and Mariona. Who didn’t want Esmee and Y/n to hate them for what the plan will include. However, Lucy adjusted a few things so Salma and Mariona would be comfortable with the idea, which worked. 

“You know, I can’t wait for Salma to finally ask Y/n out after the game.” Bruna announced in a small training group before the Levante game. Ingrid, Mariona, Keira, Irene, Claudia, and Esmee were a part of the group. Mariona and Bruna had to tell the others what the plan between Esmee and Y/n will be. Most agreed to the plan. Ingrid was going to refuse to be a part of it, but relented. 

Mariona looked towards Esmee to see the girl with her eyebrows slightly raised at Bruna, her lips were held together with a confused look. “Salma is asking Y/n out?” The Dutch asked.

“Yeah, Salma has had a crush on Y/n for a while. She has a good feeling about tonight's game and will ask her on a date if things go well.” Keira said. Esmee’s facial expression flashed between looks of jealousy and guilt. 

She’s jealous because she knows the growing friendship happening between Y/n and Salma. The Dutch know that y/n would never do anything to betray her trust, but the feeling of someone adoring her just like she does made her feel uneasy. 

Esmee felt guilty too because she likes Salma as a friend. She didn’t want to see Salma get rejected because Y/n is in a relationship that nobody else knows about. 

“That–That's cool.” Esmee swallowed as she walked away from the group and towards the bench to grab some water. The girls giggled quietly knowing that Esmee felt jealous. 

Another group away from the first one consists of Aitana, Salma, Vicky, Lucy, Cata, Marta, Ona, Caroline, and Y/n. The girl’s except for Y/n knew about their plan on “forcing Y/n and Esmee to confess their feelings to each other.” 

“It looks like Mariona is flirting with her.” Ona speaks to the group as she looked towards the group with Mariona in it. Y/n didn't pay attention to what was said before until now. She curiously raises her eyebrows as everyone else looks over at the other group.

“Flirting with who?” Y/n asked. Mariona told her that she is interested in a girl named Lia Waelti, so she's confused about Mariona's supposed behavior from Ona. 

“With Esmee.” Ona said. Y/n nearly coughed at this. The Spanish girls are extremely friendly and affectionate but y/n learned to adapt to it over time. However, hearing this news made the American girl’s eyebrows raise dramatically. She lowered them when she saw a few of the girls look at her. 

“Oh. Does she like Esmee?” Y/n swallowed in nervousness. Lucy, who's on her left, tries her hardest to not laugh. 

“I think so? She hasn’t said anything but she is overly interested in her.” Aitana said. 

“Oh okay.... I’m positive it's nothing.” Y/n continued to do the stretching routine the girl’s were assigned to do as the Levante game started in twenty minutes. She did feel her mood change at the news, but nobody knew about Esmee and her. She couldn’t be mad if Mariona did like Esmee. 

 

Two hours later, Levante is defeated by Barcelona in a 7-0 win.

Salma Paralluelo 12', 45 + 2'

Y/n L/n 24', 26', 64'

Caroline Graham Hansen 54'

Aitana Bonmati 57'

This wasn't Y/n's first hat trick of the season, but she felt relieved after the semi-final match ended. Now they''ll go play in the Supercopa Championship game.

Y/n placed on her green Barcelona puffer jacket and grabbed her pink prime water bottle, taking a good sip which hydrated her dry throat from the cold weather.

She took a deep breath before looking over to see Mariona talking to Esmee. A small lump formed in her stomach from nervousness. Y/n is confident that Esmee wouldn't do anything that she wouldn't want her to do, but the tiny bit of jealousy showed on her face.

"You should tell her how you feel." A voice broke through Y/n's thoughts. Salma's voice.

Y/n remembers that she didn't tell anybody about their relationship. Maybe it's time to tell Salma before somebody's feelings get hurt.

"We are already together." Y/n looked at Salma whose eyes widened.

"What do you mean?" Salma asked. She felt nervous as she didn't expect this news after the plan she helped create. Placing her balms into her jacket pockets, her attention is fully on y/n.

"Esmee & I met at the World Cup. We were friends but we weren't so "platonic" after we moved here. In October we made our relationship official. We were going to tell you guys when we felt like the time was right." Y/n ranted to Salma. The Spanish girl nodded her head, realizing that everything is starting to make sense.

"I'm not shocked. Not surprised even." Salma joked. The two girls broke into laughter which didn't go unnoticed by the Dutch girl who finished talking to Mariona.

Y/n, with her radiant smile and effortless charm, seemed completely at ease while talking to Salma. Esmee couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of jealousy gnawing at her insides, a nagging fear creeping into her thoughts.

She bit her lip, her eyes flickering between her girlfriend and Salma. Remembering Bruna's conversation about Salma asking Y/n out, Esmee walked up to the girls before the Spanish girl had the chance to ask her girlfriend out.

"Great game you guys!" Esmee acted casual as she smiled, high-fiving Y/n and Salma. Esmee did play as a left back for all 90 minutes and assisted Aitana's goal and Y/n's third goal.

"Great game Esmee." Salma smiled back as she high-fived the Dutch back. She stepped back afterwards and looked at the duo in front of her. The happiness radiated off of her face seeing her friends who were confirmed to be in love with each other.

"Great Assists Es." Y/n grabbed Esmee's left hand and squeezed it twice before letting go.

"Y/n can I talk to you for a few minutes?" Esmee asked. Salma looked at the couple and took Esmee's question as a que to talk to them later. She said bye before walking to talk to Alexia, Frido, and Jana, who were injured and couldn't play.

"What's up?" Y/n and Esmee walked side by side as they're walking to the dressing room.

"Not much. Did you hear about any rumors coming from the girls lately?" Esmee asked. She hoped that Y/n had an idea on Salma's supposed crush on her.

Y/n swallowed nothing in nervousness, assuming that Mariona had interest in Esmee.

"Ona told me that Mariona is interested in you." y/n talked in a low voice. Esmee's jaw dropped and her eye brows raised, not expecting that to come out of her girlfriend's mouth.

"Wait what?" Esmee asked.

"Yeah. Before the game they said that Mariona was flirting with you." Y/n said. Esmee's eyes widened, she knew Mariona wasn't flirting with her at all because she already has her eyes on someone else.

"Before the game Bruna told me that Salma wanted to ask you out." Esmee confessed. Y/n nearly laughed at that information.

"Oh no never! Salma has a girlfriend in the WSL.... I can't believe the girls would tell us this." Y/n said.

Esmee nearly laughed before saying, "I believe they would. I think they were trying to make us jealous of each other."

The couple walked into the dressing room, getting ready to shower before leaving the stadium, then the girls realized that they're alone.

"You know.. your dribbling skills impressed me so much today." Y/n spoke seductively as she walked across the dressing room to Esmee, who sat down in the chair in front of her cubby hole.

Esmee held the side of y/n's toned thighs gently, pulling the girl into her lap. Obviously, this is nothing unfamiliar to y/n. She softly held the Dutch's neck, right under her braids, and softly kissed her lips.

Y/n had no awareness of her surroundings, she held on to her girlfriend as she felt her hands slide down to her butt, giving it a few squeezes. The girls made light noises.

As Esmee moved off of y/n's plump lips, going down her face then neck slowly. A few footsteps amplified with cleats approached the dressing room.

"Woahhhh!!!!!" Mariona yelled as she's the first to walk in the dressing room. Salma and Keira look over her shoulder, seeing y/n quickly stand up and walking away towards her own spot in the dressing room. Surprisingly, she wasn't embarrassed as much as anyone else would.

"I knew it!!" Keira laughed as she lightly smacked on Salma's shoulder in excitement.

Y/n look at Salma with a smirk and shook her head, Esmee looks away from the trio who walked in the room and tried not to laugh.

"We've been together since October. We confessed our feelings a long time ago." Esmee spoke with a smile, looking at Mariona. The Spanish girl wasn't surprised at all, only shocked that she didn't notice earlier.

"I told Salma earlier." Y/n commented.

"Hey, what's going on!?" Seventeen year old Vicky Lopez walked into the room with a bright smile. The curls on her head bounced as she walked towards her spot beside Salma in the dressing room.

"Oh nothing much. We just saw these two lovebirds in here." Salma talked to Vicky as she pointed at Esmee and Y/n.

"I knew it!!! They've always looked at each other with much love." Vicky responded to Salma.

After revealing their relationship to the team, everyone was happy. However, nobody was surprised. Esmee and Y/n didn't make much of an effort to make things secretive, and couples forming in Barcelona Femeni is not a rare occurrence.

Esmee and Y/n decided to confirm their relationship to social media a few weeks later.

(pretend this is you and esmee in the pictures below)

y/n.l/n and esmeebrugts

liked by aitanabonmati, alexiaputellas, and 31,623 others

for me there is only you 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

comments

salmaparalluelo lovebirds ☺️

wosonews OH MY GOD??!!!!

y/nbayernfan5 I KNEW IT OMG IM FREAKING OUT

ingrid_engen 😍🥰

y/nbrugts789 MY FAVORITE COUPLE😭💙

alexmorgan13 this is too cute ❤️

nswlwavefan so many woso couples spawn in barcelona lol 😂 so cute❤️

sophsssmith so happy to see you happy 🤩

brunavilamala 🥹

janafernandez3 I predicted it!!!!

---

an: hope you enjoyed :)

[feedists4walz]

Food is one of the most universally beloved things on planet Earth. Aligning a presidential campaign with it is smart for all the obvious reasons, but for the Harris-Walz ticket, it’s also a signal. The rhetorical challenge of progressivism is that it is by nature abstract: It imagines a world that does not yet exist, rather than advocating to return to some previous version of the one we know. [...] In foregrounding food, Harris and Walz are making theirs the candidacy of terrestrial pleasure and straightforward abundance.

The governor of Minnesota and possible future vice president’s hotdish recipe is, uh, a lot. It involves, among other things, whole milk, half-and-half, two types of meat, three cups of cheese (specifically Kraft), nearly a stick of butter, and a full package of Tater Tots. It is gluttonous, deeply midwestern, and, I am sure, delicious. Indeed, Walz won the Minnesota Congressional Delegation’s hotdish cook-off in 2013, 2014, and 2016.

Tim Walz loves food. He loves corn dogs, and the all-you-can-drink milk booth at the Minnesota state fair, and—I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this—dunking cinnamon rolls in chili. He gets excited about soda. He posts pictures of his sandwiches.  He loves to eat so much that people on X are already writing short-form fan fiction about it. Throughout his political career, but especially recently, he has gone out of his way to talk about food, the fattier and folksier the better. Last week, in a discussion with CNN’s Jake Tapper that was ostensibly about Joe Biden’s mental fitness, Walz recounted receiving a call from the president while eating the Minnesota delicacy Juicy Lucy, a hamburger stuffed with cheese. The next day, he posted on X about a different award-winning hotdish recipe of his, this one involving two separate kinds of canned soup.

We are witnessing what might be the most food-centric presidential campaign in American history. Kamala Harris is, by all accounts, an exceptional and enthusiastic home cook, and has made cooking part of her political brand—surely an intentional calculation, given the negative connotations that might arise when the potential first woman president openly embraces domesticity. In 2019, she offered an off-the-cuff lesson in turkey brining while getting mic’d up to go on television: “Just lather that baby up,” she said, eyes bright. The next year, she started an amateur cooking show; on it, she cracks an egg with one hand and bonds with Mindy Kaling over the fact that their parents both stored spices in old Taster’s Choice jars. She laughs a lot in the kitchen.

Unlike her running mate, Harris seems unlikely to throw four kinds of dairy in the oven for dinner—she’s a Californian, and she cooks like one: swordfish with toasted cardamom for her pescatarian stepdaughter, herb-flecked Mediterranean meatballs on an Instagram Live with the celebrity chef Tom Colicchio. But she’s not immune to the humble charms of ice cream, gumbo, Popeye’s chicken, red-velvet cupcakes, or bacon, which she describes as a “spice” in her household. She comes off as sincere in her love of food but discerning in her tastes. When a 10-year-old recently asked her at an event what her favorite taco filling was, she answered with the kind of absorbed expression that she might otherwise display when explaining foreign policy on the debate stage: carnitas with cilantro and lime, no raw onions.

Invoking food on the campaign trail is a cliché for a reason: Eating is an easy and extremely literal way to prove that you are a human being. But the Democratic Party has not always been great at it. In 2003, John Kerry visited the Philadelphia cheesesteak institution Pat’s and asked for a sandwich not with the traditional Whiz, American, or Provolone, but with Swiss. If voters needed proof that he was something other than the eggheady elitist they thought he was, this wasn’t it: In Philly, Swiss is “an alternative lifestyle,” The Philadelphia Inquirer’s food critic, Craig LaBan, said at the time. One does not get the sense that Walz or Harris would stride into Pat’s and ask for Swiss—not because they’re self-consciously avoiding a gaffe, but because they have deep respect for America’s foodways and are interested in enjoying food however it is meant to be enjoyed.

Their approach makes a marked departure both from the Obama era—what with its well-meaning but not entirely fun focus on childhood obesity, and its notorious seven almonds—and from the current leaders of the Republican Party. Donald Trump doesn’t really talk about liking eating; he does, famously, consume a lot of fast food, but that is reportedly because he’s afraid of being poisoned, not because fast food tastes amazing. His most well-known food tweet—“Happy #CincoDeMayo! The best taco bowls are made in Trump Tower Grill. I love Hispanics!”—reads like an obligatory plug rather than an earnest celebration of the way the taco bowl itself looks, smells, and tastes: all business, no pleasure. Meanwhile, Trump’s running mate, J. D. Vance, says he loves Diet Mountain Dew, but he seems mostly to be mad about it. To the degree that he has gotten specific about why he likes the beverage, the praise is purely functional: “high caffeine, low calorie.” The primary message here is that food is the site not of delight and togetherness but of anxiety and alienation, or utilitarianism at best. It’s all a little, well, weird.

Food is one of the most universally beloved things on planet Earth. Aligning a presidential campaign with it is smart for all the obvious reasons, but for the Harris-Walz ticket, it’s also a signal. The rhetorical challenge of progressivism is that it is by nature abstract: It imagines a world that does not yet exist, rather than advocating to return to some previous version of the one we know. I find it telling that Walz keeps using the word joy when he talks about the campaign and about his running mate. It’s an uncomplicated message, one that’s even more concrete than Barack Obama’s hope: Hope is the future, but joy is the present. It’s cold milk on a hot day; a perfectly cracked egg; a steaming casserole dish full of God knows what, enjoyed at a crowded table. In foregrounding food, Harris and Walz are making theirs the candidacy of terrestrial pleasure and straightforward abundance. It’s simple, really. —Ellen Cushing

[reality-detective]

Your thoughts on this folks?

Americans have been watching a massive, controlled Military Operation who strategically and critically planned and successfully trapped the Washington Establishment… Made them all confess their crimes and play a role in this operation piece by piece… as Americans have had to visually see and witness a ‘Continuation of Government’ in the form of a “Presidential Administration” where these corrupt and evil people will, have, and will continue to destroy their system from within, spend all of their dirty money doing so, until it’s time for the Military to visually step in.

The timelines all add up and prove the Military Operation and Occupancy:

1.     Snake Poem read by candidate Donald Trump – January 2016

2.     2016 Presidential Election – November 2016

3.     President Elect Trump and Putin on Fox News = “ready for ‘reset’… I will work with Trump” – November 9, 2016

4.     Law of War Manual (Military Occupancy and Negotiations etc.) – December 2016

5.     Military Justice Act (Supreme Court clarifying Military Law is separate than Civil Law; heavy emphasis on Military Tribunal terms) – 2016

6.     Military stands behind CIC Trump (Military Intelligence and JAG head bands; Optics) at Inauguration – January 2017

7.     Saudi Arabia crowns Trump King – May 2017

8.     Declares Jerusalem Capitol of Israel – December 2017

9.     Executive Order 13818 – Declares National Emergency to deal with Human Rights Abuse – December 2017

10. CIC Trump walks in front of Queen – July 14, 2018

11. Putin hands CIC Trump soccer ball (“the ball is in your court”; did not participate in 2022 World Cup) – July 16, 2018

12. Executive Order 13848 – September 2018

13. CIC Trump makes history; walks into North Korea – June 2019  

14. National Quantum Initiative – Executive Order 13885 – August 2019

15. Space Force established as Military Branch – December 2019

16. Corona Sars Virus first mentioned to American Public as a Threat from China – February 2020

17. Two more National Emergencies Declared – March 13 and 27, 2020

18. Executive Order 13912 Federalizing 1,000,000 National Guard to Active-Duty Status – March 27, 2020

19. CIC Trump quote on attack worse than Pearl Harbor and 9/11 combined – May 2020

20. National Guard Troops place fence around Capitol Building (47 US Code 606) – January 2021

21. CIC Trump receives full grade Constitutional by Law and Military Grade Inauguration ceremony – January 20, 2021

22. “Joe Biden” breaks 20th Amendment amongst many other violations – January 20, 2021

23. Aircrafts constantly over and through 33 mile no fly zone radius D.C. – January 2021 to present day

24. “Biden” extends Executive Order 13848 (first time) – September 2021

25. Quantum.gov launched – September 2021

26. New York Times reports Military Tribunals coming mid-2023 – December 2021

27. Army and branches transfer all communications to Space Force under ONE command (Biden’s never mentioned the Space Force not once; zero News Articles with his name tied to Space Force) – August 2022

28. Major Optics and Comms in CIC Trump speech – November 15 2022

29. More News Articles establishing Space Force Command Centers with zero mention of Biden – December 2022

Those few timelines and timestamps do nothing but prove a Military Operation and Occupancy along with many more Laws, Codes, Orders, Statutes, Acts, Optics,

The National Guard has been out of their state militia status and operating as Active-Duty Status every day since they were Federalized in March 2020.

There’s MORE than enough documentation and ‘proof’ to show not only the National Guard, but also thousands of World Alliance Aircrafts in and out of the United States and National Guard bases.

There’s United States Coast Guards with United States Navy at their stations. USCG is Department of Homeland Security during Peacetime and transferred to the Department of the Navy during Wartime.

The Brunson vs. Adams case simply states the obvious… Congress violated the Constitution.

- Benjamin Fulford

I will add; everyone thinks they know what's going on but very few have done any research on Trump's executive orders. Everyone has discarded Q because they have seen dates come and go without seeing any results. Fact is they weren't dates but rather chapters and paragraphs from the law of war manual.

We're going by the Book. Why? Because it has to be done by the rule of law, if not, it's just more crimes being committed.

Sun Tzu - The Art of War... Know your enemy, löök weak when you're strong, infiltrate and use disinformation to confuse the enemy. 🤔

[chirpingfromthebox]

PWHL Minnesota announces new General Manager

ST. PAUL, MN (Sept. 3, 2024) — PWHL Minnesota has announced the appointment of Melissa Caruso as General Manager. Caruso joins the team from the American Hockey League (AHL), where she spent 15 years.  “Melissa stood out as the ideal candidate for General Manager of PWHL Minnesota,” said Jayna Hefford, PWHL Senior Vice President of Hockey Operations. “Her strong background in operations and governance, combined with her extensive hockey knowledge and leadership experience, make her a great fit for the role. Additionally, Melissa’s passion for the game, along with her ties to the local community, positions her perfectly to lead the team both on and off the ice.”  A resident of St. Paul, Caruso most recently served as Vice President of Hockey Operations and Governance at the AHL, a position she began in 2019. In her role, she oversaw the off-ice aspects of the AHL’s day-to-day operations. This included the complex task of building the league’s annual schedule across 32 teams — a total of 1,152 games. Caruso also managed the league’s central player registry and handled by-laws, regulations, and player eligibility, while working closely with the Board of Governors.   “It’s an exciting time for women’s sports, and I thank leadership for trusting me with the opportunity to lead PWHL Minnesota during these crucial formative years for the league,” Caruso said. “I can’t wait to get started on the journey to defend the Walter Cup in Season Two.”  A graduate of Springfield College with a degree in Sport Management, Caruso began her career as an intern for the AHL and quickly progressed to a full-time position as Team Business Services Coordinator later that same year. Throughout her tenure with the league, she steadily advanced through the ranks, assuming the role of Director of Hockey Administration and AHL Central Registry from 2012 to 2015, and Vice President of Hockey Administration from 2015 to 2019.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

For The Gold 🥇 | Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Pilot/Olympian!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), slight Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Content warnings: fluff, mentions of injuries, slight profanity. Might be emotional for you so be warned| Gn!reader (They/them) | wc: 12k+

Premise: In which the 2019 TopGun Uranium detachment return to Fightertown to watch and cheer on their colleague & friend as they compete on the greatest sporting stage the world has ever seen for their last chance at Olympic glory.

Note: so I was an athlete growing up (I did gymnastics, soccer, and figure skating) and although I no longer pursue my dream of going to the Olympics (my biggest regret in life) I still get super excited when it comes around. It’s currently World Cup season & I’m hyperfixating to say the least on sports and now have these ideas of a professional athlete!reader works for the dagger squad. Let me know if you want more because I totally have ideas for other sports— especially the ones I played because I have more personal knowledge of them, but I LOVE watching the track and field and nearly went that path when I was a kid because I loved to run and was really fast (I played wing for soccer in high school and I always had people tell me I should’ve been on the track team instead). For this imagine, imagine you were born in 1990 so it would put you at age 30-31 in 2021 and just to be clear this is following the idea that the events of TGM took place in 2019 since the movie was supposed to come out around that time or 2020.

“Let’s freaking go!!!” Javy practically shouts as he claps his hands when entering The Hard Deck to a crowd of people and his friends. Eyes were already glued to the multiple TV screens Penny had set up with the help of regular patrons. There was a table filled with food set out, coolers of ice and beers donated by customers. The bar was buzzing with excitement with many sporting team USA gear and waving American flags. It was the early hours of the morning—literally 5 am and everyone in the building had slept the duration of the previous day in order to pull an all-nighter or had just woken up. They wanted to watch the event live and not the replay later that day due to the 17 hour time difference. News crews were there as well, hoping to catch everyone’s reaction.

The squad rolled their eyes at their colleague, but smiled nonetheless. They too were filled with anticipation. “How much time until their up?” Coyote asked, taking a beer before finding a place beside Hangman. The Dagger squad had arrived early to get good spots with Coyote being the last to arrive. Now there was hardly any space in some areas with the turn out. Civilians and servicemen swarmed every corner.

“About thirty or so minutes. They should be coming into the arena soon.”

Everyone from TopGun was there, including Cyclone, Warlock, Hondo, Maverick and the current aviators going through the TopGun program. Many of the former 2019 detachment had gone off to their old or new assignments, but as soon as the announcement of the team hit the news they were popping off in the group chat and booking flights to Fightertown.

So here they all were. All 12 of the special detachment that trained together for a high-risk uranium enrichment plant mission back again in the Hard Deck like the first night three ago. Rooster, Hangman, Coyote, Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, Fritz, Halo, Omaha, Harvard, and Yale. They were only missing one person.

The person across the Pacific Ocean who was the reason they were together to cheer on from home, and would be going for the gold in one final run.

It was the first week of August, 2021. The Games of the XXXII Olympiad in Tokyo, Japan.

What should have been held the year prior, was postponed due to the COVID-19 Pandemic. Now after years of hard work & dedications, nearly 12 thousand athletes from 206 nations around the world were gathered for the greatest sports event in history.

17 days, 339 events in 33 sports. The gold medal on the line.

For Y/n L/n, this was the moment they’d been waiting for. At 31 years old, Y/n spent their entire childhood and adolescence dreaming of the day they would walk through the tunnel of an Olympic arena to represent the USA. From the moment they could walk the track became their life. Their parents were coaches at Vanderbilt University and were the contributing factor to them pursuing the sport. And at age six, Y/n sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium in the summer of 1996 where they witnessed with awe as Micheal Johnson won the gold for the USA in the Men’s 200m & 400m sprint and Carl Lewis defended his title of the long jump champion for four consecutive Olympics. Just days prior Y/n witnessed history for USA Gymnastics when the Magnificent 7 defeated Russia for the US’s first women’s All-Around team gold medal.

It was a memorable Games, held on home soil in the city of Atlanta and with many firsts and defenders.

It was the spark of a lifelong goal for the six year old in the stands.

Blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. From an early age Y/n loved to run. But sprinting was their passion. The 100m, 200m, & 400m became their sole focus.

Everyday, sometimes twice or three times Y/n was running drills and sprints. Their day would start with an early morning jog with their dad before the sun was even out, followed by breakfast before heading to the track. From there they would stretch, run drills, and conditioning. Then they would have an hour break for lunch before doing it all over again until dinner. The day would end with another cycle of drills and conditioning. Y/n would be out of breath, sweating, and sometimes in pain.

But they were determined. Like most athletes who dedicate their lives to the international level they became homeschooled and missed out on many things a typical child or teen would experience. Though Y/n had friends it was only a select few. There was hardly time for a social life and therefore it was hard for them to form connections. It wasn’t until they got into competitions did they begin making friends with fellow competitors.

At age 10 Y/n participated in their first meet. It was a let down, but not a total loss. Sure they didn’t win a medal but they didn’t come in last and that in itself was a win in their eyes. It just made them more determined to do better and the next season they delivered by claiming a regional title. As years went by regionals became state titles and soon Y/n was a national champion at age 16. That winning season had brands reaching out to sponsor the teen, but if they were to also take a chance at an NCAA title in college then sponsorships were gonna have to wait.

2008 was the year to remember. Y/n had attended their first World Championships and although they didn’t win gold, they took the bronze and became a likely contender to make the Olympic team in the upcoming trials. They had just graduated with their diploma and had accepted a full ride to Vanderbilt University as part of their track team. What came as a big surprise to their parents was Y/n would not just be getting their degree and competing for the college team, they would also be doing the Naval ROTC program.

Unbeknownst to their family, Y/n was drawn to the world of aviation. Their grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and would tell them stories of what it was like in the air. He even had a cool callsign, ‘Viper,’ and taught at the Navy’s prestigious school for pilots. When Y/n was a child, he would take them to the air shows and teach them all about the maneuvers they were doing and even brought them to TopGun. They were in awe as he would explain all the gadgets and weapons of the F-14.

Yes, track and the Olympics was their life, but something was calling them to the skies.

“Honey, where did this come from? You never talked about joining the Navy before,” their mother said with confusion at the dinner table when Y/n explained their upcoming schedule. “If you make the team this summer I hope you’re not planning for this to be your only games. You’re so young and could easily go again for London and the 2016 games.”

“That’s still the plan, mom,” Y/n sighed, “But you remember all those stories grandpa would tell me about his pilot days? I want to do something more in case this doesn’t work out—have a backup plan per say. What if I tear my hamstring or something happens that I have to retire?” It wasn’t something they liked to think about, but with being an athlete the next meet is never guaranteed. Injuries are common—especially torn ACLs and hamstrings. Y/n had other passions besides track and wanted something there for if the worst happened.

“Y/n, if you do two years of their program you have to decide whether to commit or not and you’ll likely be commissioned when you graduate,” their father pointed out, “That means you’ll have new priorities and if you're serious about flight school that is going to cut time off the track. London is possible given it will be your last year in college—maybe we can pull some strings and have your commission pushed back if you make the team—-but I don’t think 2016 would be. You’re talking balancing a career as a Naval officer and professional athlete. That’s a lot to take on—physically and mentally.”

He had a point and Y/n knew it. London was in four years and definitely possible even if they fail to make the Beijing team. The location of 2016 had yet to be decided, but with the timing it would put Y/n four years into a possible Navy career.

Still they were wanted to make both work.

An Olympic champion and a fighter pilot.

First they had to get through 2008 and boy was it a year to remember. It fulfilled one half of the Olympic dream for Y/n: making the team and competing on the world’s greatest sporting stage. Tears streamed down their face as they embraced their parents following the end of the trials. It was a hell of a trials with Y/n competing against some of the best track stars in the country. They were completely starstruck when Allison Felix congratulated them following the announcement, Y/n remembered watching her four years prior in Athens for her Olympic debut and thought, ‘I really hope we’re teammates in Beijing.’

Unfortunately, a gold medal was not in store for the athlete. Of the three events; 100m, 200m, & 400m, Y/n only qualified for the 200m & 400m after finishing in the top two of their heat. The night of the 200m finals was a saddening with Y/n finishing fourth, just shy of a medal, but the Games were not a total loss when days later an Olympic bronze medal was placed around their neck and the American Flag rose alongside Great Britain and Jamaica’s.

And so the next four years of training for London—with Rio De Janeiro in 2016 looming around the corner—began the second they touched back on U.S soil. On top it was the pressure of securing NCAA titles not to mention A’s & B’s in their classes, while also getting through one of the top collegiate ranked NROTC programs.

It was a lot. And Y/n became burnt out at times. They had already set their name in record books at the national level, now it was time to amp up the game on the international and college level. A bronze medal would not satisfy Y/n, gold was the goal.

It all paid off by the time 2012 arrived. With a few more national titles under their belt and a World Championship in the 400m, Y/n was the talk for a gold among commentators. At the end of their collegiate career they secured several titles in their three events and managed to come out with a 3.8 cumulative GPA. In regards to the NROTC Y/n committed to the program after their second year and was set to commission that summer. The trials were around the same time as what would have been the ceremony, but after several meetings they allowed it to be postponed until after the trials. It would be some time before Y/n would be assigned an OTS due to the path they were taking with flight school and therefore it would likely not interfere with the upcoming Olympics. “Bring home the gold for us,” the officer shook their hand at the end. It filled them with nerves, but mostly perseverance, “I plan to.”

The trials were a success once again with Y/n having the honor to call themselves a two-time Olympian. The five colored rings were tattooed on their bicep, something they did immediately after Beijing that often resulted in being recognized in public, and gold was in their mind. After qualifying for all three events and earning a place on the 4x100 relay, Y/n had four chances at the gold: 3 individual and 1 team.

It was a silver lining moment in all three individual events. After failing to qualify for the 100m finals in Beijing, Y/n pulled a show stopping finish in the last heat earning them a place in the final. It was the most heat pumping 10 seconds of their life that happened in the blink of an eye. Before they knew it they were on the podium with a silver medal and the same would follow in the 200m and 400m. At the end of the 400m ceremony they were bombarded by reporters with the same question, “Y/n, what a run tonight, congratulations again this is your third medal in these games and it seems to be a silver lining moment for you. What are your thoughts?”

Still coming off the emotion from winning their fourth Olympic medal, a privilege not many could say, Y/n smiled wide, “It’s amazing really, you know I took the bronze four years ago in this event and I’m so grateful to come out with another medal—this time being silver. I couldn’t believe Monday night when I took the silver in the 100m—just making it to the finals after not qualifying in Beijing was an accomplishment and same goes for taking second in the 200m. I want to thank my parents, who are also my coaches and have been with me on this journey since the beginning. I’m just so blessed and filled with happiness tonight—I could not have done this without them.”

“You still have a chance at the gold in Wednesday’s relay. How are you feeling about that? What can we expect by the team?”

“We have such an amazing group for the relay, I’m so honored I get to represent the United States alongside them. Every one of us have worked so hard to be here and have really put our blood, sweat, and tears. Hopefully bring home the gold—I know each of us are going to give it our best.”

Y/n’s publicist from the side was signaling for them to hurry up, “One last question before you go,” the reporter quickly said. “For the people at home who have been cheering you on these past four years, can we expect you to return for Rio? I know you could very well take the gold in the relay, but are you hoping to try for an individual in the future?” This was the question Y/n had been preparing for the entire games. Having managed to keep their NROTC program hidden from the media, it troubled Y/n to reveal they would be a Navy officer by the end of the summer. It wasn’t odd for active duty members to be athletes, there were plenty who participated in the games every four years. It would just be difficult given the career path they chose and having to get all the paperwork filed for time off around meets and international competitions.

After a moment of thinking, they finally answered, “I’m very lucky I get to say I competed in these games twice now. I’m twenty-two now and will be twenty-six by the time Rio comes around—not to mention I start flight school pretty soon,” there was immediate surprise by the reporter, but Y/n continued and was quick to finish with. “I’m gonna work hard as I always do and hopefully Rio is in the cards for me. But to give a yes or no imma just say yes, that is the plan.”

Before the reporter could question the topic of flight school, Y/n was already saying goodbye and letting their publicist pull them away. The relay was in two days and was their last chance at winning a gold for the London games. Of course, Y/n was hopeful they would make the Rio team for the sake of winning an individual gold medal. There would no doubt be glory and honor if they were to win the relay, but it had been their dream since childhood to stand on the podium with a gold around their neck for one of their events.

The relay was all they ever dreamed of. A strong group with Y/n leading the first leg before handing it off, giving their teammate a great start to pull a lead against the other nations. As they were walking back to the start, their heart was racing and not just from the adrenaline…but by their teammate being the first to cross the finish line. Then there was the sound of the announcer amongst the roaring crowd, “WORLD RECORD!!!” with the USA appearing beside the #1 spot.

Y/n was screaming before they could stop themselves, “Oh my god!!” knees hit the track as they sank to the ground. They couldn’t even hear themselves by the cheers. It was a spectacular moment with Y/n pulling themselves up to run and embrace their teammates and share the glory they just made. Not only were they Olympic champions but also World Record holders of the 4x100m relay.

“The United States has taken the gold here today in the 4x100m relay and a new world record has been set thanks to the extraordinary start by Y/n L/n.” “This relay group gave it their all today, John. It was such a close call coming around on the third leg, but the Americans pulled through for a stunning finish for Olympic gold.”

With an American flag in their hand, Y/n joined their teammates beside the record projection. They were teary eyed, but held off from crying because they knew the emotion would come full heartedly on the podium. And boy did it come. The second the national anthem was playing, the first tear fell from Y/n’s eyes. The medal was heavy around their neck, but it was a reminder that they achieved the goal they set out when they were six years old.

Olympic champion.

And they got to share it with their teammates—an immense honor they would cherish till the end of time.

Y/n could barely remember all that happened following the podium ceremony. After a celebration with their parents and best friend, who flew all the way out to London to support them, they had no more events and got to rest for the remainder of the games. Closing ceremonies were spectacular. One of Y/n’s favorite moments from the Beijing games was getting to mingle with athletes from the other nations during the closing ceremonies. This time around Y/n was speechless as they got to see a Spice Girls reunion and One Direction perform.

Life became chaotic to say the least following the return from London. After winning four medals including a gold, Y/n was asked by several talk show hosts to appear for an interview. They accepted a few and were immediately bombarded with questions about the little detail they slipped after winning the silver in the 400m. “You made it known to the world that you’ll be going to flight school, was it? What can you tell us about that?”

“Well during my time at Vanderbilt, where I competed for them in the NCAA—which can I say, It’s a completely different ball field when your parents are not only your coaches for international competitions but also college meets. The energy is different, especially because they’ve been there for almost two decades now and are the definition of school spirit. Anyways, while I was there I also took the route of doing their Navy ROTC program. My grandfather was a fighter pilot for the Navy and pretty much became my inspiration for wanting to fly—on top of being an athlete. It was something I thought long and hard about. I wasn’t sure if I would even make the London team and of course anything can happen, but I knew I wanted to go to fight school back when I competed in 2008. I actually will be commissioning once I’m done with all this post-Olympic press.”

The ceremony was a bittersweet moment. With their friends and family around them, Y/n was pinned on with the ranks of Ensign and named an officer of the United States Navy. From there were the challenges of balancing a career as both a professional athlete and naval aviator. Often were days of bad mental health and aches after overexertion. OTS & Flight school was intense but shaped Y/n in many ways. The first day they were recognized by a classmate resulting in the callsign, “Olympian,” after everyone would say, “Hey, Olympian!” when calling out to them after two straight days.

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/n chuckled after their parents were like, ‘really?’ when they told them. “I mean it could have been something like ‘Short-track,’ or ‘Goldilocks,’ if they thought about it. If I fucked up doing something then they would’ve named me something related to it. I’ll take Olympian cause that’s what I am.”

After completing flight school and receiving their first duty station, Y/n made the decision to hire a new coach. The World Championships were coming up and they did not want to uproot their parents while they were still the head coaches at Vanderbilt. At first they protested, but eventually relented on the condition that Y/n’s coach would be their former colleague. He was the former head coach of Vanderbilt when their parents were athletes themselves before becoming assistant coaches. “He is everything you need to bring your A-game these next seasons and Rio. I’ll make the call first thing in the morning and see what he says.”

The four years between London and Rio were brutal. The training with their new coach and balancing an aviation career showed more hardships than ever. Y/n proved themselves to be a talented pilot despite the struggles and eventually was invited in 2015 to attend the Navy’s prestigious Fighter Weapons School more commonly known as Top Gun. The same place their grandfather attended and taught at.

A hard decision had to be made when the invite came. The time period interfered with the track season and Y/n would not be able to defend their two-consecutive world titles in the 400m sprint. In the end, Y/n announced they would be pulling out from the 2015 season to attend Top Gun. They weighed out the pros and cons and felt it was the best route given the Olympics were a year away. If an injury were to occur then it could result in Y/n not even having the chance to do the trials. Their coach was frustrated in the beginning, as one would be after dominating the national and international meets for two years straight. He eventually put his differences aside to put focus on what Y/n needed to improve if they were to take the gold in Rio.

It was at Top Gun that Y/n met fellow naval aviator Natasha “Phoenix” Trace. They were seated next to each other in one of the many lecture rooms at Fightertown where Nat had to do a double take after recognition sparked in her. Nat was an athlete in high school and college who, like many, would sit with her family to watch the Olympics every four years. Though she didn’t run track, a sibling of hers did so they would always tune into the events when they came on. After seeing the patch reading ‘Olympian,’ Nat had to hold back her fangirling as the memory of her cheering when the US took gold in the 4x100m relay. ‘It has to be them.’ At the end of the lecture she approached Y/n with a shy smile, “I’m so sorry if this is weird for you, but are you Y/n L/n? I’m Natasha—Phoenix.”

They struck up a friendship during their time at Top Gun. The two bonded over their NCAA careers and sports in general. Nat admired Y/n for being able to balance being an athlete and aviator, for she made the difficult decision to not pursue her sport after college. What was ironic was they didn’t feel threatened by the other when going after the top spot in their class, considering they were both obviously competitive. Both had immense respect for the other, and didn’t care at the end of the day who came out on top. They both had similar hobbies outside of flying and would spend nights watching movies, going to the bars, or playing volleyball with their fellow pilots. It was a genuine friendship with Nat supporting Y/n even after they graduated from Top Gun both ranked #1 in their class.

Nat even took time off to attend the 2016 U.S. Track & Field Olympic Trials. There she witnessed Y/n, who she now called a best friend, qualify for their third consecutive Olympics. Nat never screamed louder in her life than when Y/n took the top spot on the team for their events. “Oh my God, you did it!” She hugged the athlete when it was all done. “Holy shit congratulations, Oly! This is it—this is gonna be your year!” Nat wouldn’t be in Rio, but promised to cheer Y/n from home.

Unfortunately the journey for the individual gold medal ended before it could even start. After qualifying for the 100m and 200m finals with the expectation of being part of the relay team once again, Y/n’s dream of gold crashed during the semifinals of the 400m.

Literally crashed.

Their signature event which had an Olympic bronze and silver to their name as well as several World titles, ended in catastrophe. As Y/n came up on the last leg with the final turn, Y/n had a tight lead against their main opponent. But before they could blink the athlete to their left tripped and fell to the side directly in front of them. Moving so fast and unable to stop to avoid the person, Y/n topped over and felt a searing pain in their side as they landed awkwardly.

Gasps rang out before the stadium fell silent with just the faint sound of cheers from the winners of the race. Y/n was panting, clutching onto their side as fire filled the entire right side of their body. The athlete who tripped was in tears and apologizing profusely. There was still adrenaline from the sprint as the arena stopped spinning around Y/n. Determined to cross the finish line, Y/n pulled themself up and helped their fellow athlete up, “It’s okay, c’mon. Let’s finish this.” They were crying and Y/n had their own tears from the pain in their side and leg, but they only had a few yards to go. Cradling their right arm, Y/n was practically limping alongside their opponent while struggling to breath. Each time they took a breath they were met with pain, not to mention each step had them wince.

They didn’t want to think of the extent of the injuries. The pain alone indicated it was bad. Y/n knew right there their Rio run was done for. Their lips trembled as the reality set in.

The athlete saw Y/n’s condition and immediately brought them to their side as they approached the finish line. Cheers and claps ignited the stadium. There was no doubt they were moved by the display of sportsmanship between two athletes from differing nations. Both with the same goal of Olympic glory that would not be delivered.

Y/n was swarmed by the medical staff. The athlete who tripped them kept apologizing, filled with guilt, embarrassment and shame causing injuries to the Olympian. They felt a little pain from falling but nothing to the extent Y/n had. They had practically gone flying forward and crash landed to avoid hitting their head hard on the track. Now that the adrenaline had finally worn off, Y/n was having to do everything to hold back from collapsing. Y/n embraced the athlete with a hug despite the multiple medics yelling at them, “Don’t blame yourself, it could have happened to anyone. Okay? I’m not angry with you at all.” It was true, Y/n wasn’t angry. Were they sad? Of course, their Olympics were totally over after being diagnosed with a fractured right arm, a bruised rib, mild concussion from hitting their head on the track, and a torn ACL in their right knee.

Commentators were speechless when the incident occurred, “Coming around the corner on the final stretch it’s a tight race between USA, Jamaica, and France—Oh! Oh no! Oh my goodness, there’s been a crash here ladies and gentleman and it doesn’t look good for the American Y/n L/n. Not at all, they are not moving—oh wait no they are getting up right now and helping the athlete from Poland. But L/n looks to be in pain they’re holding onto their arm and I can see they are having trouble jogging—a slight limp to their step. Now the Polish athlete has taken L/n under their arm and they are crossing the finish line to the cheers of the arena in a display that could only be described as what the Olympics is truly about. Great sportsmanship here folks. It’s unsure what L/n is feeling right now but one thing is certain, we will not get to see Y/n go for the gold in the 400m final.”

After the race when the NBC announcers live from Rio were in the studio recapping, they gave an update to Y/n’s situation.

“Breaking news we’ve just received on American Y/n L/n. After the unfortunate incident in tonight’s 400m semifinal, the 26-year-old from Nashville, Tennessee was rushed to the hospital after it was realized the injuries they sustained were more severe than what they thought. It’s being reported Y/n is in surgery for a fracture to their right arm and torn ligament in their right knee. It’s also been noted the athlete suffered a mild concussion as well as a bruised rib. Their coach has come out with a statement on behalf of L/n letting it be known they’ll not be competing in the 100 and 200m finals nor the 4x100 and 4x400m relays they were scheduled to compete in. L/n also has said they will remain in Rio to recover until after the conclusion of these Olympic Games before returning with their teammates to the States.

“The gold medalist in the team relay from four years ago has not said if they will be aiming for a shot at the 2020 games in Tokyo, Japan. L/n was the 2008 bronze medalist in the 400m dash before claiming silver medals in the 100, 200, and 400m in London as well as sharing the gold for the 4x100m relay. They were the leading contender for an individual gold in one of the events after dominating the 2013 and 2014 World Championships. The three-time Olympian pulled out from the 2015 season due to conflicting commitments after revealing in 2012 they were commissioned into the United States Navy following their time at Vanderbilt University. These games in Rio were their first international competition since the one year hiatus. We can only hope Y/n will continue their journey to an individual gold medal in Tokyo, but from those of us in the studio and on behalf of everyone watching at home, we wish Y/n L/n a speedy recovery and safe trip back to the States.”

It was a solemn week in Rio with Y/n sitting in a hospital bed and the games playing on the tv screen. Their coach was with them, as was their dad and together they cheered the US when they took the gold in several events including defending the 4x100m relay. The doctors in Rio gave Y/n a recovery period of nearly one year—the longest healing process being the torn knee. It would be nine months until Y/n could even jog on it, but the doctors recommended waiting a full year before testing it. PT was going to be a pain in the ass, but as long as they didn’t run or do sprints then Y/n would be able to do all else after everything else healed.

Their concussion lasted a couple weeks and the bruised rib took over a month to heal, as did the fractured arm. The 2017 worlds and nationals were out of the question. Thankfully Y/n was still able to fly once the concussion was gone and their arm was fully functional.

The entire year the athlete was unsure of what to do about Tokyo. All their focus was put into flying. Running missions instead of the track and being promoted to Lieutenant in 2018. That same year they decided to try for one more shot at Olympic gold by training for Tokyo. Their coach and parents were all too pleased—even Nat after Y/n called her up to ask for advice. They had a lot to work on since Y/n waited an extra six months after fully recovering. The 2018 season was unattainable so the goal was a comeback in the 2019 season gearing up for the 2020 Olympics.

Just like when Y/n was a child, blood, sweat, and tears were put into training. More times could they remember wanting to quit when their knee started to act up after a bad start off the blocks. They had more arguments with their coach which only fueled the fire. Lastly they were on intense missions that took a toll on their mental health. Nat would check in on them every once in a while, but Y/n brushed it off. This is what they signed up for. They made their bed, now they were to lay in it.

2019 nearly brought deja vu. The World Championships were held in Qatar at the end of September leading into October when Y/n got the call from Vice Admiral Beau ‘Cyclone’ Simpson.

“The Pentagon has tasked me with assembling a strike team for a special detachment. I’ve seen your record and I feel you have what it takes to be a possible member of this mission. Now I know your situation and it is my understanding you’re currently in Qatar, what time are you expected to be stateside?”

Y/n’s hands were shaking, dread filling them at the thought they would likely have to decline an assignment. But these championships were more imported. “The last day is the sixth, but if I qualify for the finals of all my events then I should be done by the fifth, sir.”

“That’s perfect,” his words had them sigh in relief. “The tentative date to report to North Island is the 24th. I’ll be emailing you the information at another time.”

“Yes, sir. I will be there. Thank you for informing me, sir.”

“Oh and Lieutenant?” Cyclone stopped them before they could end the call.

“Yes, sir?”

There’s a slight pause, “Good luck out there. Bring home the gold for us.”

And bring it home they did. In an amazing comeback after what could have been a career ending injury, Y/n L/n reclaimed their title as the world champion in the 400m dash. They fell short in the 200m, but left with the silver and even secured the gold for the team 4x100m & 4x400m relays. People called it the ‘comeback of the decade,’ and Y/n fell subject to a lot of media attention in the world of sports. Their publicist did their best to handle the press once they found out about Y/n’s upcoming commitment. “I won’t let a single soul find out about this, Y/n, I promise you. The devil works hard, but I work harder.”

Once stateside track was put on hold to prepare and partake for the special Top Gun detachment. Dressed in their service khaki’s, Y/n entered The Hard Deck for the first time in three years and was immediately tackled by Phoenix. “You’re here! Holy shit when did you get back?”

“Like two weeks ago, I’ve been chilling since Qatar since there were no assignments until this.”

“Wait, you’re here for the Top Gun detachment too?” Phoenix raised a brow before frowning, “Why didn’t you tell me the other day on the phone?”

Y/n gave the woman a look, “I wasn’t sure we could even mention it to people. Plus you didn’t say anything either, Phee.” They got her there, the pilot raising a hand as if to say, “touché”. By now they have drawn the attention of several other aviators, who all appeared amused by the display of affection by Natasha and were curious to know who it was that received it. One person, Bob, had their jaw dropped when it clicked who they were. Payback appeared to be deep in thought, like they recognized Y/n but couldn’t put a name to their face.

“Trace, you gonna introduce us to your friend?” the blonde aviator, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin said with a pool cue in hand. He was totally checking Y/n out with a settle drift of the eyes up and down. They didn’t look impressed but smiled to the others nonetheless.

Natasha brought the pilot over and proudly introduced them, “Fellas, this is Y/n L/n. Better known as ‘Olympian.’ One of the best damn pilots you’ll ever see. We both shared the honor of first in the class at Top Gun in 2015.” Nat then introduced all the guys and their callsigns, Y/n shaking each of their hands—Bob still appeared starstruck when they let go of his hand.

“Olympian, huh?” Hangman chuckled at the name, “That’s quite the callsign. What are you Greek? Or obsessed with mythology?” Rooster glared at the man, but also looked curious for the reason behind the Y/n’s callsign. Even their name sounded familiar. They had yet to see the tattoo on Y/n’s bicep, which now had the names Beijing XXIX, London XXX and Rio XXXI in tiny cursive below the rings.

Before Nat or Y/n could fire back at Jake, Bob dropped his cup of peanut shells. Everyone looked at him like, ‘what the hell, man?’ But Y/n started to smile, recognizing the shock in his face as though he had been right about something.

“S-sorry. Oh my God,” he stuttered with red cheeks, “You’re Y/n L/n. L-like THE Olympic gold medalist Y/n L/n. Oh my God I’ve watched you since 2008–since Beijing!” The revelation had shocked looks from everyone now besides Nat of course.

Payback suddenly jumped from his seat, “holy shit! I knew I recognized you from somewhere but couldn’t exactly figure it out for the life of me.” The man was stationed in London at the time of the Olympic Games and attended the night the US won gold in the relays. Now here is a member that he cheered on from the stands in front of him. “Wow, I was in London seven years ago—I-I saw you compete. This is fucking unreal.” Y/n laughed, shaking Payback’s hand. He was still coming down from the shock, having just crossed his mind that all over ESPN and Sportscenter the past month sportscasters were talking about Y/n’s comeback.

“Wait a minute,” Rooster pitched in, the memory of being in a bar the summer of 2016 played in his mind. In the same memory he remembered watching the 400m semifinals on the tv scream and gasping with everyone else when the American contender for the gold had tripped over their competitor and was out the remainder of the games. Coming closer to the scene in front of him, Rooster’s eyes caught the black ink on Y/n’s bicep. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re a pilot, a naval pilot like us? And you’re a fucking olympian?”

“Three-time to be exact, but who’s counting?” Y/n teased, causing Phoenix to chuckle and hand them a beer. All the men minus Payback and Bob, who had slight knowledge of Y/n’s career, practically had their eyes bulging. Rooster honestly thought they had just been in London and Rio. “It’s nice to meet you all. And to answer your question…Bradley, right?”

“Yeah, but please call me Rooster.” Y/n tried not to giggle at the callsign.

“Rooster, but yes I am a pilot, as our lovely Phoenix has pointed out I graduated Top Gun with her three years ago.”

“Weren’t you just in Qatar two weeks ago?” Payback asked when he remembered the World Championships in Athletics had just taken place. All over sportscenter they were talking about the comeback of the decade. “I swear I just watched you on my tv the other day during replays of the world championships.”

Y/n sipped their beer before replying with a nod, “Yeah I was. I probably wouldn’t be here if the timing wasn’t perfect.”

“That’s crazy,” Fanboy commented, still in disbelief he was speaking to an actual Olympic athlete. After hearing the stories from his fellow athletes— and doing a quick google search when no one was looking—Mickey was internally fanboying like his callsign namesake. “How have you managed to do both?”

“Lot’s of sleepless nights, determination, desire to win, and tequila on the weekends.” There were laughs at that. For the rest of the night Y/n fell into conversation with everyone. A few asked for a picture, which they were happy to do, and even signed some autographs for Bob and Fanboy. They caught up with Nat, relieved London memories with Payback and went into detail about their injuries when Rooster brought it up.

“I was at the bar with some buddies and saw that happen live. Everyone couldn’t believe it and I remember seeing you limp across the finish line with the, I think it was the Polish athlete? That’s amazing you even managed to get up after a crash like that.” Y/n was on their second beer, sitting between Bob and Coyote and across from Rooster while the others listened from the sides as they continued the game of pool.

“What were you thinking at that moment?” Javy asked with curiosity. “Did you like automatically know it was over for you?”

Y/n thought for a bit before replying, “the second I hit the track I knew my chances for the 400m were done—it was the semifinals after all. When I first felt the pain I thought it was the typical instant pain that would go away after a bit. Then when I started to move it got worse and as soon as I got up I thought, ‘yeah there’s no way I’m gonna be able to do the finals or relays.’ My chest was on fire from the bruised rib and then I could barely feel my knee once the adrenaline wore off. I probably would’ve collapsed after the finish line if they weren’t holding me up.”

‘Damns’ and ‘wows,’ rang out before Bob politely asked, “Are you going to try for the Tokyo team?”

“Yup,” they exhaled with a nervous chuckle at the end. “It’s gonna be tough I feel with how these past couple seasons have been, but I’m hoping for one final Olympics. It will be my last chance at gold—Individual gold,” they corrected before anyone could comment.

“You’re gonna retire?” Fanboy tilted his head, a little saddened at the thought. Throughout the night he had been on his phone watching replays of Y/n’s meets including their Olympic and World Championship runs. He tried not to react when he watched the 2016 400m semifinals. Now the thought of them retiring felt like a loss to the sport. It was like how he felt when Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt retired.

“Maybe not fully,” Y/n gave a small smile. “I might do one last season and a Worlds, but I don’t think I’m gonna go for the Paris Games.”

Payback came over and clapped them on the back, “Well I don’t know about these clowns but you can count on me to cheer you on next year. Hell I might even come to the trials.”

“That’s what I did in ‘16,” Phoenix cut in with a smile. “It was amazing and I’ll be in the stands again. Already planning to take time off to be there.” Y/n felt the warmth and gratitude swarm in them, “Thanks, Phee.”

What should have been three weeks of special combat training turned out to be two. The pressure was on with Y/n pushing their limit harder than ever—even exceeded that of their comeback. Never had the F-18 they’d become accustomed to flying feel like a stranger. Maverick was like their coach and Y/n made it their own personal goal to prove to him they had what it took to fly the mission.

At one point Y/n nearly pulled out as a candidate. When the details of the assignment were brought into light Y/n had to think hard about what they were doing. It was not going to be an easy mission. Not by a long shot. Ending badly was a great possibility compared to actually pulling it off. Their life was on the line.

What if they died? What if they got injured to the point they would have to medically retire? Decades of training for the Olympics would end if something horrible happened. Y/n had three to their name, an honor not everyone gets to have, but there was their chance at redemption after 2016 was now on the line.

In the end 6 of the 13 candidates were chosen and although Y/n felt a little saddened they were not chosen, there was a sense of relief. They were put on reserves and boarded the carrier for a long week ahead of them. When it was time to send off their teammates, Y/n pulled them each into a hug, letting it linger on Nat and making her promise to come back. “If worse comes to worse, L/n,” Payback said, “You better win the gold in our honor.” There were mutters of agreement from the others.

“How about you focus on coming back so you can watch me win it in your honor.”

They fulfilled the promise, because now here they were in The Hard Deck about to watch Y/n attempt to keep their side of the bargain. It was 5:15 am on Friday August 6th, 2021. The second to last day of the Games of the XXXII Olympiad held in Tokyo, Japan. And it was the finals of the 400m sprint.

Just a couple months ago in June several members of the squad including Phoenix, Payback, Rooster, Hangman, & Bob met up in Eugene, Oregon to attend the trials for the U.S Olympic Track & Field Team. Following covid precautions they wore their masks and stayed together in their own little group literally competing themselves on who could cheer the loudest. It was a bittersweet moment watching their friend and former teammate secure their place in their fourth and final Olympics. Hangman and Phoenix nearly shed a tear, the former consumed with emotion as they looked on proud at their partner waving to the crowd. Their romance was a surprise, but after the two met to catch up in March of 2020, they ended up having to go thorough lockdown together.

And well…..forced proximity can do wonders when you’re attracted to someone.

Jake wished he could be in Tokyo with Y/n, but even though it had been over a year since the virus broke out and sanctions were being uplifted there were still regulations set in stone for the Olympics. The entire event was postponed a whole year, but was still referred to as the 2020 Olympics despite being 2021. Only the athletes and coaches, which were limited to only one, were allowed to travel. Leading up to the Games, Penny had issued a vaccination verification and made the mask policy optional for those who had been fully vaccinated. She even went as far as making a limit for attendees during the week of the track and field events and had people reserve a spot in advance. She even set up screens outside for people to keep space in the building.

It was still a pretty full house and it was buzzing with excitement as it had been the whole week. Many were regulars who came every night to watch the heats, semifinals, and finals of many events but mostly people were there to watch their very own Top Gun alumni Y/n L/n. Even their parents were there—flying to San Diego to be a part of the watch party. They were already filled with nerves, Y/n’s mother was very upset she couldn’t be there in Tokyo with her child. If they won the gold it would be a bittersweet moment since her parents wouldn’t be there to celebrate in person until they returned home.

It was already a successful Games for the Olympian. The week before Y/n won the bronze in the 100m dash and 4x400 mixed relay and reclaimed the silver in the 200m. The place erupted in cheers each time with the dagger squad being the loudest. It would increase whenever the camera panned to Y/n, who was in obvious joy at racking more medals to their Olympic collection.

But now the pressure was on with one final individual event.

The 400m sprint.

Their signature event with two medals and several titles to their name.

One final shot at gold.

There would still be the relays, in which the final for the 4x100m would take place an hour after the 400m final and then the 4x400m the following night, but Y/n becoming an Olympic champion for an individual event would happen in less than fifteen minutes. The program flipped between other events while in prep for the race, often showing Y/n in the tunnel as they awaited the announcement of the finalists.

At around 5:20 all eyes were glued to the screen with someone yelling, “Turn it up!’ when the sportscasters appeared to be talking about Y/n. The pilots all had the same expression, wincing when they replayed the footage of the 2016 semifinals.

“I think we can all agree we are looking forward to this race, right Steph?”

“That’s right, John. You know, all eyes have been on Y/n L/n these Games. They have already had a great run with three medals, two bronze and a silver with three more events to go. They have quite the Olympic career since their debut in 2008 at the age of eighteen. They came up forth in the 200m in Beijing and walked away with the bronze medal in the 400m,” below the commentator was Y/n’s Olympic statistics. “Then they had a spectacular run in London where we saw them on the podium in each of their events. Silver medals in the sprints and It was their start off the blocks in the 4x100m relay that I believe is what secured the Americans the gold.”

“I agree, Steph. I can still recall that race and the emotions I felt. L/n had an amazing post-Olympic run after London—totally dominating the 2013 & 2014 seasons. Let’s not forget they were one of the top athletes in the NCAA’s during their time at Vanderbilt. I definitely believe it would have continued into 2015 if they hadn’t pulled out, but they still were the leading contender for the Rio Games. It was the height of the career I feel.” The screen was now split to showcase footage of Y/n’s 2013 & 2014 Worlds. Then it showed the heats and semifinals of Rio.

“Totally, John, they dominated the trials that year. They very well could have left Rio with more medals—quite possibly a gold in 400m which is their signature event. Everytime I rewatch the semifinals I almost have to look away at the final turn.”

“I know, it was an unfortunate incident that ended Y/n’s Olympics before they could really start. We almost didn’t know if we would even see them here in Tokyo, but after a spectacular comeback at the 2019 World Championships in Qatar, I had very high hopes we would get to this moment.”

“Me too, John, the pressure is on for the 31-year-old, let’s see if they can deliver,” the commentator turns to look at the camera with Y/n’s picture beside her, “Well it’s almost time for the 400m and it looks they are about to announce the finalists so we are going to have our crew in the stadium takeover our coverage. We will see you back here in the studio after the race and be sure to stick around because the night won’t be over for the four-time Olympian. Y/n is set to be one the four of today’s 4x100m relay final and tomorrow’s 4x400m relay.”

The screen switched to reveal the stadium, specifically the entrance tunnel where a projection would show the name and nation of the finalists. Y/n had taken the top spot in their heat and the semifinal so they would get the fourth lane on the track.

“Here we go!” Someone in the Hard Deck clapped, causing a few more people to follow. The cheers heightened when the American flag appeared above the name Y/n L/n.

First the announcement was in Japanese, then the English translator spoke through the stadium “In Lane Four, representing the United States of America, Y/n L/n!” With a shy smile, Y/n appeared from the side and walked until they were directly beneath their name. Then they turned to the camera and gave a wave followed by blowing a kiss to the screen and lastly throwing a peace sign. It must have been a little awkward without a packed stadium like the previous Games. Only a small section was filled with locals and the coaches of the athletes.

“That’s my best friend!” Nat yelled over the cheers. Several others followed the pilot, “Let’s go, Y/n!” “Bring it home!” “One last time, baby, let’s go!”

The remaining finalists were announced and took their place behind the starting blocks. When the camera panned to Y/n, their eyes were closed in a silent prayer.

“Take your mark.”

Their eyes snapped open with a shaky breath, feet carrying them to the starting blocks. Y/n did a ritual stretch down, tapping the tops of their toes with their hands before bending down to place their feet in the right position. Glancing up to the sky, Y/n said in their head, “please, give me this one moment.” Tucking their chin into their chest, Y/n waiting with anticipation like everyone else in the world watching.

It was like time slowed. “Set.” Their knees lifted off the track.

*Pop* the sound of the gun and Y/n catapulted off the blocks. Their eyes never faltered as they ahead at the track and let their legs do the work. In their peripheral they saw their opponents, the space between them slowly decreasing by the second as they pulled into the final stretch. Coming around the corner there was no one in Y/n’s sight. The finish line drew closer. Y/n didn’t know if they were in the lead by a long shot or if it was only a nanosecond.

Their heart pounded in their chest, sweat dripping from their forehead. Heaved breaths left their mouth and Y/n could feel her bad knee start to burn. But they pushed and they pushed.

All Y/n knew as they crossed the finish line was the world record flashed and their eyes snapped to the board which resulted in them screaming. As the announcer yelled through the coms, “WORLD RECORD!!” Y/n fell to their knees in tears.

#1 Y/N L/N—USA 47.50 (WR, OR)

Below their name were spots 2-8. And not only did Y/n just take the gold in their last individual event, but they also broke the World and Olympic records. Records that had been set for decades.

When Y/n finally lifted their head they were met with beaming faces of their competitors. They all congratulated the athlete, some hugging and patting their back. The world record sign was still flashing and Y/n felt another wave of emotion. This time they ran to their coach, aware the cameraman was keeping up with them to get a close look for the viewers at home.

Y/n could only imagine what it was like in Fightertown.

The second the athletes were lining up, Coyote yelled, “Everybody shut up!!” Silence filled the building, everyone’s focus on their respected screen. “Set.” *Pop* The racers were off and the commentators were already speaking frantically. “Great start off the blocks for L/n, coming around on the first turn neck and neck with the athlete from the Bahamas. Jamaica and Great Britain are not too far as they take on the long stretch of the track.”

“Go! Go!” People started to scream. Bob was biting his nails, Rooster was gripping his beer bottle. Hangman and Coyote were already off of their seats, “C’mon, Y/n! You got this!” It got louder as they approached the final turn.

“L/n is starting to pull a lead as they come up the turn, but the Bahamas are right there—this was the moment L/n’s Olympic dreams were shattered in Rio—O-oh! L/n has overtaken the Bahamas—they’ve got a huge gap as they pull into the final stretch! Oh my God we could be witnessing history—L/n is .10ths of a second ahead of the World Record and increasing their lead ahead of the others by an outstanding margin!”

“Let’s go!!!” The commentators' words were barely there as it competed with the uproar of spectators in the Hard Deck. Everyone was pretty much out of their seats and jumping as they watched Y/n’s lead increase with each step to the finish line. “You’re almost there!! Go! Go! Go!”

Then it exploded.

“THEY’VE DONE IT! Y/N L/n has won the gold for America!! They smashed the Olympic record and set the World record for the 400m dash by .10 of a second at these Olympic Games in Tokyo!”

“OH MY GOD!!!” Phoenix and several others screamed. She and Halo embraced in a hug with Nat covering her mouth to hold back her emotion when the screen showed Y/n screaming out to the sky before falling to their knees. The guys were all jumping around, Rooster and Payback embraced in a side hug, pulling Jake who was pretty much in tears as he watched the display of his partner.

“After heartbreak four years ago in Rio that put them out of a chance for the gold, Y/n L/n has come out on top in Tokyo. They can finally add Olympic Champion to their name as well as Olympic and World record holder of the 400m dash. In what could be the last time we see Y/n L/n in an Olympic Games, they have achieved what they set out to do since their debut in Beijing 13 years ago. What a stunning finish to a beautiful Olympic career in the sport of track and field.”

Y/n’s parents were clenched in each other’s arms, eyes rimmed as their own tears poured. They were filled with so much happiness for their child and wished nothing more to be in the crowd and share this moment with them. At the bar top Warlock, Hondo, and Maverick were high-fiving while Cyclone clapped along with a smile. Penny rang the bell simply to join the cheers.

It was truly spectacular to witness. The slow motion replay was on the screen followed by the Y/n’s reaction when they looked up to find their name on the board. The cheers kept going and only started to quiet down when TV showed the athlete in their post race interview. “Y/n, what a night here tonight. Congratulations are in store, you have not only taken an individual gold but also the World record—and the Olympic record! It’s your fourth medal in these Games, the first gold—how are you feeling right now after this victory?”

Everyone hushed to listen, but were grinning wide and some were wiping away tears. Y/n’s face was flushed, still coming off of the high of what had just happened. “O-oh I can’t even put it into words how I’m feeling right now,” there was a slight sniff, Y/n using their finger to wipe their face but was careful not to let the material of the American flag draped around their shoulders touch their skin.

“This is a dream come true. It has been a long journey to get here and I-I am so honored to have been a part of this team for as long as I have. You know after the 100 & 200 I didn’t want to have my hopes too high because as you can see anything can happen in these Games,” Y/n chuckled, eyes glossy, “I think I may have actually blacked out on the last stretch. I just kept my focus on the finish line and was just as amazed to see I had broken the records.”

The title card on the screen now showed: Y/n L/n, Gold Medalist, 400m (WR, OR: 47.50).

“Your friends and family have all gathered in San Diego—they’re watching right now and we actually got footage of their reaction to your win tonight. We’d love to show you if you like.”

“Oh God please,” Y/n was already giggling. The assistant brought over an ipad with a video and pressed play. On the tv screens the image split to show the video beside Y/n’s face to capture their own reaction. They saw the daggers squad in front of the bar while their superiors including Maverick were seated at the bar top. They were all surrounded by servicemen and women as well as civilians. Y/n teared up when they spotted their parents near Jake. By the end of it Y/n was basically crying while laughing. “Oh my God, that is amazing. I wish they could’ve been in the stands. I know my parents are probably thinking how the one time they can’t see me compete in person is when I win.”

The reporter laughed along with them. “I know I gotta let you go cause you’re set to race the relay in less than an hour and the podium ceremony is about to start, but before you go I just want to ask if this is the last time we’ll see you after these Games conclude Sunday night.”

Y/n softly smiled to the reporter, bottom lip slightly trembling, “uhh, you know I wasn’t completely sure. Since Rio I’ve had some troubles with my knee after the torn ACL—I almost wasn’t sure about these Games until 2018. I’ve been talking to Allison Felix these past couple days, since this is gonna be her last Games. Her and I have been part of Team USA for 13 years now and she’s become not only a mentor but a friend to me and i’m going to miss seeing her at competitions. I know I plan to do the 2022 season—especially the Worlds. Paris is only three-years away,” they shrugged, like they were considering it, “I’ll be thirty-four when it comes around so it’s really gonna come down to how I’m feeling after 2022.”

“Well I hope to see you again in Paris, but if not then it was truly a pleasure watching you these years. You’ve been an inspiration to many watching back home in the States. Congratulations again on this win and we can’t wait to see you bring it in the relays. Good luck again tonight.”

“Thank you so so much. I appreciate it and much love to everyone back home—thank you for all the support, especially my mom and dad, my coach, and my friends in Fightertown who I know are probably losing their minds. I love you all and I couldn't have got this gold without each and every one of you. Thank you,” Y/n shakes their hand and blows a kiss to the camera before following the volunteer to locker rooms to change for the podium ceremony.

Just like in London, Y/n was nearly a mess on the podium when the gold medal was presented to them. Per covid regulations, the athlete had to place it around their own neck instead of how it was at previous games with someone else doing the honor. Still, it held everything to Y/n.

They were an Olympic champion.

Tears streaked their face when the national anthem played and when it concluded Y/n kissed the medal and waved to the crowd of spectators that included the media and athletes from other countries. The rest of Team USA’s track athletes were there too, cheering the loudest as some of them have been Y/n’s teammates for over a decade. After pictures with the other medalists Y/n was rushed to get ready for the relay that was to start in 20 minutes. At the Hard Deck it was an emotional scene watching the podium ceremony. Jake and Nat were embraced, looking on with glossy eyes while everyone beamed at the screen. Y/n’s parents were with them too. It was bittersweet.

20 minutes later they were in cheers once again when Team USA took the silver in the 4x100m relay. Y/n kick started it off like they did in London, but this time fell short to second place by a smudge. It still was a celebration with Y/n adding another silver medal to their personal Tokyo medal count. It was passed one in the morning in Tokyo when Y/n FaceTimed Jake after the podium ceremony. They were met with shouts of joy from everyone in proximity that it was hard to even make out the individual voices.

“You fucking did it!!”

“Congratulations, Lightning McQueen, you were amazing!”

“Holy shit, Olympic gold!”

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Y/n. I wish I could hug you right now.”

The call was brief but wholesome with Y/n thanking the entire squad for their support and they loved watching their reaction to the race. Jake spoke on behalf of the others with the promise to celebrate the second Y/n returned to San Diego in three days. After goodbyes and a quick chat with their parents, Y/n ended the call to get much needed sleep for their final race the next day. The Hard Deck cleared out soon after with many calling it a day.

It was the same scene the next morning at 5:30 am to watch the final of the 4x400m relay. “It is the final day in these Olympic Games after a spectacular two weeks in Tokyo. Many firsts have been made. There are just a few events to get through tonight before closing ceremonies tomorrow evening. All eyes are now on the finals of the 4x400m relay. And boy is there a lineup tonight with the Americans looking to defend with a seventh-straight title.”

“It’s going to be an interesting finals tonight, Mark. Like you mentioned, the US have retained the title of Olympic champions in this event since the 1996 Games in Atlanta. They are unstoppable and this is the first time Y/n L/n is part of the group. They won the gold in London for the 4x100 and just last night took silver in the event. Four years ago in Rio they were set to be on both the 4x100 and 4x400, but after a tragic semi finals that ended with a torn ACL, L/n had to pull out of Games.”

On the screen the team was announced with all four athletes appearing from the side. Together they did a little dance for the cameras before going to the track. “I’m interested to see how L/n does tonight and if they can pull through. This event is truly a team effort and unlike last night, L/n is set to anchor the Americans in the final pass rather than starting. They just won the gold in the 400m last night in a stunning record breaking finish—I’m still in disbelief.”

The Hard Deck painted a familiar picture as the previous morning. The Daggers were on the edge of their seats when the race started and Penny stopped taking orders when the third pass began. The camera was split to show Y/n taking their spot on the track to await the baton. Then the screen went back to one when the American came up on the last turn. “Here comes the final pass of the bottom in the final leg of this 4x400 relay. Poland and Jamaica are not far behind, but the Americans have given Y/n L/n a lead—and there they go! Beautiful pass from teammate to teammate and Y/n L/n is off to hopefully bring the US their seventh consecutive gold.”

“C’mon, baby, let’s go!!” Jake yelled, the others echoing his cheers. At the bar patrons were clapping the surface.

“They’re gonna get it—look at the lead!”

“It’s not over yet.”

“Let’s go, Y/n, you’re almost there!” The athlete increased the distance between them and the polish on the stretch coming into the final turn. The cheers got louder and louder with many already celebrating when it was obvious the Polish were not gonna catch up. The announcers knew it too.

“Poland has overtaken Jamaica but it will not be enough for Olympic glory—Y/n L/n has increased the margin their teammates had given them and has no doubt secured them the gold! All there is left to do is cross the finish line and the Americans have done it again! L/n has finished the job and given Team USA their seventh straight gold medal in the 4x400m relay!!” The last line was in tune with Y/n crossing the finish line. A large smile plastered on their face as a cry of joy left them that the camera managed to capture. Their teammates met them in the middle with the four embracing in cheers.

The Hard Deck exploded again when Y/n crossed the finish line, matching their reaction as though they were the ones who just won the gold for their country. They couldn’t wait for Tuesday when Y/n came home and they could celebrate the big wins together. Jake was really excited especially after having a heart-to-heart with Y/n’s father. The ring was safely tucked away in his suitcase as a reminder of what he had planned for his Olympian.

The rest of the daggers, including Mav and Hondo ended up staying an extra hour after the podium ceremony to celebrate their friend. Many were still in disbelief, but filled with absolute joy. Who wouldn’t really? They had just witnessed their friend win their sixth medal in a single Olympics. Something uncommon for even athletes who qualify for multiple events.

But Y/n did it.

They left Tokyo with two bronze, two silver, and two gold. In four Olympics Y/n started from a single bronze in their debut to their first team gold in London, leaving with nothing in Rio to finally medaling in every event they raced in Tokyo. Their first individual gold after thirteen years of hard work and dedication to rise to the top since they sat in the stands of the Centennial Olympic Stadium.

It was a golden end to an Olympic dream 25 years in the making.

Or so they thought…..

When the stars painted Paris on the night of August 11th, 2024, the final night of the Games of the XXXIII Olympiad, Y/n L/n waved to the crowd in a bittersweet goodbye as they wore the Stars and Stripes one final time. It was hard to hear over the roar of spectators from all over the world. Not a single seat had been empty for the final race of Y/n L/n’s career. Athletes from other disciplines attended, some in tears by the overwhelming emotion of the moment.

“It is an emotional scene here tonight in the Stade de France as we say goodbye to Y/n L/n of the United States. There isn’t a dry eye in sight as spectators and athletes from around the globe watch the five-time Olympian take their final bow after winning the gold with the Americans in the 4x400m relay in their eighth consecutive title. In what could be described as the greatest Olympic run a track athlete has ever done, Y/n L/n has achieved the impossible in Paris with six gold medals in six events. Never has an Olympian taken the gold in the 100, 200, 400m, and all three team relays in a single Olympics, but Y/n L/n has made history. They are also the second Olympian and only American to win gold in the 100, 200, and 400m in a single Olympic Games.”

Y/n walked the track with a cameraman following them, hand that was not waving patting their chest where their heart laid. The hand now had a gold wedding band and Tokyo XXXII and Paris XXXIII added to the bicep tattoo. Y/n’s teammates that they just won the gold with had stood to the side, clapping with the crowd with American flags draped around their shoulder and tears cascading their cheeks.

Y/n finally made it to the section where the majority of Americans who had traveled from the States were seated in a sea of red, white, and blue. Y/e/c went straight to the front few rows and were immediately met with the sight of not only their parents beaming faces, but the ones of their closest friends. None of them were hiding their emotion. Phoenix was embraced by Rooster, the two wiping away at their faces as was Bob. Fanboy and Coyote were teary eyed while Payback just nodded with a bright grin, bringing his fingers up to whistle. Even Maverick, who was now retired from the Navy, was in attendance looking like a proud father.

And Jake? Jake was a mess.

His green eyes were pretty much bloodshot but there was love and admiration in his gaze. His own wedding band reflected under the stadium lights and he made the motion of catching the kiss Y/n blew to him before placing it on his heart. All he wanted to do was jump over the railing and hug his spouse, but unfortunately that would have to wait until after the podium ceremony.

The extinguishing of the Olympic torch at the closing ceremonies would signal the start of Y/n’s retirement from the world of athletics. It would close one chapter, but the other was still in progress. There was still time for them to be the best of the best in terms of naval aviators. They were not even halfway into their Naval career.

And they were totally up for the challenge, because nothing is impossible when going for the gold.

[runningfrom2am]

achilles heel - I: Ben's Sister

summary:

Grace is the very opposite of her brother in every way. when she finally moves onto campus at UNC Chapel Hill, she feels like she gets to be her own person, make her own friends, and hopefully start a promising career in the museum industry, and maybe, one day, get married to her high school sweetheart and live the American dream for herself. Rafe Cameron however, upon their very first meeting, throws a wrench in her very perfect plan.

tags/warnings:

rafe cameron x fem!oc, rafe is giving very much homewrecker, fanon!rafe (kinda), college!au, friends to lovers, slow-burn (maybe?), minimal oc description, drug and alcohol use, mostly unedited, (these tags are not exhaustive, lmk if i should add anything!)

wc: 2.1k

my master list

series masterlist

requests

January 4th, 2019

B: i'll be at the caf in 10 if you want to grab breakfast before class

Her phone buzzes twice in quick succession as the screen lights up on the table in front of her. She leans over to read it, putting down her coffee mug and rolling her eyes slightly to herself. Grace had already eaten the same thing she always does, being frozen strawberries and whipped cream for breakfast, and is finishing up her first of several cups of coffee for the day when she receives this text from her brother.

g: okay, back table in the corner

She sends her quick reply and goes back to what she was doing, pretending to read her textbook and hoping to absorb at least the key points before her eight am class. So far, this method has worked well for her. Only one semester down so far, but with a 3.91 GPA, Grace is feeling pretty good about her academic career.

Her brother, Ben, on the other hand, got into the same school on a scholarship for soccer, and Grace is pretty positive he's only doing the same degree as her so she can tutor him while he lives in a frat house. Which he very promptly moved into after orientation, leaving Grace on campus alone, and she didn't mind it one bit. Having some space from her brother and her parents for the first time has been amazing.

Grace looks up as her disheveled-looking brother slides into the seat across from her at the table, practically throwing his plate down. She removes her headphones to hear what he's saying. "Huh?" She asks, prompting him to repeat himself.

"I said..." He draws it out, clearly frustrated his sister didn't listen. "You're already reading that? It's only the second class."

"Oh, well yeah, they're assigned readings for a reason." Grace replies, putting in her bookmark and closing the book, shoving it in the bag at her feet before looking back at her twin brother. He looks like he just rolled out of bed, which, of course, he did.

"Right. Give me the summary then, yeah?" He asks through a mouthful of cinnamon and sugar toast.

Grace sighs a little. "So, basically, there's this guy, totally a dick." She begins to explain and Ben nods, but he's already looking down at his phone. "So he shoots this elephant, right, and then someone else shoots him, and then that's how the third world war started."

"Wait, what? Really?" Ben asks, his attention suddenly drawn back to her.

"No. There was no World War III, dumbass." She replied flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you even know what this course is about?"

"Not yet but that's why I'm here isn't it?" Ben chuckles, taking another bite of his toast and instantly chasing it down with his orange juice.

Grace cringes a little as she watches that. "Not exactly..." She replies, looking down at her watch. "We have fifteen minutes. We should probably go, we have to get all the way across campus."

Ben nods and shoves the rest of his one piece of toast in his mouth and picks up the other to carry with them while they grab their bags and clean up the table.

No one really knows what it is about the first week of the semester, but Grace, as well as every other girl she's seen so far, has fallen victim to the idea that you need to look put together and organized knowing damn well that by two weeks from now, she'll be showing up in pyjamas. But today, for the time being, she's actually wearing jeans and makeup to class.

They walk across the beautiful campus that overlooks the city from a hill. It's January, but the sun is rising and there's hardly any snow left on the ground, not that there ever was much to begin with at UNC. Grace grips her coffee cup with both hands to try and warm them- it was probably an oversight to leave her gloves back in her dorm.

They make it inside and find their classroom, walking in and looking around, scanning to see open seats. Grace's eye lands on a table with two seats that no one is sitting at, and makes a beeline for it, placing her bag down before realizing her brother isn't at her side anymore.

"Hey, man, how's it going?" She hears as she looks back over her shoulder, seeing her brother grabbing the hand of a boy sitting in the back row. She sighs and sits down as he sits in the back with someone she's assuming he knows from his frat or soccer or something,

"I'm pretty good. Don't know why I took an eight am but here I am I guess." Ben's friend, Rafe, says as Ben takes a seat next to him.

"Honestly, same." Ben laughs slightly, pulling his laptop out of his bag and placing it on the desk.

"Hey, uh..." Rafe starts, leaning closer to his friend and lowering his voice. "Who's that girl you came in with?"

"Why?" Ben asks, taking on a defensive tone as he digs around in his bag, looking for his textbook.

Rafe instantly shakes his head, leaning back in his seat. "Just wondering." He says quickly, looking forward at the long-haired girl sitting a few rows in front of them. "I didn't know you had a girl- I just thought you would have told the team."

"What? I don't." Ben looks up at him to see his friend staring at his sister. "That's just Grace. My sister." He admits, leaning back in his chair as well.

Oh, his sister. Rafe thinks to himself, nodding slightly in response to his friend, that was now watching him, watching his sister. Time to look away. "You have a sister?"

"Uh, yeah, dude."

"You never talk about her," Rafe says, glancing back at her.

"Not much to say I guess." Ben shrugs in response. "Uh, we're twins, I don't know she likes to read apparently. She's a history major, she lives here on campus. I don't know what really there is to add."

"Oh, really? I was thinking of doing history."

Ben laughs. "Dude, as if Ward would ever let you even think about taking anything other than business. Pretty much the only thing you can do with history is write or teach, that's boring as hell."

Rafe sighs, he knows Ben is probably right. "I mean, like, I wouldn't hate that. At least it would be my choice."

"Yeah, I mean, whatever you want man. Why not, right? Being a prof makes bangin money too. People respect you and shit-" Ben rambles on but Rafe isn't really listening. His eyes are trained again on the girl sitting closer to the front of the room, as her hair cascades over her shoulders when she leans forward more, writing something down in a notebook.

"Right?" His thoughts are interrupted.

"Oh, yeah, totally." Rafe nods, completely unaware of what his friend was talking about by now.

"Okay, so we've got some new faces in here today." A man who Rafe assumes to be the prof says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention as the room quiets down. "You, in the back there. You missed introductions on Monday, so basically we all shared our names, our majors, and what year we're in if you'd like to share as well."

He's looking dead on at Rafe in the back, and everyone's heads turn to look at him. "I, yeah, sure. I'm Rafe, uh, this is my first year, so I haven't made any big decisions yet, but I'm thinking about majoring in history." He says, making eye contact with Grace and giving her a slight smile.

"Right, yes, Rafe Cameron. You're on the soccer team with Ben here. Your dad is Ward, right?" The prof asks and Rafe nods.

"Yes sir."

"I've met your father, he's a really nice man, hey?" He grins and Rafe nods again slightly in response, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Anyway, let's get started, shall we? Did everyone get the readings done?"

——

Grace gets up at the end of class, placing everything in her bag and her headphones back in, assuming that her brother would take off with his friend.

"Shouldn't we wait for Grace?" Rafe asks Ben as his friend turns to the door.

"Nah, I'll talk to her later." He shrugs in response. "Come on- we've got practice this afternoon and I want to have a nap first."

"Hold on one sec," Rafe replies, holding his hand up at his friend signaling for him to wait, and watching as Grace turns around evidently surprised to see them still standing there looking at her- waiting.

"Oh, hi." She says, removing one of her headphones.

"What did you think of the first real lecture? Did you write down every word?" Ben asks her and she laughs a little.

"No, but I'm glad we're getting into something interesting at least." She replies, avoiding eye contact with his friend, who's watching her intently.

"Hey, uh, I'm Rafe, by the way." He says to her before Ben can get a word in.

Grace looks briefly at her brother, who is staring at Rafe with an indecipherable look on his face. "I'm Grace." She says, looking back at her brother's friend and smiling politely. "You said you want to take history? That's my plan too." She adds, making an effort to move the conversation along so they don't just all stand there staring at each other.

"Yeah, I mean, maybe. My dad wants me to take business because he owns a company and I'll have to take it over eventually and all that crap." Rafe shrugs as the three of them head for the door.

Grace nods at that, shoving her hands in her pockets as they walk out the door and down the hall. "My boyfriend was supposed to take business too, or that was originally his plan in high school. He decided to go into chemical and electrical engineering instead and he's loving it, but I guess it's a bit different than your situation but I still think it's important to do what you want, not what other people want you to do." She shrugs, as Rafe looks at her brother, giving him a 'what the fuck, man?' expression.

Ben raises an eyebrow at him, the silent exchange finished with his confusion, and Rafe quickly continues his conversation with the girl who wasn't watching them, eyes straight ahead as she walked. "Yeah, I guess you're right. My plan right now is to sell it as soon as my name's on it, so my degree won't really matter."

"Yeah, you probably don't need a degree in business for that." She agrees, laughing slightly as she shakes her head.

As the three approach the end of the hall, Rafe takes a few quick steps forward to grab the door, and Ben smiles at him, laughing slightly and patting him on the shoulder as he walks through. "Thanks, bro." He steps outside, leaving Rafe to stare at the girl who took a turn down the hall instead of following them out. 

"Not going back to dorms?" He asks her, making her turn as she continues to walk backward staying with the flow of other students.

"I have a class in C building in ten minutes- this way is much faster. It was nice meeting you!" Grace smiles with a slight wave, popping her headphone back in as she turns around and continues down the hall. Rafe smiles back and raises his hand in a quick wave, sighing as he's stuck holding the door for a few more people before he can follow Ben.

"Dude, you didn't think to tell me she has a boyfriend?" Rafe asks, jogging slightly to catch up with his friend.

"Sorry, didn't think you'd be into my sister. Didn't think it mattered- that's not like, the most important thing about her, you know." Ben scoffs, shaking his head.

"Well, of course not. Would've been nice to know, though." Rafe grumbles, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

"You're not hooking up with my sister. Listen, even if she wasn't dating that loser I wouldn't let you. That's like, fucked up." Ben says sternly. "What would you say if I said I was into Sarah, huh?"

"Dude- gross. She's like, seventeen." Rafe shakes his head, scrunching up his nose at the thought.

"Exactly." Ben agrees. 

"Okay, well, that's different."

"You're digging yourself deeper and deeper man- you've just got to let it go." Ben insists, turning to walk towards his car on the opposite side of the parking lot from where Rafe parked his bike. "I'll see you at home!" He shouts back.

"See ya'," Rafe replies, walking in the opposite direction. He pulls the other side of his backpack over his shoulder, holding tightly onto the straps as he makes his way back to where he parked his bike- completely unaware that he was being watched through an upstairs window in C building by his friend's sister.

ahhh finally part one!! i’ve been working on this one for a hot minute so lmk all your thoughts and everything- i don’t have the whole thing planned out so also if anyone has any requests on where this should go, pls lmk!!

taglist: @madelynie @slut4drudy (message me or reply to this to be added!)

[didalexiabreakupwitholgayet]

On USWNT and equal pay, I would say it’s hard to compare US and other big European nations such as Spain. At the time of negotiations, the USWNT had historically had much more presence and successes in the woso/wofo world in comparison with their male counterparts in the international soccer/football community. Furthermore, they were coming off of the hype of a 2019 WWC win and therefore head much much more leverage and arguments for equal pay. If I remember correctly, one of their arguments was that there were generating much more commercial awareness in the US than the USMNT. This is a situation that’s unique to the US (and somewhat Canada as well) where soccer/football is barely a top 5 sport and not mirrored in Europe where soccer/football takes all prominence.

But despite the above and a long fight ahead, it’s still encouraging seeing the changes being made in woso/wofo in Europe albeit quite slowly.

oh for sure. there are so many legal differences between the uswnt situation and las 15/rfef. for example, the uswnt filed a lawsuit based on gender discrimination and us labour laws, specifically by "paying them less than members of the usmnt for substantially equal work and by denying them at least equal playing, training, and travel conditions; equal promotion of their games; equal support and development for their games; and other terms and conditions of employment equal to the men's team."

that's just not a route that the spanish women could have taken because our laws are different and the circumstances that would allow for gender discrimination do not exist to the extent compared to the us.

however, even if you can't apply the tactics 1 to 1, you can still make some general observations about team unity and some of the underlying factors that make certain protests work. for example, every single world cup player and alternate for the americans signed on to the lawsuit, nor did they have a situation where an entire slate of "scabs" were called up to replace them leading up to a major tournament. and they also received the support of the men's national team. that level of team unity just did not exist for spain due to many reasons i've discussed before.

i think there are lessons that can be learned from every federation's equal pay and gender discrimination fight. yes, just because one route worked in one country doesn't mean it will work in another, but there are still learnings to be had. and that's the point of organisations like fifpro, where these can be shared on a global level (personally, i think our spanish version can do more on that front than it's currently doing too!) 🫡

[leveloneandup]

Extra Time: Two World Cup Champs Aren’t Scared of the Dutch

Holland day

So, two-time World Cup champion Christen Press, what scares you about the Netherlands, America’s second-round opponent at this 2023 World Cup? The U.S. Women’s National Team (USWNT) will face the Orange Lionesses tonight at 9 p.m. E.T. in New Zealand's capital city of Wellington.

Press, who won titles in 2015 and 2019 as a forward for the U.S. but recently underwent a fourth surgery to repair the knee preventing her from playing in this World Cup, is mildly offended by this question. “As soon as you say, ‘What scares you,’ I took that as a player,” Press says. “And I’m like, ‘Nothing scares me.” Press, 34, laughs. “OK, go ahead, Tobin …"

As in Tobin Heath, who’s also on this call—and was also on the 2015 and 2019 USWNT World Cup teams (in addition to the 2011 one)—and has also won a pair of World Cup titles, in 2015 and 2019 with the USWNT. Like Press, Heath, 35, has been sidelined due to injury. So I called on the duo—who are among the founders of the lifestyle brand RE-INC, often finish each other’s sentences, and are co-hosting an excellent podcast and YouTube program during the World Cup called The RE-CAP Show—to break down the U.S.-Netherlands matchup.

Heath agrees with Press. She doesn’t find the Dutch all that frightening. “The Dutch are a good team,” says Heath. “They're not a great team in this tournament.” Heath concedes that the Dutch are the best team in the USWNT’s group, which also includes Vietnam—whom the U.S. defeated 3-0 on Friday in the World Cup opener—and Portugal. “Outside of us,” Press chimes in.

“Outside of us, yes,” says Heath.

Yes, U.S.-Netherlands is a rematch of the 2019 World Cup final. But Heath cautions against reading too much into that. “There were a ton of better teams we played in 2019,” says Heath. She and Press point to games against Spain in the Round of 16, France—in France—in the quarters, and England in the semis as much tougher tests. The U.S. won those games 2-1, but shut out the Netherlands, 2-0, in the title game. “We always say our final was one of the easier games for us,” says Heath.

What’s more, the Dutch—who beat Portugal 1-0 in their World Cup opener—are down a superstar. Vivianne Miedema, the country’s all-time leading goal scorer, is missing this World Cup due to an ACL tear. “We don’t have to significantly adjust what we’re doing in order to take care of an individual player,” says Heath. “I don’t think they can do much damage to us.”

The one Netherlands player Heath mentioned in our conversation as a threat to watch—striker Lineth Beerensteyn—is now unlikely to play, because of an ankle injury she suffered against Portugal. Heath notes that the Dutch have a solid aerial presence off set pieces. And the Orange Lionesses could exploit the tendency of U.S. outside defenders Crystal Dunn and Emily Fox to play “inverted” positions—meaning they sometimes serve more as midfielders, moving into more centralized spaces on the pitch, getting involved in short passes on the attack. That strategy can leave the U.S. defense susceptible to Dutch counterattacks out wide. “You are leaving a big area to exploit,” says Heath.

Still, the former USWNT players aren’t all that worried. If anything, this is a huge opportunity for the Americans to make a statement. Germany made its mark, with a 6-0 crushing of Morocco. Brazil cast itself a real threat, with its 4-0 opening game victory over Panama. Spain beat Zambia 5-0 on Tuesday. “There’s a few teams that are like, we’re here,” says Heath. “We didn’t have that game against Vietnam. We can have that game against the Netherlands, if we want. I don’t see there being any reason why we can’t.”

~~~

Parting thought

Since they’ve played in past tournaments, I asked Heath and Press what it’s like for players at the World Cup between games. The U.S. did travel from Auckland to Wellington in the five days between its matchups against Vietnam and the Netherlands. Still, that’s plenty of downtime.

Enough to make you go stir-crazy?

“It’s almost like surrealism,” says Press. “The days are a little gray and foggy. You almost can’t remember. You’re very careful with when you look at your phone and who you even connect with. Or how much you walk. Your whole life is bubble-wrapped. Every second of the day. And then you have to go out and do this incredibly physical and risky and hard and emotionally draining thing. And then you just are bubble-wrapped again.”

“We sit around and talk and try to get a little bit of relief. It's this incredibly difficult experience to explain. You're with the only people in the world that get it. And that creates a bond with every single player I've played with in a world championship that's unlike any other. Because there's this respect. There's this knowingness. You don't even have to say anything and you know what's going on with your teammates.”

“We eat too many meals. We’re really just trying to fuel, fuel, fuel. And we talk and we laugh and we make it to the next game.”

[darlingian]

✨weekly✨tag✨wednesday✨

tagged by @heymacy @energievie @mybrainismelted @mmmichyyy thanks lovelies!

name: c h a n i your time zone: central standard time. (I'm like 90% sure) favorite food: roasted broccoli. your eye color: hazel. do you have curly, wavy, or straight hair? extremely straight hair. (Which is so annoying because my dad has very tight curls, my mom has wavy hair, and my older daughter has curly hair. lolol) coffee or tea? depends what I'm in the mood for. If I just need caffeine fast I'll slam some black coffee. But to sip and enjoy I like a traditional cup of tea with a sugar cube and a splash of milk. (but also, if I'm at a coffee shop I always get iced coffee.) you can only listen to one album for the rest of your life. which album is it? The Shrek soundtrack. I'm so serious. how many countries have you visited? I've never left Canada. (I did once go on the maid of the mist at Niagra Falls and we were pretttttty close to the American side at one point. So... does that count?) favorite social media platform (other than tumblr): TikTok? idk I think it gets a bad rap. (like yes it can be very bad. it also is really great for getting information to the masses.) if you had to be reincarnated as an animal, what animal would you want to be? A wild horse. Or a crow. relationship status: newly separated. asdfghjkl. did you go to college? if so, what did you study? I did not. I didn't graduate highschool either. I'm hoping to go back to school soon though. (still trying to convince myself it isn't too late for me to do all that.) you’ve just made a letterboxd account. what are your top 4 films? Little Women 2019, Marie Antoinette, Across the Universe, Breakfast at Tiffany's, and Practical Magic. (special mention to A Knight's Tale) what’s one of your pet peeves? I have hardcore misophonia so like... any mouth or nose sounds make me immediately see red. lol what’s one of your guilty pleasures? I recently have been buying myself a large diet coke at McDonald's whenever I run errands. I ask for extra ice and then leave the drink in the car whenever I go in and out of shops and then the ice melts in the most perfect way to chew. So then I drink the pop and eat all the ice. and finally, if you could learn any skill, what skill would you want to learn? I would love to make stained glass things.

im tagging @deedala @too-schoolforcool @michellemisfit @gardenerian @gallawitchxx @whatthebodygraspsnot @blue-disco-lights @crossmydna @metalheadmickey @mickeysgaymom @iansw0rld @callivich @wehangout @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos @palepinkgoat and whoever else would like to play!

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 6

Summary: Rory arrives in Urzikstan, meets Gaz for the first time, and reads Price to filth

Warnings/tags: Minors DNI - swearing, mentions of manipulation, smoking, flirting, character with trauma, British slang, military inaccuracies, established relationship, toxic relationship dynamic, war criminals in love

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC (3rd person POV)

Word count: 4.2 k

[AO3]

October 29, 2019 0430 - US Army Base, Urzikstan

The last rumble of the plane's landing gears hitting the tarmac stirred Rory from her less than restful sleep, her eyelids shooting open as the juttering skid of screeching rubber and bouncing shocks caused the shell of the plane to creak around her. Her body clock was completely rattled and left her playing catch up across time zones – that three and a half hour difference could be the straw that broke the camel’s back if a soldier wasn’t prepared. Unfastening her seatbelt, she stood up once the aircraft finally came to a full stop, stretching out her sore back and shoulders after being trapped in the same cramped position for hours. Every bone and joint crunched and popped like rice cereal. Twelve years of this shit and it wasn’t getting any easier on her body. Scooping up her duffel and swinging it over her shoulder, the weight of it cut into her with the heft of a butcher’s cleaver through tender meat. The shoulder injury she had received in Russia never had properly healed, an uncomfortable reminder of the not so distant past and what she was fighting for. 

Weaving through the crates, she stood at the top of the ramp at the tail end waiting for it to lower with the all clear from the crew and pulled out her pack of smokes from the pocket of her fatigue pants, slipping a cigarette between her lips. Amber lights inside started to blink, strips on the ramp lit up shortly after and the loud clank and boom of mechanisms lowering the ramp began to whirr. Cupping her hand around her lighter, shielding the flame from the gust of air blowing past her as the hull opened like a gaping maw, she lit her cigarette and made her way in a steady march down towards the ground below. Her feet back on solid earth with that unwelcome crunch of sand under the tread of her boots. 

“Morning, Sergeant.” Kate stood there on the edge of the tarmac, Rory’s only welcoming party member, her arms crossed over her chest. Unease . She could read it all over the American’s face. Looking like a slapped backside, lips twisted into a grimace, eyes weary – it didn’t take a genius to know that something was wrong no matter how cool a facade the CIA Station Chief wished to present. “You look like you could use this more than I could right now,” Rory said, passing her cigarette to the older woman without hesitation.

Laswell accepted the gift of nicotine and placed it between her lips. “Much appreciated.” Taking a long drag, she breathed out a heavy sigh full of smoke and frustration. “Things didn’t go as planned with Sulaman.” Leading her back towards the base, Kate had that no nonsense look about her as she moved with steady steps. A shock hit Rory like a bucket of ice water being poured down her back and her jaw clenched in response, she needed to know just how bad the situation was. Preparation was key when entering a shitstorm like this. “ Meaning ?” “AQ and their supporters attacked the embassy last night; breached the containment on Sulaman. There were significant casualties, including the ambassador. Alex and Farah are headed to a position to flank the escape route now. Price and Garrick arrived back here roughly an hour or so ago.” “Fucking hell,” Rory muttered, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck, scuffing her boots as she walked. “Quite the time for my arse to arrive, eh?” “Would’ve liked to have given you a proper welcome.” With a brief half grin, Kate handed the cigarette back to her.

In the darkness of pre-dawn, the burning orange tip glowed like a torch as Rory inhaled, unwavering even with the breeze that ruffled through her hair. This was a mess that needed to be scraped off, cleaned up – and fast. Shrugging it off, she continued her even pace with Laswell. “Please, as if I need the bloody pomp and circumstance,” muttering around the cigarette in her mouth, readjusting the strap of her bag. “Just let me get settled and acquainted with the place and I’ll be all yours.”

Giving her a quick squeeze of her upper arm, Kate leaned in, voice kept low. “John is –”

“In a foul fucking mood, I presume?” Tipping her head to the side, Laswell pursed her lips slightly. “You could say that, yeah.” A very careful way of saying he was absolutely fuming but was keeping it under his carefully controlled guise of stoicism. Rory knew well enough that John wouldn’t have let someone like ‘The Wolf’ get away without a reason. With the Captain, it was dead or alive, escape was rarely ever an option and certainly not one given lightly. He must have been forced to cut his losses, preferring to live to fight another day, but she could already imagine the sting that decision left in his gut. She rolled her eyes to the heavens with a heavy sigh and raked her fingers through the roots of her hair before tossing the cigarette to the ground and stomping it out, the few fading embers left to drift out and die in the sand.  “I’ll see to him first then.”

Behind the barracks – out of sight, out of mind – she found John leaning against the wall shrouded in smoke, thick grey clouds of it spilling from his lips masking the furrowed brow and darkened stare while he stood with his arms crossed, looking out over the grounds of the base. Broad shoulders locked in a hunch, nostrils flared – oh yeah, he was definitely pissed . She dropped the stealth and moved so as not to startle him, her steps heavier to alert him to her presence. Her gaze dragged over him, noticing the tenseness in his body. He always carried his burdens physically, it certainly made it easier to know when to tread lightly. “Figured I’d find you somewhere you could be alone but still have your eyes on everything,” she whispered softly. Price said nothing, his eyes shifting to glance sideways, his face blanketed by shadow under the brim of his boonie hat with only the orange glow of his Villa Clara burning to give away his position. It was still dark, the deep navy sky scattered with a million white specks, scenery bathed in silvery moonlight before the sun would finally crack the horizon. “Perfect for brooding out here, eh?” she teased gently, moving closer to lean beside him on the wall, brushing her arm against his. 

A low grumble followed by the puff of smoke was all she was going to get from him. Should have known better than to try and lighten the mood right now . It was always a 50/50 toss up as to whether it would work, but it was the least she could do rather than letting him stew inside his head. “Saw your plane come in,” he said between clenched teeth, chomping down on his cigar. “How was the ride?” “Bit shaky.” The toe of her boot dug at the blue tinted sand, drawing stripes into it. “Nothing I’m not used to though.”

Nodding, he shifted his shoulders against the cement wall as he transferred his weight from one foot to the other having stood in one spot for too long. “Laswell told you what happened, yeah?” John’s voice was rough, hoarse. Too much time spent barking out orders while under enemy fire, his throat left to pay for that. “Yeah,” she breathed, resting her hands behind her back, pressing her fingertips into the abrasive texture of the wall, nails digging at the little divots and chalky imperfections in the construction. “Yeah, I’ve been made aware.” “Fuckin’ cock up,” he snarled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and we’ll sort it.”

The ridges in his brow creased, every line in his face deepening as his nose wrinkled and his lip twisted as he growled, “We had ‘im, Ror.” His finger curled around his cigar as he pulled it from his mouth, punctuating his words with a stabbing motion. “Right fuckin’ there.” Rubbing a gloved hand down his face, he sighed and looked up at the sky. 

Hazel eyes followed blue as he stared at the twinkling stars slowly fading while the sun worked to rise. Out here, away from the city lights and the pollution, every constellation was clear. A beautiful sight when you weren’t in fear of being shot at, bullets whizzing past like angry wasps, it gave a person the opportunity to truly appreciate them. Moments like this in a warzone were rare, even if it was merely the quiet before the storm. “Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” Rory rolled onto her shoulder, turning to face him as she peered under the brim of his hat to look up at his steely eyes. His gaze flickered over to her, blue depths made especially icy after the failure of the hand-off of The Wolf. “Just once –” he grumbled.

A huffed laugh slipped from her as she rested her weight against the wall. “You’re preaching to the choir, my darling.” Pulling the hat from his head, John brushed his hand back and forth through his hair, roughing up the short lengths. “They were organized, AQ’s banner is bigger than just Sulaman. Has a piece of work as his right hand man too – the Butcher .” He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Just lucky you weren’t there, sweetheart…” Her gut clenched at that, he was saving her the gory details which meant it was something he knew would have likely triggered her – women and children begging to be saved more than likely. She rested her hand on the back of her neck, something to keep it busy, to hide the tremor that still clung there. “Well, it’s not exactly like you’re without your assets too, eh?” Lifting her brow as she offered him a small grin, Rory tried to change the subject. “Speaking of – when do I get to meet this Sergeant Garrick?”

“That’ll have to wait. Ordered him to get some rest.” “But of course you didn’t take your own advice.” She rolled her eyes and smiled, sarcasm dripping from her words, “Surprise, surprise.” “Bugger that.” He took another pull of his cigar, looking at her from under his heavy brow. “Can’t sleep, waitin’ on word from Farah.” Rory nodded, giving a little hum as she looked out at the horizon in the distance, musing on the exploits of the commander of the Urzikstan Liberation Force. “She’s an impressive one, that one, isn’t she?” 

With a slight smirk, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards. “Do I have to be worried that you’re gonna get tired of me with her around, darlin’?” John asked, shooting her a half-joking accusatory look. Quick to give him a playful smack to the arm in return, she snickered at his jab. “Oi! I’ll have none of that. You’re stuck with me for the long haul, remember?”

John wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in against him, fingers gripping at the side of her, thumb rubbing small circles against her hip. “That’s right, my girl.” Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he rested his chin atop her head, eyes scanning their surroundings. “No one else for ya, but me,” he murmured into her hair in a low gravel. “Says the man who wasn’t even there to greet me as I got off the plane,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t think I’m forgetting about that, I'm not letting you off easy.” Pulling away just enough to look down at her, his hands wrapped around her arms, his head lowering to meet her gaze. “I’ll make it up to you later, shall I?”

“You better,” she said with a cheeky grin, wrapping her arms around his waist, holding him tight. “Love you, prat.”

His chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle as he exhaled smoke from the corner of his mouth away from her, his fingers combing through her silky hair as he held her tighter against his body. Ensnaring her in his embrace, pressing her against his bulk as he laid another kiss on her forehead. 

Hours passed and servicemen milled around as the base started to come to life with the rising of the sun. Under a large tent with several long tables and chairs, Price and Rory sat together eating breakfast, chatting and laughing. Their forks poking at scrambled eggs, strips of bacon being torn and savored as they sipped their coffee – couldn’t trust Americans to make a proper cuppa, after all . Cutlery scraped against their trays between conversation when a clearing throat and a pulled out chair broke the comfortable air between the couple. “Sir, any word?” Gaz asked, settling into the seat beside Rory, giving her a friendly little nod. Judging by that introduction, Rory could only assume John had failed to mention to his newfound sergeant that she was even coming at this point, keeping his cards close to his chest, and here she was, some random stranger in fatigues.

“Not yet,” Price said, motioning towards the female sergeant at the table. “Garrick, I’d like you to meet Sgt. Rory Sinclair of the SRR,” he rumbled. “She’ll be joinin’ us for the rest of the mission.” Deep brown eyes fell on her, the young sergeant’s expression softening towards her as she extended her hand for him to shake. She had always painted an unassuming picture, especially when compared to someone like Price. The guise of the ‘Lamb’ still held, despite the world trying to swallow her whole and the innocence having long since faded from her. 

“Pleasure to meet you ma’am,” Gaz replied, treating her to a charming smile as his hand wrapped around hers, grasping it in a firm shake. His hand was softer than John’s, less wear and tear from years of service, fewer calluses and ingrained dirt in the lines of the skin. Still fresh faced with hope in his eyes – she had forgotten what that even looked like until now. “Oh, please, no.” She shook her head, smiling warmly. “None of the formality. I might sound like I have a stick shoved up my arse, but I assure you, that’s not me.” Their hands parted as they both turned back to their meals. “The pleasure’s all mine,” Rory added with a little nod. 

John hummed, “Don’t let the poncy accent fool you, Kyle. This one here’s as hard as they come,” he said, tipping his head in her direction. “Ain’t that right, Sinclair?”

Her attention steered towards the Captain, a smirk pulled at her lips as she cocked her brow. “Thank you, sir.” Clearing her throat, she sipped her coffee and glanced sideways at the new sergeant appraisingly. It was easy to tell he wasn’t a veteran like her and Price, he carried himself differently than they did – didn’t appear quite so cynical and world-weary, perhaps. He made her curious. “Where’d you serve, Garrick? If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” “I didn’t,” He said with a soft grin, his thumb tapping against the warm mug of coffee. “I’m not army, ma’am – CTSFO.” Gaz shifted his shoulders a little and tucked into his food. 

Rory tried her best not to show any sort of reaction to this tidbit of information, remaining straight faced as her gaze lifted to meet Price’s, gauging his reaction to her questioning. She couldn’t help herself, knowing it was better to reserve her judgements and that trusting John’s opinion was paramount, yet she couldn’t help the initial bug that wriggled in her ear. “Oh, Police …” She nodded to herself. “Right then,” she said, filling the awkward silence as she prodded at her food with her fork. 

It didn’t help that she had been raised with a healthy distrust in the police, her father being a criminal defense barrister meant that he spent a fair share of his time pointing out the flaws in evidence collection and questioning, pinpointing where things went wrong so his clients’ names could be cleared. It wasn’t fair to the Sergeant to immediately be painted with the same brush as other police officers, especially considering how quickly people were to show bias towards soldiers simply for serving - though in her case, she likely deserved those wide strokes of the brush. “Well, at least you’re used to the whole anti-terror side of things, not completely innocent to all this, eh Garrick?” “Seen my fair share of things, yeah.” His smile remained, not wavering despite her questioning – he carried a quiet confidence. “Piccadilly, now the embassy.” Gaz shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth, ending her line of questioning. “It was his intel that led us to the house in Camden Town,” Price added. “You don’t say.” She glanced up at Price before redirecting her focus back to Garrick with a smug little grin. “Got something to prove then, yes?” “Just like you did.” John leaned his head down towards her, looking up at her through his creased brow in a challenge. 

She was pushing her luck and she knew it, slipping into her old routine of reading a person like they were a target she had strapped down to a chair to interrogate, rather than an ally. Zeroing in on the weak spots to tear them down, aiming for the jugular – an unnecessarily brutal reaction upon first meeting someone, but a natural defense she had built up over the years all the same.    “Quite right.” Rory grimaced and had the last sip of her coffee. “Well, nothing wrong with some new blood added to the team, yeah? Was in your position once myself. I look forward to working with you, Sergeant.” She stood up, collecting her dishes. “And if Price trusts you, then suppose I can too.” Patting Gaz’s shoulder, she moved away from the table to bring her dishes over to the dish pit bins. 

Walking away from the mess tent, she pulled the packet of cigarettes from her pocket and made her way over to the designated smoker’s section, tapping the carton against her thigh as she moved. Christ. she forgot how terrible she could be at making first impressions. It was no wonder her father had given up on trying to get her to meet his high society friends and associates, she had no bloody time for any of them and was too quick to nitpick at the flaws – not that she was any better. Pot meet kettle. 

Finding an empty patch of sand to stand in, she slipped a cigarette from the pack and brought it to her lips, pulling out her lighter next, following every step in the smoker’s ritual she had become tied to, the motions becoming just as much of an addiction as the shot of nicotine into her body with each puff. When the heavy crunch of boots – seemingly from out of nowhere – caught her off guard, the cigarette snatched away from her by large, rough hands. “Oi!” Turning to face Price looming over her, he blotted out the sun from the sky as he crossed his arms over his chest, her cigarette held firmly between his fingers. “What was that?” he rasped.

“What was what?”

Met by his stern countenance in response to her feigned innocence, her brows furrowed. “I was just trying to figure out why you picked him, is all. You always have a reason for everything. I was curious.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Ror.” He shook his head and leaned down, further encroaching into her personal space. “Might not be a veteran like us, but he has it in ‘im. I can see it. That drive to make things right.” Eyes narrowing, she tilted her head and the cogs turned inside it. “No matter the cost?” His hands wrapped around the shoulder straps of his tactical vest, reacting with a bounce of his heels. “Eventually, yeah.” The corners of her mouth tugged into a small smirk. There it was . That little bit of pride that John couldn’t hide as it bubbled up to the surface, knowing he had Garrick right where he wanted him. 

If a person was to scrape off enough layers on anyone who worked in the world they did, eventually it would be found that when sufficient time was spent inside the life a rot would set in. Casual acquaintances, colleagues, family, friends, lovers – they all fell prey to the same form of thinking, every little nugget of information was a tool to be used. They could be someone that was trusted, and still the ability to exploit them existed in the back of the head. She knew John had a vault of secrets to be used against her, and in an act of mutually assured destruction she could promise the same thing about him – Laswell was no different. They were all in this same boat together, and now, Price had invited someone else to sink into this tar pit trap with them. “I know it wasn’t just his drive you chose him for, John. Every fucking soldier has drive and you’ve got the pick of the litter – there’s always something more. An eagerness, a hunger.” Rory pressed her finger into the thick material of his vest covering his chest. “That’s what you look for. And the fact that he doesn’t have years of military training under his belt? Well, that just means he’s all the more malleable, yeah?” Her self-satisfied smile painted her lips as her brow cocked. “The perfect little protege. He's a blank canvas to mold to your liking.”

“Ror –”

“Oh come on, John. Taking him under your wing, teaching him about how the world really works – or at least according to Captain Price, where the mission and its success is absolute. You've struck gold with this one, eh?” The sardonic grin grew on her face, knowing she had him dead to rights as he glared at her. “Tell me I'm wrong then. Acting mentor to someone who's none the wiser, who never had to go to war. You're in your element now, love.” 

Cold, mirthless blue eyes landed on her and she met him with her haughty smirk. His brand of intimidation had never struck the fear into her it was supposed to – he had other tools that worked far better in his arsenal. She was the rare soul who could stand up to John Price because she knew he was wrapped around her little finger in the end, and just like he had assumed all those years ago in the desert when they were alone together, she had learned to read him like a book despite that unknowable gaze and the things that lurked behind it. “You like the control, John. Always have. I knew that getting into bed with you – it’s no skin off my nose,” she said with a little shrug. “You like being the handler who knows what to say and do to get us all to follow your lead. You say ‘jump’, we say ‘how high’.” 

Shaking her head, Rory mused over the fact that this man’s whole persona had become so intrinsically linked with his rank, the power dynamics that came with it, and the weight he wielded against others – herself included – yet at the same time, the more tied together they became the more she held him by the scruff of the neck over the fact that he wasn’t willing to see her harmed again, to ever lose her. “The feeling of success is strong, but being able to wield failure against someone, that’s all the more powerful, isn’t it?” She scoffed, the smile never leaving her face. “And here I thought you might have turned over an altruistic new leaf.” 

He cut the distance between them, hunching forward, their eyes locked. “Weren’t you the same as him? Gave you a shot and look at you now, my girl. Not a single soul in the world I trust more than you, and that’s sayin’ something.” She sighed, her mouth drawn in a straight line as she lowered her voice, “Well let’s hope you don’t decide to fall in love with him too then, eh?”

“Just you, my girl.” He smirked at her, all the lines on his face crinkling. “That honor’s all yours.” Gripping her chin in his hand, he tipped her face up to look at him as he slipped her cigarette back between her lips. Steely eyes narrowed, flicking from her lips to her eyes, drawing her in with his husky whisper, “Now, be a good girl, and stop pushin’ buttons. Clear?”

Rory’s breath hitched in her throat, but she maintained control of each little reflex and tic. “Yes, Captain . Crystal.”

Pulling the lighter from his vest, he flipped open the lid and held the flame to her cigarette tip, letting it burn and smoke. The glow reflected in his irises as he looked down at her, the predatory gaze lingering for a moment as the fire weaved back and forth as it flickered. “You’re lucky we’re on base right now, you know that?” He husked, flicking the lid shut on the lighter, staring at her for a moment longer than necessary before stepping away and leaving her to her cigarette. 

Now she definitely needed the fag.

[coffeeaddictbluebird]

POLAROID

Paring: Jung Jaehyun x afab!Reader. [For the sake of this fic, NCT 127 had a concert in Toronto, Canada during the North American leg of Neo City - The Link Tour. The exact date is not important, but if you want a rough timeline, imagine the concert to be somewhere around January 2023, after their three concerts in the USA. The actual concerts that happened in Toronto were in May 2019, but they are too old for the fic. This is just in case you are curious about the timeline. Otherwise, it doesn't really hold any importance for now.] Genre: - fluff, angst, sexual themes. Words: - 2.5K

Warnings:- Kissing, making out, grinding. Summary:- It’s a chilly night in Toronto, and the idea of spending it in the warmth of a stranger’s presence is too good to pass on.

If someone asked you what night was, you’d probably say it was him. He was wind and gale, and zephyr and melody. He was calm. He was cold and warm. And maybe you won’t admit this out loud, but he was love. He was regret and yet the best decision you’d made that night. One night with him showed you what it truly meant to be alive. Part of it may have been because he was a stranger. It was easy to let go when there were no burdens or pains crawling between your intertwined hands.

You’d met him back home, in Toronto, in an empty park. It was a night that seemed to take away all your stress.

“Aren’t you cold?” was the first thing he’d said to you. You were out in a park late in the night, with very less people around. It was nice and quiet, and you couldn’t resist sitting there. The view of the city calms you down after a stressful workday. For some reason, he gave you doubtful glances from behind his round glasses and beanie, as if he was looking for something on you. ‘Cute’ was the first thing that popped up in your mind, but you couldn’t figure out why he was looking at you suspiciously.

“A bit, but I’d endure it for this view.” You bury your gloved hands deeper into your pockets as you decide to answer his question.

“Well, aren’t you right about the view?” He said, staring into your eyes, not even glancing at the view. It was embarrassing to admit how your heart had skipped a beat at his cheesy line. Although it was fairly too common, and you had heard it quite a few times from different mouths, his sounded so genuine. Like he isn’t looking to impress, but just a thought he verbalised. He looks around a bit, before taking a seat beside you.

It takes you a moment to realise you are staring at him.

“Can I look at them?” You ask, trying to make an excuse.

“Look at what?”

“You must have taken some pictures with that Polaroid camera over there.” 

“Oh. Okay, Sherlock. Only if you let me see yours though.” He says, pointing at your own camera.

The camera-swapping session soon turned into a long conversation, and you both decided to warm yourselves to search for a cafe downtown and warm yourselves with a cup of coffee. The streets were bustling despite the cold, as families and partygoers hopped in and out of clubs, restaurants, and taxis. The New Year spirit was yet to die down. You never thought that a walk around the town with a man who was practically a stranger would be this soothing. 

You were happily strolling, occasionally brushing your hands and fingers against each other. He had enough after a few back-and-forth lingering touches and decided to just entwine your hands instead. Warmth settled in your body as you traced his knuckles. The redness of his ears was just a cherry on top. You eventually settled on bouldering after getting done with grabbing your coffee at a Tim Hortons. It was much warmer inside, and you both tucked away your extra layer of clothing.

It was nearing midnight, but it seemed like Toronto never slept. There were plenty of people in the bouldering gym. You gave him an introduction, telling him how to use the holds, what to do, etc. To give him a practical example, you climbed a wall for beginners. The activity was something you often enjoyed doing with your friends, so you eventually got good at it, even if you weren’t a pro.

“Whoa, that was so good.” He shouted as you stood atop the wall, climbing it with ease. Although you weren’t particularly looking to impress him, you wouldn’t deny that his compliment felt good.

“You can do it too. Come on, give it a try.” You shout back, standing on the edge. He gives you a nod, dipping his hands into chalk as he grips the first hold and starts to ascend. He was doing exceptionally well for a first-timer. Maybe it was because of all that time in the gym because was clearly visible from his toned body.

“A couple more and you are good to go. Come on.” You cheer for him as nears the end of the wall. The pads of his fingers slip from the crimp as he tries to reach for the jug above him. He slides down, his legs catching onto the holds below.

“Careful.” You gasp at him.

“I’m fine. Fine.” He reassures, trying and succeeding in climbing the jug. Now all he needed to do, was climb over the edge. He slings one leg over, grabbing with his hand. You bend down, giving him your hand to give him an extra push. 

“Thanks.” He mumbles as he takes it. You put your other hand above his own, and as you pull him up, he pushes himself, causing you to tumble backwards along with him.

You fall on your back, both your hands still clutching his as you look up at him in surprise. He looks shocked at first, but his expression changes the longer he looks at your face. Your face contorted in confusion when he started chuckling, wondering what was so funny about him crushing you underneath his body.

“Your face is covered in chalk.” He explains, raising his hand that isn't still clutching yours to wipe your face, only to realize his hands are dirty as well. None of you attempt to move as he fishes his handkerchief out of his pocket. You close your eyes, reveling in the feeling of his breath on your face as he wipes your face gently. Butterflies dance in his stomach as well. 

He admires your face, the couple of moles you have. His gaze lands on your closed eyes, lingering on your lips. The lip gloss you were wearing earlier almost wiped off, slightly covered in chalk. He wipes them as well, unable to resist touching your lips, even if it was with just his handkerchief. You open your eyes to his dreamy ones, the handkerchief long forgotten as you mirror the hazy expression on his face.

It was like a staring match, both of you fighting for who’d look away first. None of you do, both in a daze as his face inches closer, your lips almost touching. He looks up once, looking for any hesitation, a sign that says you don’t want the same. You don’t waver, clutching his hand tighter instead, a silent plea to close what was left of the distance between your lips. His eyes glow a little, closing as he places his lips on yours. 

Your hand immediately comes up to grip the collar of his shirt as you deepen the kiss. You both lie there like two touch-hungry teenagers. A few onlookers groan at the unnecessary PDA, telling you to take it somewhere else. You both shut out the noise of a lady shouting expletives at you, the fire in your cores too exciting to give a fuck. His hand slides to your waist, slightly lifting your top to gain access to your skin. Shivers run down your spine, your tongue prying his mouth open to intensify the kiss. He opens up for you, letting you explore his mouth. You reluctantly pull away as the lady shouts again, threatening to call the guards. 

“Meet me at the stalls”, is the only thing you whisper as you both scramble to get up and straighten your clothes. You’re gone in a second, leaving him behind to ponder about what just happened. It was so unlike him to draw attention to himself in public, especially when he was roaming around without his group, the manager or the crew. The fact that he could do something as scandalous as kissing a girl out in the open had left him baffled. No one seemed to recognise him or record anything as he looked around, and he sighed in relief. He would be screwed if his manager knew.

He quickly pushes his thoughts about his manager to the back of his head as he remembers you were waiting for him. Hesitant, he lingers outside the stalls, the common washroom seemingly empty as he knocks on a couple of doors. The nerves in his body make him feel uneasy. Maybe it was the thrill of sneaking around like this. The door to the last stall opens as walks closer, and he is pulled inside. You push him to sit on the closed lid of the toilet in a flash. The look of surprise adorning his face makes you chuckle, cupping his cheek as you straddle his lap. 

“You took so long, I thought you weren't coming.”

His hands slide on your waist, “Well, I had to. I haven’t asked you out on a date yet”, he says. 

Maybe it was a bold move for him. He’d had his fair share of flings and dates, but he never dated anybody seriously. They either went crazy about his fame, or it was the money. He always had to go through so much trouble just to make sure nothing was suspicious about them. There was always a possibility that it was some crazy fan of his, pretending to be a date. Yet he doesn’t know what came over him, but he surely doesn’t regret it.

Something about you had struck him tonight. When he found you sitting in the park all alone, he was suspicious about your intentions. The other day he was roaming around, and someone followed him all the way from the restaurant he had his lunch at, to the place he was planning to have dinner. It wasn’t until he threatened the guy with cops that he left him alone. So his having doubts about you made complete sense.

Although, as the night progressed, he found himself enjoying your company. No one had ever been so genuine with him, soothing him simply with their presence. The the hand-in-hand walks and your sweet talks pulled him in. You were making all the the stress of his day go away without even doing anything. Whatever this was, there was one thing he was sure of. He didn’t want to let go.

“Are you seriously asking me that here of all places? What is it? No one ever kissed you this good?” You chuckle, breathing heavily as his hands roam your middle, resting just below your breasts. He just nods along as he laughs under his breath, and the warm air falling on your neck turns you on even more. He peppers kisses there, his wet mouth surely leaving behind a couple of marks. 

“Tell you what.” you say. “Ask me that again after we get out of here, and I might just say yes.” 

Your eyes hold fire as you move your hips, rubbing yourself on his hard-on, claiming his mouth again. He pulls you in, a hand rising to squeeze your breasts now. He pulls you closer, decreasing the minimal space between your bodies. He grabs your hips, setting a pace. The friction from your pants almost feels too good to be true. By the time you became aware of your fingers, they were already under his shirt, grazing his nipples. He moans in your mouth, his stomach twisting in knots.

The phone buzzing in his pocket pulls you both out of your haze. You express your disappointment as his hand leaves your body to reach for his phone. You decide to continue kissing his neck making him stutter as talks in a language you don’t quite understand. You are too aroused to care about trying to figure out the language anyway. His hands find their way back to your waist as he hastily cuts the call.

“Stay here.” He mutters, eyes closed, relishing in the feeling of your body on his.

“What?” You groan, eyes portraying the confusion you felt. “I need to make a call. I’ll be back. I promise.” Your face falls in disappointment, but you have no choice except to agree. The fire in your core would just have to wait. 

“Be quick.” You quip, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He smiles at you, leaning to give you a final kiss as he adjusts himself, tying his jacket around his front to cover up his clearly horny self.

15 minutes later, you are standing outside, staring at the Polaroid as all sorts of thoughts run through your head. You look at his fond expression as he stares at your face in the picture. It certainly wasn’t the look of someone who was spending the night with a stranger.  He was admiring you, smiling in the way his dimples showed, the light striking his eyes at the perfect angle, making his dark brown eyes stand out even more.

You had taken the at Tim Hortons while you both looking through each other’s cameras. You were looking at all the Polaroids he had takes on the beautiful city while he went trough your camera roll, where you had captured the people of the city, your coffees running cold.

“Your photography makes even the most mundane things come alive.” He said. “But what about you? Who is capturing your charm? Beauty?” He added, proceeding to keep on taking pictures of you. That was when you slid beside him, sliding one hand to hold his face as you took a selfie through his Polaroid. He smiled at you, taking another one you each had one to keep.

You desperately wish calling him was an option. You both had somehow forgotten to exchange numbers through the night. The area around was emptying as it was past midnight now. Dejectedly, you called a cab to go home. You kept looking around until it arrived, hoping that maybe he would pop out of somewhere. Maybe he had just wandered off during the call by mistake. But as you get into the cab, still looking around and through the mirror for any sign of him, it settles in. He was gone. He wasn’t coming back, not for a stranger. And as it turns out, you would probably never see him again.

As silly as it was, you kept going to the park after that, in hopes of seeing him once again. Always going at the same time as the day you’d seen him for the first time, only to never see him again. Eventually, the park just became a place of solace for you. It probably was a heartbroken act. If you could even call it that. But nothing had ever hurt you more than the fact that the night that was probably the happiest in your life for you, meant nothing to him. Was it all just a fever dream?

[meazalykov]

redirection; prologue

esmee brugts x barcaplayer!R

summary: a girl realizing that a huge rejection lead her to the best redirection possible

most of the 2022-2023 season, i’ve been working hard within the tryout camps to get a spot on the united states women’s national team roster for the world cup. i played for the washington spirit in the nwsl as a striker.

most people in my circle believed that i would’ve had a spot on the world cup roster due to my overachieving skills. i had high hopes about accomplishing my biggest dream. however, when i got the facetime call from the uswnt coach, letting me know that i wouldn’t be on the world cup roster, that belief was crushed. 

my emotions were all over the place when the facetime call ended. the tears in my eyes ran down my dimpled cheeks for hours. my breathing was rigid and i couldn't think straight. it got to a point where my bestfriend, trinity rodman, comforted me on a facetime call. she made it on the roster and my happiness for her was distracted by the disappointment for myself.

“i feel like my skills, hard work, and motivation goes unnoticed.” i cried on the facetime call to trinity. i pulled the black sleeves of my adidas hoodie up and wiped my tears. to be honest, i felt like clicking the red “end call” button and falling asleep. i didn’t want trin’s happiness for herself to drain away due to my rejection from the world cup. 

“there’s so many people in the world that recognize your talents, y/n. everyone is disappointed too. just know that your time will come and you can use this as a bigger push for the 2024 olympic roster.” trinity commented. she was right, but the disappointment and rejection was too big to have optimistic thoughts currently. 

after the facetime call ended, my imessage notifications were blown up with most of my washington spirit teammates, family, and non-soccer playing friends apologizing to me when they didn’t see my name on the roster that was posted. they gave me reminders of how good of a player i still am. many of my uswnt teammates, including my close friends sophia smith and emily fox, expressed how disappointed they were because i wouldn’t play in australia with them. 

currently, i have seven caps with the uswnt. as a nineteen year old, this is a normal amount of appearances. so i had developed relationships with some players who consistently appear on the team. 

alex morgan is an example. she is my inspiration as an american striker myself. i’ve seen many people compare us and how we play. i scrolled on the 433womenfc instagram comments on the uswnt roster post and a particular comment stuck out to me, 

“washington spirit’s y/n l/n should’ve had a spot over alyssa thompson. she could’ve been a good sub for alex morgan since they’re both strikers and she has more international experience. uswnt missed out.” 

the tears in my eyes poured down my face again but instead of calling a friend or family member to talk to, i placed my phone on the charger and went to sleep. 

three months later: 

the uswnt was eliminated from the world cup after a penalty shootout with sweden in the round of 16. this broke my heart when i watched the match in my apartment last week. the uswnt won the 2015 and 2019 world cup and a three-peat would've broken records. 

currently, i sat in the backseat of a fancy black van as i headed to a fancy restaurant in downtown dc. my agent wanted to talk to me about my next career move, since my contract with washington spirit expired right before the world cup. 

i am assuming that my next move will be within the nwsl, many clubs contacted my agent during past transfer windows for a possible move. however, spirit rejected those transfers since they saw me as an important striker. trinity wanted me to stay at washington spirit and sign a new contract. i didn’t because i felt lost. i knew my heart belonged somewhere else. i loved the club i've been with since i was sixteen, but i needed to move on. 

the dark green pants and black long sleeve on my body was comfortable for the early-august weather. you’d expect the weather to be hot but it’s 8pm and the breezy air made for a perfect temperature.

i sat down in a booth across from my agent, heather. she held a blue ipad in her hands and already ordered water for us, which i took a sip of after we greeted each other. this meeting would determine my next career move.

two hours later, i walked out of the restaurant in excitement and shock. heather let me know that many clubs in many leagues contacted her as they needed a goal scoring striker. 

wsl clubs, such as chelsea and manchester united, were the first to contact my agent. in fact, they’ve wanted me since the last transfer window. i wasn't opposed to chelsea, since a few of my american friends played there. nswl clubs such as san diego wave, houston dash, and portland thorns wanted to offer me a contract too. 

when my agent mentioned the last club that offered me a contract, my jaw dropped to my feet. liga f club fc barcelona needed a striker and their coach was impressed by my goal scoring abilities from last season. barcelona was my dream club and heather saw my eyes light up in admiration and disbelief. 

as the dinner ended, i told heather that i'm looking forward to joining barcelona. she told me that she will let joan laporta and the sporting director know about my commitment. i wanted to cry in joy, i am moving to spain soon to join my dream club!

(pretend you’re trinity rodman) 

433womensfc

Liked by salmaparalluelo, and 21,613 others

tagged: @y/n.l/n

OFFICIAL: 🚨 19-year old American Striker y/n l/n from Washington Spirit signs a 3-year contract with FC Barcelona on a free transfer. She will be the first American to sign for the Liga F club 🇺🇸🔵🔴 

comments

y/nstrikes_ barca fans she will not disappoint! 💙❤️

esmeebrugts 🔥🔥

wosofan23 aitana bonmati and y/n l/n link on the pitch should be illegal 😭

        leahwilliamsfan67 i agree 

lekkerbrugts esmee ona and y/n joining barcelona?? barcelona is unstoppable. 

cghlover55 this is so crazy 😍🔥

randomuser4789 she was too good for the nwsl, can’t wait to see her compete in europe.  ❤️

   16 replies 

(pretend you're ona batlle)

fcbfemeni and y/n.l/n

liked by esmeebrugts and 93,973 others

our american star has arrived 😍💙❤️🌟

comments

aitanabonmati ❤️

ingrid_engen 😍😍

graham95 niceee🤩

y/nhive THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY

felixfan14 SAME 😍

trinity_rodman SO HAPPY FOR YOU *nickname* 😭💗🎉

lindseyhoran10 woohoo!!!

uswnt 😍

alexiaputellas 🥰

*esmeebrugts started following y/n.l/n*

next chapter: redirection I

a/n: this is my first woso fic! this is the first chapter to this series and I'll write more for other players as well :D I hope you enjoy!

[whisperthatruns]

[...] No one wants to buy anything. They want to peer into each other's lives, press their mouths to strangers' cups and lift affinities, a few words of Swedish, a talent for sudoku. I lay the news by the music and patchouli to see if that will unbully it. Someone organizes hurt by color, the blue table dark as the underbelly of an avalanche. There I place an orange napkin, copy of Keats, and hope for a handover of idle goodness, a share of warmth stored in our sugars passed through the vellum of our touch. Home, an ant drowns in my espresso. I hold a vigil; I can still hear the voice of my teacher reading the part of the ant in a picture book. We're counted on to make a safety of our minds, a world out of objects shared between us. I kiss the cup held by my two hands. My mouth might mend a stranger's mouth.

Maya C. Popa, from "Yard Sale," American Faith (Sarabande Books, 2019)

[bjfinn]

TURKEY DAY

Happy Thanksgiving to all my US American friends!

"Hey, guys," Beej said, coming into the kitchen."Whatcha doin'?"

"Getting started on dinner," Delia told him. "Today's Thanksgiving."

"So early??? It's only like ... two o'clock in the morning!"

"It's ten o'clock," she replied. "And we have a lot of work to do."

That certainly seemed to be true -- the three women of the Maitland-Deetz home were all busy. Barbara was mixing something in a large metal bowl, Lydia was peeling vegetables, and Delia was arranging a centrepiece of various squashes, autumn leaves and grapevines on the table.

"Can I help?"

"You can stuff the turkey," Barbara suggested. "If you want to."

"Okay," the demon said. "Yeah, sure -- I can do that." He went over to the counter and looked at the 25-pound bird in the roasting pan. "Uhh ... what do I do?" he asked.

Barbara brought over the bowl. It was filled with cubes of bread mixed with other things. "Like this," she said.

Beej watched, incredulous, as she took a handful of the bread mixture and shoved it inside the turkey's cavity.

"You're shoving bread up its ass??? "

"It's called 'stuffing'," she told him. "It's bread, sausage, cranberries, herbs and spices --"

"I'm pretty sure you're supposed to feed it from the other end," he said.

Barbara chuckled. "Very funny, mister. Just don't pack it in too tight -- it'll expand as it cooks."

"Okay." He grabbed a handful of stuffing and put it in the turkey.

He began humming as he worked, and the three women smiled -- Beej really seemed to enjoy helping out, and not just in the kitchen. He was eager to lend a hand with anything around the house -- whether he knew what he was doing or not.

It wasn't long before the demon started singing to himself, and they burst out laughing when they heard what he was singing:

Dead bird, dead turkey bird

Incapable of flying

Oh, the sound you made when dying

Was the saddest noise I've heard

Noble bird, you gave your life

We thank you for your sacrifice

Gonna eat your face with secret spice

Dead bird!

"Dead Bird" by Eddie Thomas Perfect and Alex Brightman, performed on the podcast "Cup of Tea" on 25 November 2019

[jammerskrik]

honestly I’ll never have a job as funny and wild as old 1950s cumbies. I think that’s probably the top silliest stupid job I’ve ever had. I had a coworker named kilfeather who was a late thirties obese literal fedora’d neckbeard, who unfailingly made the various (East Asian) women of Boston uncomfortable by being on brand to the point of addressing them as ‘M’lady,’ and split his time between manga and atheist reddit boards and masturbation. He gave his entire savings to The Occupy Movement, then rebuilt it only to then give it all to Bernie Sanders… he was Irish white trash from one of the most depressed towns in western mass, his parents were farmer-descended biker gang ppl that he dropped out of nineth grade to caretake once the cigarette genocide got them. He used to give me impassioned speeches about how the most important issue of our time is centering black and brown voices, and then, without fail, partially magic and partially because our boss was a black lady from Cali that hated most other African Americans, something beautiful and so fucking ironic and hilarious would happen.

Best was when we had to run down inventory to shut the gas station down around January 2019, our boss interrupted one of Kilfeather’s woke speeches about worshipping ppl darker than him to tell him to go clean out the little cup shed with me and Rokon, a banglandeshi indo-muzzy immigrant who at the time didn’t speak any English yet. Rokon began tossing all the spare foam coffee cup rolls out of the shed to me so I could bag them up, as Kilfeather waddled up through snowfall that was beginning to accumulate to watch us and, perhaps if the opportunity presented itself, resume his anti-racist speech.

About a minute later, Rokon had run out of cups and was suddenly madly pulling up endless flattened layers of shipping cardboard that had formed the flooring beneath the cup rolls, and I mean like decades of layers of flattened cardboard, the station was original from 1951 and the bottom decade or two had become dust and dirt. I stopped helping at my disgust threshold and just stood beside kilfeather in the snow watching R manically pry out every layer and heave it into a comically large pile as if his life depended on it until he suddenly froze. He stood there for a few moments, turned and looked at me n kilfeather, then smiled wide, disappearing into the small old shed like laughing, but a strange rare laugh to hear from a man like that; he squealed with absolute delight then vanished. Kilfeather looked at me like, what? does this mean??

But I didn’t get to reply because Rokon had emerged from the shed holding some kind of giant frozen tangled black disk about a meter in diameter. Kilfeather and I were both immediately instinctually repulsed though neither of us could really process what the disk was in that moment, as Rokon stood there dusted in snow and beaming… but we realised right as he spun around like a discus thrower, launching a massive frozen-solid City of Boston Real Life Rat King into Kilfeather’s face and chest.

There were two black crackheads from Kentucky who would stand outside the gas station like Jay and Silent Bob -style and by this point they were watching in the background, as was our boss. The Crackheads began heckling/roasting the fuck out of Kilfeather and calling him a faggot, and he let out a whine to our boss lady, to see if she could please make the addicts of colour stop calling him the f-slur. she was super Christian and super racist and she gracefully walked to Kilfeather through the snow and was like ‘well baby, I am worried that you never stand up for yourself, if Rokon hadda thrown that at me I wouldda whooped his ass to Death on the spot!’

idk cumbies was super funny

[hetaologist]

APH America "Ethnography" and Headcanons (SFW)

The United States of America, Alfred F. Jones, Mr. Stars and Stripes, 'Merica, Pretty Boy, um... or just simply America.

Here is a list of data I have gathered from this country and oh boy, what an interesting specimen we have here....

Ethnography

You will find this find this mythological creature at your local Walmart superstore during the evening hours on a weekday, sporting flannel loungewear pants (The plaid kind), a cotton t-shirt that definitely has been worn no less than two (2) times, Old Navy $1 flip flops, and a gray jacket.

When asked about his late night runs to the popular supermarket chain, his answer is just simply:

"There's nothing else to do and no where to go."

America's Cart Inventory for March 22nd:

One (1) package of "Mega Stuf Chocolate Oreos" for $5.97, One (1) 6-Pack of "Starbucks Frappuccino Chilled Coffee Drinks" in Caramel Flavor for $7.98, One (1) Family Sized Bag of "Flaming Hot Cheetos" for $5.94, One (1) "Furby Interactive Toy" for $39.19, and One (1) Stick of " Axe Apollo Men's Deodorant Stick" for $4.97. Total of purchase was $64.05 before tax.

When questioned about the "Furby Interactive Toy", he replies:

"Yeah dude, there's this thing I wanna make that's called a "Long Furby". Wanna come by my place and check it out?"

I agreed to the invination as it would give me a better look into his living space and lifestyle. He's very friendly person.

Living Space (Home):

Oh dear god, why did I agree to come here?

House is a what you would expect from a typical American college student such as:

"Saturdays Are For The Boys" banner flag, Marvel and DC posters, a very unsettling looking blue leather couch that looks like it has been through hell and back, random dumbbells and untouched exercise equipment, every game console from the 1972 "The Magnavox Odyssey" to the PS5, action figures from various popular TV shows and comics, an old KFC bucket with half eaten chicken on the coffee table and a shelf with a huge vinyl record and CD collection.

Conclusion: What a fucking gross nerd.

America offers a cold can of Coca-Cola, I accept it.

He shows me a very long light blue "Long Furby" from his collection, further proving how much of a dork he was.

When asked what kind of music he liked (in regards to his music collection), he replies:

"That's hard to answer, it changes every week. Because of my diverse music, I pretty much like everything. One week I could be listening to 1980's classic rock, 2000's techno-pop, Bluegrass Country, 1990's Hip Hop or anything. But, if I had to give you this week's favorite artist, it would have to be Taylor Swift and Doja Cat."

"Interesting..." I replied.

I have recorded enough data for today (the smell was bothering me) and left his home to do further extensive research.

Headcanons:

America has a deep love for cars and trucks, he can be seen working on his vintage 1968 Dodge Charger R/T called 'Thunderbird' (an absolute speed demon that can reach at top speeds of muthafuckin' 156 mph), and his enormous 2019 Ford F-150 'Big John' that he loves to drive to world meetings because he is a total stud muffin showoff.

Oh yeah, he defiantly modded 'Big John' horns with airblasters. So when he parks his car and he sees other nations come out of their vehicles, he pounds on that horn and scares the living shit out of them.

He totally does 2 am donuts in the Thunderbird the front of Walmart parking lots with his brother Canada to freak him out.

Other than seeing him work on his cars while listening to "Waking Up in Vegas by Katy Perry" on the radio, he's in his room sorting out his action figure and comic book collection.

Damn, what what a geek.

He has an eBay account where he buys, trades and auctions his collection as his interests constantly change.

If you think him being a geek, dork and a nerd is gonna save him from getting a basic ass Stanley cup, you're wrong.

He has a navy blue one that he takes to meetings and he would get dirty looks from the other nations.

"Goddamn it America, you do not need that much coffee."

"Fuck you, you scone sucking twink. It's not coffee, it's the Panera Super Charged Lemonade mixed with Redbull."

"I beg your fucking pardon..."

He gave Canada a red one for his birthday that he also takes with him to meetings.

"Canada, mon ami~. That better not be that merde American drinks that makes your heart explode."

"No, it's Tim Hortons iced coffee."

"Well.. that's better than what America drinks..."